Page 32 of Opening It Up
But she was still on stage, with this jackass behind her. I could see the outline of his dick in his tight jeans, his hands all overmywife’s body.
I was sputtering with rage when I got to the bar, and I hoisted myself up on the stage without a moment’s hesitation.
“I demand you take your filthy hands off her!”
But it was so noisy they still couldn’t hear me, Lily-Mae rolling her head back against Brayden’s big chest, her eyes closed in bliss as she gyrated to the music, her hips moving in hypnotically sexy circles. I was panting and making little strange growls and grunts of rage, ending in a wolfish howl as I saw her bend down and a tiny pink strip of her thong popped out of her tight skirt.
There was a strange crackling sound in my ear, but I ignored it in favor of grabbing Brayden’s arm and attempting to drag him off my wife.
The other man stumbled back but his big meaty fist swung with him, landing squarely on my nose with a crunch.
“Harley, what the fuck!” Lily-Mae cried. “What are youdoinghere?”
“I don’t like this,” I protested as blood spurted from my nose. “I don’t like you going on these dates.”
“Dude!Youopened up the marriage,” Brayden said. “And what’s that electronic thing on your face?”
And I realized with a shock of horror that like a moron, I had live-streamed the entire embarrassing incident to my millions of followers, including my high-pitch squeal when I saw them kissing.
Shit.
I jabbed my finger on the END RECORDING button but the comments had already started pouring in.
And even worse than that was the pitying look on my wife’s face.
“This is whatyouwanted, Harley,” she said. “You got what you wanted. An open marriage.”
And then Brayden pulled her away into the crowd and I couldn’t see her anymore.
CHAPTER 13
Lily-Mae
Iwas trying to figure out the next week’s schedule when Harley walked into the kitchen.
He looked rough as hell, like he hadn’t shaved this morning, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
“Did you see those flowers on the counter?” he rasped out.
I looked indifferently over at the dozens of bouquets of scarlet-red roses.
“Yes, thank you, they’re very pretty.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“For trying to sabotage my date?”
“For—everything. For lying to you. I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Whatever,” I said.
There was a beat of silence as I turned back to the calendar.
“People seem to only be interested in my celebrity status,” Harley complained. “It’s like no one cares about me as aperson.”
“Can’t relate,” I said, marking my upcoming dates carefully, in nice, neat cursive.
“What other kinds of dates are you going on?” he asked. “I don’t like raw fish and women these days seem to want to go to sushi restaurants all the time.Younever seemed to care to go to one.”
