I try to breathe.
“Come for me,” he growls. “Come for me, wife.”
It’s enough to send me over the edge. Suddenly I’m climaxing with more force than I ever have in my life, my moans pitching higher and higher as a second shockwave ripples through me. His grip tightens and he groans long and loud as he thrusts almost violently into me, his own release exploding deep inside with a hot, furious pulse.
He pulls out almost immediately and collapses onto the bed, pulling me back with him. I topple in a graceless heap, facing the wall and panting for air. The sweat cooling on my skin causes me to shiver, and suddenly he’s curving himself around me, his arms holding me tight.
He’s holding on to me.
He used me like I asked him to, and now he’s not letting go.
Emotions well up in me as my heart rate slows and I let myself relax beside him. He pulls a light blanket over us and I lay completely still, taking in the steady feel of his chest rising and falling against my back and the heat of his body warming me. And then his arms go a little lax…then a little more, until I can tell by his steady, even breathing that he’s fallen asleep.
Lazily, I stroke his wrist with my fingers and it doesn’t take long for me to drift off in my husband’s embrace.
The next morning I wake with a start and it takes a second to realize where I am. Luka’s bedroom. The penthouse. Home.
Contentment settles over me, as if I belong here and nothing is out of place. Yet something is missing. I feel it even in my sleepy state. Stretching, I fling my arm over to Luka’s side of the bed and slowly roll that way as memories of the night before seep in.
Smiling, I press my face into his pillow, taking in his scent. It hits me then that his space is empty, the sheets cool. Disappointed, I turn over on my back and stare up at the familiar ceiling of the master suite. It’s okay that he’s gone, I tell myself. I’m the one who asked for a divorce. And I’m the one who told him to use me however he wanted to. Besides, Luka’s the last person who’d take a day off from work, even after a long day of testifying in court.
Despite the pang of hurt that he’s not here, I feel lighter somehow, as if fucking my husband is exactly what I needed to break the rut that I’m in.
I lay there a few moments more before rising and getting dressed and ready to leave. Mr. Kibbles is sleeping soundly on his doggie bed. All this back and forth isn’t really fair to him. But glancing around the living room, I know that I can’t stay. It’s not where I belong anymore. I just wish this whole thing didn’t feel so confusing.
“Come on, Kibby,” I croon as I snap his leash into place.
Leaving a note on the entryway table, I take one last look behind me before I walk out.
I wonder if Luka will even find it.
I needed last night. I hope you did too.
Brooklyn
Chapter 6
“Girls’ night!”
Tori’s singsong voice on the other end of my cell phone isn’t what I was expecting when I answered the call, but it’s got me a little hopeful.
Hopeful that I can peel myself off this uncomfortable pull-out sleeper sofa long enough to put down the family size bag of Cheetos I’ve been stuffing my face with for the past half hour and change into something other than two-day-old pajamas. My fingertips are orange, my eyes glazed over from the hours I’ve spent binge-watching Tiger King. It’s not a good look.
As Tori starts rambling about logistics, I trudge into the kitchen to put my snacks away.
“So what do you think?” Tori says.
“I think Carol Baskin is guilty as hell,” I say confidently.
Tori pauses. “Sorry, what?”
“From Tiger King,” I explain, as if everyone on the planet should know who she is. “You know, the lady who killed her husband and fed him to her pet tigers? I mean, not that I blame her. He was kind of an asshole. How have you not seen the show?”
There’s another pause. “Is this your way of saying you want to kill Luka? Because we don’t have any pet tigers and the zoo is too far away to transport a body without getting caught.”
I laugh along with her. Bumping off my husband? Nah.