Page 81 of Choosing Hope
My last orgasm was mind-altering; I lost all sense of awareness, as if I blacked out for several minutes. We didn’t plan the scene I’d just created. But the moment I saw her, I knew who she was, and following weeks of mental torture about her with my husband, I had to see Spencer with her. Watching his aggressive nature with Kalie inflated my ego.
Christ, I’m so shallow. I never used to be such a bitch.
Weirdly, seeing their dynamic helped me to understand. It was obvious from Spencer’s expression that he didn’t want her but I needed to see him plead with his eyes. I saw the moment the switch flicked. After being lost, he found his path back to us.
Carlo was right. I’m uncertain why I ever doubted him.
“You fucking cunt!” My husband’s voice yells, pulling me back into the room.
“Get away from her!”
My eyes fly open to find the boys in a tussle. My limbs are too weak after so many orgasms to stand, and I don’t have the strength to break them up anyway.
Besides, Carlo has it all under control. He’d been expecting this response.
“You told me I could fuck her.”
“Not here. You’re a double-crossing bastard.” Spencer roars.
“Keep going and I’ll fill your mouth with my cock.” Carlo yells back, easily capturing my husband’s arm in one hand and his hair in the other, forcing Spencer to his knees.
“Get off me,” Spencer groans.
“I will when I’ve fucked your dirty mouth. I want you to taste your wife all over my dick,” he sneers.
Carlo’s straining to hold Spencer but the struggle doesn’t last.
Spencer’s facing me; his gaze meets mine, his eyes still pleading, as if seeking permission. I nod, unable to look away.
Watching my husband open his mouth for his friend, adds to my heady power trip of being the one who gave him silent permission to suck Carlo’s dick. At this point in our complex relationship, it isn’t lost on me how life-changing this moment is.
Carlo’s strong fingers grip the top of my husband’s hair as he thrusts his hips using short, sharp flicks. His aggressive movement helps todemonstrate some of the hurt and frustration Spencer’s put his friend through.
Within a few minutes, Carlo throws his head back, letting go down Spencer’s throat.
As he staggers backward, Carlo leaves Spencer kneeling on the floor as he stumbles into the bathroom, discarding his friend.
Spencer’s forlorn stare meets mine.
He looks broken. Vulnerable.
I detangle myself from the chair and rush toward him dropping to my knees in front of him and wrapping myself around him, holding him as tight as I can. My arms lock around his much larger body.
A whimper escapes his throat, and I squeeze him even closer, allowing his emotions to flow without discussing them.
He doesn’t need to tell me about the regret he’s experiencing; it’s written all over his dejected body language. Even though he’s put me through hell, I can’t help feeling sorry for him.
I don’t let him go, trying to give him the support I know he needs. Allowing some tensions between us to flow out.
After several minutes, Carlo re-enters the room with a towel tied around his waist. Freshly showered.
When he claps eyes on us, Carlo stops. Stares. He appears lonely. Troubled.
Both guys have got issues. There’s so much history between them, between all of us, but seeing them like this is devastating.
My entire body is pulsing with my need to help them. To pull them back together and somehow repair the links that are missing from the chain that will bind them for a lifetime.
I release Spencer carefully, hoping not to make him feel rejected, I’m certain Carlo needs a few minutes with him.
