Rough & Real

by Hayley Faiman

  I tug her panties down, moving my hand from her center to wrap around the back of her knee and spread her wide. Without a word, I align my cock with her pussy and slowly fill her.

  Moving my other arm, I slide it from her waist down to her clit and start to rub against her with firm circles. “Make yourself come, fuck me,” I growl against her neck.

  Ivy’s body jerks once, then her hips start to roll and thrust as she grinds down against my cock. I squeeze behind her knee trying to keep from coming too quickly. I love it when she takes from me, when she unabashedly fucks me to find her own release. Watching her selfishly enjoy my body is fucking beautiful.

  I slap her clit with my fingers which causes her thighs to shake and she tries to close them. My grip tightens even more as I force her legs to stay open, pounding up inside of her, harder and faster. She pushes back, her ass pressing against my stomach and we meet each other’s thrusts. It’s hard, relentless and fucking perfect. I continue to slap her clit until she sobs out, as her pussy clamps down around me.

  Only then do I fuck her, my fingers staying pressed against her clit as I slam inside of her until it’s my turn to find my climax. Once I’ve come, I release her knee, and she lets it fall against the other one. Her pussy is so tight this way that I have to grit my teeth. I continue to fuck her, taking her tight heat as she attempts to catch her breath.

  Her fingers are still twisted in my hair and she tugs back gently on my fifth stroke. “I’m so tired, and I have to be up at five,” she whispers.

  Pressing my lips to her shoulder I slip out of her body, but I don’t roll away. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her against my chest. “Love you, baby,” I murmur against her shoulder.

  She doesn’t respond but I feel her inhale deeply and let out a shaky breath. I don’t know what she thinks she saw or what she thinks was happening, but I know that I’ve hurt her. I just need to decide how I’m going to handle it, now. It isn’t an easy decision, and I know that the longer I stay silent the harder it’s all going to be.

  “How did you get home?” she asks a few minutes later, her voice husky and raspy with sleep.

  Squeezing her even closer to me I murmur my answer, telling her that her brother Barry drove me home. She falls asleep almost immediately after that, guilt crawls up my throat.

  We need to talk.

  This thing between us is only going to fester and grow.

  Why in the fuck can’t I talk to my own goddamn wife?

  The pounding in my head won’t quit. I crack my eyes open and then I realize that it’s not my head, it’s actually at the fucking front door. Reaching around on the floor for my jeans, I pull them on over my hips. I zip them before I run my hand through my hair, stumbling toward the front door. Yanking it open with a scowl, I’m surprised to see my mother standing on the other side. Wearing a matching scowl to mine.

  “We need to have a chat,” she announces.

  Opening the door a little wider, I stand to the side and let her in. Looking around the house, I wonder where Ivy is. She’s always around. Closing the door behind her, I follow her into the kitchen. I watch as she starts my coffee maker, and then begins to pull food out of my refrigerator, as though she’s at her own home. She’s here often enough that it shouldn’t shock me how comfortable she is, but it still kind of surprises me.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I sigh as I lean back.

  She hums, and it’s disapproving as fuck. I hate that. I love my mom, and I never want to disappoint her. “You have problems. I’m not going to ask intimate details, although, by the looks of things, I probably should.”

  I blink at her words and my mouth hangs open a little in surprise. “What are you going on about?”

  “Rosalie came to me, Tori said some things to her. It wasn’t right what Tori said, or the way she said it but I can’t deny that it wasn’t what all of us are already thinking,” she sighs.

  “What’d that little bitch say to my daughter?” I growl.

  My mother grips the countertop and hangs her head slightly before she brings her gaze to mine. “Don’t call your niece that, West,” she whispers. “I don’t remember verbatim. However, I will tell you my observations. You’re not coming home at night. Your kids see it and your sisters and I see it. You don’t show up to things like your children’s baseball games or school functions. It’s a wonder how Ivy hasn’t already left your ass. You aren’t present. I’m actually pretty shocked to see you home right now. However, you look hungover, so I assume someone dropped your ass off here last night?”

  I grunt. Unwilling to tell my mother that she’s right because she is just that. I haven’t been present, and I’ve been a shit husband and father. “Then there’s Ivy. It’s not lost on everybody that she’s changed her entire appearance, down to her clothing style. I know for a fact she’s at the salon right now making some more changes. Plus, she’s starting her new job next week. Care to explain all of that to me? It looks like she may be doing exactly what I’d hoped she wouldn’t, which is planning to leave your ass.”

  Sitting up straight, my entire body goes tight at her words “New job?” I question.

  My mom shrugs as she turns to get a bowl out of the cabinet and starts to crack eggs. “Yeah honey, she was hired at the dentist office in town as a receptionist. She asked me to help with the kids after school stuff here and there. I’m happy to do it, it’ll be nice to spend some more time with my grandbabies,” she says as she goes about making breakfast in my kitchen.

  “I’m worried about you two,” my mom admits a few minutes later when she slides a plate with toast and scrambled eggs in front of me.

  Shaking my head, I pick up my fork. “We’re fine, Mom,” I lie.

  She makes a tsking sound and taps her finger on the counter. “No, you aren’t. I know what my babies look like when they’re happy and when they aren’t. You are not a happy man, West. Fix it. Whatever it is—fix it. Me and your daddy, we didn’t, and he left. Don’t bury your head in the sand and assume that it’ll get better because it won’t.”

  I watch as she straightens and leaves my kitchen, the front door closing softly behind her. Letting the fork fall to the plate with a clank I run my hand through my hair again. She’s right. None of this shit between us is going to get better, it’ll only get worse. Now, my wife has gone out and landed herself a job and she didn’t even fucking tell me about it?

  My body fills with anger and I take the plate and toss it in the sink, uncaring if it breaks. Jogging toward my room, I take a quick shower and dress. I need to talk to my fucking wife and it can’t wait.

  Once I’m dressed I slam the front door behind me and jog to my bike. I’m glad that Grease sent a prospect to drop it off sometime between last night and this morning. Apparently, my wife and I need to have a discussion about what in the fuck is going through her fucking head.

  Blinking, I look back at myself in the mirror in surprise. My hair is lighter than it was when I stepped inside of the salon. Teeny, one of the Old Ladies, went to beauty school a few years ago. She added some gorgeous light blonde highlights. Then she cut it to just below my shoulder blades. I didn’t think that I would want any length taken off, but I love it.

  “What do you think?” Teeny asks as she wrings her hands together.

  I haven’t touched my color or cut my hair in so long that I’m completely shocked by how much different I look. In fact, I feel like my face looks at least ten years younger, and I know my hair feels five pounds lighter.

  Turning to her, I stand and wrap my arms around her. “I love it so much, thank you,” I whisper.

  Breaking our hug, I glance at the door when I hear the bell ding. When I see who walks through, I freeze. West’s eyes meet mine and he’s furious.

  I blink, unsure of what he’s so mad about but I know that he won’t say anything in front of Teeny. Reaching into my pocket, I hand her the money she’s owed and tell her goodbye.

  “Umm, bye,” she whispers from
behind me as I quickly walk up to my husband.

  I don’t say anything to him, just scoot past him as I walk out of the front door and head toward my car. I can hear his heavy boot falls behind me and my heart speeds up with each step I take.

  When I arrive at the passenger side of my SUV, I turn around and watch him close the distance between us. He doesn’t stop a few feet away from me. No, he stands so close that his chest is pressed against mine, and I have to crane my neck back in order to look into his eyes.

  “When were you planning on telling me that you got a job?” he barks. Anger spilling from every part of him.

  Exhaling I close my eyes slowly before I reopen them. “You told me if I wanted to continue going to Chad that I would need to get a job. So, I got a job.” I shrug.

  West lifts his hand and slams it down on the car next to my head. I jump and pinch my eyes closed, my body immediately trembling in fear. Never has West ever even attempted to hit me. Not that I think he would have this time, but he was a little too close for comfort and he’s scaring me. This new West is downright frightening.

  “Not gonna fucking hit you, Ivy,” he grunts. Slowly, I reopen my eyes and just gaze up at him, waiting for him to continue. “You doing all this shit? The working out, the clothes, the hair, and the job, to leave me?” he asks, lowering his voice.

  Reaching up, I wrap my hand around the side of his neck and really look at him. Behind the anger in his eyes, there is a sea of confusion. I hate it. I hate how both of us don’t know what the hell is happening between us. It hurts so damn bad, and neither of us is doing anything—or knows how—to fix it.

  “West,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.

  “My mom came over. Rosalie thinks we’re splitting up and I couldn’t fucking deny it. I couldn’t tell her one hundred percent that we weren’t,” he rasps.

  Each word is like a punch to my gut, a stab to my heart. My threatening tears fall. I hate this. I hate the way I feel right now, and I hate that he isn’t reassuring me. I hate that he was in that room yesterday and came home drunk late last night. I hate so much—and yet, I love him still.

  “You know what? When you figure out what you want, you let me know,” I state, lifting the back of my hand to wipe my tears away.

  West growls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Lifting to the balls of my feet, I don’t shout, but I make myself clear when I speak. “Whatever you’re doing at the clubhouse in the free-for-all room that doesn’t include me, figure it out. If you don’t want to be part of this marriage, then you need to let me know. If you have been, or you want to screw whores, then just fucking tell me. Stop hiding shit from me. Stop making me look stupid and stop making me feel worthless.”

  His body stiffens but his eyes lose their anger immediately and soften. The hand that he slammed next to my head moves but I can’t look at it, I can’t look anywhere but his beautiful eyes. We’re hurting each other, back and forth, over and over. It’s heartbreaking.

  “I haven’t fucked anyone but you, baby,” he murmurs, lowering his head and resting his forehead against mine. “Only you, Ivy.”

  I don’t want to get into this right here, in a parking lot, in the middle of town but I need to know and he’s talking. “What do you do in there? What have you been doing the past few months when you’re not home?” I ask.

  The question comes so easily, and yet, I already know that the answer will hurt. “I watch, Ivy.” Three little words, and yet their impact is so much more than I imagined.

  “You watch?”

  He hums, keeping his forehead against my own. “I watch and I imagine whatever bitch in the middle of the room, is you,” he admits.

  I jerk out of his hold, and he lets me go. Stepping around him, I blink. The tears I had are now dried up, and I don’t feel like I’m going to cry, but I do feel confused. I wait for him to continue, knowing that there must be so much more to his confession. It feels like an hour goes by until he finally speaks.

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. It’s my fantasy, Ivy, but it isn’t right. You’re the mother of my children. I shouldn’t want that with you,” he murmurs.

  I nod once, trying to collect my thoughts for a minute. Then I inhale deeply, letting it out before I speak. “You didn’t want to tell me. You decided you shouldn’t want that with me because I’m the mother of your children. So, you were going to what? Divorce me so you could enjoy your kink with someone else?” I ask.

  Anger suddenly surges throughout my body.

  What a selfish fucking prick.

  West runs his hand through his long hair before wrapping it around the back of his neck. “How can I ask you, my wife of fifteen years for something like that?” he asks lifting his eyes to me, his brows tugged together in seriousness.

  I want to scream and throw things at him. This man has put me through hell, all over something he felt as though he couldn’t talk to me about. The worst part of all of this is that we’ve been together for so long, and I’ve trusted him, until recently, to the point where I felt comfortable enough to tell him anything that crossed my mind. He obviously doesn’t feel the same way about me. He doesn’t trust me with a fantasy so big that he’s contemplating leaving me over.

  Bottom line—He. Doesn’t. Trust. Me.

  “So, you don’t trust me,” I whisper my thoughts aloud.

  West lifts his face and his eyes penetrate my own as I wait for his reply. “Out of everything I just said, your only response is the fact that you think I don’t trust you?” he balks.

  “You’re willing to throw me to the side, toss me away like trash, without talking to me. All of this shit between us, this anger, it could have been avoided if you would have just talked to me, West. But you didn’t, because you don’t trust me. Or maybe, what you’re telling me is bullshit? Maybe you just wanted some hot young pussy to play your kinks out with? Maybe you had no intention of telling me because you’ve decided I’m fat and lazy?”

  I watch as his nostrils flare at my heated words. His face turns red before he speaks. “Shut your goddamn mouth, Ivy. I fucking told you that I didn’t mean a damn word of that. What I said, it wasn’t about you. It was about Tinker and that cunt he was about to brand. I’ve never regretting making you mine, not ever. I’ve never thought you were less than completely gorgeous either.”

  “I can’t trust a word you say to me, West,” I mutter. “Nothing.”

  West throws his hands up in defeat and takes another step back from me. “Fine. Fucking forget I said anything. I’m not letting you go anywhere though, Ivy. If you think that you’re leaving me, you’ve got another thing fucking coming. You’re mine no matter what you want. I own every piece of you.”

  He turns around and stomps away from me. I feel—defeated, deflated, and depressed. Running my fingers through my new soft hair I let out a sigh. Nothing between us was solved today. In fact, everything is worse. There doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of our tunnel and that makes me want to cry even more.

  Dammit.

  Why is this all so hard?

  When did life become so fucking complicated and hard? I don’t remember how it happened. One second I was a prospect for a club, a club that offered freedom and no boundaries. The next minute I’m a father of three, and on the verge of divorce.

  My bike rumbles beneath me as I ride through town. I don’t want to go to the clubhouse, and I definitely do not want to go home. So, I just ride. The fresh air of the California mountains swirls around me and I take the time to just enjoy it.

  I don’t know how long I’m gone, but I pull over at a gas station to refuel and check my phone. The sun is already starting to set and I know it must be well past five.

  Once my bike has fuel, I walk away and look at my phone. I have three missed called from MadDog and a couple of texts. Without checking what the texts say, I return MadDog’s call.

  “Where the fuck are you?” he barks.

  I groan. “I’m about ten mi
les from town. Needed to take a ride. What’s up?”

  “Get your ass back here, church is in ten minutes,” he states before he ends the call.

  MadDog is gruff, always has been, but he’s never been quite so short with me on the phone before. Shoving the device back in my jacket I jog over to my bike and straddle it before starting it.

  I hug the turns and I quickly make my way back toward the clubhouse. Something is wrong and I feel it in my gut. Whatever it is, I hope that it’s something we can take care of quickly.

  The parking area of the clubhouse is completely full when I arrive. The prospect lifts his chin in a greeting as he opens the gates for me. Once I’ve parked my bike, I divest myself of my helmet and leave it on the seat before I jog inside of the clubhouse.

  Tinker is standing at the door that leads into the room we hold church in with a basket in hand. I drop my phone inside before walking toward my seat. The place is packed, every member is here and I wonder what in the fuck is going on. As soon as my ass hits the chair, MadDog takes his gavel and slams it down, calling the meeting to order.

  “My wife was approached this morning at the grocery store,” MadDog announces. “Some punk ass kid talked to her about the end of an era and stupid shit like that. Probably some harmless fuck, but I’m not taking any chances. Keep eyes on your families until we’re able to figure this shit out. Right now, we only have four prospects so they’ll be making rotations from house to house.”

  “Pres,” I call out and MadDog lifts his chin to me. “Some kid approached me and Ivy the other day coming out of Bullseye. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. He was a punk ass. He didn’t really say anything, but he watched me. The way he did it, he was studying.”

  MadDog growls. “Stay vigilant. Keep an eye out and tell your women to do the same. I’d like brothers not on rotation for loading up merch in Humboldt to help out with watching the women too.”

  “Why don’t we do a schedule, that way every woman is always protected?” Torch suggests.