My cock sinks deep into her pussy, and it’s just how I remember.

Wet.

Still tight, even after having Bradley.

So fucking good.

Nothing has changed.

I tense above her, disbelieving how long it’s been since this has happened. And then, when she clutches my hips, demanding movement with her vice grip, I start quick strokes, sinking in and out, building up a vast thrust.

She moans beneath me, holding me tight, and I grunt with each swivel, each plunge. My eyes squeeze tight, and as much as I am enjoying fucking Colette after so many months, I can’t fight the vision that appears.

Because it’s not Colette I want beneath me.

It’s Angelina.

As bad as our situation is, knowing she tried to trap me makes me want to fuck the ever-loving shit right out of her, and demand she never tries to fuck me over again.

But that’s a fucking fantasy now.

It will never happen again. It’s not that easy.

We can’t. After that contract shit is settled, I am done with her.

Forever.

I don’t even realize how hard I’m slamming into Colette due to my frustrations, not that it is hurting her or anything. She loves being fucked, being punished. She’s always been this way, begging me to drive harder, go faster.

She used to love making love, until making love got boring and fucking became the only way to keep the spark in our marriage.

Soon, I am at the edge, tipping over. My body locks, and Colette grips my forearms, her back arching, sighing and then moaning as she cums with me. Believe it or not, coming inside her pussy after so long is absolute euphoria.

It’s hard to compare her and Angelina. They are both spectacular in bed, fucking mind-blowing. With each one I don’t know what the hell to expect.

Finally, my body goes weak. Limp.

I roll over, flopping on the bed. Colette sighs and pushes up by her hands, looking down at me.

Climbing off the bed moments later, she stands above me and with a subtle smirk on her lips, she asks, “Did you like that?”

“Hell yeah,” I pant raggedly.

“Good…” She steps back, swiping off her bottom lip. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your final fuck with me.”

I frown as she walks away. Sitting up, I ask, “What? What do you mean?” She glances over her shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. I hop up and follow her inside. “Hold on… What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She’s standing in front of the mirror, still smiling, staring at her disheveled reflection. “I just have one question for you, Griffin,” she says. I fold my arms, watching as she opens one of the drawers and pulls out a rectangular box wrapped up in a plastic bag. “Who is Angelina Clark, and how long have you been fucking her behind my back?”

Immediately, my face goes board straight, eyes locking on her through our reflections. She spins around to face me and I stare down at her, mortified.

“What?” I whisper-hiss.

“You know,” she waves a finger, “you should really keep your office door locked, Griffin.” Her face goes rock hard, lips pressing thin. “I saw the emails. All this time you’ve been acting distant—staying away from home. And in fucking San Diego,” she snaps.

She spikes the bag at me and I clumsily catch it as she storms out of the bathroom. I can’t follow where she goes, though, because when she passes by, I spot a box on the countertop.

A familiar one that she had before.

Fertility pills.

I focus on the box, the ripped foil proving that she’s already taken two, and not only that, as my eyes move south, I see her fucking birth control pills are in the trash now.

I glance down at the bag in my hand, and then rip it open, finding an unused pregnancy test. My heart drops to my stomach at the sight of it.

“Colette, what the fuck have you done?” I barge out of the bathroom.

She’s standing in front of the window, now wearing a robe, arms folded tight across her chest.

“I knew something was up, Griffin. I just knew. You have never given up that easily on me, so I got nosy, and since I found it was another woman—oh boy!” She releases a dry, hoarse laugh. “Just realize you’ve really fucked up, Griffin.”

“Did you just fuck me to force a fucking pregnancy?”

Heat blinds me. I want to slap some fucking sense into her. How could she do this? Colette swore she would never have another kid, even when I begged her to.

I begged her over and over again to try after Bradley passed, but she refused. She threatened to have her tubes tied if I asked again, so I didn’t. I backed off and waited until she would be ready again… but now this? Trying to get pregnant out of spite?

“Yes, and I’ll do it again, and again, Griffin. Good thing it’s the time of the month for me to ovulate.” She grins. “And at least I know that with a baby around, you won’t dare try and leave me for her. She’s not about to keep you, because if I can’t have your attention, neither can she. What other way will I get you to come home more? To stay away from her? I know what kind of girl she is. Someone after your money. Someone who will fuck you endlessly just to get it. You can hardly take care of me, better yet make me happy. How in the hell will you be able to take care of two women?”

“That’s besides the fucking point, Colette!” I grip her shoulders, jaw locking. “You didn’t even want this! Why would you do this to yourself!?” My voice feels hoarse. Weak. Shit on top of another pile of shit, that’s what this is.

“Because,” she breathes, stepping towards me and shrugging out of my hold, “I’m not going down for you or because of her. This stays between us. I know that. And you aren’t foolish to tell anyone else, not if you know what’s really good for your future.” She walks to the door and grabs the doorknob, but before she goes, she lifts a single finger and says, “Oh, and by the way, I’ve been fucking Gabriel for two years now. Yes, Gabriel Adams, your best friend. Behind your fucking back. He’s the one that confirmed to me earlier that you are a lying, cheating bastard. You told him her name. Luckily, he’s our lawyer. He can’t say a fucking thing.” She looks me over with pure disgust. But how the fuck can she when she just admitted that? “How does knowing that feel, husband? Hurts, doesn’t it? Fucking jackass,” she spits.

The door slams behind her.

And I am left in the wake of her wrath.

I hear the front door shut a short distance away, but I don’t know where she takes off.

I don’t know where she’s going and for the first time, I fucking care. I care because she could be running off to Gabriel, and I refuse for that to fucking happen.

She’s not his, she’s mine—my wife—whether she wants to be or not.

Damn it. Look how fucking stupid I sound? How selfish—how inconsiderate!

First Angelina, and then Colette, and now Gabriel? Fucking Gabriel, my best friend of six years. Out of three of those years he’s been a liar, a cheat, a backstabber.

And if he would do something that low behind my back—fuck my wife while he knew I was trying so desperately hard to open her up and make her happy again—there’s no telling what he’ll do to see me down.

Shit, was he even telling the truth about that fucking contract, or did he want me to believe it was bullshit so I wouldn’t make more money, sign a better deal, and keep both Angelina and Colette…? Because he knows Colette isn’t going anywhere, even if she has a reason to.

Maybe everything is a fucking lie. Every single one of them a backstabbing bitch, a spiteful fuck. But, even if they are, they are the only ones I can get answers from.

Before thinking, I’m out of the bedroom, down the stairs, keys clutched in hand, and in my car, driving straight to the one person I know I shouldn’t be around right now.