Page 21 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

Like her hair. I died a little bit inside at the cheesy fakeness of the name.

I’d been dying a little bit inside a lot over the last few days. I wondered how much longer until nothing was left.

* * *

An hour later, we were both naked in my hotel room bed. But the nightmare continued.

Scarlett was being remarkably patient. I supposed that was what I was paying for: professionalism. She was cycling through all the tricks in her considerable repertoire, positioning herself over me, red hair cascading down to brush against my chest, her perfect body pressed against me as she murmured dirty talk in my ear. With believable fake enthusiasm, she’d trailed kisses down my neck, my chest, lower still, her skilled mouth working with the kind of expertise that should have had me rock hard in seconds.

Nothing.

She repositioned herself again, straddling me with practiced sensuality that had probably never failed her before. My hands caressed her as she released sexy blissful gasps.

Still nothing.

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed, her hand sliding down to wrap around me with gentle determination, trying to coax some life into my cursed body. “We’ve got all night.”

Of course, she would be fine with the situation. We’d set an hourly rate, and she was hoping for overtime. But I could see everything else behind her eyes: pity, slight confusion, and hints of amusement she couldn’t entirely hide. She was probably already composing the mocking text she’d send to her girlfriends about this. You’ll never believe the guy I had tonight. Young, hot, built like a superhero, but couldn’t get it up to save his life.

Her touch continued, skilled and patient, and I felt absolutely nothing but crushing humiliation. Here was an extraordinarily skilled sex professional, gorgeous, naked, on top of me, and dedicated to fulfilling any request I made, and even that did nothing to break the effects of Callie’s curse!

I remembered charging out of my house, yelling at Callie that my dick was more powerful than her magic.

But it seemed my dick had met his match. He wasn’t more powerful than my wife after all.

Another second of this would break me.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I muttered, rolling away from Scarlett.

“Take your time.” Her voice was kind, but I caught the flicker of relief. She was grateful for a break from this exercise in futility.

I fled to the bathroom, closing the door and slumping against the wall. The cool tile against my back did nothing to calm the burning mortification coursing through me. I could still feel the phantom echo of Scarlett’s hands on me, and it made my failure to perform that much more complete.

This was Callie’s fault. All of it.

The rage hit me like a freight train, sudden and overwhelming. How could she have done this to me? How could the woman who promised to love me, who stood beside me at that altar, how could she have cursed me like this? Reduced me to nothing, stripped away everything that made me a man, and for what? Because I made a few mistakes? We had taken vows to be there for each other!

The image of her from the night of the curse blazed through my mind. That night brought to the surface a side of her I had never seen before. The way she stood in that room, commanding the magical forces around her. That sexy dress that had materialized on her body, fitting her like it had been painted on, because it basically had been. Her hair whipping around as if she were at the center of a hurricane. The way she’d tossed herself back onto the bed as I floated above her, looking down at her fierce eyes, her gorgeous rack pushed up in that impossible dress⁠—

I froze, my anger screeching to a halt.

Was that...?

I looked down, hardly daring to believe it. There wasn’t much to see yet, but I felt the faintest stirring of things kicking into gear. Nothing impressive, but definitely something.

The first something in days.

And it happened the second I visualized looking down at Callie’s incredible cleavage.

My mind raced back to what Callie had said, her words dripping with vindictive satisfaction: “I’m the one and only woman on this planet that you can still get it up for.”

I had assumed her physical presence was required. But… could it actually work only from thinking of her?

My phone was still plugged into the charger by the bed. I cracked the bathroom door open, relief flooding through me when I saw Scarlett had her back turned, scrolling through her own phone. I darted out, grabbed mine, and retreated back to the bathroom.

With trembling hands, I navigated to Callie’s social media. My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, momentarily stalled by how pathetic and insane this was.

But it was also my only idea.