Page 133 of The Bad Husband

This is reckless.

No one fucks like that without at least thinking about having a future together.

Yet we can’t be together. We both know that. So this must be it. This is all we have.

And since things are out of my hands, I dedicate myself to him in these moments, fucking him and also loving him, showing him how much I need him.

How much I need him to fuck me like this and allow me to have the memory of us imprinted in my brain for later when our lives will break apart, and we’ll follow our own stories.

When I’ll probably have a different man in my life, and different life plans. When he’ll go back to his life and find a different Henrietta. Or maybe someone mellower than her.

Or someone worse than her.

With that thought in mind, I move my hands over him, saying words that no other man has ever heard from me.

“I love you, Damon,” I say in the heat of passion, and he fucks me harder and kisses me harder, his hands melting my skin off, his pounding making me throb my way into a swirl of pleasure.

We both come, and he keeps kissing me until he’s hard again.

We have sex the entire night with only a few breaks to take a shower and have coffee in the morning.

Last time he fucks me, I’m on all fours, and he’s pounding into me from behind until my hips and legs are numb and my pussy is sore.

Without having a wink of sleep, we head home. He drops me off in front of the house. He’s tired, quiet, and barely smiles.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, and with that he veers his car away and soon after I watch the brake lights turn red as he stops in front of the gate.

The gate opens, and he vanishes in, while I still wonder whether I’ll work for him tonight.

23

LILA

“How was it?” I ask, smiling, as I roll to my back and put Keira on speaker.

I slept eight hours straight. What can I say? I feel much better. Less anxious, more optimistic.

The day is slowly drawing to an end, a beautiful sunset spreading across the sky.

Keira stays quiet at the other end of the line.

“Keira?”

“Huh?”

“How was it?”

“You mean my date?”

I smile.

“Was there anything else?’

She laughs.

“Maybe?”

“Oh, don’t tell me. You did it?” I ask incredulously, the last trace of sleep removed from my brain.