Invisible Husband

Excerpt

Numbers were becoming Eric’s only constant in life. Three years since his fiancée left him. One minute for him to decide to marry Tammy and another thirty seconds for him to work up the courage to propose. Ten months of marriage. And sex an average of three times a week. Unless Tammy was ovulating—then it was three times per day.

If someone had told Eric he’d be having this much sex in his newlywed life, he would have laughed at them and then directed them to a place that wasn’t in front of his face. Now he really wanted that person to exist so he could find out when his randy wife would leave and his formerly ice-cold wife would come back.

So he would know how much time he had left to enjoy.

It had begun the moment he’d come home from work during their third month of marriage. She had been even more distant with him that week, though she took care of him in every other aspect. She prepared food for the both of them even after he told her he could cook every other day. From the moment he came into the house she fussed over him. She took his jacket off to hang up and gave him slippers to change into from his work shoes. From the outside, she looked like she was playing homemaker, but she hardly spoke to him unless he asked her a direct question.

“Tammy, what’s going on with you?” he asked finally instead of: “How are you?”

She stopped mid jacket fold. He had come home early, having finished all of his advertising work for the week. The boss said he was throwing work like a machine, which would be good if it wasn’t freaking out all of his co-workers. They were all waiting for him to finally snap and throw a chair across the room. Instead of waiting for that to happen, his boss decided to give him an early weekend.

Eric figured it was more time to confront his Stepford wife.

Tammy focused on his tie. He put his hand under her chin and brought her eyes up to his.

“You’re my wife, not my maid. I appreciate the help, but where did the girl I know go, Tammy? Where’s the woman who calls me Hubby Coyer? Did you leave her in our honeymoon cottage?” He brought her closer to him tentatively. He remembered how she’d jumped away the last time he tried to put his hands on her bottom, so he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her toward him. She pushed forward with her hands, making his back hit the top of the kitchen table.

“Sorry, Hubby Coyer,” she said finally, more than a “Yes” or “No” or “Fine.” She pushed again, not with her hands but instead her hips, molding hers to his and grinding his cock. He took in a sharp breath, not believing what was happening.

“Tammy, I was okay with you wanting to take it slow. I’m not complaining about the sex. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Eric could hardly hear himself speak. The words were coming out without his consent. It had almost killed him, not being able to touch her, but he knew it was a delicate situation. He figured that she was still shocked from her decision to marry a stranger in a moment of trust and weakness.

But he had come home early from work one afternoon and caught her touching herself. Her ebony body was naked on top of their bed covers and writhing as her hands traveled down her stomach onto the tip of her clit, tapping it at first with the thumb of one hand and moving the middle of another finger up and down, hammering into her pussy. Her back was arching above the sheets as she dripped onto them, her juices coming up with every thump of her hand. His own hands traveled down to his belt buckle, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. Though he was about to come just watching her, he’d rather be touching her when that happened. But he needed to build her trust before anything physical happened. He would just have to wait for the day that she wanted his fingers in her pussy instead of her own.

So he just watched her.

Now the same hands that had pounded her pussy to climax that day were reaching into his pants, traveling past his underwear, and grabbing onto his cock.

“Hubby Coyer, I can do lovemaking now,” she said with a cheeky smile.

She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down by his ankles. She made to put his cock in her mouth, but he held her by the armpits and pulled her up.

“Let me please you first.” He grabbed as much ass as he could, bringing her back onto him. He nibbled at her mouth, sucking on her full bottom lip. One full kiss, a bite, another kiss, and he felt himself on the brink of going insane. She was holding on to him again. One hand was in his short blonde hair, the other one trying to undo his shirt, clutching at him.

“You’re something else…”

“And you talk too much.”

“Complimenting you is part of this lovemaking thing.”

Tammy laughed as she tugged him toward her. He hopped in her direction, going all the way to the bedroom with her and falling onto the sheets.

“Hubby C, I made the bed so we can wreck it.” Tammy went over and closed the door. Eric hadn’t noticed her clothing; most of the time when she came home it was lounge wear and an apron. This time she was wearing a long rope dress. She stepped to the side to drop her apron and then let the rope dress fall to the floor.

“Jesus.”

It was the second time he’d seen her like this, vulnerable and naked, but it was the first time that he would be allowed to comfort her in that feeling. She walked back from the door, turning on her heel and looking back at him. She placed her hands over her breasts, covering her dark chocolate nipples while the rest of her soft body remained uncovered. Starting from his feet, she climbed from the bottom of the bed, moving over him, tempting him with her body.

“Torturer,” she spoke finally, smiling.

“I could say the same thing about you.”