The Glue

by Webster, K

  The tension grabs hold of me again and I’m suddenly feeling defensive. “I had to work.”

  “Of course. And did you lose your tie along the way?” Her green eyes flare with hurt.

  I’m a mess. My tie is gone. I’ve been running my fingers fitfully through my hair. I’m sure it looks worse than it is. I may have eyeballed my student and had a few hot fantasies, but I’d never act on them. Never.

  “Vale…” My voice is husky, a twinge of guilt. “Baby.”

  Vaughn’s not a cheater. And neither am I. But how do I explain the burning I’d felt not but a couple of hours before being with Aiden? How the hell does he explain the just-fucked hair and missing clothes? An ache, deep inside my chest crushes me.

  We’re breaking.

  Little by little at first, but now it’s happening all too quickly. Too many little holes in our boat. We’re sinking. It’ll be over in a flash. I’m devastated. I’m also slightly relieved. I am so tired of this. The fights. The silent brooding. The showers where I sob all alone. I can’t take it anymore.

  “Vale,” he says again, his voice raspy. A plea almost. I want to go to him, but his hands are fisted in anger. He doesn’t want me. Those gentle hands that had wrought out so much pleasure over the past eight years now are foreign to me.

  “I think you should go,” I whisper, my tears welling up, blurring his handsome form.

  He walks my way, tension rolling off him in waves. When he’s close enough to touch, I look down at our feet. His dress shoes are on either side of my boots. At one time, I would’ve thought it cute and grabbed my phone to snap a picture. Now, I’m staring at two strangers’ feet. We’re not picture worthy.

  “I don’t want to go.” His words are cracked and sad. A glimmer of hope bleeds inside of me.

  His palm finds my hip and I flinch. It’s been months since we touched. I don’t even remember the last time we kissed. Emotion clogs my throat as his thumb caresses my hip. When I chance a look up at him, his intense brown eyes bore into me. Rugged yet refined, my husband is a looker. He carries a powerful aura that makes you want to be in his protective embrace. An embrace I’ve been denied for far too long. My mind drifts to earlier in the shop when Aiden had held me. He was warm and comforting. I’d needed that more than air in that moment.

  I’m the cheater.

  I wanted Aiden to kiss me.

  “We’re broken,” I whisper.

  His other hand finds the side of my neck and he cradles me as though I’m precious. A choked sob rattles from me. “We’re not broken,” he assures me despite the way his voice trembles. “We’re just cracked. All we need is a little glue. We’ll be good as new.”

  I want to believe him.

  “We just need time,” he says, his hot breath against my cheek. “We’re fixable, baby.”

  His lips find mine and he kisses me softly. The apology in his kiss has me moaning in relief. For so long I’ve craved his touch and now that he’s giving it to me, it doesn’t feel real. His tongue sweeps across mine and I moan again. The sound seems to encourage him because his palms find my ass and he lifts me. Our kiss grows frantic as he carries me through the kitchen and past the living room where I’d already laid out his pillow and blanket. He totes me upstairs to the bedroom he hasn’t slept in for weeks.

  “Vaughn,” I whisper against his mouth. “I’ve missed this.”

  He growls in agreement as he sets me to my feet beside the bed. We tear at each other’s clothes until we’re naked. Then, he’s mauling me like he’s desperate for me. I know the feeling and I claw at his shoulders, needing him inside me more than anything else in this world.

  “I need you,” I moan.

  “I’m going to taste you first,” he rumbles.

  “No,” I beg. “Just…”

  His cock rubs between my pussy lips. I’m wet and eager. I don’t want foreplay. I just want him.

  “Baby,” he says, his voice pained. I hear the plea in his voice and I ignore it. Old habits are hard to break.

  I dig my heels into his hard ass and urge him inside me. We both groan in pleasure. His thickness stretches me and I feel like he’s taking my virginity all over again. He slides deep inside me where he belongs.

  “I wanted to lick your pretty pussy,” he complains.

  Curls of defensiveness swirl inside me, raising my hackles. “Just make love to me.” Just put a baby inside me. As soon as the thought enters my mind, guilt surges through me. He reads my mind because he tenses. I swear his cock softens, but then he bites on my bottom lip and fucks me hard.

  Tears of disappointment leak from my eyes. It’s not just him. It’s me. I’d grown so fixated on having a baby, I made sex a mission. It wasn’t fun. It was a means to an end. And even now, knowing he’s physically unable to give me a baby, I hold out hope anyway. I’ve given him a mission he will fail. A failure I’ll ultimately resent him for.

  He was wrong.

  He can’t fix us.

  We’re stuck in a constant loop.

  His breath becomes ragged and he grunts out his release. I make small moans, even making one louder at the end. Pretending. I’m pretending with my husband. This isn’t love. This isn’t fair. This is another head game he’s accused me of playing. It doesn’t feel like a game. It feels like my life and I’m failing at it.

  He stills after his cock empties and then his eyes are on mine. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.” The bitterness in his tone has me biting on my bottom lip to keep a sob from escaping.

  “It’s fine,” I whisper. It is. I’ve made peace with it. Or so I thought.

  His expression becomes stony and he pulls out. I watch as he pads into the bathroom and turns on the shower. I should join him. I should apologize. I should fix us.

  Instead, I roll over and cry into my pillow.

  I’m busy this morning in the coffee shop. My new muffins are a hit too. Turns out, Aiden was right. Taking off my curtains that I slaved over to sew was a step in the right direction. Several new customers didn’t realize I was open for business. But with the curtains gone and the window open, their curiosity got the better of them. When I finally get a break, I check my phone for any missed calls.

  Nothing from Vaughn.

  My eyes burn with threatening tears. He slept on the couch last night and was gone this morning. I haven’t spoken to him since we had sex. Guilt is eating me alive. I want to message him and apologize, but I don’t know what to say. That I’m sorry for wishing we could have a baby? That my obsession to get pregnant has ruined us and it’s all my fault?

  I open my messages but instead of texting my husband, I text Aiden.

  Me: You were right.

  His response is immediate, making me smile.

  Aiden: I’m always right.

  Smug ass.

  Me: The beautiful curtains were hiding my goods.

  Aiden: The hideous curtains were hiding the beautiful goods.

  My cheeks flood with heat. I’m flirting with my employee. It’s awful, but it’s the best I’ve felt in months.

  Me: I made lemon berry muffins. Sold out by nine.

  Aiden: Did you save me one, boss?

  Me: I saved you two.

  Aiden: Good girl.

  Stop, Vale.

  Just stop.

  Me: I have to go. Customer is coming in.

  It’s a lie, but I need to stop.

  Aiden: I’m fucking happy to hear it. Don’t worry, Vale, we’ll revive your dying shop.

  Me: Thank you.

  I’m just worried he’s going to revive my dying heart in the process. And where will that leave my marriage?

  Vaughn is especially broody today. When he caught me texting, he glowered at me until I tucked my phone away in my pocket. Probably for the better. Gave me an opportunity to admire his tight ass as he wrote notes on the board. Judging by the way several girls in class sit with their tits out and attention on our professor, I’m not the only one checking out his hot ass. Now that h
e’s forced me to sit up front, I get a stellar view of his perfect body. My eyes roam up to the back of his head. Today, he’s tense and put together. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his shirt. Compared to last night where he seemed to be fraying, today he appears cool and untouchable.

  I’m still looking at his ass when I realize everyone is leaving. I haven’t paid an ounce of attention to anything he’s talked about. I’m so fucked in this class.

  “Mr. Blakely.” Vaughn pins me with an angry glare. “Stay put.”

  I let out an annoyed huff. “Yep.” Great, another lecture.

  A couple of girls giggle at me as they leave and I smirk at them. When they’re gone, Vaughn’s penetrating stare is on mine. He strides over to me with purpose. Intent burning in his brown-eyed stare. His white dress shirt hugs his toned body perfectly. I lick my lips because he’s fucking hot and he does my head in.

  “Anyone ever tell you your head’s in the clouds, Blakely?” He stands all too close to my desk. I’m practically eye level with his dick. I don’t miss the bulge in his slacks. Biting the inside corner of my lip, slightly amused, I lift my eyes to meet his. I arch a challenging brow that says, Your dick’s flying high too, Professor.

  He sits on the edge of my desk, his scent enveloping me. A cologne I recognize but can’t put my thumb on permeates the air. I lick my lips because he smells too good. His eyes narrow, burning with unmasked desire, as he watches me.

  “You have a smart mouth,” he growls.

  I laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

  He cracks his neck and looks hot as fuck doing it too. “You didn’t have to. Your eyes say what you want to say. Your lips twitch. I know what you want to say and it’s smartass shit.”

  “Smartass shit my dad should whip my ass for?” I challenge playfully.

  The corners of his lips turn up like he wants to grin. It makes me want to see what this man looks like when he smiles. “You don’t pay attention. You’re going to fail my class. Do you even know what I talked about?”

  “Economics?”

  This earns me a smirk. “Smartass.” He stands from the desk and motions for me to follow him. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

  “Why?” I challenge as I rise, my eyes on his ass.

  “I’m going to tutor you and I don’t want to do it here.”

  I grab my bag and hoist it over my shoulder. “I could eat.”

  “And I could use a beer.”

  Chuckling, I follow him out of the classroom. “It’s barely noon, man.”

  “When you have to deal with brats like Aiden Blakely, you need a drink after,” he retorts, a wicked glint in his eyes.

  Is Professor Jerkoff flirting with me?

  I smirk at him and push out of the building. The icy chill of the wind has me pulling up my hood and grumbling. Vaughn stalks over to his SUV and we both climb in. His vehicle smells like him and I like it. It should feel weird being in his car with him, but I like the way he relaxes in his seat as though the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders. He pulls on some sunglasses and then backs out of the parking spot. I push back my hood and watch him from the corner of my eyes. That cord of muscle along the side of his neck just begs to be licked.

  Buzzzz.

  I pull out my phone to see a text from my brother.

  Ugly Twin: Steph is getting antsy. Says get your ass over for dinner or else. She wants to show off her ring.

  Smiling, I tap out a reply.

  Me: Tell Steph I’m busy juggling school and my new job. I’ll get by soon.

  Ugly Twin: Everything okay?

  Compared to a week ago, it is. I’m enjoying my time with Vale at the coffee shop and finally have my professor relaxing a little. They’re both hot as fuck, which doesn’t help on my whole sexuality confusion, but I suppose it’s a good problem to have.

  Ugly Twin: Dad said you’ve met someone. He was telling me you were smitten with her. I wonder, though, if she’s really a her. Is she a he?

  A chuckle escapes me. Of course my twin knows me better than anyone. It’s like we share a brain half the time.

  Me: It’s complicated.

  Ugly Twin: Always has been with you. Spill, asshole. Don’t make me beg like a chick for all the juicy gossip.

  Me: I like my boss. She’s cute as hell and her smiles are everything.

  Ugly Twin: Wanting your boss IS complicated. Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?

  Me: I also want to fuck the shit out of my professor. He’s probably as old as Dad too.

  Ugly Twin: HA! I knew it. Dad is gonna shit. I’m not the only one giving him gray hairs around here.

  I glance over at Vaughn. His jaw clenches as he drives. Always so serious, this man. And I joke about him being old, but if I had to guess, he’s in his late thirties.

  Me: I’m no closer to figuring out whether I prefer men or women.

  Ugly Twin: It’s okay not to choose, bro. It’s okay if you like both. That’s the whole meaning of bisexual. It’s a thing. Aiden Blakely isn’t the pioneer in liking both chicks and dicks at once.

  I snigger and send him the middle finger emoji.

  Me: Speaking of dicks, you’re the biggest one I know, Anthony.

  Ugly Twin: You mean I have the biggest dick you know of.

  Me: We’re twins, remember?

  Ugly Twin: Mine’s bigger.

  Me and this idiot will go round and round about this until the day we die. I remember being thirteen and we measured. Our little dicks at the time were exactly the same size just like everything else about us. Anthony was pissed. Dad was even more pissed when he walked in on us measuring our dicks. Got us both with the belt that day.

  Me: Gotta go. Give Steph some tongue for me.

  This time, I’m the one who gets the middle finger emoji.

  I’m grinning as we pull up to a tavern. I lift a brow at Vaughn. “I’m only eighteen.”

  He pulls off his sunglasses and laughs. Fuck if that laugh doesn’t get my dick hard. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder, kid. And I know the owner. It’s fine. You can drink water.”

  We climb out and the first thing I notice is the change in his gait. He’s no longer stiff and angry. My professor is loosening up. I bring my bag inside because he claims we’re here to study.

  The inside of the tavern is dark. Walls, tables, floors. All of it is dark wood and each table is lit up by a hanging light that doesn’t put out much light. It’s cozy and warm, though, a nice contrast to the bitter wind outside. Vaughn saunters to the back away from everyone and settles into one of the high-backed booths. I sit down across from him and lift a brow in question.

  “Studying, huh?” I pick up a drink menu. “I can barely read the words in here.”

  Vaughn smirks at me. “All you need to do is listen. Just like in class. You blanked out back there. I’m just going to lecture you here. One on one. You can’t avoid me.”

  I shake my head, biting back a snort of laughter. “You underestimate my daydreaming abilities.”

  “You really don’t like econ, do you?”

  “It’s not that I don’t like your class, I just don’t like college in general. It’s boring. I’d rather be doing something. Anything else.” I shrug and turn my gaze back to the menu.

  We’re silent until a waiter shows up. He’s old and reeks of cigarette smoke.

  “Well, if it isn’t my boy, Vaughn,” the old man says, chuckling. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Been busy,” Vaughn says. “How’s Ethel, Jim?”

  Jim frowns. “Cancer took her last year. She fought hard until the end.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Vaughn mutters. “I wish you had called me. I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

  Jim swats at the air, his big belly jiggling. “Nah, she didn’t want that kind of attention. I kept it small like she would have wanted. How’ve you and the missus been?”

  Vaughn stiffens and I swear his teeth are gritting to dust. “See
n better days.”

  “Last I saw, you two were trying for a baby. How’d that work out for ya?”

  “It didn’t,” Vaughn says icily.

  Jim stands there awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll have whatever’s your best on tap. Get the kid a water,” he replies.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” I grunt out to Jim, my voice deep and every bit as gravelly as Vaughn’s.

  Jim chuckles and walks off.

  “I’m corrupting my student,” Vaughn groans.

  “Your student needs a beer to get through his economics tutoring.”

  “Economics isn’t so bad. You just have to give it a chance,” he says. “What is it you really want to do, anyway? You’ve mentioned that you hate college, but what is calling to you?”

  I shift in my seat, shrugging. “Are you going to judge me like my dad?”

  His eyes narrow. “I’m not your dad.”

  “I always wanted to own my own restaurant.”

  My words seem to personally offend him because his nostrils flare and he crosses his arms over his chest. “A restaurant is hard work. Requires a hefty startup. They fail more often than not.”

  Wow, broken record much?

  Sounds like he and my dad have the same damn rule book that the rest of us aren’t privy to.

  “You asked,” I snap.

  He lets out a sigh. “Sorry. It’s just…I’ve heard this before and let’s just say, it didn’t work out for that person.”

  “Maybe that person didn’t want it as bad as I do,” I say coolly.

  He leans forward and pins me with a fiery glare. “She wanted it. She wanted it so fucking bad. I told her no and she begged. I caved and now it’s failing. As much as I’ve wanted to tell her I told you so, I’ve held back. But you? I can warn you. They fail more often than not. Word of advice,” he barks out. “Go to college. Get your degree. Make money on something reliable.”

  I cross my arms and glower at him. “Like you? Because you’re so goddamned happy.”

  Fury flashes in his eyes, but Jim decides to show up with our beers. He sets them down clumsily and they slosh out onto the tabletop.

  “Food for you, fellas? We make fried pickles now,” he says proudly.