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“And that I have a problem with, especially when I can’t get ahold of you.”
“I told you my battery died.”
He smirks. “Yeah, okay. How convenient.”
I sigh inwardly. I can tell this is going to be one long, endless night of arguing. And I’m not for it. “Listen, I don’t want to argue. I’m tired. It’s been a long exhausting day. Can we not do this tonight, please?”
He huffs. “Yeah, whatever.”
“No, it’s not ‘whatever.’ You know we both agreed that you’d take on most of the household responsibilities with the girls until I made partner.”
He sighs. “Yeah, okay. And I support your career. And I want you to make partner. But what I don’t support is you forgetting that you’re still a wife and a mother. What I didn’t agree to is, you neglecting your responsibilities to your family. If you want to move like you’re single, then do that. But you can’t live here. I want a wife and a mother to my children. Not a roommate.”
I blink. Oh. No. The. Hell. He. Didn’t!
I slam a hand up on my hip. “I haven’t forgotten anything. And I resent you for saying that.”
“Well, guess what, Markisha? Get over it. I resent you putting more energy into your career than you do your goddamn family.”
“That isn’t fair. You know—”
“Yeah, I know. And neither is being neglected by my wife.”
I swallow. “How have I neglected you, huh? What, because I’m not at your beck and call whenever you want sex? Is that what this is about, huh? You think I’m out cheating because I’m not fucking you every night?”
He glowers at me. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m thinking, especially when I have to practically beg to make love to you, then you tell me you’re too tired.”
“I am tired.” Yeah, from getting my back knocked out. “You know I work long hours, and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. “Whatever you say. All I know is, someone’s been getting pussy and it hasn’t been me.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He raises a brow. “Oh, you think this shit’s funny? I’m not being ridiculous. Tell me. When’s the last time we’ve made love, huh?”
I blink. Swallow hard. Try to remember the last time I’d given Craig some pussy that wasn’t out of pity or guilt, or obligation. I come up short.
“Yeah, just what I thought. You can’t tell me ’cause you don’t even know. Well, I know the last time I had my dick inside my own wife,” he snaps. “Six damn weeks ago!”
I blink. “It hasn’t been that long, Craig.”
“Well, obviously I’m the only one in the room keeping count,” he says snidely. “All I know is, I’m getting tired of playing with my own dick. And I’m exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, again. Take care of your man, Markisha.”
His comment sounds like an ultimatum. I swallow back my guilt. “Or else what, Craig?”
Silence.
I stand in front of the television, blocking his view. Hands planted firmly at my hips. Head tilted. “I asked you a question, Craig. Or else what?”
He reaches over and turns off the lamp on his nightstand. Then aims the remote at the television and shuts it off, leaving me standing here flabbergasted with the answer to his question hovering in the darkness.
• • •
The following afternoon, I’m at the Marriott with no regard for anything Craig implied the night before. Butt-naked on my knees; face down, ass up.
Charles is in back of me, my ass spread open, his dick slicing into the back of my pussy until I feel dizzy with pleasure.
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” I chant, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, yesssss…”
