Page 50 of F*ck Marriage

I smile at Satcher, shrugging my shoulders. “I guess you’ll have to hang out with me on one of those days to see.”

He looks at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. It’s nice to be looked at like that. Like I’m something to be intrigued by.

On one of the nights I sleep over, I wake to find Satcher in the kitchen sitting at the island and staring into an empty coffee mug.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask, sliding into the seat next to him.

His smile is dim and I watch his face in concern.

“Insomnia.” He shrugs. “It’s always been with me.”

I’m still half asleep and I process his words quietly for a moment.

“Do you want me to leave or is company okay?” I rub my arms, suddenly realizing how cold it is in here.

Satcher stands up and walks to the thermostat, raising the temperature a few degrees.

“Your company is always okay.”

I walk over to where he stands and take his face between my hands. There are dark circles under his eyes. Why have I never noticed?

“Has it been worse than normal lately?”

“No, actually, it’s been better.”

When I look at him quizzically, he smiles. “Sex ... sex puts me to sleep.”

“Oh my God!” I say. “You’re a manwhore for a reason!”

The rumble of his laugh comes from deep within his chest. He pulls me against him in a tight hug and I reciprocate, my own laughter pressed up against his skin.

“Come on,” I say, taking his hand and leading him toward the bedroom. “I’ll help you sleep.”

My intent was to lay him on his back and prove my riding skills, but as soon as we reach the bed I see that he has other plans. He pushes me down and climbs on top of me instead, spreading my legs and resting between them. I can feel his hardness pressed against the crack of my pussy and I writhe, impatient. He kisses me, taking his time. When I’m frantic, he lifts himself off of me and pulls me on top of him. Finally! But before I can lower myself onto his very hard dick, he moves me upward until I’m straddling his face.

“No,” I say, blushing. “I’ve never—”

His mouth reaches me before my words reach him.

“Oh my fuck,” I say, tensing. I stare down at him in shock and awe.

“What were you saying?” he asks, his tongue stilling.

I lace my hands in his hair. “Nothing. Please resume…”

He laughs that deep throaty laugh before his tongue flicks and rolls slow, slow circles toward my very loud end.

Chapter Twenty-One

When I open the door, the first thing I notice are the shoes: tennis, immaculate white. Not mine. Leaving the door wide open, I take a few cautious steps inside. What type of thief takes their shoes off before robbing you? I round the corner and step into the living room, and that’s when I see a suitcase. It’s a practical hard shell, slick black like seal skin. I glance furtively around the apartment, my heart galloping. I hear her voice before I see her.

“Billie! Oh my God, Billie.” She comes from the bedroom launching herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug so tight it’s choking.

“Jules? What are you doing here?”

When she pulls away her eyes are glossy. “I hated it there.”

“But ... your job!”

---