“I look like I’m trying to cover bruises,” I state as I gaze at my face in the mirror.
I have a thick layer of makeup on, and while it looks better than just my clean face, it still looks like it’s exactly what it is—caked on makeup to cover bruising.
“I’m not sure how else to get maximum coverage,” Cleo whispers as she looks over my face.
Ivy looks over my face, scrutinizing me, “What if we tried contouring a little more.”
“Well, unless you’re a pro, I can’t contour for shit,” Cleo states.
“Times like this, I wish Kentlee lived here. She was so good at makeup when she worked at the strip club,” Mary-Anne sighs as she places her hand on the swell of her belly.
“I think this is as good as it’s going to get,” I mutter.
“You’re still beautiful; but the bruising is so dark, I don’t think it matters what we do, it’ll still be there,” Cleo states softly.
“The bar in the clubhouse is dark, the lighting sucks there, which is good. Plus, your outfit is hot as hell. Nobody will be looking at your face,” Mary-Anne grins widely.
My eyes automatically go over to the minuscule outfit that the girls brought over when I called them to help me with my makeup. It’s an extremely small black dress. It doesn’t even look like my left thigh would fit inside, but Mary-Anne claims it stretches.
Ivy goes through my shoes and brings out a pair of metallic gold, Valentino, strappy gladiator, high heels, with matching gold studs adorning the straps up to my ankles.
“You want me to wear Valentino to the clubhouse?” I ask, my eyes widening as Ivy sets my shoes down next to my bed.
“All your shoes are expensive. I didn’t see any knockoffs in there,” she says, practically rolling her eyes.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I mutter.
“They’re sexy. I think you should wear them, knock your husband’s socks off,” Teeny whispers.
I look over to the small woman, and she tips her head to the side, giving me a wide smile. Shaking my head, I lift a shoulder and agree to wear the damn shoes.
I can’t believe my fifteen hundred dollar high heels are going to be on that disgusting clubhouse floor. They’ll probably get some kind of liquid spilled on them, too.
“Okay, we have to go and get dressed as well,” Mary-Anne announces as she stands up.
All of the women excuse themselves and start to make their way out of my room, but Mary stops and wraps her hand around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze.
“I’m glad to have you back, Genny. Honestly, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re so happy,” she says, giving me a wink.
“Me, too,” I admit.
“The roads that are the hardest, at the end, what’s waiting for you, it makes the journey so totally worth it,” she whispers before she walks away, leaving me alone in my bedroom.
I don’t think any more about her words. If I do, I’ll cry. Instead, I walk over to the dress and drop my robe as I reach for the minuscule fabric. I test the elasticity, and as Mary-Anne ensured, it has some serious stretch—though I’m not quite sure it will be enough.
Letting out a breath, I step into the dress and shimmy it up my completely naked body. I walk over to my closet, where I have a full-length mirror, and I take a look at myself. The dress is tight and short, almost indecently short. The way it holds everything in, and together, I cannot deny that I look sexy. On top of that, I feel sexy.
Hearing the front door open and then slam shut, I run over to my shoes and clutch, grabbing them before I lock myself in the bathroom. I still need to fix my hair, and I don’t want Sloane to see me until my look is one-hundred percent complete.
“Sunshine?” he calls out.
“In the bathroom, just finishing my hair and stuff,” I call out.
He informs me that he’ll shower in the guest bath and he’ll be ready to leave in just twenty minutes, so I better hurry my ass up. I smile at his order. It’s so normal. Not normal for us, but just normal. I can’t help but love it. I’m glad that our relationship is shifting, and I’m enjoying that shift immensely.
Once my hair is styled in waves that tumble down my shoulders, I buckle my Valentinos and look at my clutch. Deciding I don’t want to keep track of it all night, I leave it right on the counter. I’ll be back tomorrow, and the only person who would call me is going to be right next to me the entire evening. Anybody else can contact him if they want to get a hold of me.
“Ready, sunshine?” Sloane asks, rapping on the door with his knuckles.
“Yeah,” I breathe as I take another look at my makeup-covered face in the mirror.
I don’t look completely disastrous, but I don’t look like myself, either. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I turn and open the door. I’m surprised to see Sloane is standing right at the doorway, his eyes travelling from my feet up to my face so slowly that I start to squirm in my spot. He lets out a shaky breath and then his gaze connects with mine.
“You can’t leave this house looking like that, Imogen,” he rasps, his breathing shallow and his nostrils flaring.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
I know my face doesn’t look that great, but I’d hoped the girls were right when they said my dress would detract from it. Apparently, everybody was wrong. I watch as Sloane lifts his hands and curls his fingers against the top of the doorjamb.
“I’m about two seconds from ripping that flimsy looking material you’re trying to pull off as a dress, and fucking you until you can’t walk. If I feel this way, I have no doubt in fuck every man down at that clubhouse will feel the exact same. I don’t want them thinking of my wife that way,” he announces.
My eyes widen and my mouth opens slightly in an O shape.
“Sloane,” I whisper as I take a step closer to him.
“Hangin’ on by a thread, sunshine. Don’t come at me with your sweet whispers,” he mutters.
I don’t stop. I continue to walk up to him. Without a word, I sink to my knees once I’ve reached him. He lets out a guttural sound as I work the button of his jeans and his fly before I swiftly pull his pants and underwear down just past his ass, exposing his hard cock.
I don’t touch him. Instead, I lick the underside of his length, circling my tongue around the head of his dick. I hear the wood of the jamb cracking beneath his fingers, and I can’t help the excited thrill that shoots up my spine and down to my pussy.
“I don’t want to hurt you, baby. But if you don’t suck my cock, I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he warns.
Opening my mouth, I take him as far as I can down my throat. He lets out a deep groan, and I feel it wash over me.
“Look at me, sunshine,” he orders.
I open my eyes and look up at him through my lashes. My gorgeous blond husband. My eyes shift to his forearm, and I see my name permanently etched in his skin. I can’t help but moan. Mine. He’s all mine. It spurs me on to suck harder and faster. I reach up and cup his balls in my hand, massaging and tugging on the soft flesh as he growls deep from his chest.
“I’m about to come, baby,” he warns.
It’s been years since I’ve swallowed. Blow jobs themselves were few and far between in our dysfunctional relationship. When I was young, swallowing just seemed gross. By the time I was comfortable with my sexuality, we were so fucked up that I only did it a few times before I refused, just because I could.
I want that part of him again—all of him. As he grows larger in my mouth, I welcome the warm spurts of his release down my throat as he lets his head fall back. I watch the beautiful column of his throat when a loud roar escapes his mouth.
Sloane takes a step back and sinks to his knees in front of me, his hands at my waist before he gently tugs me closer. To my surprise, he presses his lips against mine. Then he forces his tongue in my mouth and tastes me, no doubt tasting himself as well.
His hands slip down to my ass and he squeezes my flesh roughly, the pads of his fingers digging into me before he lifts his head just slightly and lets his forehead rest against mine.
“Fuck me, baby,” he rasps. “Took all of me, in control, in charge, but sunshine you took it all.”
“You made me feel beautiful when I wasn’t sure how I felt about myself,” I murmur, letting out an exhale.
“You know you’re gorgeous, sunshine. You don’t need me to tell you that,” he murmurs.
“My bruising…I don’t feel it and you know that. I wanted to thank you,” I smile.
He laughs softly and moves one of his hands to my hair. He twists it in the strands at the back of my head, and the other presses against the small of my back. “Best thank you for a delivered compliment in my whole fucking life.” Sloane’s hands flex, tightening in my hair and pressing against my back even more.
“Baby, I know you’re vain and that looks really fucking matter to you, but believe me, Imogen, you’re still gorgeous no matter what,” he assures.
I close my eyes with a small nod. He presses his lips at the corner of mine before he stands up, helping me to my feet before he fixes his pants.
“Need to redo your lipstick, my sunshine,” he whispers.
My eyes widen, and I turn around to face the mirror, making a strangled noise. Sloane laughs softly behind me.
“My dick’s got that red lipstick all over it. Fuck me, I’m going to be hard all goddamn night just thinking about it,” he grunts as he leans against the jamb and watches me fix my face.
“Sloane,” I hiss as my eyes move to his. They sparkle as they take me in. I can’t stop my belly from fluttering.
“Mean it, baby. Can’t wait to get you back up to my room tonight and fuck you all night long,” he grins.
“All night?” I ask as I lift an eyebrow.
“All fucking night. I’m putting a baby inside of you tonight. Then maybe right before you fall asleep—” he mutters softly as he walks up behind me and places a hand on my belly. “—maybe I fuck that pretty ass of yours. Been a while, baby.”
His warm breath washes over my neck, his words making me shiver, causing my legs to shake with anticipation. It has been a while; so long, in fact, that I’m pretty certain it’s going to hurt.
When we were good, and then when we would go through long spells of being good, that was something we both enjoyed. I kept it from him when he hurt me. No way could I trust him to go there with me.
So, while it’s been a really long time, I trust him more now than I ever have, and I want that. The connection we share when we’re together, when I’m completely at his mercy like that, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I love it.
“It’s been a while,” I admit with a whisper, my eyes connected to his in the mirror.
“You feel comfortable with that?”
I could kiss him for asking. I nod once, biting the inside of my cheek, trying not to show how nervous I am—but I want it. I want him every way, and I want a new start to us, in every way possible, even in this.
“Make you feel good, sunshine,” he mutters as he presses his lips to my neck, nipping my skin before he licks me.
“I know you will, Sloane. You always do,” I admit on a whimper.
I’m so wet, between making him come with my mouth and this talk, I’m afraid that my need is going to start sliding down my thigh at any second. His hand slides down my belly and his fingers gently slide through my slick center.
“No panties,” he grunts as he presses his semi-hard cock against my back.
I rock against his fingers, urging them to play with my clit or slip inside of me, anything. “Dress is too tight,” I mutter.
“So wet, but you’re going to have to wait. We’re late, sunshine,” he murmurs. I can’t help the whine that escapes my lips. “Mmmm, I’ll take care of you, I always do—eventually.”
Sloane removes his fingers from beneath my dress and takes a step back, jutting his chin toward the mirror in a silent command for me to finish my lipstick. It takes everything inside of me not to stomp my foot like a child, but I don’t.
I finish my lipstick, and a few minutes later, we’re on our way out the door. I head toward his car, but he makes a tsking sound and guides me toward his motorcycle. I haven’t ridden on the back of his bike in years, and I can’t stop the thrill of excitement as it rolls through me. Then there’s the fact that I’ll be completely exposed, and plastered against his back, with no barrier between my naked center and the rest of the world.
He loads my small bag in his saddle pouch and straddles the machine. I lick my lips at the sight of his thick thighs straining in his jeans and shiver. His head tips to the side as he watches me climb up behind him.
“Press that sweet bare cunt against my back, baby, and let’s ride,” he grunts.
My thighs shake as I do exactly what he asks. He starts the engine as my hands grip his shirt, and he roars down the road toward the clubhouse. I shiver at the sensations that roll through me. as his bike vibrates down the road.
Grabbing onto his shirt, clutching it in my hands, I try to bite back the moan as he moves through the curves of the mountain roads.
The drive to the clubhouse is quiet. Mainly because we’re on my bike and we can’t talk. Genny holds on tight, her sweet bare cunt against my back. I can feel her heat pressing against me and then, she shifts, and I hear her moan. Fuck me. She’s getting off. I try to focus on the road—that shit is not easy. Pulling over to the side of the dark shoulder, I stop.
Without speaking I turn around and wrap my hand around the back of hers, shoving her face in my neck while I slip two fingers into her wet pussy. She cries out as I curl my fingers inside of her and place my thumb against her clit.
“Get yourself there,” I growl in her ear. She whimpers and doesn’t say anything as she shifts, and rolls her hips, finding her release. When she comes it’s with a cry against my neck, and a sob. “You okay?”
She lifts her head, her eyes shining brightly, and a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, Sloane,” she whispers.
Fuck me.
Yeah.
Nothing else is said. I turn around and take off toward the clubhouse again. Her now, sopping wet pussy, pressed against me. Fuck, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.
My mind starts to wander, to think and I’m grateful for it. This will be my first true test. My first real party since getting out. Sure, the guys threw me something when I was released, but I got drunk as shit and fucked a whore, maybe two. I honestly don’t remember. It wasn’t the same as what’s going to happen tonight.
Nervous.
I feel fucking nervous.
Imogen’s hand wraps around my thigh and she gives it a squeeze. “Sloane?”
“Just thinking,” I grunt, squeezing my handlebars a little tighter.
We pull into the clubhouse parking lot and I don’t make a move to get off of my bike.
She lets out a sigh and crawls off behind me only to crawl over my thighs, and straddle me. Her knees on either side of my hips. Parked in front of my club, I move my hands to wrap around the outsides of her thighs, my eyes looking into hers.
“Are you scared you’ll be tempted?” she asks.
Admitting it makes me feel weak, but if I can’t be honest and truthful with my wife, then who the fuck can I be honest with? I nod my answer and she smiles softly. “By drugs or women?” she asks.
My heart fucking aches that she even has to ask, but I understand why.
“Only one woman I want, Imogen,” I mutter, running my nose alongside hers. “Just you, my sunshine.”
I don’t kiss her, not wanting to mess up her lipstick again, but press my lips to the corner of her mouth. When I squeeze her thighs, I explain a little more about how I’m feeling.
I tell her that I haven’t craved the drugs since I’ve been out, but I’m worried that in this environment, at this party, I will. And if that craving is strong enough, I’m afraid I won’t be able to deny it. If I don’t deny it, I’ll hurt her, and the probability of me being locked up again is high.
“Sloane,” she sighs as she cups my cheeks when I’m finished sharing my pussy-assed feelings. “You’re assuming a lot of things. You’re worried and you don’t even know how you’re going to react yet. You cannot worry about what could happen. If I did the same thing, I wouldn’t be right here with you.”
Thinking about her words, I nod. She’s right. If she stressed about me, about my fidelity and the future—our future—then she definitely would not be where she is. My track record is fucking shit, but I promised a change, I promised my faithfulness, and I aim to deliver. Part of that means no dope. My head has to be in the right place, and I can’t let my own self sabotage ruin our life.
“Ready to have some fun, sunshine?”
She smiles beautifully, nodding as she answers, “Yeah, I’m so ready.”
I squeeze her thighs and help her off of me, watching as she shimmies her skirt down and tries not to flash the empty parking lot with her bare pussy. I get a peek anyway. When she’s situated, I get off of my bike and wrap my hand around her waist. I tuck her close to my side and turn us toward the clubhouse.
“These rocks are going to ruin my shoes,” Imogen huffs next to me as we crunch through the gravel.
I reach down and pick her up, slipping my arm beneath her knees and my other behind her back. She throws her hands around my shoulders and looks at me with surprise.
“Shoes are hot as fuck, sunshine. I expect to see you in them in the future. I’m also going to fuck you in those shoes later.”
She shutters in my arms as her lips part in awe, and I know she’s imagining me fucking her hard, wearing nothing but the hot as shit shoes.
My sunshine can’t wait.