Chapter 8
VALENTINA
June-bug
We still on for the zoo today?
Unease churns in my stomach as I risk a glance up at my husband. He’s fresh out of the shower, with water still glistening in his beard, and my mouth waters at the sight of him. Even on the wrong side of forty he’s model-fucking-gorgeous. All that time he spends in the gym has certainly paid off.
And here I am, planning a secret rendezvous right under his nose.
I’m the worst kind of asshole.
Ignoring the guilt pricking at the back of my mind, I look down at my phone again and tap out a message to my babygirl.
Valentina
Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be there around noon, as planned.
Ugh. Why does this feel so much more like cheating than our nights at the club?
Because it does, and because the guilt feels like it might eat me alive, I toss my phone on the bed and rise to my feet. Bash’s gaze slides toward me, a hint of a smile on his lips as I wedge myself between him and the vanity.
“What are you up to, wife?”
“Nothing.”
Giving him a little nudge, I drop to my knees in front of him and tug at the towel, exposing his beautiful cock to my gaze.
“Beautiful” is not an adjective I would use to describe many cocks, but it fits my husband well.
Thick and long, with the foreskin still intact, just the sight of it is enough to have saliva pooling in my mouth.
“That doesn’t look like nothing,” he says with a chuckle, his hand coming to rest on the top of my head, gently petting my hair.
Does he show his Monday night paramours this kind of affection?
Jealousy twists in my gut as I imagine him smiling lovingly down at some other woman while she worships this perfect cock. But what right do I have to feel jealous when I’m literally about to leave for a date with my own dirty little secret?
No. Not a date. Just an outing with a friend.
That technicality does nothing to ease the guilt.
Shoving both the guilt and the jealousy to the side, I wrap my hand around his cock and tug as I grin up at him. “Are you complaining?”
“Not in the least.”
“Good.”
Bending my head, I run my tongue over the thick head of his cock, drawing a low groan from my husband. “Fuck, baby. That feels so good. You feel so good.”
Normally I’m the one showering someone with praise, but I have to admit I don’t hate being told how good I am at sucking cock. It is, after all, a skill I’ve perfected over decades of devoted work.
Opening my mouth wider, I take him in, all but swallowing him to the root. My throat contracts around his head, and his hand fists in my hair.
“Jesus, Val. Fuck. Just like that.”
Spurred on by his low, needy moans, I bob my head, using every trick I know to give him pleasure. The thick veins of his cock rub against my tongue as I tease those sensitive spots I know drive him crazy.
In no time at all, he swells in my mouth, the salty taste of him pouring down my throat. I swallow all of him, sucking him dry until he hisses in pain. Letting him go with a pop, I grin up at him.
“That was incredible, baby. Thank you.”
Pushing to my feet, I loop my arms around his neck and kiss him. “I love you,” I murmur against his lips, my throat tight with emotion.
I really do love him. I do. I just need… more.
“I love you too. But I need to get going.”
Right. He has his own agenda for the day.
Golf with the other partners at his law firm.
It seems frivolous, but I know as well as anyone how important these outings can be.
These are the times when alliances are forged and fortified, and missing out on them can be disastrous, even after you’ve reached the top. Perhaps even more so then.
Which means my husband will be out ensuring our future is secure, while I’m out pretending my trip to the zoo isn’t a date.
God, I really am an asshole.
Forcing a smile, I give the slightly shaggy strands of his hair a tug. “You need a haircut.”
Chuckling, he leans in to nip at my bottom lip. “So bossy.”
More than you know. “Only for your own good,” I say instead.
“I’ll have Nancy make me an appointment for this week. But I really do need to get going.”
“Yeah. Me too. Don’t want to keep our friends waiting.”
We dress in what I’m sure he considers a companionable silence, though it scrapes along my already frayed nerves. By the time we kiss goodbye at the front door, I feel like I’m ready to explode.
And yet, when another text from Junie comes through, letting me know she is also on her way, I don’t tell her I changed my mind. I simply plug my phone into the in-dash entertainment center, program in the address—and drive.
Juniper
Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.
This was a huge mistake.
Pacing outside the gates of the zoo, I check my phone for the millionth time to see if one or both of my “friends” have cancelled on me. Finding nothing but the twin messages assuring me they are on their way and will be here on time, as scheduled, I let out a quiet groan.
Ash was right. I’ve lost my fucking mind.
When I first put together this plan, I was convinced they must know about each other.
The Val and Sebastian I know from the clubs are both very strict about communication and honesty.
A week ago, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that one or both of them could or would have kept me a secret under any circumstances.
But as our zoo date drew closer, that certainty began to wane. What if they don’t know? What if I’m about to toss a grenade into a perfectly healthy marriage?
How healthy is it if they’re both cheating?
Okay, so that voice in my head has a point. But is it my place to expose them?
No. Maybe. Probably not.
Ugh.
I should call this off. Tell them both I’m sick. Which isn’t entirely a lie considering I feel like I’m about to lose my breakfast right here on the sidewalk.
“Hello, June-bug.”
Whipping around, I launch myself into Mommy’s open arms with a sob. “You came!”
“Of course I came, baby. I mean…” She clears her throat, and when I glance up, her expression is one of pure discomfort.
God, I’m such a jerk.
Looking around, I shift nervously from foot to foot. “Um, Mo—Val,” I correct myself quickly, my cheeks heating at my near slip-up. “I have to tell you something.”
Worry draws her brows together. “What is it, honey? Are you okay? You look a little green around the gills.”
“Yeah. Well, not really. Um, the thing is, I did something kind of awful.”
Mommy’s mouth dips down into a frown. “What do you mean?”
It feels manipulative, but I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes. “Please don’t hate me,” I whisper, my voice choking with emotion.
Before she can ask any further questions, a voice freezes us both in our tracks.
“Val?”
Closing my eyes, I let out a loud groan.
“Bash? What are you doing here?” Mommy’s voice rises to an octave I’ve never heard from her before, pure panic echoing in her tone.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you had a shopping date with Celia and the gang.”
“And I thought you were golfing.”
Yup. This was an absolutely horrible fucking idea.
But I’m in it now, and short of trying to physically run from the situation, I’m stuck.
And I already know Daddy will easily catch me even if I do try to run, so I force my eyes open and smile up at both of them, even though I feel like I might be sick right here in the middle of the sidewalk. “Hi.”
Two sets of stunned eyes stare down at me, but Mommy recovers first, her expression turning furious as she plants her fists on her hips. “You have some explaining to do, little girl.”
“I know.” Once again dancing nervously from foot to foot, I glance at the crowd around us, many of whom are openly staring in our direction. “But could we maybe do this somewhere less… peopley?”
Daddy’s head jerks up as he looks around, a muscle in his jaw jumping. If we were at the club, that twitch would no doubt end with me over his knee, red-assed and sobbing out apologies for whatever naughty thing I did.
Now, however, he simply takes me by the hand and leads me toward the parking lot. Being several inches shorter than both him and Mommy means I have to hurry to keep up.
“Bash, slow down. She’s going to trip.”
Okay, maybe she doesn’t completely hate me if she’s worried I’m going to fall. That’s a good sign.
Right?
Daddy slows his steps, but he doesn’t say anything, and the guilty, nauseous feeling in my tummy grows worse with every step.
It feels like we’ve walked a mile before we reach a large black SUV. Daddy opens the back door and ushers me inside. I realize too late that Mommy has climbed in the other side, effectively trapping me between them.
Both doors slam, locking us in, and my two favorite people in the whole world glare down at me.
“All right, little girl,” Daddy says, fury rippling beneath his words. “Start talking.”