Blue

by Ford, Brynn

  “What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?”

  I could make a choice to redeem myself, if only marginally, by making it up to Vaughn. He’s the only man I should have been thinking about in that moment. Vaughn was my husband, my everything, but I’d been treating him like he didn’t matter. I needed to go to him, apologize, get down on my knees and worship him physically until pleasure erased the moment of hurt I caused him.

  I owed him that much. I owed him so much more than that.

  I heard the shower water shut off and it snapped me back to the reality I was ignoring. I realized I was still standing there, stark naked texting on my phone, doing the one thing that had hurt Vaughn enough to storm off in disgust.

  That should’ve been enough for me to choose to kick the habit right then. I could’ve ended it all with Law with a simple text message. I could have told him any number of things to end this knowing that if I asked him not to contact me again, he wouldn’t. He would follow the rules.

  But I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t do that to myself. I knew I needed to distance myself from him until I found the courage to end it in person. But for now, I just wanted to make sure he felt okay.

  DESI: You can do far better than me, Law. I’m not worth wishing for.

  His reply was quick.

  LAW: Stop being so self-deprecating. It’s not your best look. And it’s not fucking true.

  DESI: I have to go, but we’ll talk soon.

  LAW: Okay.

  I nearly broke when his reply came through. I could nearly hear the way he would’ve said that one simple word out loud. It wasn’t an agreement. It wasn't an acknowledgment that my text was received and understood. It was concession, resignment, it was the word he used when he knew there was nothing left to say.

  My body prepared to break into sobs and I fought it with everything I had, reminding myself of what was truly important, of who was truly important. I chanted his name inside my head over and over again.

  Vaughn. Vaughn. Vaughn.

  I turned off my phone and tossed it harder than I meant to on the dining room table. I walked into the bedroom at the exact moment Vaughn was coming out of the bathroom. Droplets of water still clung to his bare chest as he stepped into our room with only a white towel wrapped around his waist. His tattoos popped under the dampness, giving them a realistic sort of sheen.

  God, when was the last time I looked at him, really looked at him?

  He was sculpted to perfection. His body was the result of the work he put into it. He spent hours at the gym each week, which made it far too easy for me to find time to get away to Black Ties. I really didn't mind the time he spent at the gym, anyway. It was a far healthier outlet for him than going out, getting drunk, and starting a fight with the first guy who looked at me the wrong way. He had a bit of a temper, though most people didn’t have a clue because he’d been working on that aspect of himself for years.

  But he would lose his shit and murder Law if he knew.

  Come to think of it, Vaughn was away as much as I was, if not more. He worked late more often than not with the new promotion. It hadn't left much time for us in the evenings the past few months, not that either of us were putting in any consistent effort.

  "Vaughn," I started, standing still in the doorway, "I'm –"

  "Don't."

  His voice was terse, brow wrinkled in frustration, anger and confusion behind his translucent, soft brown eyes.

  "Don't tell me you're sorry because I don't believe it. Did you look at your phone when I got in the shower, Des? Did you read your text messages? Who were they from? Must have been some serious fucking life and death shit to be so much more important than me."

  I shook my head, completely at a loss for words, "I don't know what else to say except I'm sorry."

  "You could tell me the goddamn truth, Desi."

  "The truth?"

  "Who. Texted. You," he emphasized each word and it was sharp, biting.

  I hesitated.

  Just tell him, Desi.

  It's over with Law now. It has to be.

  Right?

  My mouth didn't move. It didn't form words. The truth was right there, sitting on my tongue, hiding out cowardly behind my teeth. But my body refused to allow my lips to part and let it slip free. I looked down at the floor and shook my head, unable to look at him, unable to say anything more.

  "Fuck," he huffed, his feet thumping swiftly across the carpet.

  Before I knew it, he was in front of me. He gripped my chin firmly in his hand, lifting my head and looking down at me with narrowed eyes. He was angry with me, seething. He knew I was keeping secrets and he wanted answers.

  This moment was maddening. It was serious and real. Our actions and words would carry a heavy load, one that could damage us further or bring us back together. I feared even worse we would remain waiting in this purgatory of lies and misunderstandings.

  "Who texted you, Desi? Who fucking texted you?" he bent his head so our eyes were level, searching mine for truth and answers.

  I took a step back. His angry stare was too much for me, it was too real. My instinct was to back away. My instinct was to run. My instinct was to leave behind the possibility of emotional redemption because my brain was too overcome with grief and anxiety and guilt to face the truth head on.

  Vaughn sensed it. He felt my energy shift, my anxiety building. He knew my talent for avoidance and a new look of determination fell across his face.

  The corners of one side of his mouth turned up in a sneer, "Don't you fucking dare, Desi."

  "Vaughn, please," I begged him to release me from the intensity of his stare as I took another step back, but my movement only unleashed him.

  Gripping my chin tighter, he turned me and backed me up against the bedroom wall, slamming me against it and pinning me there with his body. My rational thinking rushed out of me on the exhale as my back thudded lightly against the wall on impact. Lust and desire filled its void with my sharp inhale.

  Why does dominance effect me this way?

  What is wrong with me?

  He didn’t hurt me or scare me. He wasn’t trying to. His eyes still held power and determination but his demeanor softened. He released my chin, cupping my cheeks lightly in his hands as he shifted his body closer to mine, molding against my curves.

  "Talk to me, Desi. Just talk to me, please. Tell me who was texting you. Tell me about the marks on your body. Tell me what the fuck is going on and put me out of my fucking misery."

  His voiced quivered at the end and sadness pulled at his features. I had to give him something.

  Anything.

  "Vaughn, I…I love you. That's all that matters."

  That's all that matters?

  “Desi,” he began, his voice cautious, but I stopped him with a shake of my head.

  Slowly, I slid down the wall. He let go of my face and took a small step back in confusion as I dropped to my knees, dragging my fingertips down along his flesh until I was kneeling in front of him. My fingers teased for a moment, trailing along the top of the towel at his waist, before grasping it and tearing it off him.

  Law popped back into my head against my will. He’d been the one to train me to understand this position on my knees. It was submissive. It was a show of giving myself to him. I wanted to give myself to Vaughn but I couldn't do that with words. Not right now. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to spill my secrets about Law, spill every dark secret I kept. I wanted to ask Vaughn to hurt me. To punish me like Law would for all the horrible things I was doing behind his back. But I couldn’t. I didn’t.

  All I could bring myself to do was apologize to him for ruining our moment in my distraction and worship his beautiful body to give him a sliver of power back when I’d made him feel so worthless.

  Grabbing his hips and scooting closer to him on my knees, I made my intentions clear as I offered him an apology, “I’m sorry, Vaughn. You deserve my full attention when we’re together. I
want to give that to you now. Let me make it up to you?”

  It was a mistake. It was the wrong action. They were the wrong words. He needed truth and that simple offering cemented his knowledge that I was a liar.

  So in purgatory we remained.

  Chapter 18

  Vaughn

  Holy fucking hell.

  My wife was on her knees for me, about to wrap her lips around my cock. Sex had been virtually non-existent in our marriage. It'd been weeks, really months, where intimacy and affection were practically taboo. But tonight, she'd wanted me fuck her. It was incredible aside from the distraction of her phone and finding marks on her body that made me suspicious of the worst.

  Desi was down on her knees now to offer me an apology in the form of a blow job. I knew I had to refuse to accept her physical bribery, but goddamnit, I wanted her. Even when she pissed me off, even when I knew she was lying and keeping secrets from me. Even then, I wanted her because she was mine. She was my girl and I'd always want to touch her, taste her, feel her.

  The look that flickered behind her dark brown eyes when I slammed her up against the wall danced with desire that seemed so oddly timed. I'd lost my temper when I stormed across the room and grabbed her by the chin. I'd squeezed her jaw tighter than I should have. I'd been too rough with her, wrangling her around and pushing her against the wall with a thud.

  I'd had to employ every ounce of self-control in my body to calm myself the fuck down so I didn't lose myself in anger entirely. I didn't want to hurt her. I wasn't that kind of guy. I worked incredibly hard for a long time not to be that kind of guy after the shit my sister Hazel went through with her ex. Besides, the mere appearance of aggression might push Desi farther away. I feared I'd done just that in a delicate moment when she was trying to apologize, even if her apology was bullshit.

  But the look in her eyes told me I hadn't caused that reaction in her at all. In fact, I think she liked it. She must have liked it because she was kneeling in front of me and her lips were an inch from the tip of my cock now.

  Stop her.

  You can't let her do this.

  She can't bribe your forgiveness by giving you head.

  I didn't react quickly enough to stop her and her lips parted as she sucked in the tip of my cock. I'd never had a quick recovery time after climaxing, but I suppose months of blue balls changed that because I could already feel myself growing hard again at the warmth and wetness of her mouth. She grabbed the shaft and squeezed lightly, giving me a little tug as she took me in deeper.

  Well, fuck me.

  Her head bobbed as she worked the tip, trying her damndest to get me hard for her. She was succeeding. My wife was so hot and so tempting and I wanted her so damn much. When she moaned around my length, the vibration of her lips sent a shockwave through me that threatened my resolve.

  Looking down at her, I felt weak. My hand landed on the top of her head, though I didn't remember reaching out. I dug my fingers into her hair and had the strongest urge to hold her in place, to keep her still while I fucked her mouth roughly, forcing myself in harder and deeper than she'd ever taken it before.

  I wanted to make her take it. I wanted to force myself in so deep it made her gag. If she was offering this as her apology, I wanted to make her work for it by taking the punishment of my dick down her throat. I wanted to do so many bad things to her, dark, dirty things that might scare her off for good.

  But I couldn't do any of that. I woudn't do any of that. Our marriage was ripping at the seams and sex wasn't going to fix it, least of all, sex that showed her just how aggressive I longed to be with her.

  We'd been rough before, we knew dirty sex, but she didn't have a clue how dark and aggressive my desires could be. We didn't have time to get to that level of knowing each other in our short relationship. Half of our relationship, she'd been pregnant and delicately handled. The other half had been a sexless, distant nightmare.

  It didn't matter that such an opportunity was presenting itself right now, in the way she wanted to seek my forgiveness. This wasn't the time to show her. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to show her that darker part of me.

  Stop her.

  NOW.

  Instead of pulling her head toward me to take me deeper, which I so desperately wanted to do, I gripped her hair tightly and yanked her head back. Her eyes widened as she looked up at me from the floor, panting to catch her breath. Her lips were swollen and pink and her eyes were heavy with desire.

  "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, softly.

  "Stop it, Desi."

  "But I want to, Vaughn," her eyes were honest, a rarity as of late.

  Think of anything but sex.

  Don't think about it.

  Stop thinking about it.

  God, her mouth is beautiful.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  "No," I snapped, knowing the only way to get out of this sex trance was to get angry again, "Get the fuck up, Desi."

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, but she slowly got to her feet.

  That was too damn easy.

  "This is not how you apologize. It feels fucking amazing, but this is not okay, Des."

  She hung her head and I was comforted to see some contriteness in her demeanor.

  "I'm sorry, Vaughn. I just wanted to get the moment back."

  Seriously?

  That was enough to flip the irritation switch inside me, "That's the thing about moments, Desi. They come and they go. You can't get them back. You and I know that better than anyone."

  Her head snapped upright and her eyes connected with mine, a mixture of conflicting emotions swirling behind her irises. After a moment, she landed on anger and her eyes narrowed at me. She opened her mouth to speak, but I wasn't going to let her pretend that she had any right to be angry with me.

  "No," I ordered simply, "No, we're not talking about this anymore tonight. I'm pissed and you're only going to make it worse by trying to convince us both that I'm somehow in the wrong here. We both know that's not true. All I wanted was for you to tell me the fucking truth and instead you try to distract me with sex. Fuck that, Desi. I love you, but fuck that. So go take a shower, eat the dinner you made, and go the fuck to bed. I can't do this with you right now."

  Desi's brow furrowed in consideration and after a beat, her entire being softened. She appeared suddenly pliable.

  "Okay, Vaughn," she conceded and pushed past me, stalking off toward the bathroom.

  Her steps, her sway, they were intentionally tinged by her frustrations. Nonetheless, I heard the shower water running a few moments later. I shook my head, trying to figure out what the hell just happened between us.

  Why did she listen to me?

  Why did she concede so easily and do what I told her to?

  I literally scratched my head, not really sure what to make of this whole evening. I was so fucking angry with her for the lies and the ridiculous way she tried to apologize.

  So why the fuck do I suddenly want to take another shower?

  Chapter 19

  Vaughn

  The night Desi tried to apologize with oral sex nearly two weeks ago, felt like it should have been a turning point for us. But it hadn't turned out that way at all.

  She'd showered and ate dinner silently and when she went to bed, I went with her. I'd laid down with her, spooned her, told her I loved her, and waited. When she'd finally let sleep take over nearly an hour later, I snuck out of the room with every intention of breaking into her goddamn phone.

  I couldn’t figure out her passcode. I'd been one attempt away from locking out her phone, so I gave up for that night. I didn’t get many opportunities to try as days passed. I had anxious energy building as days went by with no answers, so I spent a lot of my free time at the gym, away from Desi. I didn’t want to snap at her or lose my patience. It wouldn't get me anywhere.

  As strange and confusing as that entire evening had been, it forced me to recall the most important thing about my relationship wit
h Desi. It reminded me that I was fully, desperately committed to keeping her in my life, to making a family with her, to making things better between us. I didn't know how the fuck to do that, but I was committed to figuring it out. Even with all the bullshit, the secrets and lies, my suspicions about truly terrible things she might be doing with someone else behind my back. Whatever she was keeping from me didn't matter in the long run.

  Desi was mine.

  She married me.

  She was my wife.

  I didn't care if that made me seem possessive. She had every opportunity to run from this marriage, but she was still in it, whether she realized it or not. I couldn't control her. I didn't want to. But I would find a way to make it clear that she belonged with me. I would do anything it took to shut down whatever the hell she was doing behind my back and claim her forever.

  Unfortunately, my distraction over the secrets she might be keeping, my late nights at work, and spending too much time at the gym took my head out of the game enough to fuck up monumentally.

  It was Friday the 7th before it clicked.

  Tomorrow is December 8th.

  Lucy’s due date.

  How could I forget something so important?

  I left work early as soon as I remembered, around 4pm. It took me the whole fucking day to remember how significant this weekend would be. I rushed off to the store to buy everything I could think we might need, knowing that emotional purging over our loss would overshadow everything else. I had to forget about what our relationship had been going through and focus on being there for her.

  I got a bouquet of white lilies, her favorite flower. Endless chocolate in several varieties. Junk food. Alcohol. Tissue, so much tissue.

  I was in our apartment by 5:30pm, but she wasn’t there. She should’ve been there. As far as I knew, she hadn’t left the house in nearly two weeks other than for work. She hadn’t been going out with her unknown “friend” like she’d been doing before, though she’d been spending a lot more time texting and moping around the apartment. She'd backslid into her depression.