Chapter Nineteen
Sophie
My last orgasm was mind-altering; I lost all sense of awareness, as if I blacked out for several minutes.
We didn’t plan the scene I’d just created.
But the moment I saw her, I knew who she was, and following weeks of mental torture about her with my husband, I had to see Spencer with her.
Watching his aggressive nature with Kalie inflated my ego.
Christ, I’m so shallow. I never used to be such a bitch.
Weirdly, seeing their dynamic helped me to understand. It was obvious from Spencer’s expression that he didn’t want her but I needed to see him plead with his eyes. I saw the moment the switch flicked. After being lost, he found his path back to us.
Carlo was right. I’m uncertain why I ever doubted him.
“You fucking cunt!” My husband’s voice yells, pulling me back into the room.
“Get away from her!”
My eyes fly open to find the boys in a tussle. My limbs are too weak after so many orgasms to stand, and I don’t have the strength to break them up anyway.
Besides, Carlo has it all under control. He’d been expecting this response.
“You told me I could fuck her.”
“Not here. You’re a double-crossing bastard.” Spencer roars.
“Keep going and I’ll fill your mouth with my cock.” Carlo yells back, easily capturing my husband’s arm in one hand and his hair in the other, forcing Spencer to his knees.
“Get off me,” Spencer groans.
“I will when I’ve fucked your dirty mouth. I want you to taste your wife all over my dick,” he sneers.
Carlo’s straining to hold Spencer but the struggle doesn’t last.
Spencer’s facing me; his gaze meets mine, his eyes still pleading, as if seeking permission. I nod, unable to look away.
Watching my husband open his mouth for his friend, adds to my heady power trip of being the one who gave him silent permission to suck Carlo’s dick. At this point in our complex relationship, it isn’t lost on me how life-changing this moment is.
Carlo’s strong fingers grip the top of my husband’s hair as he thrusts his hips using short, sharp flicks. His aggressive movement helps to demonstrate some of the hurt and frustration Spencer’s put his friend through.
Within a few minutes, Carlo throws his head back, letting go down Spencer’s throat.
As he staggers backward, Carlo leaves Spencer kneeling on the floor as he stumbles into the bathroom, discarding his friend.
Spencer’s forlorn stare meets mine.
He looks broken. Vulnerable.
I detangle myself from the chair and rush toward him dropping to my knees in front of him and wrapping myself around him, holding him as tight as I can. My arms lock around his much larger body.
A whimper escapes his throat, and I squeeze him even closer, allowing his emotions to flow without discussing them.
He doesn’t need to tell me about the regret he’s experiencing; it’s written all over his dejected body language. Even though he’s put me through hell, I can’t help feeling sorry for him.
I don’t let him go, trying to give him the support I know he needs. Allowing some tensions between us to flow out.
After several minutes, Carlo re-enters the room with a towel tied around his waist. Freshly showered.
When he claps eyes on us, Carlo stops. Stares. He appears lonely. Troubled.
Both guys have got issues. There’s so much history between them, between all of us, but seeing them like this is devastating.
My entire body is pulsing with my need to help them. To pull them back together and somehow repair the links that are missing from the chain that will bind them for a lifetime.
I release Spencer carefully, hoping not to make him feel rejected, I’m certain Carlo needs a few minutes with him.
Pressing my lips to Spencer’s jaw, I mumble.
“I’m going to take a shower. Play nice for a few moments. I won’t be long.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he peers at me with those pleading eyes that sap my strength. His eyelashes wet with tears.
I cup his face, staring deeply into his eyes and whisper.
“I’m so angry with you, but I’m twice as angry at myself. I’ll always love you, Spencer. And as long as you want me, I’ll do everything I can to make this marriage work.”
His eyes fill with tears, though he never blinks. It’s hard to see such a powerful man reduced to this.
I give him a sad, closed-lip smile and stand, walking toward Carlo and the bathroom behind him.
Squeezing Carlo’s forearm, I rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He just swallows, never taking his eyes off his friend.
Once in the bathroom, I hear the silence between them. It’s deafening.
I know they both need to gather their thoughts.
Normally, they take nothing seriously. They laugh and joke with each other, rib each other mercilessly but I’ve never doubted the love and respect they share.
I flick on the shower; the water is still warm from Carlo’s. So, I waste no time, quickly showering myself off, not wanting to leave my boys for too long, convinced their conversation will become physical.
Judging by the smell of Spencer, he’s been drinking all day. I don’t think Carlo will take advantage of that, but when emotions are running so high, it’s hard to be certain.
Once I’m clean, I flick the water off to hear Spencer’s loud voice.
“I’m going through therapy. Okay? Does that make you feel better?”
Carlo’s reaction is to laugh humorlessly.
“Oh yeah, like a million fucking dollars. I’m thrilled you’re so ashamed at the thought of wanting my cock that you need therapy to get over it.”
The silence rolls in again, filling my ears with a thudding nothingness.
“I—I didn’t . . .”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Carlo roars. “Ever since this started, you’ve never wanted anyone to know. When you got together with Sophie, I told you I’d walk away but you didn’t want me to.” Carlo’s voice pauses.
A sound that reminds me of a glass banging on a hard surface punctures the background silence.
“Once you told her, I thought things had changed a little. You gave me hope that we could find a way to be together. But the moment shit got real, you slammed that door in my face, too.”
There’s a loud, unidentifiable bang. I grab a towel off the rack and wrap it around me.
“You say you’ve always been jealous of me. That you think I should have married Sophie because we’re so perfect together? What you never see is that your wife doesn’t want me. She wants YOU. She chose YOU.”
There are more movements. I can’t decide whether to go out there. This conversation is years overdue.
“You’re so fucking self-centered that you’ve never seen what’s been right in front of you for years.”
His voice is quieter now, and I can hear the emotion in every syllable.
“Seeing you with Sophie is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Because you love her in a way, you’ll never love me. You love her with pride. Want the world to know she’s yours. You love her as I’ve always loved you. Like I loved Chess.” His voice breaks on his last word.
Oh, my God. He’s breaking my fucking heart right now.
“Can’t you understand how painful it is to see you with your beautiful wife, your beautiful child? Both things I should have had. You let me be a part of your life for a while. You gave me a taste of it. And then you ripped it away.”
The tears roll down my cheeks. I’ve never heard Carlo so upset.
“I don’t want your wife, Spencer. Yes, I love her undeniably, but I don’t want her.
I want you. Yet I’m sick of being your dirty little secret.
I’m sick of you using me as a fucking vessel to get you off and then dealing with your shame that I’m too disgusting to touch.
You either love me and let me love you or leave me alone because I can’t fucking take this anymore. ”
I hear the moment he breaks, and I’m certain he’s crying.
“Mate. I’m sorry.”
“You’re always sorry, Spencer. Look what you’ve done to that woman.”
He stops talking, and when he speaks again, his voice has lost its fire.
“I’m not asking you to make this work. I’m telling you; if you fucking hurt her one more time, I’ll kill you myself.”
There’s a muffled noise and I tiptoe to the door to look at them. Their embrace is so tight you couldn’t fit a cigarette paper between them.
Carlo is facing me, with his eyes closed. He’s clinging to Spencer like my husband is his lifeline.
I can’t hold back a sob that escapes my throat. I didn’t intend to make a sound but I must have because Carlo’s eyes open and he holds out a hand to me.
Without a second of hesitation, I run toward him, my towel dropping to the floor in my haste. I mold my body against my husband’s back, while Carlo’s muscular arm holds me in place.
This closeness feels good. It seems like after more than three years, we’re reconnecting as a unit.
A little bashed around. We need time for all the cracks to be repaired. But if we stand together, we can get through this. I’ll make sure we can.