Grace

 

“Hey,” he said, as I fought back the sobs. “I hope that’s not on my behalf. Worse things in life than enjoying a dick in your ass, Grace.”

His voice was low and the humour was forced, but it didn’t matter. I blinked the tears away and managed a smile back.

“This is so fucked up,” I whispered. “I don’t even know…”

He tipped his head toward the bathroom. “He’s fucked up. We’re just people living our lives, trying to save our dreams on the coast.”

I wished I could reach my hand out for his just to feel his fingers squeeze mine. Just to squeeze his right back and say I was his, just as much as he was mine.

“This isn’t who I am,” I told him, hoping that would cover some of the head-fuck of the last however many hours.

“This isn’t who either of us are,” he said back. “Baby, I have a hard on in my pants from watching a freakish porn star asshole fuck my wife all night long. It isn’t gonna go on my gravestone.”

I loved my husband’s voice so much, thanking God for Thomas Heath’s bladder break and the moments it granted us.

“Maybe he could do a reading at our funerals if he outlives us. The night I fucked Grace Foster into insanity and paid her fifty grand for the pleasure.” My laugh wasn’t more than a breath, but my smile was a ride of endorphins.

“Maybe I’ll have to pound his face into oblivion before he gets the chance.” He flashed me a half smile back and I rolled close enough to mouth I love you, knowing he would see it.

His eyes were still warm for me when he mouthed it back. A stolen moment in the silence while the man who’d made me come a billion times this evening flushed the toilet and turned on the basin tap.

We didn’t have long and I knew it. Seizing the moment and making it count was my only option, my heart racing under the pressure of making this as right as it could be. Whatever that even meant.

“I can’t make him come,” I whispered, speaking the truth out loud. “Whatever he’s used to, I’m not enough. Not good enough, hot enough, tight enough, crazy enough. Whatever, I can’t.”

His face was a picture as he stared back at me, and I struggled to believe he hadn’t seen my failings as clearly as I’d been feeling them for the past few hours.

“Grace–” he began, but I shook my head.

“I can’t make him come,” I continued. “But I can make you come. So do it. Stop fighting it and take your dick out. At least get some pathetic little scrap of fun from this shit storm we’re caught up in.”

“I’m not jerking off in front of that cunt,” he protested, but it was empty man-pride and nothing else. Even as he said it his knuckles whitened back up on the armrests.

“You wouldn’t be,” I argued. “You’d be jerking off in front of me. At least give me that. Surely I can get one guy off this evening, hey?”

I flinched as he slid forward in his seat, scared shitless that he was going to cross that crappy red line and this whole sorry affair would be all for nothing. But he didn’t.

His eyes were burning serious as he leaned in as close to the border as he dared.

“Grace, listen to me,” he said, knowing as well as I did that we were likely moments away from Thomas Heath’s cocky reappearance.

I inched toward him to show he had my attention, and his expression was deadpan as he continued.

“You could get any fucking guy off you put your mind to. You’re beautiful, horny as all living fuck, and your efforts are more than enough to drive any man crazy, even a cold ass sonofabitch like Heath.”

I was shaking my head but he didn’t stop talking.

“He paid fifty grand for a night with you, I’m sure as fuck you’re capable of wiping that smug porn star smirk off his face. Just be yourself. Show him who you are. He won’t be able to resist.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You think I should–”

“I think you should do whatever you want to get the most out of this fucking night. You think you can’t make him come, I think you’re selling yourself seriously fucking short. Don’t sell yourself short, Grace. Not for anyone, especially not that smug-faced prick.”

I forced myself up onto all fours as the sound of running water dried up in the bathroom.

“I’ll make him come for me,” I hiss-whispered to the husband I loved more than I’d ever loved him in my life. “But you’d better come for me too. I can’t do this without you, Brett. We’re in this together, right? You said so.”

“Always together,” he whispered back, and I wished I could reach out and tug his cock out of his straining jeans for him.

“So you enjoy it too,” I said. “Please. I can’t do my best to make him come for me unless you’re going to come for me too. And I can’t… I’d rather walk away from this right now than know all you felt was pain when I lost my fucking mind for a stranger.”

“That’s not how this is,” he breathed. “Grace, that’s never how I’d see this, not in a million years.”

“I know,” I told him. “Or I hope I do. But please, Brett, I need you right by me.”

Hell only knows what kind of fucked-up place we were headed after all this, or how much toxic fallout we’d need to wade through over the rest of our lifetime, but right then, right there, I needed him to lose himself to the same crazy I was, even just a fraction. Even just one cruddy hand-job’s worth.

“I love you,” I told him, not giving a shit anymore for how Thomas Heath would hear my outpouring from the room next door. “More than anything. Always.”

“I love you too,” he told me back. “Fuck this fucking shit, Grace, let’s just go with it for all it’s worth. Tomorrow’s another day, and ours will be just fine, I swear.”

And then he appeared, the cold ass sonofabitch my husband was convinced I could drive crazy, even if I didn’t share his confidence.

He was just as cold as ever as he stepped back into the room with us, his cock still hard as he finished towelling it dry from whatever wash down he’d just given it. He tossed the towel to the floor as he turned off his silly little sensor, and his smile was nothing more than a dead mask underneath burning eyes as he crossed the line back over to me.

I stared at him all the while he fired it back up again and approached for a brand new round, and this time I didn’t scuttle away with spiralling nerves and a traitorous pussy screaming wild.

This time was all for me. All for the woman my Brett believed could win over a man like Heath and drive him just a little way toward crazy.

Even if I didn’t believe in her myself.