by Jami Denise
When we were finally rid of our clothing, we stood together underneath the spray of the warm water, skin to skin. He kissed me softly, like he was afraid I'd disappear. As beautiful as the moment was, it scared me. We were still off. We were there—bare and unbothered by the outside world but that expansive space between us was too much.
Our hands roamed, lips touched, eyes wandered, but it never went further. We washed each other, the same as we'd done many times before, but this time it felt more like a test—a test I was certain we’d fail.
We stayed under the spray until the water went cold, and then Royal stepped out and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my torso. He kissed my shoulder before reaching around and grabbing a towel of his own, throwing it around his waist and walking out into the other room.
I was in tears. I wanted to curl up in a corner and just sob until there was nothing left. We'd been gone less than four hours and in the cabin less than one, and things were already unraveling. Maybe we were trying too hard. All I wanted was for my husband to take me, take my body and love me the way he used to. I wanted to hold on to him while he glided in and out of me, pressing his chest against mine, and feel his breath as he panted against my neck.
We dressed quietly, the painful silence eating away at my nerves. I didn't bother with the fancy undergarments I’d brought along—they stayed securely at the bottom of the suitcase. What was I thinking? They were a last desperate attempt, and it felt manipulative. Rationally it wasn’t, but that didn't make me feel any less ridiculous.
I dressed in a simple sundress—nothing fancy—and a pair of wedge sandals. When I picked it out, I thought it looked pretty. Once it was on, I felt stupid. Plain. Ordinary.
He turned around, gave me a small smile, and broke the silence. “Ready?” he asked.
Giving him a tight smile, I nodded. “Yip,” I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster under the circumstances.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, kissed the top of my head, and opened the door. “You look nice,” he commented.
Surprised, I looked up at him and gave a small smile. He was driving me nuts. One minute he was sweet and loving, the next he acted like he couldn't stand to be in the same room as me. It was making me dizzy.
I didn't say anything—I just allowed him to lead me out. His mood was lighter, and that gave me encouragement. I didn’t want to be disappointed, but so far I couldn’t help it.
We entered the dining area of the main house, and Mrs. Perkins greeted us. She wore a wide, inviting smile, and the aroma of savory Italian carried through the room, making my stomach rumble. Royal chuckled from beside me and tapped my hip.
“Welcome! Come in and make yourselves at home. I've got homemade manicotti, garden salad, and garlic bread. It's all on the table. Andiamo,” she said with a wide sweep of her arms.
To my surprise, Royal pulled the chair out for me and then slid into his own. We sat across the table from a young couple, obviously newlyweds, and another couple around our age. I gave them all a friendly smile as I unfolded my napkin and placed it in my lap.
The younger woman reached forward to shake my hand. “Hi, I'm Makenna, and this is my fiancé, Charles.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I'm Jenna, and this is my husband, Royal.” I placed my hand over Royal's. He didn’t respond, so I let it fall back into my lap.
“Oh, is this your honeymoon?”
I laughed bitterly and forced a grin. “No, just getting away for the weekend.”
She sighed. “I totally know what you mean. We've been so stressed out, so we decided to get away, too.” She smiled at her fiancé once again and leaned into his shoulder.
She was quite sweet, so I tried to put on a façade of happiness. They were there to have fun—who was I to burst her bubble? I watched as she pushed her copper curls behind her ears and lifted her fork to continue eating. Her fiancé hadn't stopped shoveling food into his mouth since we'd been seated.
I reached for Royal's plate and tried not to roll my eyes. Of course he waited for me to fix his plate—God forbid he ever had to do anything for himself. I piled the pasta onto his plate and then asked Mrs. Perkins for a bowl to put his salad in. He was so anal about his food touching—everything had to be served just a certain way. I blamed his goddamned mother. Entrée on the plate, vegetable as far away from it as possible, salad in a bowl—dressing on the side—dinner roll and/or bread and butter on a bread plate, and separate forks for each item.
Idiot.
Bitterness filled my stomach. Funny—I’d never thought about how much it pissed me off before. I’d never had the desire to dump his entire dinner onto his plate like a giant volcano, but at that moment, in front of strangers no less, I wanted to tip it over his stupid head. Maybe no one even noticed, but I sure did. I felt like his servant—or mother—instead of his wife and partner. I'd been at his beck and call for twenty-three damn years, and I was tired of it. Honestly, I wasn't sure when it happened, but I was fed up.
I slammed the plate down in front of him—a little harder than necessary—but I was embarrassed and disappointed. I didn't even get a vacation from being his maid for one damn weekend. I should’ve just stayed home with the kids—even they could fix their own food.
Conversation at the table was light, and I was glad to have the distraction. Makenna was an absolute sweetheart, and I could tell she was looking forward to being married. Sadly, I saw my younger self in her. She desperately wanted to be liked and accepted. She was dearly in love with her fiancé and becoming his bride seemed to be the end all be all of her life.
The urge to lunge forward and warn her tore at me. I wanted to tell her to hang on to him and run at the same time. I found it interesting that I wasn't even able to offer her any words of advice whatsoever. I was a sham. My marriage was a mess.
The couple sitting kitty corner to us—Shannon and Alan—were quiet and introspective throughout dinner, and I couldn't help but watch them from time to time. They looked comfortable with each other, and even though they were friendly, they were in their own little world. I noticed they weren’t married, or at least they weren't wearing rings. I marveled at how close they were though. I envied that.
I couldn't even get my husband to say anything more than the grunts he'd give through a mouthful of food. It was appalling. He had no interest in talking to anyone—me included.
Finally, the painful dinner was over and we found ourselves back in our room. I decided, to hell with it. I was going to pull out the lingerie. What did I have to lose? I told myself before we left home I would give it everything I had. I loved Royal, and I had to dig deep to find out where he was hiding and why. All I wanted was for him to want me the way I wanted him.
I fished around in the bag and pulled out the blue silk robe, chemise, and matching panties, and then ran into the bathroom to change. Once I dropped them on the counter, I hurriedly stepped out of my dress and held the nightie up in front of me.
The outfit was modest, but I still felt awkward. I'd never had a lingerie phase during our relationship, so Royal hadn't seen me in anything like what I held up in front of me.
I slipped it over my head and let it slide over my skin. The top let just a sliver of cleavage show, and I hoped it was enough to entice him. I left the sash of the robe untied, but I wasn’t secure enough to walk into the room in the chemise alone. I turned from side to side and decided I looked... pretty. The color was flattering, the fabric settled around my curves perfectly, and it was sexy. It gave me the courage I needed so I could walk into the room and seduce my husband.
I pushed the door open a little, peeking out to see where Royal was. I almost cried when I saw him lying on the bed in only a pair of navy blue boxers, arms folded behind his head and his attention focused on the television across the room.
He looked so handsome, but then again, he always did. Sometimes it made me jealous. As the years went on, he got better looking while I just got older. The bloom of he
at in my belly urged me on until I was directly in front of the television. This was it.
He didn’t bat an eyelash.
Moving to my side of the bed I slipped the robe off slowly and purposefully, letting it fall to the floor. Silky fabric drifted silently, and the movement caught Royal's attention. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes before a small smile lifted his lips as he turned onto his side.
“Is that new?” His eyes traveled the length of my body—focusing on my breasts for a beat, before lifting again to meet my nervous stare. “You look beautiful.”
I smiled and lifted the sheet to crawl underneath and slide in next to him. “I did some shopping last weekend. You like it?”
He shifted closer, pulling me into his side. “I do.” He let his fingers smooth over the soft fabric, making me hiss when his thumb rubbed over my nipples.
His eyes met mine, silently asking for more. My head fell back against the pillow and he pinched and rubbed me through the silk. His touch was like fire, and I was desperate for more after anticipating that very moment all day. His lips moved across my neck and down across my chest. Every inch of me was on fire and my back arched when his tongue flickered between the valley between my breasts. My chemise slipped down, and I sighed when he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
He settled between my legs, pushed the rest of the fabric up and over my head, and then I felt his fingers feather over the waistband of my panties. I lifted my hips, helping him push them down my legs and smiled at the heat in his eyes.
“Did you do all of this for me, Jenna?”
My chin quivered. I nodded, feeling silly for being so emotional, but the way he looked at me felt so damn good.
Too good.
“You're beautiful.”
His lips met mine, and we kissed softly, caressing and exploring. It was wonderful, but I needed more. As puerile and crass as it sounded—I was horny as hell. Drenched with arousal and eager to have him inside me, I wrapped my leg around his hip and ground myself against his thigh shamelessly.
Unfortunately, the familiar hardness I desired wasn’t there. With a shaky hand, I let my fingernails scrape against his chest and then down to the waistband of his shorts. I slipped my hand inside, and found the soft skin of his dick, lifeless and soft.
A complete contrast to my overheated and ready sex.
A lump formed in my throat. Everything finally felt right, like we were on the same page. Inside I was confused and hurt, but I was also determined.
I wrapped my fingers around him, trying desperately to ignore the way the rest of his body went rigid with my moments. I stroked him several times, continuing to grind myself against him, reminding him that I was there, warm and ready.
And nothing. After several seconds, I tore away from the kiss, pulled my hand away from him and ducked my head in his neck to hide my tears.
There’d been a moment between us. I’d seen it in his eyes. He’d wanted me. Everything felt right. The back and forth was killing me. His actions told me one thing, but his body failed to follow through.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing wrong.
My thoughts went into overdrive. We’d come this far, and I wasn’t about to give up. Out of pure desperation, I moved down his body, kissing and nipping across his chest and stomach until I reached his cock.
Holding him firmly, I licked at the tip and he hissed—which was encouraging. I hadn't given him head in... well, years if I tried to think about it. Doing it was more of a task I dealt with, which wasn’t exactly fair, but he never complained. At that moment, I wanted to show him I was willing to do anything, even stepping outside our normal to make him feel good, and to feel just how badly I wanted him.
It wasn't exactly like riding a bike, but I remembered things he liked. I let my tongue swirl around the ridge of his head and then sucked him into my mouth, flicking my tongue and curling it around the soft skin. While I stroked what I couldn’t take in my mouth, I bobbed my head, enjoying the way he panted and smiled when he let out a little moan.
I fondled the tender skin of his balls, rolling them and squeezing softly. He always liked that—it was usually a means to an end for me. I'd tug and pull a little and... bam! I'd get to come up for air and it’d be over. This time he wasn't responding at all, and at the rate I was sucking and bobbing, I would’ve ended up with lock jaw in no time.
Suddenly, he pulled away and moved me away with a rough shove. My eyes went wide, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Royal, let me. I want to... it's okay.”
I leaned forward, to get closer, but he pushed me away again and fell back against the pillow, throwing his arm over his face.
“Just—stop. Let it go, Jenna.”
The anger and annoyance confused me. All I wanted to do was make him happy and hopefully get him hard in the process. Again, it hurt. How many times could my ego take his indifference?
“I was only trying to help. I'm sorry.” I choked back a sob and wiped at my eyes.
“Well, I shouldn't need help. Obviously I'm not in the mood, Jenna. Let's just...” he trailed off, sighing. “Forget it, Jenna.”
“I'm sorry for forcing myself on you,” I seethed. What the fuck was wrong with him. “I didn't realize I was bothering you. I thought—I don't fucking know what I thought. Never mind. Just go to sleep.” I snapped.
“Yeah, I'll do that.”
Conversation over. Everything was over. I turned around, grabbed the nightgown off the floor, threw it on hastily, and climbed underneath the blanket. Even underneath the quilt I felt cold—vacant. A woman shouldn’t feel alone sleeping next to her husband, but that had become my reality. I curled my legs beneath me and wrapped my arms around myself, holding back the sobs that were trying to claw their way out of my chest.
I felt dead inside. My heart had iced over and shattered into a million shards of glass. I never imagined my husband would reject me that way. Ever. It was as if all my fears were coming to fruition.
He didn't find me desirable.
He didn't want me.
The room spun and shook around me as I cried softly next to him, a world in between us in the same bed. At some point in the night I fell asleep, the nightmares indescribable. I awoke later, and when I turned over and reached for Royal, I found empty sheets.
He was gone.
Chapter 3
Things between Royal and I continued to be strained. That was putting it mildly.
He’d hardly talk to me, and the distance continued to grow like a cancer. I was angry, hurt, humiliated, and more than anything, I was irritated. The more I tried, the further he pushed me away. Keeping the mask in place was exhausting.
Work kept him busier than usual, so the small amount of help I usually got was sparse. It didn't help my attitude, having to run all four kids around, cook, clean, work, and make sure everyone had what they needed. I felt like a Gumby doll, pulled and stretched and bent to please everyone.
The worst part was he didn't seem to care. He came in late, heated his dinner, ate in front of the television, and slept on the couch. Several times I told myself it wasn't worth it. We were both obviously unhappy.
But then I'd wake in the morning to find him with Benji, curled up on the couch while they watched cartoons. The succinct grins before he walked out the door as I handed him his sack lunch squashed all the lingering doubt. I wanted him. I wanted him to want me, and I was determined to figure it out. There was a gap, but there was still hope. The old Royal was in there somewhere—I just had to get through to him.
We’d always had a very active, very healthy sex life. However, I’d never been the instigator. Having him push me away was confusing on so many levels. Still, I’d tried to be more forward, and that blew up in my face. When we’d started out, I’d been so inexperienced and so helplessly in love with him. He kissed me when he wanted to kiss me. He took me where he wanted to take me. I didn’t have to think. Everything just happened, naturally and usually
at his direction.
He’d always been patient, never pushed, but he’d never had to either. Our chemistry was off the charts. Neither of us could be near without touching.
Now, I was reaching, and he was so far out of reach.
* * *
As soon as I saw the sliver of light disappear in my parent’s room through the crack in my door, I ran to the window and shoved it open.
Royal stood below, under the knotted old tree in front of my bedroom. He leaned against it with legs crossed at the ankles in a casual and confident stance. A billow of smoke shimmied through the air, suspended and delayed by the late-night fog.
The wood frame creaked, and I pinched my thighs together when he smiled up at me, flinging his cigarette into the street. He anchored his foot on a low branch and pulled himself up the tree, limb by limb. It was something else watching him move up the wooden monstrosity. His strong arms gripping and pulling his body up and over, and his limber legs pushing against the trunk as he made his way up.
Everything he did made me tingle. Of course, the ample amount of teenage hormones and the excruciating flutters of first love were the reason, but every day I found more and more things about him irresistible.
Finally, he pulled himself through the open window and landed with a soft thud on my carpet. I jumped into his arms immediately. My dad banned me from seeing him after a break in curfew, and it’d been weeks since we’d been together. It was driving my fragile teenage heart into heartbreak. I was miserable. Every minute that ticked by killed me. I stayed in bed for days, listening to love songs and cursing my dad. I missed Royal. I yearned for him. I literally ached.
He wasted no time, and soon I was on my back with his body pressed against mine. His kisses made me dizzy. I felt like I was floating on a cloud of bliss, and even though it sounded just as stupid in my head, I couldn't help it. Being in love with him was exactly what I imagined it would feel like when I dreamed of finding true love.
