Free Dishonor Thy Wife by Belinda Austin Page B

doing to us?
    “Why are you hiding under the table, Traci?”
    Her eyes are round as saucers. Her teeth are chattering. “When
is Daddy coming back?” she whispers as if Brad might hear.
    “Pay no mind to your father. He has a very stressful job
fixing sick people which sometimes put him in a bad mood.”
    I drag her out from under the table and serve her a plate of
scrambled eggs.
    Traci kicks the table, her face stretched into a tight mask.
She keeps repeating, “When is Daddy coming back? When is Daddy coming back?
When is Daddy coming back?”

Chapter 1 7
    WIFE
    I sleep lightly, aware of my surroundings as my brain farts.
    A hand crawls beneath my nightgown. “Brad,” I murmur and
turn on my back.
    He buries his face in my neck, working his lips up to my
ear. “Ronni,” he whispers.
    He lifts his leg on top of mine and I stroke his cheek. “It’s
midnight. Where have you been?”
    “I was working late at the hospital.”
    “On a Sunday?” I murmur half-asleep even though technically
it is now six in the morning on Monday.
    “A doctor’s day is never done, my love.”
    For that endearment, Brad deserves a fourth chance. I
straddle him, yank my nightgown over my head, and flip on the lamp. “You won’t
be disappointed in me.”
    He grabs a handful of my hair, lowering my lips to his.
    He is hurting my scalp but my voice is mum else the moment
may be ruined to prove that I am not a boring lover.
    “I’ve never felt anything as good as your touch,” he groans.
    I remove my hand from his rock hard shaft and circle his
chest with my nipples, running my tongue down his chest.
    “God,” he says in a ragged voice with a tongue so thick I can
barely understand him. “Ronni.” He lowers his head and sucks on my nipple right
through my nightgown.
    I throw off my nightgown and shove my breast in his mouth.
He sucks with loud gulping noises as if I am his lifeline.
    I hump against him, moaning, crying with delight at the passion
this man makes me feel. I may pass out from the sensation as a warm liquid seeps
between my thighs and I actually weep there. All I can think of is him, him,
him.
    Brad makes love like a desperate man, as if we parted for a
month and not just a day.
    I long to ask him where he went but then I might have to
confess that I ransacked his closet and discovered his overnight traveling bag
was gone.
    Brad whispers sweet nothings in my ear, and I have my
husband back. Dr. Jekyll has returned.
    We are both sated and sleep like two spoons, at least, Brad
sleeps.
    I tiptoe to his room. The traveling bag is stuffed back in
its corner.
    The sun rises like an over-easy egg poking from a fluffy
white cloud. I lay beside him, examining every line of his face, looking for
any sign of Mr. Hyde .
    He flicks his eyes open. “How long have you been watching
me?” he says in a curiosity-killed-the-cat tone.
    “You’re snoring again.”
    “I, uh, am taking this new medicine. I need to get ready for
work.” He throws the covers over my naked body as if the sight sickens him.
    “Now what?” His voice is biting, impatient.
    “I was just wondering…” I play with the sheet not wanting to
look at him, fearing what I may see. “Was it, uh, good for you?”
    He gathers his clothes as if the answer is in a blue shirt
or khaki pants. He sits on a corner of the bed and smiles with cold eyes. “Sweetheart,
you are so good that if I don’t get off your bed right now, I’ll definitely be
late for work.”
    “Brad?”
    He turns from the doorway.
    “You didn’t ask if it was good for me.”
    “It was.”
    “Well maybe I was faking it.”
    “You weren’t.”
    “Do you, uh, think some time maybe you can stop using the
rubbers? It might be nice to have a baby before Traci gets much older.”
    He staggers, clinging to the doorframe for support. He croaks,
“No way!” He has actually turned green at the thought of having another child
with me.
    I yank the bed sheet over my head. Dryer tissue is toxic.