Page 2 of Margot
Every line and curve was perfect. I reached out to touch the cute mole near her navel and she gave me the same soft smile as when I touched her hair.
Hands off.
My heart ached before it slipped a little further down in my chest.
I watch Sutton dip her white manicured toes in the steaming water. Her big brown eyes slid shut and she moaned in pleasure as the water swallowed her naked body.
“God, you got the temperature perfect, Lennox.”
“I have chardonnay in the wine chiller if you want a glass.”
“Like I’d ever turn it down. Just one glass though. You know how alcohol goes to my head,” she warned with a point. Her eyes were still closed as she enjoyed the hot water sinking into her tired muscles.
I went to the kitchen and poured us both glasses of wine then returned to the bathroom. After I handed Sutton her glass, I pushed my boxer briefs down my legs and slid my foot in the water.
Sutton’s eyes snapped open and a line formed between her perfectly arched brows. “Lennox, what are you doing? I thought you ran this bath for me.” Nerves coated her tone.
“I ran it for us. I thought we could celebrate your concert and my closing by relaxing in the tub together. Maybe have a glass of wine and listen to Ravel by candlelight and I was hoping I could make love to my wife.” There was ice in my voice and I knew Sutton heard it too.
“I know but I don’t feel like anything else. You know how I am after concerts.” She tipped the heavy crystal glass up to her lips and took a sip of cold wine.
I wonder if she knew her words were just as cold as the chardonnay she consumed.
“Of course. Why the hell would I assume things would be different tonight? Right, Sutton?” I scoffed and walked out of the bathroom naked with the weight of disappointment bearing down on my shoulders like a world made of stone. That’s what it felt like my world was. Made of fucking stone and just as cold.
In a huff, I pulled on a pair of cotton pajama pants and climbed into our king-sized bed. I knew I’d go to bed frustrated and feeling a million miles away from Sutton as usual. Most nights, I didn’t try to have sex with her because I knew what the outcome would be after hours of piano practice. I was stupid as hell to think that tonight would yield different results just because she killed at her concert. Sutton always killed at her concerts and she never wanted to make love afterward.
What I really wanted to do was fuck the shit out of my wife. I wanted her to call for God. I wanted her to beg for mercy while I drilled into her.
I couldn’t remember the last time I did that.
When was the last time Sutton let me wrap her long pretty hair around my fist?
When was the last time I felt her warm mouth sliding over my cock?
How long had it been since I heard her moan my name in a tone so erotic it sent chills down my spine?
I took hurried gulps of chardonnay until the glass was empty, then I set it on the nightstand. It barely took the edge off the rejection. It always stung but tonight it seemed extra potent.
Tonight, it seared through muscle, bone, and tissue. It burned into my heart and I hated how vulnerable it made me feel.
I needed to get my mind off of it.
I grabbed my computer and started answering work emails.
Instantly, my mind rerouted itself and the blade of rejection lodged in my chest didn’t seem to hurt as badly. There were several potential clients sending me emails about showings.
I may not have chosen the professional music route like Sutton but being a luxury property realtor brought a sure stream of income into our household. Between Sutton’s career with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and my career in real estate, we were able to live comfortably in the upper echelon of Baltimore’s elite. If I wanted to keep things that way, I had to work my ass off and I made sure to do that.
I was deep into client emails when Sutton came in the bedroom. Her skin smelled like vanilla. I didn’t have to look up from my screen to know that she was staring right at me. Lucky for her, I was too deep into work to pick a petty ass fight about her being cold.
Fuck that.
I knew, later on, she’d throw some pity pussy my way and I’d take it begrudgingly because cheating on my wife wasn’t an option and neither was divorce. I’d long since resigned myself to dry stretches when dealing with Sutton.
Sex was never her strong suit. She loved me with everything she had but she always had a huge roadblock when it came to intimacy and affection. Our marriage was the closest she’d ever come to climbing over that hurdle.
Sometimes I felt like working with her on it and other times I didn’t. Right then, staring at tons of work emails while she slipped into her pajamas, I didn’t. I was in another world.
