“Because you’re my best friend,” he says simply. “Who else am I supposed to tell?”
Anyone. “What else did she have to say?”
“That she’d be a good wife, cooking and cleaning and taking care of all my needs.”
I’m sure she would.
“Maybe you should give her a shot, that is, if you think she’ll actually stick it out this time around.”
“Is that what you want me to do?” he asks curiously.
I laugh dryly, slipping out of my chair and standing up. My legs are wobbly, my knees weak. Damn this stupid conversation.
Ugh, I need a smoke (or ten).
“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” I say, walking out of my office and down the stairs. “You do whatever it is you want to do.”
“I will do whatever I want,” he says. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want your opinion.”
I head through the quiet house, letting silence fill the line as I grab my cigarettes off the counter, and then I open the patio door and step out into the backyard. Walking across the lawn, I stop at the pool, sitting down and letting my feet dangle in the cool water as I light one up, inhaling deeply. “I’m not sure what you want me to say here.”
“Are you smoking?” he asks.
“Uh …” I glance down at my cigarette, watching the smoke curl from the lit end. “Yeah, I’m smoking.”
“I hope you’re using the e-cigarette.”
“Nope,” I mutter, taking another long drag, soothing my nerves. “I’m sitting at the pool with my feet in the water, smoking a real cigarette.”
“Why?” he asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I thought you were quitting that shit.”
“I am,” I say, taking another drag. “I just want a real one right now.”
“Baby,” he says, drawing out the word. “Don’t get all stressy. We’re just tal …”
His voice is cut off mid-word, the goddamn recording letting us know that we only have one minute left.
“There’s a line-up for the phone,” he says, once the recording ends. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can get back on.”
“You don’t have to wait in line,” I mumble. “We can just talk tomorrow or whatever.”
“No,” he responds instantly. “I’m not done talking to you. I’ll call you back.”
He hangs up then, and I let out a long sigh, setting my phone down on the travertine pool deck, and swishing my legs back and forth through the water. I don’t know how long it takes for the phone to ring again. It could be seconds, minutes, even an hour. I’m not sure. I’m dazed, feeling lost, and so damn lonely it hurts.
It hurts a lot.
So much so my chest feels constricted.
Is this it? Could it really be over before it even starts? Do I even care if it is?
My expression falls. Yes, I care. I care far more than I should.
When the phone rings, I answer it right away, lighting up another cigarette as I wait out the recording for my chance to accept the call. As soon as the call clicks through, he says, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
No hey, beautiful, no real greeting at all. I shouldn’t be surprised, the last call was the same, but I am.
Shit. Two calls and I’m already missing his sweet greetings.
I sigh, rolling my cigarette between my fingers. “I’m thinking that you’re trying to make me jealous. I’m thinking this is your way of digging, trying to find out if I’d give a shit if you start dating someone.”
“Would you give a shit?” he asks.
The question stalls me and I hesitate, frowning. I take another drag of my cigarette. “Of course I would. I care about you a lot, Joshua. But I can’t stand in your way. And it really bugs me that I don’t have a right to say anything about it.”
“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t have a right to say anything about it.”
He doesn’t need to say anything else, although I hear the unspoken words as though he yelled them at me.
You’re married.
You still live with your husband.
“I hate it,” I say. “I fucking hate that I can’t stop you from starting something up with her. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“Aww, how cute. My baby girl is jealous.” He chuckles, but when he speaks again, his voice is serious. “You’re going to leave him, right?”
“Yeah, I’m going to leave him,” I say honestly. “It’ll be months, maybe even a year before I get everything in order, but I’m going to leave.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Then it’s settled,” he says, and I can actually hear the satisfied grin cracking his face. “I’ll tell her I’m not interested.”
“Are you sure you can handle dealing with this?” I ask. “It’s going to take time. It’s going to be hard.”
“You sure you can handle waiting four years for me to get out?” he counters.
“I think so.”
“Then I think so, too.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is playful. “Are you still at the pool?”
I hesitate, my forehead scrunching up at the question. “Um, yeah.”
“Why don’t you take that sexy fat ass of yours back inside and up to your bedroom, and grab your vibrator.”
His words make me freeze. “Did you just call my ass fat?”
“Baby,” he says, drawing out the word. “That’s just how I talk and you know I fucking love that you’ve got a big ass and hips. It’s sexy. You’re fucking sexy. Now, hurry up. I’m horny.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. And I’m not sexy. Not even a little. “Not now. I just don’t feel like it.”
He laughs lightly. “Yes.”
“I’m really not in the mood, Joshua,” I protest. “Can’t we just talk for a bit?”
“If you’re going to be my girl,” he says, “then you need to understand that when it comes to sex the answer’s always yes. Go get your toy, beautiful. You’ll feel better once you come. Promise.”
The words make me stall, my heart thumping so hard that it makes me dizzy. His girl. It’s the first time he’s ever referred to me as anything close to that. A silence falls over the line as he waits for me to respond, and I glance toward the house, pulling my legs out of the pool and standing up. “Okay.”
“Good, now hurry up before the call cuts off again.”
He doesn’t say anything else as I jog inside and up the stairs, and doesn’t make a sound as I open the drawer, retrieving my vibrator. Quickly I undress, dropping my clothes onto the floor as I climb up into bed. He must hear the rustling of the bed sheets, because he asks, “You ready, sweetness?”
“Um … yeah, I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says, sounding pleased. “I want you to turn that vibrator on and rest it on your clit. Get your pussy nice and wet for me, baby.”
That does it.
I’m officially in the mood.
I shiver, turning on the vibrator. My lips part, and I let out a small, little gasp, as I rub it against my clit, whispering, “Okay.”
“Good girl,” he says. “Now tell me what you’re picturing.”
“I, uh … I…” I’m nervous, stammering, stumbling over my words. Ugh, if we keep doing this, I’m going to have to call one of those phone sex lines for some pointers. “I … I don’t know.”
“I’m picturing you, hands gripping the bed, ass sticking out. Your pussy is already nice and wet, and I drop down behind you. I start kissing your ass as my hands glide down your thighs. My fingers reach your pussy and I slide a finger inside your tight channel, making my cock nice and hard.”
I moan softly, feeling the wetness gather between my legs. I really don’t know what it is about this man, but he turns me on.
Really turns me on.
It’s electric.
“I pull my fingers out of your pussy,” he says, “sticking them into my mouth, and telling you how good you taste, before I stand up a
nd place my cock at your entrance. With one thrust, I slam my dick deep inside you, my balls smacking against your clit, and you moan nice and loud.”
My heart hammers as I slide my vibrator inside me, letting out a shuddering breath. My eyes flutter closed. I can almost feel his hands on me, his body surrounding me.
I want more.
Need more.
“I reach up, wrapping your hair around my fist and I pull nice and hard, making your back arch and your ass press against me. As I pull my cock out, and slam it back in, your ass starts to shake and your hands grip the sheets. Baby, your pussy is so wet I can feel your juices dripping down my balls.”
A strange thrill rushes through me as his voice fills the line. I’m caught in a whirlwind. There’s really no other way to explain what I’m feeling. I’m moaning, writhing on the bed, barely even remembering that it’s my hands touching my skin and not his.
It’s unreal.
It’s amazing.
“You want more, baby girl?” he asks.
“Yes!” I nearly scream the word at him. “Yes, please … Please don’t stop. I’m close. So close.”
He chuckles softly, a sexy, throaty sound. “I smack your ass nice and hard as I pull my cock out and slam it back in. I reach around and start rubbing your clit, pinching it between my fingers. As your pussy muscles spasm around my cock, I start fucking you harder, flicking your clit with my finger. Your legs start to shake, my dick starts to twitch deep inside you, and you look back at me, telling me to fill your pussy with my come. It turns me on so fucking much that my balls begin to lift. Your pussy starts to tighten around my cock, and then you moan, legs shaking as you come, making my cock harden and shoot warm come deep inside you.”
My heart races faster than before, my body growing taut. I can feel it coming, the pressure building and building, and then, the pleasure. It sweeps through me, setting off bursts and sparks throughout my entire body. I cry out, feeling myself convulse around the vibrator, my eyes squeezing shut.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks, his voice slightly strained as though he’s out of breath.
I don’t think, surprising myself as the answer naturally flies out of my mouth as though I’ve said it a million times before. “You.”
“Tell me,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”
My voice is a little more than a shaky breath as I say, “I belong to you.”
“Good answer, baby girl,” he says, sounding pleased. “You know you’re my number one bitch, right?”
I blink. Did he just call me a bitch? I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“I swear, beautiful,” he says, amused, “it’s a good thing.”
“Okay,” I say, grinning into the phone. “But I just have one question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Who’s your number two bitch?”
My question makes him laugh—hard. “There’s no one else but you. Pick a date, baby. I really want to see you.”
“Okay.”
When the call ends, I’m smiling again. Smiling and excited and I shoot off a text to Richard.
ME: I’d like to go to Pennsylvania to meet Joshua. I’ll let you know when.
9
What’s In Your Toy Box?
My cellphone pings for the second time. Sighing, I set down the ten-pound dumbbells and pick up the phone from the windowsill, taking a look. It’s a text from Richard.
RICHARD: I got your message and I’ve been thinking … You should go to Pennsylvania and meet your convict in person. I bet meeting him in person will get him out of your system.
He wants me to go to Pennsylvania?
I blink at the screen, confused, not sure how to respond. I’m too exhausted, too distracted by my shaky, burning legs to really comprehend the message.
“Babe, put that phone down,” Becca grunts, and my eyes fly to her as she squats for what has to be the hundredth time. She’s a goddamn squatting machine, holding nearly triple the weight as me, and barely breaking out in a sweat. “We’re almost done. If you break too long, I swear I’ll make you start again.”
Groaning, I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure if I squat one more time, I won’t come back up.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She laughs. “You’ve got this, now put the phone down and pick up those weights.”
My phone buzzes again. I frown as a new message pops up on the screen, another text from Richard.
RICHARD: If nothing else, I’m certain that once he sees you in person, you’ll be out of his system. You should book a hotel.
I read the message, and then I read it again.
Once he sees you in person …
My chest tightens, and so does my grip on the phone. Asshole. I’ve been working so hard—so goddamn hard—to lose weight, and I have. I’ve lost a ton of it, trying to make him see me as beautiful again, and he still doesn’t see it.
He probably never will.
I’m not really sure he ever did.
I don’t even know why I bother trying anymore, a habit I guess. And maybe, just maybe I want him to see me, really see me just once before I walk out the door.
Weights clatter to the floor behind me, and then Becca is there, her chin on my shoulder and sweaty chest against my back, peeking at my phone.
“Damn it, Becca,” I say, shrugging her chin off my shoulder. “Get your nasty sweat covered body away from me.”
She laughs and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tight. “Not until you pick up those …” her voice trails off, her laughter abruptly stopping. “He’s a horse’s ass.”
I turn my head to see her expression. She’s frowning, long lines wrinkling her forehead, her eyes glued to my phone.
“Yeah,” I agree, “he kind of is.”
Silence falls.
Five, ten, fifteen seconds pass.
“Uh, Becca?” My voice is shaky, my eyes stinging.
Her arms tighten around me. “Yeah, babe?”
I glance away from her, my eyes scanning over the thousands of dollars’ worth of exercise equipment filling my basement. Treadmill, elliptical, stair climber. There’s a weight bench, dumbbells, and curling and deadlift bars. Yoga and pilates mats fill a quarter of the room. I bought it all, setting up a full service home gym and busting my ass daily for months, just to make Richard happy.
“Do I really look that bad?” I ask.
“Oh, honey, of course not. You look amazing.”
“I’m overweight.”
“You’ve lost thirty-two pounds.”
“I need to lose another forty.”
Becca snorts. “No you don’t.”
“The medical charts say I should be one-hundred and thirty pounds, and Richard thinks …”
“Who gives a shit what Richard thinks,” she says, cutting me off, and squeezing me tighter still. “You’ve got nice thick thighs, a big round butt. And your boobs are the perfect size, big enough to be noticed, but not so big they take away from those sexy eyes and full lips. You’re gorgeous.”
Taking a deep calming breath, I wiggle out of her arms, setting my phone back down, and I pick up my weights. “Forty-three more, right?”
Becca doesn’t answer my question; instead, she gives me a look that’s both fury and sadness. “Today, I’m going to make you feel sexy,” she declares, her voice hinting at the emotions painting her face. “Promise.”
****
When Becca said she was going to make me feel sexy, I never imagined this was what she had in mind. But as I stand here, staring at the walls of vibrators and dildos, I realize that she wasn’t kidding around. She’s going to make me feel sexy and she brought me to a sex toy store to do it.
I don’t know how to react, standing here in skinny jeans and a bright pink spaghetti strapped tank, my eyes taking in all the toys. I’d rather be anywhere but here. They make me feel overwhelmed and a little on edge. The truth is, I’ve only ever been to one of these stores once before, an
d I didn’t dawdle, picking up the first vibrator I saw, paid, and got out.
I turn, spotting Becca across the store, sorting through racks of costumes. She waves a hand, beckoning me over, but I’m not about to go to her. If I do, I’m pretty sure she’ll have me trying on that sexy nurse’s outfit she’s holding up. By the look of it, there’s no way I’d get that skirt over my ass.
When I turn back to the wall of toys, a woman is standing there. Short and blonde, with big hips and a tiny waist, wearing a light blue lacey miniskirt that just covers her ass, a skintight white tee, and flip-flops. She’s smiling at me, a smile that’s so warm and contagious that I find myself smiling back.
“What’s in your toy box?” she asks, her voice all smooth and silky.
My toy box?
My smile falters. I don’t know how to answer that. “Um … what?”
“Your toy box,” she says, smiling as she waves a hand toward a display of purple vibrators. “What’s in it?”
“Oh …” I stall, heat rushing to my cheeks as it dawns on me what exactly she’s asking. I duck my head, glancing down. “I don’t really have one.”
She stares at me.
And stares at me.
And then, she stares some more.
“You don’t have a vibrator or a dildo or an anal plug or a …”
My skin flares with heat as I hold up a hand, stopping her short. “I have a beaded vibrator and a bullet.”
“That’s it?” she asks, surprised. “Really?”
My cheeks heat further. “Yes, really.”
“She’s been missing out, Stacey,” Becca calls, the laughter in her voice carrying from across the store. “I’m thinking she needs some anal toys and that new vibrator. You know, the one with the triple tongues?”
Anal toys?
Triple tongues?
Oh God.
“You got it, Becs.” The blonde—Stacey—giggles, excited, as she grabs a hold of my arm and leads me over to the purple display. She grabs a vibrator, turning it on and grinning at me. “You’re going to love this one, sweetie.”
Awkwardly, I take the vibrator, feeling the powerful vibrations against my hand. My eyes widen in surprise. “Wow.”
If I Could Do It Again Page 7
