Four

The lube in my last drawer comes in handy, I apply a generous amount to my palm and toss the plastic on the table. Rubbing my hands together, I bath my dick with the lube. Warm and slick like El’s core should be with her inside muscles clenching around me while I ride her to orgasmland again and again.

So tight. So wet. Always wet for me. Such a turn on. I focus on her legs which she spreads on getting into the bathtub, giving me a view of her dark labia. That clit I want to suck on until she loses her voice from screaming my name in ecstasy. I let out a strangled hiss when her fingers lower to her wet entrance, she makes casual strokes around her vaginal lips and my eyes clamp shut in agony. It should be my fingers.

I should be in the bathtub with her, rubbing my dick against her ass, giving her a massage right before I fuck her to a much needed sleep after her long days. Her loan business is doing great but it’s taking a toll on her. I want to be her stress reliever, to be a husband to his horny wife but she has alienated me. If it weren’t for the twins, we wouldn’t be talking. That’s if a few seconds can be considered a conversation.

Her phone rings, my eyes jerk open. My gaze flies to the screen in an attempt to catch the caller’s identity, my fist crashes to the table, causing papers to float briefly in the air. I take a deep, calming breath before sparing another glance at the screen, she makes me lose it. What she needs is to soak herself in that tub rather than standing to pick calls from men. Men that are not her husband or father.

Who calls a married woman this late? Yes, 11 pm is too late, she has kids who are up as early as five with their noises. She needs rest, not that fucker calling by this time. I don’t even want him calling her at all.

The smile on her lips when she picks the call has bile rising to my throat and I release my deflated dick with a strangled moan. Way to ruin my night. Now I know for sure it’s him. The guy who has been trying to get into her panties. Alright, he does care about her but I don’t need him to. I can take care of her.

Yeah, right. I can take care of my wife from a house I refuse to call my own because a part of me hopes for a reconciliation. The same reason I refused to set up this office. But my wife doesn’t want me and it gets clearer with each passing day yet I cannot let go. The only reason we are not divorced is because of the twins and my obstinacy. I refuse to let her go. She’s mine. I belong to her. We belong to each other.

“Hey,” she says into the phone with a small laugh and my mouth twitches. “I miss you.”

The best I have gotten from her is a scowl, a scowl that morphs into a sick smile as soon as the twins are around. And she’s all smiles with another man. My nails dig into my desk, blood rushes to my ears. She misses him? No, she misses me, not him. I am here pining for her touch, a second chance at our future but she is seeking attention from a stranger. I’ll give anything to be on the receiving end of that phone.

Her lips move but her voice is too low for me to pick out her words, I punch the keyboards to increase the volume and her soft voice washes over me. I lean back on my seat, drinking in the sight of her. She twirls a strand of her long hair, eyes glazed as she struts to make herself comfortable on the toilet seat. Her hand moves to her breasts, she kneads a nipple and moans into the phone. Giggling as she does so.

She is cheating on me. I don’t care if we have been separated for years, she has my last name. Elna Stark. I am the only one who deserves her sultry smile. I should be the man making her cross and uncross her legs which she rubs together whenever she’s horny. The person she seeks out. Me, her husband.

Is she sleeping with him? I can forgive her for sexting him or having phone sex, not that. Jumping out of my seat to get my phone, the twins' faces light up my screen and the tension in my shoulders ebb. I input her number, dialling it before the sensible part of me wins over. She cuts the call and I return to my seat, glaring at her as I redial the number. Who cares if she’s still on a call? I am her husband and baby daddy.

“I’ll call you back, T,” I hear her say into the receiver and I punch the air. That’s more like it. She nods to what he says, I stifle the urge to find him wherever he is and beat him to a pulp. “I have to take this call.”

Too pleased with myself, I hit her up again and she picks immediately. “Yes, Brandon, what is it?” she says into the phone. From the tensing of her jaw, I know she’s keeping her anger in check. And I haven’t spoken a word. “I don’t have time for this, what do you want? Brandon?” she calls out when I’m mute.

Not baby but Brandon without a trace of warmth. I pull the phone away from my ear to swipe at my eyes. It hurts hearing her say my name with so much indifference. But I guess I should be grateful she picked. She never picks except I am with the kids. Or it’s my turn to get them and that’s in two days.

“I’m here, El.” She mutters a response, I smile at my screen. At least she’s not scowling and that means a lot to me. “I want to be sure I’m getting Bren and Bran on Friday,” I say and her lips curl into a frown.

“Of course you are,” she says with an eye roll and I grimace. I fucked up with my reply. She is sensitive about our kids, our current arrangement is for their benefit. “You always get them on Friday.” I wince at the sharpness of her voice, she doesn’t like me one bit. “And you will get them this Friday. Is that all?”

Chastised, I nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

As much as she hates me, she makes sure I get Bren and Bran early on Friday even if it means sending someone else to drop them off with me. She can’t bear for us to be in the same room except when necessary. I get the twins on Friday mornings from the house because I already missed years on dropping them off to school. She picks them from school on Mondays, that way we avoid bumping into each other.

Her frown eases, she sits up. “Brandon, are you...” Crossing her arm on her chest, she rolls her lower lip between her teeth and my cock half hardens. I need this woman in my miserable life. “Are you okay?”

Knowing she will call T as soon as I drop my phone causes me to reply in a cold voice, “Yes.” I was harsh, the hurt that crosses her face magnifies my guilt but I go on to say, “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“Goodnight, Brandon.”

Without waiting for my response, she ends the call. I don’t stand, neither does she. Our movements are in perfect synchronization as we stare into space with my gaze on her. Her bottom lip quivers and she sniffs, a tear leaks from her eye and she swipes at her cheek, casting a sad look at her phone where my name lingers on the screen with my picture. I made her cry again, I always do that without trying.

A blurry image replaces mine on her screen. A phone call. Her voice lowers when she picks, no amount of ear straining, neck stretching or hitting the keyboard makes her more audible. The last straw is when she pulls her phone away from her ear to take a selfie. All boobs and pointed nipples at the camera.

I freeze.

What if she’s on a video call with T? Why is she smiling so much? I zoom in on her but it’s futile. Picking up my phone again for the second time in ten minutes, my fingers hover above her name. I moan when her lips part slightly in that deliberate careless way a model would pose. I groan, she was once a model.

She sticks her fingers into her hair, tilts her head back to capture pictures of herself in different poses without covering her nakedness. How dare she? My blood boils to the point I slam my laptop close, I stalk to my bedroom without turning on the lights, hitting my foot many times as I head for the shower.

Jets of cold water rain down on me, I push all thoughts of my traitorous wife and the club away from my mind. I can walk right into the BDSM club to find a submissive who will ride me until Elna is out of my mind. But unlike her, I keep to my promise. I promised I will be faithful and that’s exactly what I’m doing.