One New Message (A Dark Romance Novel)

by Vivian Ward

  She looks at me, mortified.

  “What? Why? Who was he?”

  “His name is Wally. That night that you kicked me out, I went to the liquor store to get a bottle of Jack and Coke. He was sitting outside, slumped over, and he looked so defeated. I just felt like I had to help him, so I bought him some smokes, fed him, and invited him to stay with me; but he gave me the biggest gift. Bigger than anything I could have ever given him.”

  Her big hazel eyes look up at me under her long, wet lashes.

  “What was that?”

  “He gave me friendship. I was trying to help him, and he ended up helping me through my darkest time. You have no idea how scared I was that I’d lost you for good. He stayed with me for a few days and talked me through things.”

  “That was sweet of him,” she says.

  “Yeah, it was. I really enjoyed his company, but he taught me something. He said that everyone has an addiction,” her eyebrows contort and all I can do is grin at her. “And you are my addiction. You are the air that I breathe, the food that feeds my soul, and the sun in my solar system; without you, I cease to exist.”

  She hugs me, holding me the tightest she’s ever held onto me before.

  “And you got all of that from a homeless guy?”

  “Sort of,” I kiss her forehead. “I had a lot of time to think while we were apart. I know we’ve still got some issues to work through and some things that we need to talk about but if you’re willing to work through them, then so am I.”

  She sits up and pulls the blankets off her, grabbing Dublin who’s wedged between us.

  “Remember when you bought me this?” she smiles and I nod. “While you were gone, I can’t tell you how many nights I cried myself to sleep holding him. I want this. I want us. I want it with you.”

  “Me too, babe. Me too.”

  Epilogue

  We’ve been working on things, one small step at a time and I don’t think our marriage has been this healthy in a very long time.

  Drew and I still have issues communicating, but we’re getting better. This whole ordeal has opened our eyes to a world of possibilities for our relationship that we never knew existed before this.

  One thing that we started doing about a month ago is going to sex therapy. After a lot of talking, we decided that aside from communication, the second most important thing in our marriage is our sex life.

  Some couples fight over money, some fight over jealousy, but we nearly lost our marriage because of sex. When one person isn’t getting what they want, sometimes they’ll go through other avenues to fill that void—and that’s exactly what I did. I was willing to risk everything for ‘Robbie’ even though he wasn’t real.

  Our counselor, Dr. Margarette Graves, has been helping us fill those gaps and voids by giving us exercises to work on. She admits that Drew’s way of approaching things wasn’t the right way, but she can see that he’s willing to do things that make me happy.

  I’m also learning that vanilla isn’t bad and it’s not as dull as I’d made it seem. I was only bored because we fell into a routine. It was always the same thing, time after time again. We never deviated from our usual routine.

  One thing that I’ve started doing is taking better care of myself again. Drew pointed out how I’d kind of let myself go; I didn’t wear makeup, I didn’t shave my legs, hardly fixed my hair—you know, typical girl things that guys like. So, I put forth the extra effort to make myself pretty for him, and spend a little extra time in the bathroom each day.

  Let me tell you, that little bit of time has gone a long way between us. I had no clue how much those things bothered Drew until he pointed out how I’d done them for Robbie—a complete ‘stranger.'

  It made me feel pretty damn guilty, too, because I knew he was right. Now when I do those things for Drew, he always mentions it. He’ll comment on how smooth my legs are or tell me how beautiful I am—not that I need to hear those things, but those are compliments that I hadn’t been paid in a long time.

  Again, it’s the little things that go a long way.

  He’s even adopted a more stringent grooming schedule because he knows how much I hate his unkempt facial hair. I didn’t marry a caveman, so I don’t want my husband looking like one. Of course, I worded it much nicer when I brought it up to him.

  With the two of us working together, we’ve developed new ways to spice things up.

  Drew is still getting used to the fact that I’m a pain slut. He doesn’t mind the ropes or bondage so much, but he doesn’t like inflicting pain on me. Dr. Graves said that this is normal for a lot of men, but she’s helped us find different avenues for him to inflict pain without being violent, which has helped immensely.

  For example, Drew is a boob guy. He loves my boobs, and I like them to be played with but he’s too gentle, and it doesn’t do anything for me. She suggested that he could do simple things like rub ice cubes over my nipples to get them very cold and sensitive. Once he’s accomplished that, he can do something as simple as placing ordinary nipple clamps on them to make them bite and sting a bit more.

  I’m telling you, she has worked wonders! These are all just little things, but each one brings us closer to getting on the right track with each other.

  “Thank you for coming in today,” Dr. Graves greets us after her assistant shows us to her office. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” I smile, taking a seat next to Drew on the small, red velvet sofa that sits across from her chair.

  She returns a warm smile of her own and nods.

  “Let’s see,” she says, looking over our file. “Did the two of you have the opportunity to work on any of the exercises that I gave you at your last appointment?”

  I look over at Drew and smile. For some reason, when it comes to talking about sex, he gets so embarrassed around Dr. Graves. I tried telling him that it’s completely normal and that’s why she’s here but he still doesn’t like it. Deep down, I think she intimidates him a little because she seems like such a powerful woman.

  “We did,” I giggle. “I’m wearing them right now.”

  Drew’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he sighs.

  “And Drew, how does that make you feel that she’s wearing vibrating panties? Have you given her any zaps?” she gives a playful laugh.

  He sighs and shakes his head.

  “Not yet. I will though, just trying to catch her off guard.”

  She scribbles in our file and quickly looks up at us, over the top of her red wire-framed glasses.

  “What about you, Madison? Have you tried any of the suggestions that I made during your last visit?”

  I nod, eager to share.

  “Yes, I’ve been more open with Drew about things, but there is one thing that I’d like to talk about if that’s okay.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” she waves her hand in front of her as though she’s a magician doing a magic act.

  I turn on the sofa, facing Drew.

  “Remember how I was telling ‘Robbie’ all of my secrets, and you thought that he knew everything there was to know about me?”

  Drew goes wide-eyed, and I can practically see anticipation growing on his face.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” I reassure him, patting his leg. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t tell Robbie everything there was to know. There’s something that I’ve never told you but I’d like to, and I want Dr. Graves to give us feedback on this.”

  “What?” he asks.

  I look over at Dr. Graves, and she gives me an assuring nod to continue.

  “One thing that I like is being choked—not the kind where you kill me, or I pass out or anything, but I like it when I feel powerless during sex.”

  Now that I’ve said it, I feel like I’ve let the cat out of the bag and I want to stuff it back inside. I feel stupid and a bit embarrassed.

  “That’s not uncommon with women who are into bondage,” Dr. Graves chimes in, filling the silence in the room. “It�
��s completely natural, really. A lot of couples get into bondage and other sex acts for the sole purpose of the power exchange that happens between couples.”

  “And you think it’s okay to choke my wife?” Drew asks, obviously a little shocked.

  Dr. Graves chuckles and shakes her head no.

  “Not in the literal sense that you might be picturing it as,” she explains. “Madison, why don’t you tell him more. Explain what it is—in detail—that you like.”

  Fixating on a picture that occupies the space between the two tall windows of her office, I pay special attention to the curves of the naked woman who is sprawled out, relaxing on a leather, studded sofa.

  “Like I said, I don’t mean full-on choking; just pressure against my windpipe to give me the illusion that I’m powerless.”

  “Why?” Drew asks without missing a beat.

  I shrug. “Because it turns me on. I don’t know why I like the things I like. There’s no rhyme or reason why people like what they like. Is there? I don’t know why I love chocolate; I just do.”

  Dr. Graves covers a few suggestions of ways that we can slowly begin to incorporate more power exchange in our sex life, and before we know it, our session is over.

  On our way out the door, we make our next appointment and just as I’m leaning against the counter while the secretary books the date for us, I jump as Drew zaps my panties.

  The two of us laugh hysterically as the woman looks at us as though we’re crazy.

  “I know what you did there, Drew,” Dr. Graves says, peeking out of her office, which only causes us to laugh that much harder.

  Sometimes doing fun, silly things—and getting caught—makes all of our hard work even more worth while.

  As far as the texting goes, we’ve both made a promise to each other. He won’t download or use anymore texting apps, and I’ll tell weirdos to get lost; no more talking to strangers—ever. I’ve learned my lesson, and I think Drew has learned his, too.

  We’re still working through our trust issues, but the counselor said that she believes we’ll be able to overcome those with time. Drew and I are lucky in that aspect, not a lot of married couples could work past that but I know we’ll make it. Our love is too strong not to.

  “It’s going to suck going back to work tomorrow,” Drew says as we leave the office.

  “I know. I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “Too bad we can’t vacation all of the time.”

  In an effort to connect and grow closer together, we each took a one-week vacation together. We didn’t go anywhere or do anything special. Instead, we just sat around the house, watching movies, ordering takeout, playing cards, having sex—lots of sex—and, in general, just spending time together.

  Drew got Wally a job with him. He’s a laborer for SMS Masonry, and Kirk says he’ll replace Lazy Gene in no time at all. They can’t wait to fire that guy.

  Opening the car door for me, Drew says, “Do you mean that? You’ve really had a good time with me? Not doing anything?”

  “Absolutely!” I lean on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips. “How about you?”

  “Pfft, you know better,” he says. “I think we should do this every year; spend a week together with nothing to do but each other.”

  Caught In the Middle

  Copyright © 2016 by Vivian Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter 1

  Holding my elbows tightly against my sides, I hope that it eases the rolling and churning sensation in my stomach as I board the plane. Sure, I have been back home once since I moved to Vegas five years ago, but Chesterfield, Missouri isn’t a place that I miss all too much.

  One of the few things that I miss, aside from my father, is my best friend, Karli. She and I have been friends since the third grade and even walked together at our high school graduation ceremony, and it feels like ages since I’ve seen her or my dad.

  Karli’s getting married to her other best friend, also known as her ‘better half’, Chris. He’s a good working man but he’s a bit old-fashioned. Although, in this day and age, old-fashioned can be a blessing in disguise. There aren’t many men who still treat a woman like a lady and give her the respect she deserves, but Chris does. He worships the ground that Karli walks on, and I’m happy for her. Truly happy.

  I guess the timing of her wedding couldn’t have come at a better time for me either. She has wanted me to be one of her bride's maids since the day she got engaged, but I was always worried whether I’d be able to get off work since she was having her wedding in the summer. That’s typically a prime time for vacation, and with almost no seniority at my job, I figured I wouldn’t be able to make it home for her special day.

  But that’s not anything that I have to worry about now. Not since I’m currently unemployed.

  The clear blue sky promises a beautiful, easy flight home but it doesn’t help settle my nerves one bit. Not only do I have to begin preparing for a wedding to honor my best friend in the world, but I also have to face my dad and possibly at least one—or maybe both—of the Richardson boys.

  Trent and Zack Richardson. The two names—the two men—who can make my heart skip a beat and make me cringe at the same time.

  My dad isn’t as much of a big deal, though. I didn’t want to come home at first, but as expensive as my rent is in Vegas, I couldn’t sit around waiting to find my next job, so it seems like my only option is to come back home. I just worry about finding employment once I get there.

  I worked as a croupier—or card dealer at the casino. My job was one of the most amazing jobs you could ask for. I got to meet new and exciting people, have some fun and a few good laughs and play cards all night.

  All of that went belly up when our casino was bought out by a new company. A more ‘mainstream’ company who was equipped with all of their own employees came in and cleaned house. Of course, we found out with almost no notice.

  When I initially told my dad that I was moving to Las Vegas, the first words out of his mouth were, “I’ll never see you again. Will I?”. It broke my heart to leave him alone in our condo, but I had to get away.

  Dealing with Trent and Zack was beginning to take its toll on me, and I had started getting in way over my head. I don’t know how those two came from the same womb. They’re as different as fire and ice, and it definitely shows.

  Since the day I’ve known them, they’ve always been competitive against each other. Two brothers who competed for everything—including me.

  Especially me.

  I tried my damnedest not to let them fight over me, but boys will be boys. There is no way that I could ever choose between them. We grew up together, and I am close to both of them. It would be like asking someone in hell to choose between water or ice. You would want both, but you know you can only have one.

  Growing up, my mother was a maid for the Richardson’s, and my father took care of the landscaping and yard work. In addition to a generous salary, they allowed us to live in a mother-in-law quarters that was on the far west wing of their property so that I could go to one of the finest schools in the area.

  Mr. Richardson was rarely ever around, but his wife, on the other hand, lived in the lap of luxury and spent all of her spare time at home. She was always friendly and included us with their family on holidays, special outings and treated us so well.

  My fam
ily never felt like hired help. If anything, she made us feel like we were nothing more than extended family. She genuinely included us in everything because that’s the type of person she is. In fact, she even knows my birthday and would always have a gift waiting for me when I came home from school.

  It is no surprise that I ended up with a crush on both of them as a young teenage girl. Anytime I had a problem with someone at school, or out on the street, they were both right there to take up for me. As long as those two were around, I never had anything to worry about; and it wasn’t just while we were kids.

  “Thank you for flying with Mountain Airlines. If you look above, you’ll notice a seatbelt sign that will light up, signaling you to fasten your seat belts,” the airline attendant begins her speech as I buckle up.

  Her entire body looks like it is nothing more than a pair of legs. I’d guess she is about 5’7” and there is no way she weighs more than a buck twenty. She fits the bill to the T for the type they like to hire as an airline stewardess.

  I’ve always been jealous of women with long legs. I don’t know what my mother fed—or didn’t feed—me, but I stopped growing around the fourth grade. All of the other kids looked up to me, literally, when they talked to me, and I was almost as tall as my teacher.

  Back then, I thought it was cool to be tall. Hell, I still do. The only problem is that everyone else grew and passed me up while I stayed the same height I’d always been.

  I hate shopping in the petite section for all of my clothes. Even though the pants are supposed to be shorter, they still swallow me up at 5’1, ” and it drives me insane. There’s nothing like getting all of your clothes altered, so it doesn’t look like you shopped in the ‘regular’ section because heaven forbid that I be normal. Both Zack and Trent have always told me how cute I am being barely 5’1”, but I hate it.