Page 48 of Married with Mayhem

With a groan of shame, I grab a bed pillow and pull it over my face. This pillow is starchy and too soft, not nearly as nice as Monte’s pillow, which was left in the car.

I can hear him in the room next door. Judging by the sounds, he’s opening his duffel bag and rummaging for clothes. A pair of thuds, one right after the other, is likely him dropping his shoeson the floor. Then comes the squeak of door hinges as he moves to the bathroom.

It would make sense if he’s decided to take a shower before going to bed. I feel rather stale after so many hours in the car and I’m sure he does too. Monte is likely shedding his clothes right now. Or he might already be naked.

I could easily be naked too. We won’t be in the same room, obviously, but the coincidence is still hot if I use my imagination.

Tossing the pillow away, I scramble over to my suitcase and extract my preferred sex toy from its satin-lined box hidden beneath layers of clothing. With one final scan of the closed door connecting my room to Monte’s, I carry my toy and a change of comfortable clothes to the attached bathroom.

There’s nothing soothing about the way the cheap showerhead spits out shards of hot water with the force of tiny arrows landing on my skin. And the boxy shower stall isn’t exactly roomy but there’s enough space to imagine sharing it. I can work with this.

Facing the slippery wall as the water strikes my back, I fantasize that I’m not alone, that I’m pinned in place by the presence of a formidable male body. I’m overpowered by arms roped with muscle, and I couldn’t leave if I tried. He bends his head, his mouth hovering near my ear. His guttural words are ominous when he makes his demands.

I’ve caused him a lot of trouble lately. His life has been totally upended in order to protect me. I don’t even dare to speak, to move, as his enormous erection digs into the small of my back.

He’s going to teach me a lesson. He needs to do this for my own good. And I’m ready to learn.

I’m breathing hard, clumsy fingers fumbling with the settings on the hot pink rabbit vibrator. I push the toy between my legs, searching for the right angle. I’m so impatient that I accidentally flip the setting to pulse instead of thrust. The thumbof the tool flicks an intensely sensitive place. I moan into the wall and the surge builds.

Within seconds I’m trembling and I let it happen, welcoming the easy orgasm. Warm ripples of pleasure multiply and send shockwaves through my system but I’m not finished. I’m gulping air, my cheek pressed to the shower wall, my fingers shakier than ever as I revert the toy back to thrusting mode.

A fictional echo of Monte’s chuckle vibrates near my ear. In my head it’s not a hot pink piece of battery operated silicone that’s doing the dirty work between my legs. It’s him.

The first orgasm was a pleasant trip. The second orgasm, much deeper, is a warp speed rocket attack. I’m left quivering and unsteady by the onslaught, barely hanging onto the shower wall while Fantasy Monte sweeps my hair away from my neck and promises that I’ve just been a very good girl.

I’m now extremely satisfied, though slightly guilty. True, what Monte doesn’t know about my shower masturbation time won’t hurt him. However, aside from some grumpy muttering, he’s been a true prince. And how am I repaying his gallantry? I’m using him to get off. I ought to be ashamed of myself. What’s more, I should have the honesty to admit that my teeny tiny crush on Monte might be a little more than just physical.

Rather than pick this idea apart, I lather up with cheap motel soap and scrub my crimes away. When I’m finally clean, moisturized with my favorite cherry-scented lotion and wrapped in comfy cotton loungewear, I feel far less corrupt.

All is quiet next door in Monte’s room. The strip beneath the door is dark and I really hope he’s already sleeping. When I flash back to the sheer exhaustion on his face there’s a funny stitch in my chest.

I’ve missed a couple of messages while I was in the shower. Nico texted to ask if all is well. I reply to let him know we’re fine and Terre Haute isn’t a bad place to stop for the night. I’m notsurprised when he evades my question about the state of things in New York. This is not information that can be exchanged via text and I’m sure Monte has instructed him not to share any possibly scary details.

Daisy also texted. She’s worried and Daisy is usually too cheerful to worry about anything more complicated than where to park the burger truck. Since I’m on a mission to be extremely quiet for the sake of Monte’s sleep, I wait until I’m closed inside the bathroom to give my sister a call.

“Brina!” she exclaims. “Anni told me what happened. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Monte is fine. For now he’s driving me to Colorado and I guess we’ll take it from there. Are you still in Atlanta?”

“For one more day,” she says. “I’m so sad that I missed seeing you in New York.”

“Well,” I say slowly. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I’m not going back to Sicily. After I visit Anni, I’m returning to New York. Then I was hoping to stay with you and Big Man Bowie while I get everything figured out.”

“Really?” she squeals. “Babe, Sabrina is gonna live with us!”

“Sweet!” Big Man Bowie replies in the background. “Did you tell her about the new white truffle burgers?”

“I did tell her. Just wait till she tries one!”

There’s a lot to be said for simple, carefree people. Daisy and Big Man Bowie are twin rays of sunshine, perfect for each other.

Daisy is now ecstatic and full of plans about all the food she is going to serve me and all the fun we’re going to have together.

As we say our goodbyes, I’m glad to have set her mind at ease and relieved to have a plan for what comes after Colorado. Daisy and Big Man Bowie have a small apartment so staying with them isn’t a lasting solution but I have money saved from my game sales. I’m confident I’ll be able to sell another one soon. It’s time for me to find my own way.

All I need to do now is break the news to my mother in the near future. I hope she can smooth things over with Uncle Vittorio, who regards me as a helpless ward that needs to be married off in order to survive.

No sooner is that last thought completed when my phone goes off.

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