Page 45 of Tormenting Me

“Okay! Grab some extra jalapenos, please.” My girl likes it spicy.

Pho in hand with extra jalapenos, I cross the street back to the property. I lock the door behind me and head upstairs. Layne is in the kitchen, bowls ready and drinks set out.

“Movie time, Wessy.“ Layne says as she rounds the counter to hand me my beer.

Fuck, I knew that nickname was going to come back and bite me in the ass.

Chapter twenty-eight

Layne

The early morning sunrise shines through the balcony doors, waking me. Last night was an amazing experience, leaving me sore in all the right places. After dinner, we vegged out in bed with a movie marathon, starting with my choice, The Conjuring, and then moving on to Ghostbusters, which Wes picked. It was adorable how he could recite the lines almost verbatim, a smile lighting up his face. I love discovering these little quirks about him.

I may relentlessly tease him about being a big ol’ nerd, but I secretly love it.

After we binged movies, true to his word, my husband fucked me again and again until well past midnight. Now, in the early morning, Wes stirs beside me in bed, his body sensing that his alarm is about to go off for work. I have work today, too, but I can stay home until ten-thirty.

“Good morning,” Wes mumbles sleepily into my neck.

I’m caught by surprise. “How did you know I was awake?”

“I could feel you thinking,” stretching his body behind me. I can feel his warmth against my skin, his nakedness sending delightful shivers down my spine. As I sense his cock hardening against my ass, I let out a playful groan.

Wes flips me onto my back, positioning himself between my thighs. “Are you sore, Ma Petite Mort?“ he asks, pressing himself into my eager pussy. It stings slightly, the tender skin still swollen from the intense fuckfest it experienced the past twenty-four hours.

I admit, wincing as the head of his cock slips inside me, “Yes.” I ask, “If I was to say no,” but before I can even finish my question, Wes withdraws.

“If you say no, I stop, baby. You’ll never have to tell me no twice,” he says, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “I have forever to fuck you, Layne. I don’t just think about myself.” He gets off the bed and heads to the bathroom. I contemplate his last words.

I’m probably overthinking, but is he upset? He sounded upset. But he also kissed me, so he can’t be upset. Right?

I sit upright in our bed, not moving. Overcome by the little voice in my head, spewing its vicious words.

Should have just let him fuck you. What’s a little pain compared to making him leave for work upset? Maybe he’ll fuck someone else while he’s at work?

“Layne.” I hear his voice in my head, like he’s far away. He repeats my name over and over, trying to pull me out of the depths my mind has trapped me in.

“Layne,” Wes shouts, clapping his hands together, and something in my brain clicks and I jerk forward, snapping out of it. “What the fuck, baby? Are you okay?” Wes stands by the couch, his keys in hand. He is already dressed and ready to leave for work.

How long was I out of it?

“I’m — fine,” I look over at him, giving him a weak smile. He looks at me with his head tilted to the side, as if he is trying to figure it out without me telling him.

“Are you sure? I’ll stay if you need me to stay.” Wes inches closer to the bed.

He remains present, without once glancing at his watch or phone, focused on this moment with me.

You’re overreacting, Layne.

I take a deep breath, trying to push away the negative thoughts that have consumed me. “I’m just... having a moment,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. Wes’s concern is apparent in his eyes as he sits down beside me on the bed.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he softly says, reaching out gently to grasp my hand. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

I nod, grateful for his understanding and support. It’s times like these when I realize how lucky I am to have him by my side. I shake off the lingering doubts and remind myself that he’s not like other men. “I know I can,” I say firmly, squeezing his hand.

He smiles warmly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. “I love you, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

His words wash over me, filling me with reassurance and a renewed sense of calm. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. In this moment, I feel safe. Loved. Only the words of a loving man remain, as the voice falls silent. He chose me when he could have had anyone.

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