Page 7 of Shared Spaces

“Next time you want to hide something from me, try a little harder.” Jay groans, taking off toward the bathroom to do what he always does after he tortures the fuck out of me.

I can’t complain really.

Most husbands don’t even run a bath for their wives after fucking them; I consider myself lucky that Jay’s religiously into my aftercare.

It’s sending mixed messages though.

I can’t deny the fact that I want more, and sometimes, I think he does too.

Perhaps this is why I could never make a relationship work. I’m always digging deeper than I have to, over analyzing everything, and for what? I promised myself last year that I would just remain single.

Am I just addicted to constant chaos?

4

Jay

Isit up and immediately wince from the pain shooting through my lower back.

As I stand to my feet, I hear Gwen holler out from the kitchen, I assume. Something about the coffee maker and it being fucked.

I laugh as I open the door and head out, seeing her standing there with just the handle of the carafe in her hand and shattered glass around her feet.

“Jesus, Gwen!” I exclaim, grabbing the broom from beside the fridge.

“I left the coffee pot on last night and tried to clean the coffee from the bottom.” she whines as she tries to take a step forward.

“Stay where you are!” I exclaim, imagining the shards of glass poking through her delicate feet. I sweep up the rest of it before giving her the go ahead to move.

“Was it cold water, Gwen?” I ask.

“Oops.”

“I guess you can pick the next one, since you hated that one so much.” I laugh.

“Okay, I’m done here, I’m going to take a shower. Fuck the coffee I guess…” She says as she walks out of the kitchen.

“What kind of coffee pot do you want?!” I holler out to her as I reach into my pocket for my phone.

“An espresso machine!” She says before I hear a door close.

At the end of last month, I convinced Gwen to quit her job after seeing how unhappy it was making her. She argued about it for a while, but I assured her that she can find something else in time and focus on her studies right now.

I paid her tuition in full and told her finance advisor to contact me if any other fees arise. Gwen deserves an education and exhausting herself with financial stress won’t aid in her success.

I scroll through the recommended espresso machines online and click on the fanciest machine I can find. It seems easy enough to operate, so I add it to my cart and checkout with express delivery.

Heading to the door, I slip my shoes on and head down to the parking garage to get into my car.

Just as I start the engine, I get a text. When I glance over to my phone, I notice it’s from Gwen, and it’s a photo attachment.

Opening the text, it’s a picture of her standing in the shower, drenched from head to toe with her golden hair barely covering her breasts.

Fucking hell.

I’ll make her pay for it somehow later.

I’ll have to sit through classes while thinking about her soaking wet.