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“You are stealing hope for her marriage away from her. You’re taking marital investments and laying them down in bed with another woman. Every time you cheat, you steal from her, Mr. Woods.” Dr. Dangerfield kept her tone even, nonthreatening, nonjudgmental, and almost soothing.
Roselle cringed inwardly. He didn’t like the way that sounded. “I don’t cheat on Brenda to hurt her. Shit. Most times, I don’t expect to get caught.”
“And yet you still do,” Dr. Dangerfield stated.
Roselle frowned but didn’t deny it. And he didn’t interrupt h
er.
“There are cracks in your marriage, Mr. Woods. Even if you can’t see them, they exist. And each time you cheat, you are chipping away at the foundation of your marriage. It’s only a matter of time before it—your marriage—starts to crumble.”
Roselle shifted in his seat. “Nah. We good. Brenda ain’t leaving me. Ever.”
“I didn’t say she would,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “All I’m stating is the obvious. And yet you still haven’t answered the question.”
Dr. Dangerfield caught Kendall’s eyes on her. He’d found himself staring at her. Staring through her. There was something about her that reminded him of Persia. Maybe it was the short, pixie-style haircut. Or maybe it was the way she subconsciously licked over her perfectly glossed lips that made him think of Persia’s hot, wet tongue on his dick, his balls—and fuck yeah—in his ass. And the thought was not only making him horny, but it was making his dick painfully hard as well.
Shit.
“What was the question again?” Roselle asked.
Dr. Dangerfield crossed her legs at her ankles. “I asked if you loved your wife enough to give up your womanizing ways? But now I’m asking if you are more invested in cheating than you are in your marriage?”
Damn.
Roselle couldn’t say he could give it up. But he didn’t want to say he wouldn’t either. So he settled for somewhere in the middle. “I can only try.”
And Dr. Dangerfield took that to mean he’d stick his dick in the next wet hole made available to him—just like on the beach, and on the plane ride. Yes. She knew all about those indiscretions. Nothing happened here that she wasn’t privy to.
“Trying is a start,” is all she offered. And then her attention moved on to Kendall.
“Mr. Evans, are you okay? You seem a bit preoccupied today.”
Kendall stretched out his legs and ran his palms down along the inside of his thighs as he stretched. He shifted into the plush leather cushion of his chair.
Yeah. I’m horny. I want my prostate stroked, so I can bust a good nut.
He and Krista still had not completed Dr. Dangerfield’s masturbation assignment, because he hadn’t been in the mood to. And Krista hadn’t shown much enthusiasm nor interest in the idea.
“Yeah, I’m good. All is well.”
Dr. Dangerfield gave him a doubtful look.
Kendall kept his eyes locked on hers. And then he asked, “When is our next couples’ session?”
Thirty-Nine
Brenda felt sexy sitting at the bar as she sipped on her second drink, Wet Heat—a mixture of coconut rum, Dark rum, pineapple juice, jalapeño slices, and a splash of coconut cream shaken and then served chilled in a half-shelled coconut.
She’d decided to have a drink down on the beach and watch the water, drink in its tranquility, while she waited for Roselle to shower and get dress. She knew it would take his slow-ass close to an hour to get ready, so here she sat—in a short white dress, her ample cleavage nearly spilling out, while the cutout back revealed her smooth, tanned skin—swaying to the sounds of H.E.R as she sang about not having enough practice in love, not wanting to play games.
Brenda didn’t have that problem though. She knew how to love. And she loved hard. Maybe too hard sometimes, perhaps a bit obsessively at times.
Still, she loved.
And she loved Roselle. She loved his touch. The way he held her, kissed her, licked her, teased her; the way he made love to her and fucked her all in the same strokes. Roselle knew how to make her pussy cream and squirt simultaneously.
Yes. He was a gifted lover.
