Piper

Cannon’s right; the hickey West left on my neck wasn’t entirely my fault but it’s still a mark on my body that he has to look at. For that, I am sorry, and I want to make it up to him.

After I make dinner reservations, I hop in the shower and set out a dress I was looking for an excuse to wear.

I take my time with putting a layer of foundation over the bruise on my neck and then blend it with some powder. It’s as close to gone as I can get it when I hear Cannon’s car pulling into the garage.

Wearing only a black bra, matching panties, and stockings, I’m standing just inside the front door when Cannon comes home. His face is buried in the stack of mail in his hand, and at first, he doesn’t see me.

But, when he raises his head, he does a double take. “Shit, Pipes. Are we swinging again tonight?”

I shake my head, hating that he assumes the only person I’d dress up for is West. That I wouldn’t want to wear something special for him and go out. That’s why I take the mail from his hands and toss it on the table, not caring where it lands. And then I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his lips, so he knows whom I want tonight.

“This is all for you.”

“For me?” he questions. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. “Can’t I do something special for my husband? I made us reservations at Simmer.”

“The new place? How’d you get in there?”

“I know a girl who knows a girl.”

Cannon squeezes my ass in the palm of his hand and finally stops asking questions long enough to kiss me back. “Am I going to get to take these off you later?”

He’s talking about the stockings. They’ve always been his favorite.

“You’d better,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to hold back, Cannon. After we get home, I want you to do whatever you want with me.”

Running his thumb across my cheek, he says, “Is this because of the picture?”

I blink, but I don’t look away. He needs to see that, while the picture bothered me, I’m not mad at him for taking it. What he does with Tilly during their time together is between them. And, in turn, I’m hoping me getting past the photograph will help him do the same with the hickey.

“No. Not really. I just want to be who you need me to be.”

“You are, Piper. What I do with her has nothing to do with you. It’s different.”

“Different in a good way or bad way?”

“Neither. It’s not wrong to want to take my time with my wife,” he says.

And therein lies part of the problem. Why can’t he be that dirty with me, too? Why does he turn into someone else when he’s with Tilly and then morph back into his sweet, sensitive persona when we’re in bed?

Maybe, tonight, I can bring that side out of him, force him to toss me around and pull my hair.

“But if you need more, if you want more, take it. Take whatever you need from me, okay?”

He looks into my eyes, and I see the hesitation, but he nods and licks his lips, and then he kisses me again. This time, it’s deeper, and I feel him harden against my stomach.

“Are you going to make me wait until after dinner?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper.

I want him so hard that he forgets about being gentle and fucks me with as much force as he fucked Tilly.

“Go put your dress on then before I can’t stop.”

My clit pulses, and I can’t decide who’ll be more ready for dessert after we finish dinner—him or me. All I know is, I want to make him happy. Destroying us was never part of the plan.

Once I’m dressed, he helps me in the car, and we drive across town to Simmer. The restaurant’s only been open a couple of days, and getting reservations isn’t easy, especially if you’re not a celebrity or some kind of star. And that’s exactly what I feel like tonight—red-carpet worthy.

Cannon appreciates my ass as he pulls out my chair and whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to touch you.”

And then he sits down across from me, smirking at the blush splayed across my cheeks. Whatever we’re doing, it’s working.

“You look beautiful. Do you know what you want to drink? Wine maybe?”

“Thank you,” I tell him as I smile behind my menu.

This is what I wanted from swinging—to be able to try new things and awaken a new side to our relationship. So that when we’re alone, we think about what we have and how we can make it even better.

“I’ll have a glass of pinot.”

“How about I get a bottle?” he says. “We aren’t in a hurry, are we?”

I bite my lip because I know what he’s hinting at. The sooner we get home, the sooner he can peel this dress off my body. I clench my thighs together in anticipation, and Cannon shifts his foot underneath the table, brushing against my heel.

“It’s no rush,” I tell him. Even though I’m ready to come in this chair.

Cannon orders steak for the both of us, and once the waitress is gone, he reaches across the table for my hand. “I’m glad you set this up tonight.”

“Me, too,” I whisper. “I’ve missed this, Cannon.”

“We’ll do better, I promise. I’ll make more time for us and try to leave the office earlier.”

“I’d like that.”

The conversation through dinner is much the same—him making promises of us spending more time together and putting the focus back on our marriage. I think it’s the best thing for us.

Just before the check comes, all the progress we’ve made vanishes. At first, I’m not sure what’s bothering him, but he’s fidgeting, and he can’t keep his eyes on me anymore. I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see anyone we know.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says.

And then he’s looking everywhere for the waitress, and I know he’s ready to leave.

“I’m just going to use the ladies’ room real quick.”

“Okay.”

Another one-word answer that I can’t make sense of.

But, when I stand up, set my napkin on the table, and turn around, it all becomes crystal clear. West and Tilly are at one of the tables by the bar, having dinner. I can’t let Cannon know I’ve seen them, so I keep walking, not changing my stride as I pass by their table. Once I get inside the restroom, I let go of the breath I was holding.

Of all the restaurants in town, we’ve ended up at the same one on the same night. But how was I to know? I didn’t ask where they’d be. I just wanted to do something nice for my husband. And, now, it’s backfired, ruining his entire mood.

Knowing Cannon, he thinks I came here because they’d be here. That I wanted to see West so badly, I made plans to show up, hoping we’d be swinging by the end of the night.

But I meant what I said; this outfit is for Cannon, not West. Either I’m taking it off myself or he is. Those are the only two options.