by Brandy Ayers
My future husband is my best friend. Just don’t tell my sister that because she gets pissed whenever he says it.
“Shit, I forgot my wallet on the counter. I’ll go grab it and be right back. There are at least two things in there I cannot wait for the honeymoon to use.” Trent gives me one more kiss on the cheek, then turns back to jog the half block to the adult toy store we just spent several hours in.
I had wanted to shop for this stuff online, but Trent insisted going to a sex shop was a rite of passage, and I had to do it at least once. It turned out to be a ridiculous amount of fun. We laughed, made out a little, and made more purchases than I expected us to. It’s a good thing we will be alone in the tropics for so long; we have a lot of product testing to do.
Which reminds me, I need to stock up on batteries before we leave.
“Francie?”
Dread billows up in my chest, freezing my lungs for a moment. I’d recognize that deep voice anywhere. It is the same voice that berated me and tore me down for years, until I was so filled with self-doubt I almost ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.
Turning, I look straight into the eyes of the man my younger, dumber self thought she loved. But now I see him for what he is: a weak man who took his insecurities out on his wife. The sad thing is, he isn’t a bad looking guy. A little thick in the middle, but I never minded that. His hair is neat and trimmed with a little premature grey running through the brown, and his face is handsome with a strong chin. But his eyes are empty and his mouth stern.
“I’d heard rumors you’d turned into some sort of a sex addict, but really, this is just pathetic.” Derek nods to the bags in my hands with the bright pink logo splashed across the sides. “You always were hard to please. Figures you would need all those contraptions to get a reaction.”
The laugh bubbling up inside me cannot be contained, and I don’t even try. “Derek, I am not hard to please, but it turns out I did need someone who gave even a little bit of a shit about me to be happy.”
“I highly doubt any respectable man would allow you to bring all those . . . toys into the bedroom.” Derek sneers as he says the word toys. As if they are filthy and below him.
Whatever. I really couldn’t give two shits about what he thinks. But I do need to get him gone before Trent comes back with his wallet. If there is anything I know about my fiancé (eek! fiancé!), it is that he is extremely protective and possessive. We talked a lot about the scars my marriage left on me, and I know he wants nothing more than to make Derek eat his teeth.
“Well, it was completely unpleasant running into you, Derek. Bye. Hope to never see you again.” I turn to walk back toward the store, needing to get away from my ex as soon as possible.
“Even back in high school, I knew there was nothing special about you. So frumpy and homely. I thought I could help mold you into an upstanding wife, but you resisted my suggestions at every turn.” I can hear the disappointment in his voice, and a little teeny tiny part of me, buried way down deep under all the love Trent has shown me, hates knowing I’ve let Derek down. But I promptly kick that feeling to the curb and turn on my heel. Derek, oblivious as always, doesn’t see the fire in my eyes and keeps droning on. “My mother warned me when we started dating that you would be no good. That you were too weak to handle a man of my stature. I should have listened.”
Ugh. His mother. He is right; she always hated me. I was never near good enough for her little prince. I’m pretty sure she is half the reason he is the way he is. Being told over and over again your whole life that you can do no wrong and everyone else is to blame for everything bad that happens in your life is going to make a douche bag out of anyone. And I honestly believe that the other half of the blame lies on genetics, because everyone in his family seems to have the same affliction.
Behind me a low growl vibrates the air around us, the deep bass of that sound goes straight to my belly, curling my insides into a spiral of arousal.
“Who are you to talk to my wife that way?” Trent’s long legs eat up the sidewalk that separates me from Derek, and if I’m not mistaken, I see genuine fear in my ex-husband’s eyes. “No one talks to her with anything but respect and dignity. If they do, I end them.”
I hold back the squeal that really, really wants to escape from my throat. I don’t get to see the super jealous, possessive side of Trent often because there is never any reason for it to come out. Only an idiot would see us together and ever think it would be a good idea to approach me in any way, good or bad. But when it does come out, it makes me very happy, because I know I’ll be in for a good, dirty, rough fucking when we get home. Trent will feel the need to stake his claim on me in the form of his handprint on my ass, his cum all over my chest and stomach, and my pussy sore from the pounding it will take. I almost rub my hands together in glee.
“W-w-wife. She’s not your wife.” Derek tries to take a few steps back, but Trent just follows. And then the douche canoe goes and makes everything worse. “She’s my wife. Even though the courts dissolved our marriage, they can’t do anything in the eyes of God.”
I really can’t help the way my eyes roll. Derek is religious only when it suits him, something I’m pretty sure God would take issue with.
“Wrong.” Trent roars the word, and I get the craziest vision of him dressed up as the beast from Beauty and the Beast. Hmmm. Role-playing isn’t something we’ve really explored yet. Note taken. “She is my wife.”
“Technically, dear, I am your fiancé, but in a few weeks, yes, I will be your wife.” I can’t help but throw that in there, just for accuracy’s sake.
Trent swings around to look at me, and his face softens slightly, because even worked up like this and ready to punch Derek in the face, Trent would never look at me with anything but love. God, he is the best.
“Semantics. You are my woman.” Trent turns back to Derek, the hardness in his voice back in place. “She is my woman. You tried to cage her, tear her down and make her believe she couldn’t do better. You were the one who couldn’t do better. Now I get to reap what you threw away. You are an idiot. A small, weak idiot who likes to keep the women in your life under your heel. But she was too strong to allow you to do that. And now she is mine. I am hers. And if you don’t get out of our general vicinity, I will end your worthless little life.”
Apparently getting the picture, Derek turns without another word, and no joke, scampers away. Actually scampers. I can’t help but giggle a little. How I ever thought I loved that man is beyond me. Now that I have Trent in my life, it seems impossible that anyone could have come before him.
Trent’s shoulders rise up and slowly drop as he takes in a deep, steadying breath.
“I’m very proud of you for not hitting him.” Wrapping my arms around Trent’s waist, I bury my face into his strong back. Is it possible to smell testosterone? Because I swear the scent of power and man is wafting off him, soaking my lady bits.
“Gotta say, I’m proud of myself too.” Trent turns and cradles my face between his large hands. All the anger and fire are gone from his eyes, replaced by concern and love. “Are you okay? I only heard a little of what that asshat said to you, but none of it sounded pleasant.”
“I’m fine. I was just about to give him what for when you showed up. Everything he said just blew right past me, for the most part.” I turn my face to kiss each of his palms in succession. “He was right about one thing though. I’m never going to be an upstanding wife.”
“Thank fuck for that. Even after we get married, you better stay my dirty as fuck wife. Screw upstanding. Now, let’s go home. I’m putting that rabbit vibrator in your pussy, the plug in your ass, then I’m going to fuck your mouth. Just like I know you’ll love.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
Trent flips me upside down over his shoulder, carrying me off in a fireman’s carry. Then he slaps my ass for good measure.
“Love you too, my dirty fiancé.”
Epilogue Two
Two Years Later
Trent
“Do you think I should call and check on her?” Francie twists her fingers together in the seat next to me. The seat of our almost brand-new minivan.
Because I am minivan people now. Hell, yes, I am. We have one baby at home, our first, and I can’t wait to fill up the rest of this van with more of them. The first moment our little girl, Celeste, blinked up at me with those grey-blue eyes all babies have, I was a goner. One hundred percent wrapped around her little finger. She isn’t even a year, yet I am already looking at how much a pony costs.
But tonight isn’t about our little angel. Tonight is about Francie and me reconnecting. Francie’s sister, Meg, is spending the night at our house tonight so we can have our first night alone since the baby came. We need this time together. As much as I love our little Celeste, I feel as if we should have given her the middle name Cockblocker because that girl knows exactly when I am about to start in giving her mom what we both love so much. I can count on two hands the number of times we’ve been able to not only have sex, but finish sex, in the last ten months. And even those times were rushed.
I wouldn’t change it though. Celeste is worth getting the occasional case of blue balls. And so will her siblings be once they come along.
“Honey, Celeste is going to be fine. You know how much she loves her Aunt Meg. They are going to have a great time tonight, and so are we. Then when we go back home tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be even better parents for having given ourselves this time together.” I reach over and grip Francie’s hand, the one bearing my rings that I put on her finger two years ago this week.
“I know. I just miss her already. Is that crazy? I mean, we’ve only been gone for two hours. And dinner was amazing. But I just can’t stop thinking about her.” Francie falls silent for a moment before barreling on with all the little insecurities I know are rattling around in her head. “Do you think she is going to like Meg better than me? I know Meg really wants to be the cool aunt, so does that make me the uncool mom?”
“Don’t you worry. Celeste will think you are the coolest. Until she reaches her teens and then every adult will be insufferably uncool.” That at least gets a giggle out of my wife.
The ding of her phone fills the van, and Francie has the thing out of her purse and unlocked before I can even blink. “Oh, look how cute!” Francie turns the phone to me, and it is a selfie of Meg holding up the baby. They are both wearing matching Rainbow Brite pajamas.
“Where does she find these clothes? Rainbow Brite isn’t even a thing anymore, is it?” I don’t know which one of them spends more money on that baby, Francie or her sister. It is a good thing Meg found an equally rich husband to settle down with.
Another ding comes through, and Francie reads the text out loud to me. “I can feel you worrying from here. We are fine. Have fun.”
“See, everything is good. Let’s just concentrate on us tonight.”
Francie nods in her seat beside me, letting out the pent-up breath I know she’s been holding since we left the house. “Speaking of which, where the hell are you taking me right now? I don’t recognize anything.”
“Ah-ha, finally clued in to that, did you? It is a surprise. That is all you are getting out of me.” I love surprising my dirty girl. The expression she gets when it all comes together is one of my favorite things on this earth.
Right as the words leave my lips, we pull into the parking lot of what looks like a completely unassuming country club. The grounds are manicured to perfection, and the sprawling building has spotlights featuring different architectural details. As I pull up to the valet station, I sneak a peek over at my wife. Her jaw is on the floor, and her eyes are as big as I’ve ever seen them.
“Oh my gosh, this place is amazing!” The awe in her voice is unmistakable.
“You haven’t seen the half of it, honey.” I exit the van, going to the back to grab our overnight bag, which Meg packed earlier in the day. By the time I make it to the passenger side of the van, Francie is already standing there looking around at the lush gardens, visible thanks to the full moon shining overhead.
“Is this where we are staying tonight?” She laces her fingers with mine and wraps her other arm around my bicep, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Yes. Among other things.”
Tilting her face up to mine, Francie gives me a quizzical look. But I simply kiss her nose and lead her into the club.
It may look like a country club, but no one would guess it is actually a highly selective sex club. We won’t be participating in any of the festivities that take place on the lower levels of Club Zion, but we will be observing. Francie has always wanted to watch a couple have sex in real life, not just the porn we occasionally watch together. She has a little bit of a voyeur in her and a little bit of an exhibitionist. We’re very fond of finding dark corners to christen, never someplace that could get us in serious trouble and never someplace where there is a real danger of us being seen. She likes the thrill of the possibility. Not the actual act of having sex in front of others. But she loves watching. Mirrors are a big thing with us.
There is no need to check in since I’ve already taken care of all of those arrangements. Instead, we are escorted straight to the suite I’ve reserved for the night. We have about an hour to kill before the festivities downstairs will begin.
When we met three years ago, I thought it was impossible to love her any more than I did. Then it just grew and grew every day. On our wedding day, I thought that had to be it, our love had grown as much as it could, and we would forever be in that state of love and bliss. Then she gave me a daughter, and watching her with our child has made my love grow exponentially. I’ve finally accepted that our love will never stop expanding.
As I lead her to the bathroom, where I have a bubble bath, champagne, and candles waiting for her, that love consumes me to the point of near pain. I leave her alone to relax in silence, something she rarely gets these days. A half an hour later she steps from the bathroom, glowing and fresh, and it takes everything I have not to take her to the ground and fuck her into tomorrow. But I want to see her face when she realizes what this place is.
The outfit I picked out for her, with the help of her sister of course, is laying on the bed. It’s a tight red skirt, almost modest in cut. The hem goes down to just above her knees. The shirt is a crop top that leaves just an inch or two of her sexy-as-hell tummy visible above the high waist of her skirt, and the neckline somehow manages to cover her more than ample chest.
Once I have us dressed and ready to go, we make our way to the elevator, Francie shooting me curious glances the whole time. “So, are we going dancing or something? What else could we be doing this late at night dressed up like this?”
Giving her the smile that she calls my up-to-no-good smile, I wrap my arm around her waist and draw her in tight to my side. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
The elevator descends past the lobby, then stops at the first sublevel. Before it opens, a slot under the buttons for each floor lights up. I insert my key card for the room, and we are granted access into Club Zion.
It is apparent the moment we step off the elevator that this is no regular club. Men and women dressed in little to nothing walk around carrying trays of cocktails, serving them to yet more men and women in all states of dress. Some are wearing clothes similar to Francie and me, dresses and slacks and dress shirts. Some wear leather. Some wear nothing at all.
I turn to Francie as she takes it all in, her eyes round and curious. Her eyes follow a woman who has a foxtail dangling from her ass, undoubtedly attached to an anal plug, and nothing else on her body.
“Trent, where are we?” Her voice shakes a little, but not with fear. I know every sound this woman makes, and this one is all excitement.
“Welcome to Club Zion, the world’s most exclusive sex club. Every kink you could possibly be curious about is represented here, all on display for your viewing pleasure. We can fi
nally cross off the ‘watch another couple have sex’ item off your list.” Taking her hand in mine, we wander into the lobby. All around us, people are talking, kissing, fucking. There are rooms lining the perimeter of the lobby, each with a sign explaining the theme of that room for the night.
According to Razor, who vouched for me to the club’s owner, the themes change nightly, but scenes, as he calls them, break out spontaneously throughout the place as well.
“From the looks of it, we can cross this item off the list so many times we’ll tear through the paper.” Francie smiles up at me with that Cheshire grin, the one that lets me know she’s making plans for us for later.
And yes, we still have the list. Francie framed it, actually. There are still three things left unchecked on the list: watch other people have sex in person, be watched while having sex, and sex with two men. This is the last item on the list that will ever be crossed off.
For a little while we wander from room to room, Francie’s eyes taking everything in and her cheeks flaming bright red. Some rooms we don’t linger in for all that long, mostly the ones involving BDSM or anything pain-related. Others, Francie is especially drawn to. The one where a woman is tied to the wall as people bring her nearer and nearer to orgasm seems to especially fascinate her. The sign outside the door said it was the forced edging room, and a list of rules stated that she could be brought to the brink of orgasm by any means necessary except actual penetrative sex.
After twenty minutes of watching the woman writhe and moan, we move on to another room. For the most part, we keep quiet, letting small touches and glances do the communicating for us.
But then we come to the free-for-all room. All around, people are screwing in all different configurations. We stand along the wall once again, just watching. Francie’s breathing picks up pace, and I know she loves what she is seeing. She’s confided to me in the past that when she meets someone, the first thing she wonders is how they like to have sex. It is one of many little quirks that I love. She is a sexual being through and through, and all mine. Here she can satisfy her kinky curiosities to no end.
