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About how cold he truly has to be.
His movements are slow, and he asks if I’m sore when he touches certain places on my body where he was a little rough last night.
This isn’t about sex.
It’s my husband taking care of me.
When he finishes washing me, I do the same with him, and he finally agrees to steal some of my hot water. I haven’t had the chance to familiarize myself with Benny’s body, as he has with mine. I scrape my nails along his skin and gather up the courage to slip my hand between his legs and teasingly stroke his hard cock.
It’s been standing at attention since he joined me in the shower.
Poking my body as he washed me.
It jerks at my touch.
“My naughty little wife,” Benny says, biting into his lip.
He doesn’t make a move.
I get to make the rules this time.
Our shower turns playful.
Two people exploring each other’s body.
I stroke his erection until he grunts out his release and comes in my hand. I play with his cum between my fingers and frown as it washes off my hand down the drain. A strange part of me wishes I’d scrubbed it into my skin, like he did with the soap.
When it’s his turn, he pushes me against the wall, sucks on my nipples, and plays with my clit until I’m moaning his name.
He’s gentle with me.
Focused.
And checks on me with every touch he makes.
The two sides of my husband couldn’t be more opposite, but I love each one in its own way.
We don’t leave the shower until the water turns cold. He dries me with the towel before himself, and I step into a black cotton jumpsuit as he towels off.
“We have a meeting today,” he tells me while I run a brush through my hair. “In an hour.”
I pause mid-stroke. “What kind of meeting?”
“It’s a surprise.” He winds up his towel and playfully smacks me on the ass.
“As someone who grew up in the Mafia and got shot at last night, surprises aren’t my favorite.”
“I’m not taking you to a back alley to off you. I promise.”
“It wasn’t what I was thinking, but now, that’s exactly where my brain is.”
He kisses me. “Tell it to go somewhere else then.”
Once we dress, I make breakfast.
Domestic wife over here.
But in the back of my mind, there’s a nagging, saying,This is too good to be true.
