6. Alexander
CHAPTER 6
Alexander
“ D elilah, stop ! Delilah !”
I was feeling pissed-off and irritable. This shit was not funny.
But my wife did not stop.
Yanking my sweatpants up, I could feel the condom sagging off my dick, which had immediately gone soft at the idea of my wife ever leaving me.
The budget meeting had ended unexpectedly early and Julia was there, begging to get screwed. And I did what I had always done, took some easy pussy at the exact moment I wanted it, a momentary excitement that I’d forget about two seconds later because it meant nothing to me. She had been asking for weeks and there had been time for a quick fuck before starting the nighttime routine that had become a steady daily habit for me.
I always went to Delilah’s room for a drink and an episode of that British cooking show she loved to watch. She’d sit on my lap in the big chair or snuggle up against me in bed as we waited to find out whose biscuits had flopped that week. Then she’d fuck me like she always did. Long, slow strokes on my cock, her mouth endlessly patient, building me up slowly until I’d explode. God, her mouth was incredible. Hands-down the best blowjobs I’d ever had. Or I’d pull her onto my lap, and she’d grind on me, as slow or fast as I wanted, her pussy wet and willing, her soft mouth always eager to kiss mine.
Why had my wife burst in like that?
“You know you’re not supposed to come in my room without knocking,” I hissed at her, aware that, despite the fact that it was almost 10 pm, there were plenty of palace staff around, listening avidly while pretending not to.
“Oh please,” she said as I skidded in front of her, stopping my wife in her tracks. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Like the last time I caught you fucking cheating on me.”
I felt even more irritated.
“Let’s just forget this and go to bed,” I said.
I was dying to get this condom off and have sex with Delilah. She was the only one I didn’t use a condom with because she was my wife and on the pill. I didn’t know if I could have sex again with Julia after this. Her whole face was going to have negative associations for me.
Delilah put her hand on her hip. I couldn’t help noticing that her hair looked different. It was all curly and wild, tied up in a messy bun that meant her dark glossy curls fell over her elegant neck.
It looked sexy as fuck , and I wanted even more to stop talking about this so we could go back to our normal routine.
“Feel free to go to your bed,” she said, pointedly emphasizing the your. “I’m going to my bed and you are not welcome.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
She glared at me.
“How can I put it simply enough for you? I’m not going to do this anymore. I’m done and I want out .”
I felt a cold sweaty heat break out over my neck and body, but I shook it off. She couldn’t be serious.
“Why?”
“I just caught you with another woman, not for the first time? And you’re asking me why ?”
Uncomfortably aware that everyone in this entire west wing was listening, I hissed at her, “What you saw doesn’t mean anything! It doesn’t mean I want to split up. You are my wife. You are my Queen .”
“Must be a bit noisy in here,” she said. “I can’t hear you.”
Fuming, I said, louder, “I don’t want to split up! I’m just shitting around. You know how I am.”
“Yeah, I know how you are,” Delilah retorted, her mouth twisting into a disgusted grimace. “And that’s why I don’t want to be married to you anymore.”
And my Queen turned on her heel and left me stunned in the hallway.
She couldn’t possibly mean that! She loved me!
“I’ll be in my room. By myself!” I added, calling down the hall after her. “I’m ready for you to stop being so silly and get into bed with me.”
But my only answer was a resoundingly slammed door.
“Go back to work!” I snapped at my staff and I strode back to my own room and yanked open the door.
Julia was still in there, gathering her things and putting on her shoes at the slowest speed known to man. But I didn’t give a shit.
“Did I not make myself clear?” I ordered through gritted teeth. “Get. Out.”
“But—” she started. “You didn’t finish—"
“Move!” I barked. “Get your ass fucking out .”
I could see she wanted to protest, but she saw the look in my eyes and she left.
Frustration gnawed at my guts and I grabbed a glass and the whiskey bottle from my private bar. Then I poured myself a hefty portion as my mind went over and over what had just happened.
What Delilah had just caught me doing wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? It wasn’t like I did it that often. Just now and again. And she had been fine even after she saw me the last time. Nothing had changed.
So I would just sit here and wait until Delilah knocked on my door. She loved me. She couldn’t stay away from me.
Draining the glass, I went to the bathroom and yanked at my condom, throwing it angrily in the garbage. I was just planning on cleaning my dick, but I felt gross, so I hopped in the shower and washed off, scrubbing my body.
I didn’t want to smell anything like Julia’s cloying perfume when I went to kiss my wife.
Why hadn’t Delilah just listened? If she hadn’t ignored my instructions this wouldn’t have happened and I’d be lying in bed with her right now.
Really, wasn’t it her fault? I tried in vain to convince myself.
But this gave me no comfort as the hours stretched by and she didn’t message or come to my room.
Was it possible that what she had said was true? That she really didn’t want to be married to me anymore?
I got out my phone and scrolled through for a gif from her baking show. There was one with the judge saying “this pie has got a rather soggy bottom.” It always made her laugh so hard when they said this in the show, so I texted it to her, adding
Your ass looked so good in those little shorts
Come over here and let’s open one of those new bottles of pink champagne
I waited, my thigh jiggling impatiently.
When was the last time I had fallen asleep by myself?
I honestly couldn’t remember. I hadn’t intended when I got married to spend every single night with my wife. But as soon as I did it once, I didn’t want to stop. Within the first week, I knew I didn’t want to sleep without her. Now I never slept in my own bed.
It was so nice sleeping with her. I really liked it. She fit into my side perfectly, curved her warm little body into my back. And she fit into my arms perfectly too, her soft belly a perfect place to hold her and pull her even closer. I had never just. . . slept with women before her. I was not an overnight boyfriend before I got married. But there was something so soothing about Delilah. Her easy, even breathing made me fall asleep faster. I had always suffered from insomnia, feeling like I needed more and more wine or whiskey to go to sleep. But Delilah had me falling asleep right away. All I needed was her.
And before we went to sleep we always talked, about new climbing routes we wanted to try, or something annoying that had happened at my work, a new illustration she was working on, or episodes of one of her silly shows. They weren’t half-bad really. Actually most of them were pretty funny, and what made it even better were all the funny things Delilah would say, and how she’d get so into every episode, and have the strongest opinions about baked biscuits. It was nice .
I did not realize how attached I was to this nighttime routine until now.
I had no self-control, and I glanced down impatiently at the phone. My message just hung there.
Unread.
Another stab of irritation went through me. Maybe my wife thought it was amusing to play games.
Well, in that case I would just go to bed and wait for her to come to her senses in the morning. So I kicked off my sweats and hopped into bed.
But I could not get to sleep. I tossed. I turned.
I tried to jerk off, took my cock in my hands and started stroking it, base to tip. But my dick was flaccid, half-hard, because all I could think about was Delilah’s rejection, the way she had tossed her head and turned her back on me.
She had never shut a door on me before. She had never turned me down before.
What if she was being serious?
The thought was horrible.
I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want to just jerk off, either. I wanted Delilah .
I got up and slipped noiselessly down the hall. By this time it was almost 3 am and the halls were dark. I cursed myself for even suggesting we have separate quarters.
What was more important, having a private space so I could fuck around on her every now and again, or being able to sleep with my wife every night?
Obviously the latter was more important. I vowed to explain that to Delilah, tell her we could do something else with that space, that I didn’t want separate quarters. I wanted to be together every night.
She knew that, right? Right?
I laid a hand on her doorknob and turned it.
I had done this many times before. Sometimes I’d go out with my boys down to one of the town pubs, stay out until all hours, then come back and drunkenly fuck my wife, loving how she always rolled over sleepily, her lips reaching hungrily for mine, her warm thighs wrapping around my torso, always pulling me closer to her.
But not this time.
I couldn’t get in. The door was locked.
I felt like I was at the top of a rollercoaster that had just started to make a ten-story drop. My wife had never locked her door to me. It had always been open, and she had always been there waiting for me.
I stupidly tried it again, as if I might have another outcome.
Nope.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened.
After a few seconds, I could distinctly hear Delilah’s funny little tiny cute snores. She’d make a little half-snort, then a little snore, then resume her usual deep breathing.
I was out here unable to sleep and she was in there snoring!
For a moment I contemplated pounding on her door and demanding she open it, but Delilah was a sound sleeper and she would inevitably wake up only after half the staff had. The humiliation of being locked out of my own wife’s room burned at me, and I turned tail and walked back to my own room.
Once inside, I vented my feelings by kicking the door solidly shut behind me. I slumped back in the chair, my eyes focusing on a framed picture of us out fishing. It was a selfie she had wanted to take the first time she had caught a fish on her own. Her eyes were squinting against the sun and her nose was bright pink with sunburn, but she was laughing with glee. She had been so proud of catching that fish, and so amused when I insisted on roasting it over the fire anyway, even though it was only two tiny bites worth.
My heart constricted with a stab of pain.
Shit.
I began to get the first horrific inkling that maybe I had seriously fucked up.
I didn’t want to mess anything with my wife up! We had fishing trips planned, we wanted to try a new climbing route once the trails dried out enough, and I didn’t want to spend another night away from her.
Because it fucking sucked being away from her.
I just needed to properly explain things to my wife.
These were just random meaningless fucks!
She was the only one I cared about.
Hell, I didn’t even talk to the other women. It meant equally as much to me as jerking off in the shower.
In Norjava, most of the court members did this. Hell, both my parents had done the same thing. Dad had never been faithful to Mom. And Mom herself had had an ongoing affair with her tennis instructor ever since I was a kid.
But.
And here my skin began to crawl with an uneasy, prickly fear.
As far as I could tell, Mom and Dad had never loved each other. It had been an arranged marriage with very little affection from the start.
Delilah loved me, though. And hell, I sure as fuck loved her!
Did I want a marriage like my parents’? The very unwelcome thought of Delilah ever having an affair with some tennis instructor sent an angry, flushed rage through me. Even the idea of it was nauseating.
I got up and started pacing my room, in full panic mode now.
Delilah could not leave me!
Shit, I didn’t even need these random blowjobs. If they were going to be the reason my wife was mad at me and we had to spend a night apart, I just wouldn’t do them anymore. No more stepping out. I would rather have my wife happy with me than some crappy blowjob that gave a few minutes of half-ass fun.
My playboy days would be over, and it was long overdue. I would simply tell Delilah that.
I reached for my laptop to order something to show I was sorry. Since I was the King, I could have it here by morning and then I wouldn’t have to spend another night apart from her.
By tomorrow night, this would all have blown over.