The Good Husband

by Lucian Bane

  “I’m done,” she called. “Shower is free.”

  She startled when he entered the bathroom suddenly, looking at her dress. His dark eyes rose to hers in the mirror and the intensity of his stare hit right on her clit. “Is it too dressy you think?” she asked, trying for small, husband and wife talk.

  “Too teasing,” he muttered, heading to the shower.

  His tone had her trembling. Like she’d just taunted him, and he’d make her pay. She stood there, feeling like she wanted to tell him her outfit wasn’t a volley in some war, but that would be assuming a lot on her part. He could’ve just made an observation. Or he could want or need to make her pay. In which case… she’d surrender to that.

  “I’ll change if you don’t like it.”

  “Oh, I like it,” he called.

  Again, it sounded like oh, I’m taunted, you succeeded there, kind of comment.

  She got out the hair dryer and wagged it at her head until every strand was dry before shutting it off and running a brush through it. Tucking it behind both ears, she grabbed her eyeliner and froze when he exited the shower naked. She quickly focused her stare on the tip of the eyeliner while he moseyed out.

  She sagged in relief, fighting to catch her breath while needing to have a damn seat. Slow breath in, slow breath out.

  “Did I always wear underwear?” he asked behind her.

  Why she assumed he’d be dressed in the span of ten seconds was beyond her, and before she could stop herself, she was staring at his cock in the mirror, behind her.

  “Uuuuh,” she sang out of key, picking up the makeup bag and digging in it for whatever would make his cock go away. “Yes. You did, I think. Why?”

  “Because I can’t stand the feel of them.”

  “So, don’t wear them,” she said, fighting for casual. He had missing connections, that’s all. She knew this, but his looming hard cock made it impossible to think.

  “I want you to come.”

  The bag slipped from her shaking fingers at those words and spilled all over the counter. “Shit. I can’t…I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This…you…naked. Saying things like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “That you want me to come!” she cried with wide eyes at the crap scattered everywhere.

  “I want you to come to therapy with me.”

  “Oh God,” she barely whimpered, wanting to crawl in a hole now. “I’m…sorry, I had my mind on…”

  “Sex, obviously.”

  “No! On your… penis, okay?”

  “You’re not used to seeing it?” he wondered, sounding suspicious. “Were we like those people that have sex in the dark?”

  “No! No, it’s not that. It’s…distracting!”

  “I guess it’s nice to know my cock affects you that much.”

  She gasped when he turned and left only to turn right back around. She was a two-year-old, and his cock was the fun, terrifying thing popping out of a jack-n-the-box, holding her spellbound.

  “And I do want you to come. A lot.”

  He left for real this time, and she turned and leaned her shaky limbs against the vanity. And I do want you to come. It wasn’t a suggestion it was an order. A warning even. It meant she had no choice about it. Her orgasm was his to do with as he wanted. And as scared as she was to have or not have it, she was ready to run right toward the danger and get it done. If he was going to punish her with sex, then so be it. She just needed to know one way or another.

  She managed to get her makeup on and was on her fingernail polish when he entered. “You’re going like that?” she wondered, confused.

  “I was told to come comfortable.”

  Ben never wore shorts in public. “By who?”

  “By the paper telling me what I’m supposed to do,” he said.

  He parked his sexy self on the vanity next to her, apparently planning to stay while she finished. “Why are you dressing up?”

  His eyes were locked on her chest and she remembered the pin. “To look nice. I plan to pin this,” she said, tugging the material together.

  “For who?”

  She assumed he meant about the nice. “For you…and for me and…people.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she chanced a look at him. He was staring hard at her, studying. “I like only one of those.”

  How was his every word a sexual assault on her body now? “Which one?” she asked, leaning on the vanity so that her forearms rested on the surface for stability.

  “What do you have under that?”

  Her heart hammered between her legs as she fought not to paint the entire tip of her finger. She wasn’t used to him being so direct. “Just…what I always wear under a dress.”

  “I guess I’m supposed to remember what you always wear?”

  Why did he seem angry? The idea that he remembered everything she’d done and hated her, stole her breath. “Panties and bra. Red. Lace.”

  “And red polish and red lips,” he observed. “You like red?”

  “I do and…you do or did.”

  “And what if I didn’t like it? Would you wear it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like doing things you don’t like. I like doing things you do like.”

  “And you like denying me sex for years because you're pissed. What I’m baffled about is how you went so long not getting fucked when every part of you craves it.”

  She wiped the polish off her skin, trying to control the shake in her hand as she swallowed down her gasps. It wasn’t just his words, but the order of them in his sentence. Going so long not getting fucked, rather than just fucking. And her body immediately picked out the difference and had her dripping for that very thing in that very second. She also didn’t miss he was angry about it. What were they even talking about? Her withholding… “Because… because…” She swallowed, fighting for air. “I have no answer that makes sense anymore.” She closed her eyes.

  “So, when you were having sex with me, did I give you the impression I didn’t like it or want it?”

  “I think you loved it when we had it.”

  “I loved it when we had it and you figured I must not want it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, committed to accepting her guilt.

  “Did you ask me to initiate?”

  She returned her polish to the bag and eyed him as he got off the counter and moved behind her.

  “Ever?” he wondered as she quickly straightened, watching him with her heart in her throat.

  “I don’t…remember.”

  “Ask me now.”

  “Ask…what…”

  “To initiate. That’s what you want?”

  “That’s…what I wanted.”

  “You don’t want it now?” He was looking down with his head angled. He lifted her dress, making her gasp. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, those intense eyes rolling up to hers until she quaked harder than ever.

  “I do…want it,” she said, trembling.

  He looked again at her ass then lowered her dress, not even touching her. “Yes, you do,” he agreed before heading out with a, “Time to go, I think.”

  She wanted to vomit and orgasm and scream. How could this man affect her this way? Ben never made her feel unsafe in her own skin. But this…he did.

  She needed to eat something. She needed coffee. Or whiskey. And a valium.

  Jealousy

  “Did you meet Dr. Ramaldy yet?”

  Ben eyed his wife, having a hard time not seeing her impossibly fine ass in those red panties. Dr. Ramaldy. “I don’t think so.”

  “She’s supposed to be good from what I hear.”

  Amazing how much she communicated without trying, and when she tried it was like another language. This doctor was a she. And his wife wanted him to know that. See his reaction? “Good,” he said, not sure which way to go with that, but sure his wife would help him figure that out.
/>   “Well, you did meet her,” she said. “Before the surgery.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “She’s not easy to forget.”

  Ben almost stopped in his tracks at hearing she was jealous. Or was it insecure? No, that wasn’t possible. She was too beautiful. Had he given her reason to be jealous? He wasn’t sure now. He had no memory of being unfaithful, but he had no memory of a lot of things with her where sex was concerned. Like that part of their lives wasn’t connected to anything else. It was getting stranger and more frustrating to unravel by the second. Especially when his cock was ready to fuck the answers out of her. After nearly giving in to her unspoken desire for pleasure that morning, his cock had become eternally hard. And that had him a little less…mindful of feelings, other than the one pulsating between his legs.

  He remembered what they were talking about. “Apparently she didn’t make a lasting impression. But then I didn’t remember fucking you in our bathroom either.”

  She suddenly stopped like she’d hit a wall and he turned to find shock and pain in her pretty face. Shit. What did he say now? Was it the not remembering fucking her part? If it was, he wasn’t sure how to fix that. He’d said it as a fact, but clearly, she thought he’d said it for another reason.

  She walked up to him and pointed a finger in his face. Even with her heels, she had to look up at him. “Don’t…” She seemed to rethink everything, and her eyes fluttered a moment as she swallowed. “Please don’t put us in the same sentence with another woman.”

  At hearing her possessiveness of him, his cock shot a blast of lust through his veins. He leaned in and took her finger into his mouth and very slowly sucked his way off it, making sure to use his teeth and tongue as he did. “Were you always this way?”

  “W-wwhat? Way?” she whispered, staring at his mouth with her wet finger in the air still.

  “Jealous. Are you sure I wasn’t unfaithful?”

  Her brows narrowed with her eye flutter again, like her brain fought to reset. “Jealous?”

  “We’re going to be late.” He took her hand in his and tightened his hold when she might resist.

  “I’m not jealous,” she whispered. I’m…. okay, jealous.”

  She was lying less, that was good. “We’re married, we should hold hands,” he said, lacing his fingers in hers. “When we have our counseling session, I’ll let the doctor know you’re getting better at being honest.” He made his way to the door bearing the physical therapy sign on the outside and pushed it open.

  The moment the busty brunette straightened from the exercise equipment and greeted them, Cheryl stepped close to him. The amount of satisfaction that gave him was one for the journal. How he’d survive not getting a hard on while he watched his jealous wife stand by as this woman did what she was about to do, would be some kind of miracle.

  “Ben,” the woman greeted, hurrying forward with open awe and wonder. “Wow.” She glanced at Cheryl. “I may have had a hard time sleeping last night knowing I was doing this today!”

  Ben glanced at Cheryl and fought a grin at the look she wore. God she was such an amazing actor. Huge smile, genuine even.

  “Me too,” Cheryl said, making Ben almost laugh. “I mean I didn’t sleep good. Knowing Ben had to do therapy. I know he needs it,” she hurried. “I just don’t like to see him in pain.”

  Blood shot to his cock at hearing her lying honesty. She wasn’t just a liar, she was a damn good one. He had no doubt she hated seeing him in pain, he knew that about her. The rest of it though. Had she really had a hard time sleeping because of this therapy? Maybe all of it was true he realized, now that he knew she was greedy with him.

  She was full of surprises and he couldn’t deny he was enjoying most of them. He was maybe glad he had no memory of their sex life. It was like getting to experience it for the first time.

  Ben kept his eyes on Cheryl when he wasn’t required to use them for other things, like watch the woman show him neck exercises. At one point, the therapist straddled his legs and held his head, putting her large bust close to his face while manually teaching. When he was free to look at Cheryl, he found her with a cracked to hell smile that leaked acid.

  “Cheryl, I need you,” the woman called. “I’m so glad your wife volunteered to help in this capacity. Having a second person in these exercises are almost always necessary,” she said.

  She’d volunteered to help? When? Before the surgery or after? Either made him want to laugh, given she’d likely done it to keep this woman from touching him.

  “Stand like I was,” the therapist said. “Obviously, this is far more appropriate for you.”

  “Far more,” Cheryl chirped innocently, making Ben smile at her chest inches from his face.

  “Now, grab hold of his neck here.”

  “Uh. What about…”

  “His scar is fine. Unless he says it isn’t.”

  “It’s fine,” he assured. Other than the itching and tingling.

  “Do you feel this?” She pressed Cheryl’s hands along the outer column of his neck. “We want to get this really strong. And the deep flexors. Feel those?”

  “Yes.”

  Ben looked up, watching her with his eyes while feeling her pressing into his muscles.

  “Okay, this one is kind of intimate,” the woman said. “I want you to pull his face into your breasts. In fact, it’s perfectly fine for you to mix this in with your intimacy. Ben, wrap your arms around her. That’s perfect,” she said when he held her tight. “Now Cheryl, I want you to press his head against your chest, and Ben I want you to resist.”

  They did as she said, but Ben took his time resisting her pull while fighting not to move his face and feel. “Do you feel the pull?”

  “Yes,” Cheryl strained, thinking she was asking her.

  “Ben?”

  “I do.”

  “I want you to do like fifty a day. Do it until it burns.”

  “I definitely will,” he said, smiling up at Cheryl as he released her, resting his hands on her ass. Cheryl reached behind her and grabbed hold of them, moving them back around. But she didn’t let go, she held them before her, smiling at the doc who rattled on about sending them home with a video in case they forget some of the exercises.

  “And of course, if you have any questions or need any assistance, I’m here. I can come over to your home even, not a problem. I have a pretty intense exercise program set up for him and a lot of it is tailored to be done with a second person. The exercises can be just as difficult for the assistant, I should warn. So, if you get tired or you just don’t feel like it, whatever,” she said, “I’ll happily come over and give you a break.”

  She said this while stroking a therapeutic hand over Ben’s shoulder, bringing a laughable strain to Cheryl’s’ smile.

  When they left her office, Cheryl dropped her jubilant mask like a bomb.

  “That has to feel a lot better,” he said, laughing.

  “What feels better,” she said, unable to hide her annoyance.

  “Not wearing that fake smile on your face.”

  “You have no idea,” she said, walking ahead only to spin around and walk back to him. “I don’t appreciate you enjoying that as much as you did.”

  Oh, this was going to be so good. “I’m ready to go home and do these exercises,” he said, catching up to her. “Unless you plan to let her do it.”

  She quickened her pace again, making him work to match her stride. When he did, he grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She yanked and he yanked back, forcing her to hit his chest. He lassoed her waist before she could escape, staring down into that sparking gaze. “I want you to tell me what we did in that shower.”

  She glared at him, showing her valiant efforts to be the good wife. “Please don’t talk about sex while I’m…jealous.”

  “Fuck, I like when you’re honest like this. I want to know what kind of sex we had. Something tells me it wasn’t that amazing.”

  The look on h
er face... like he’d slapped her.

  “I meant on my part,” he corrected, smiling at her instant relief.

  Then she stiffened again. “You were very amazing before.”

  “But was I mind blowing?”

  “I couldn’t remember my name after.”

  Hmm. Truth. “Tell me what we did in that bathroom. Or show me.” Desire sizzled in her angry gaze making him hungry. “Do you know how hard it was not to get a hard on back there?”

  She froze, her mouth going hard.

  “I don’t have a lot of sexual memory, but I’m pretty sure watching you seethe with jealousy is the most arousing thing I could ever experience.”

  “You got off while another woman was in the room?”

  That smell she had suddenly hit him in the cock, sending lust ripping through his muscles. He covered her mouth with his, and at her gasp, pushed her soft lips open for more, plowing his tongue into the hot darkness. She clung to his neck with moans and he wrapped her soft body in his arms, pressing her to his while roaming greedy hands all over her. She was completely his, molded silk, supple, begging. Oh, she would beg, he decided.

  He pulled up, staring at her face, needing to see what she looked like after he’d done that. She panted with eyes closed, her lips swollen and provoking sudden urges that made him slam the brakes. The sexual images that flashed through his head burned him till he felt dizzy. Where did they come from? He’d either done them with her, or he’d done them with somebody else, but he had done them.

  He realized in that second that her Ben had not been entirely honest about who he was. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, fluttering her eyes open like somebody coming out of hypnotism, healed of murderous thoughts from seconds before.

  Show Me

  “Charlie!” Cheryl hissed, waving from the door to his room.

  He glanced up and quickly removed the earbuds from his ears. “Everything okay?” he whispered.

  She entered his room and shut the door. “Yes. Where have you been?”

  “Here. Did you try to call?”