Claimed Series

Filthy

A thrill of excitement charges through me, getting me all excited, like I haven’t felt in a long time. Precisely, four months. It’s been four months since we last had sex, and every day I feel Jack slipping away from me.

I clutch the sides of the nightgown, creasing them a little, and look at the reflection in the mirror. Sure, I run four miles every day to keep in shape, but there’s something about me that’s different than before. I lack that grace, that impulsivity so natural in the first year of dating.

In our case, we dated two years before he proposed.

A chime from the front door announces his arrival, startling me, yanking me from my thoughts. Tonight, we’re celebrating our anniversary. We’re taking our marriage back.

I’ve found porn in his cell phone. I know what he’s into—dirty sex between a man and a woman. Hell, I’m into that too. So why does he act like he doesn’t want it with me?

You know why, a little voice inside me whispers with the malice of a poisonous snake.Because I cheated on him.I had a platonic affair, exchanging texts and nudes with an out-of-town guy I met through work. I had just lost my mother, and wanted to self-destruct. Thankfully, I stopped before going all in. But Jack, even though he forgave me… hasn’t looked at me the same way ever since. Tonight, I’m changing it. I either save my marriage, or leave for good.

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

Jack Pov:

I toss the keys in the overpriced wooden bowl. A lump clogs my throat, and I swallow, loosening the collar of my shirt before it gets too tight. A picture of a happy couple, us on our wedding day, stands next to the bowl.

Looking around the living room, I search for Ava, and even if she’s not there physically, I feel her presence. Smell her feminine scent in the room, a fragrance that brands the space everywhere she goes. A smell I’ll never forget, even when I’m old and senile.

I rub the back of my neck, and head to the bathroom to change into workout clothes. It’s early in the evening, and bench pressing will help me clear my head. The last few months haven’t been easy—a part of me wants to soothe Ava for having lost her mother, her best friend. And another feels like leaving her, after she obviously gave up on us by engaging in an affair and breaking our vows. Breaking my trust.

I fly up the curvy staircase, the house seems bigger in size. When I make it to our suite, the recessive lights aren’t on. A number of candles occupy the floor, the top of the dresser, the nightstands. The low melody of a known bossa nova song plays in the background, making me even more curious. I remove my jacket, and place it on the chair, then walk around.

“Ava?”

She comes from the bathroom, wearing a maroon gown that hugs her delicious body. A trying smile plays at her lips, but the message in her pretty eyes is transparent—she wants to fuck.

I’ve wondered for how long she’d hold out. We always screwed a lot, but as a punishment I’ve been avoiding any sexual contact with her. I couldn’t allow her to have pleasure when she hurt me so deeply.

I could have cheated on her, had innumerous occasions where women gave me their phone numbers in work functions or social settings. Betraying Ava and our vows never crossed my mind, and neither had the idea of sleeping with another woman.

“I was thinking…” she started, erasing the distance between us. “Today’s our anniversary.”

Anniversary.

My chest tightens for a moment, and I curl my fingers into fists. Maybe the recent events had played a toll on me, because I had no clue about today. I’m usually good with dates and stuff—better than most men.

She grabs a bottle of Taittinger, chilling inside a silver icebox, and opens it, then pours some into a glass. “We should celebrate, Jack. We’re here. We’re still together, and I want us to be wife and husband again.”

I accept the flute she gives me, and drink it fast, studying the glint of hope in her eyes. My gaze slides lower, down her graceful neck to her epic tits, perky and with pink aureoles. Damn it, I can see her nipples tightening and outlining the soft fabric.

She drinks her champagne, and puts the glass on the nightstand. “I’ve been shopping.” She cocks her head in the direction of a brown paper bag. I take a peak inside, and retrieve a few items, dildo, a tube of lube, and a frilly pair of handcuffs.

God. Blood pounds in my veins, and I study her. Ava Wall, nee Colbert.

As sexy as when I first met her, many years ago, after a lecture I gave on real estate property. She was done with a meeting at the hotel, when she accidentally walked into my lecture, and stood at the back, listening.

Can I forgive her? Truly get over the trust she broke?

She chews on her lower lip, fidgeting her fingers the way she does when she’s unsure. An invisible band tightens around my chest. If I keep behaving the way I have, I’ll lose her. No woman can stick around a distant man for long—not when they’re hot and willing.

“Remove your night gown,” I demand.

She slides it off, and in a swoosh, layers of silk pool at her delicate feet, leaving her naked except for the G-string that doesn’t hide much. My mouth waters as I stare at her pink pussy, her female cream already glistening through the sheer fabric. She shaved for me—completely. She leaves no doubt she wants to please me, an idea I quite like.

“Underwear off,” I say, my voice coarse.

She wriggles out of it and tosses it to the side. I catch a whiff of her womanly scent and push it in, reveling in her heady aroma.

She’s at my absolute control. We always fucked hard, but never indulged in toys or crap outside the vanilla stuff. Well, that changes tonight. Tonight, I’m making her pay for all the shit she put me through. Tonight, I’m taking back what’s mine.