Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Send email with verified cuckolding information sites to couple. Prepare for all possible questions she might have in next session. Predicting a few will be connected to injured self-esteem, IE doubting the sincerity of his reasons for wanting scene. Will need private session with him for a lesson in regaining trust outside of sex.
Note to Self: Update personal Hard Limit List at home to include Cucking.
CHAPTER SIX
ROMAN
I glance over to see Savannah gripping her door’s armrest tightly, then check my speedometer. Sure enough, I’m going twelve over the limit. I let off the gas and immediately sense her relax.
Sending her into a panic with your lead foot isn’t going to do you any good, fucker, I tell myself, then reach over to take her other hand in mine.
“Sorry, baby. Just a little eager to get home,” I admit softly, and I see her look at me out my peripheral vision. I keep my eyes on the road though, just so she can look her fill without getting awkward.
I feel her thumb brush over mine ever so softly, and my heart gives a tremendous thud in my chest. The smallest touch of unprovoked affection from her can bring me to my knees it’s been so long since I’ve felt it.
Yes, we’ve had sex plenty of times since New Year’s. In front of others, she plays the perfect sub, the perfect wife, never letting on that inside her, her heart was a crumbled pile of dust floating along her veins. At home, she accepts my affection, my hugs and kisses, my flirtatious ass-grabs. She holds my hand but with limp fingers.
Until today, when they tightened between mine for strength. And right now, the gentle slide of her thumb’s soft pad grazing over the top of my thumb’s knuckle. If I weren’t holding her hand, I would’ve jerked mine away, thinking it was an ant’s near weightlessness crawling along my skin. That’s how tiny her touch is. And if she didn’t continue to swipe it back and forth, over and over, lulling me and hardening me at the same time, then I would’ve thought it was an accident, since it’s been so long. So, so long.
And it’s my own fucking fault.
But now, with the smallest pinprick of hope’s light visible at the end of a very, very long tunnel, I’m anxious to begin this journey until that pinprick is a floodlight blinding in its closeness.
“What are you thinking?” I ask her quietly, not wanting to startle her out of this sweet moment of softness, her eyes still on me, making me warm.
“Honestly?” she prompts, her thumb never ceasing its back-and-forth path.
“Nothing but,” I reply, for once not fearing she’ll throw that back in my face, now that I’ve come completely clean about my one dishonesty.
I hear her swallow, my nervous girl. It’s always been endearing how nervous she can be but still persevere despite her anxiety. I’d never seen that in a person before her—someone so scared at times but who still says “fuck it” and tries whatever it is anyway. She doesn’t hype herself up like a lot of people do. She doesn’t visibly give herself a pep talk and head into battle with bravado she doesn’t actually feel. She just jumps in, fear and all, and when she survives, she emerges with that fear completely cleansed from her.
“I think the homework Doc gave us might be a little exciting,” she admits, and I turn wide eyes to her, surprised by this revelation.
Could she be interested in my dark desire, now that she knows my reasons for it?
She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “Don’t go getting too excited. I mean the homework itself. Doing the research together. You said you missed us texting each other, and it wasn’t until you said it that I realized I do too. And when you asked what I was thinking just now, that’s what it was. I was imagining finding a really good article about your fantasy and texting it to you. Then you sending me a reply back. Not necessarily anything… filthy. Just a reply at all. A discussion over messages.” She shakes her head again. “It sounds stupid, since texting is something you do with literally anybody, but for some reason, the idea is thrilling when it comes to doing it with you. Like… almost as if we’re dating again.”
Her little shrug lets me know she’s worried she sounds silly, when she couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I know exactly what you mean, baby. We got so deep and comfortable in our relationship, waaay past the homerun stage, that we forgot how stimulating first base could be. And I’m truly sorry for that,” I tell her, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles before resting it down again.
“It’s not your fault. Like you said, how many times did you send me a sexy message at work, hinting at what you wanted to do to me that night? And I’d just send a quick reply instead of egging you on,” she says, sounding too guilty for my liking.