Meg thought of the paddle she’d bought but hadn’t had the balls to show Emmett, and she was envious of the woman on the screen. And when the men started pleasuring each other Meg closed the window on the browser with a fast click. Her skin was burning and her pussy was aching. She was disgusted at herself. She had just discovered that her husband had a fetish for male porn, and she was more turned on than she was angry.
What was wrong with her?
She pushed the chair back and left the office. As she walked up the stairs, she tried to ignore the way her thighs rubbed together and tingled the sensitive flesh between her legs.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way that woman had smacked the young man’s ass. The image was burned into her brain. And she was turned on and jealous and hurt.
But at least she had figured out why her sex life had gone to shit. Her husband was gay.
On Saturday Ruby was working on catering invoices when a package arrived via courier. It was wrapped in brown paper and had no return address. Mark. She instinctively knew it was from him.
She hadn’t spoken with him the day before, although he’d sent her a text message late last night that said: Sorry. Worked late. See you tomorrow?
She hadn’t sent a message back.
Now she had butterflies as she walked through her apartment, took the package into the kitchen and placed it on the table, on top of the papers she’d strewn about as she’d worked.
Should she open it now?
Just then her phone buzzed and she picked it up. Open it up, the display said.
Open it up. And, as usual, she did.
The box was long and narrow, the type of package roses were shipped in. But when she lifted the lid off this box, she saw no roses inside. Her breath hitched. The dry scent of leather hit her, and she had to smile.
She began lifting items and placing them on her kitchen table: black leather, fur-lined handcuffs. A second set, but bigger: ankle cuffs. Some black nylon straps. And a vibrator. This she lifted and held in her palms. It was different from her little pink bullet; this was longer, wider, and the tip was angled. It was made out of a jellylike material that was slightly squishy. She turned it over in her hands. Through the transparent material she could see the motor, but there didn’t appear to be any way to turn it on.
The screen on her phone showed no new text messages. He knew she’d received the items, obviously, so now what was she supposed to do? She stood there, waiting, but instructions never arrived. Finally she returned the cuffs and other things to the box. What was he up to?
Back on the sofa, she opened her laptop and tried to focus on invoices. But now her entire body pulsed with anticipation, excitement. Her breasts felt heavy and her pussy was tingling. And he’d know this, of course he would. It would be part of what he wanted, to get her going, get her ready, aching.
Finally at seven-thirty her cell phone rang.
“I hope you didn’t start without me,” he said immediately.
She’d just taken a bath and was standing in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel. The air was chilly against her wet skin, but a flash of heat went through her at the sound of his voice. “How could I?” she asked. “The vibrator you sent must be faulty. It doesn’t have an On button.” She unwrapped the turban-style towel on her head and shook out her wet hair. “How was your session today?”
“Great, but exhausting. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Oh. Okay.” She tried not to be disappointed that he didn’t want to share his day with her. Don’t go there. This is just sex, remember? After her last phone conversation with James, she’d decided to allow herself this tryst with Mark. To have casual sex, to get it out of her system. Only then, she’d concluded, could she go on with her life, just as things had been.
“All I want to think about is you,” Mark said.
His words made her heart stop, just for a second. This was bad, so very bad; every time he said stuff like that she knew it would be harder to get back to the normal life she craved.
But… there was that flutter in her belly again, telling her she was too weak to say no to him. The excitement was too good, too thrilling, and now anticipation coursed through her, erotically charging her.
“I’m in L.A. or I’d come see you, baby.”
She paused. “L.A.?” He’d never even mentioned he was leaving.
“Some stupid private party—sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s okay,” she said, but for the first time she wondered what his band thought of him agreeing on their behalf to play the Spring Fling.
“We’ll fly back first thing in the morning.”
“You sound tired,” she said.