Married to Krampus - Marina Simcoe Page 0,69

at home felt exceptionally lonely and he craved the intimacy beyond what his own hand could deliver. Those lucid dreams had been fun. Except that at the end of the day, he would still return to his empty house. Alone.

Upon a closer look, the day of the last visit puzzled him. It was the same date as Daisy’s shopping trip. He pulled up the statement of his credit account. Sure enough, there was a corresponding charge for it on that day.

Blood heated in his veins from the realization that it was his wife who had paid the visit to the spa that day. Why would she do that? When she had him, the breathing, living—and lately, perpetually aroused—husband at home?

“One day, you will want to be fucked by a man. And it could only be me,” he’d told her long ago.

The fact that she had gone to that place instead of coming to him burned through his pride and dignity like acid. Did she despise him so much that she preferred a machine to his touch?

After everything they had been through together.

After what she’d just said to him tonight.

Whether or not they shared a bed, Daisy was his. She belonged to him, body and soul, she just needed a little more time to realize that, and he was willing to give her the time.

If she were to dream about another man during this time, however, all his efforts would be lost. Then, she’d leave...

He thought about the life they had already built together here in their home. How comfortable they had become with each other. He couldn’t imagine this house without her.

“She could’ve simply gotten a massage to relax her muscles,” he told himself, trying to fight the poison of jealousy flooding his veins.

Then he thought about the change in her behaviour of late. How oddly skittish she had become. Talkative by nature, she would suddenly fall silent. Whenever they touched, even accidentally, she would pull away quickly.

If there was another man...

He groaned, sitting up in the tub. The water splashed over, just like his anger bubbling over inside him. What hurt the most was that she had done this behind his back. While all his thoughts had been about her, she’d been dreaming about someone else.

“I need to see the footage of the last visit charged to my credit account,” he typed the message to the Dream Spa AI.

Knowing it would only hurt more, he couldn’t stop. He needed to know everything, now. The whole entire fucking truth, no matter if it was about to destroy him.

“Due to our privacy policy, we need to confirm your ID, please,” a reply came.

“It’s my fucking account!” he growled, climbing out of the tub and leaving puddles of water everywhere. “And my own wife!”

Stomping into the bedroom, he got the credit bracelet and his ID, then scanned them both for the AI.

“One moment, please.”

Clutching the tablet in his hand, he paced the floor, dripping water on the rug. He waited for the video to load, expecting his heart to break into a million little pieces any moment, now.

Hitting play, he braced himself for the image of one of those human men from Earth with their clean-shaven chests. They’d be holding his wife in their furless arms.

His own scowling face appeared on the screen instead, making him think he was somehow staring at his reflection, at first.

The image zoomed out, then, showing his shirtless torso.

“Oh no...” Daisy’s voice reached him, confirming he was now watching her no-longer secret fantasy.

Tablet clamped in his numb fingers, he plopped on the bed in shock.

Daisy, his sweet little flower, had been fantasizing about being pounded hard by someone who looked an awful lot like him.

It was him, his “fierce” red eyes included.

He watched for another moment, giving his brain the time to catch up with what he was seeing. However, his cock caught on with what was happening first, jumping to attention, hard like steel.

Should he even be watching this? Let alone getting hard to the video of the naked Daisy now being hammered from behind. Somewhere deep inside, a small voice whispered belatedly that he shouldn’t be intruding on her private fantasies.

“This is my fucking face, right there!” he snapped at his inner voice, pointing at the image on the screen. “I am already involved. More that I fucking knew!”

He should’ve known. How had he been so blind? So clueless? For so long? He’d read all her signs wrong.

“It’s my fantasy, too.”

And it was time to