Page 44 of The Accidental Wife

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We retiredto our respective bedrooms. I had a long cold shower to ease the pent-up sexual frustration I was currently feeling. I’m so fucking horny. By far, this is the longest I have gone without having sex, and we are only in week three. No wonder I can’t keep my hands off her. She should count her blessings that I’m not humping her every second of the day. I stare over at the wall between our bedrooms and suddenly wished I had x-ray vision so I could see what she was doing. Was she asleep? It’s only eleven o’clock, surely not. I strain my ear for any noise coming from her bedroom but hear nothing. A little while later, I was engrossed in reading a book when I hear a scream coming from her bedroom. I toss the book aside, jump out of bed, and rip my bedroom door open. I run to her bedroom and open the door and hear her scream again.

“What, what is it? What’s wrong, Shayla?” I look around the bedroom, thinking someone had broken in or was hurting her, but there was no one around. It’s just her sitting in bed, her bed covers pulled over her head. I look at her tv and see she’s watching a horror movie. I finally let myself sigh in relief and glared at her when she peeks over the blanket.

“Cole?”

“Jesus, what the fuck Shayla? I thought something happened to you.” I scold her, and she blinks up at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this movie to be so…. gruesome.” I cross my arms over my chest, look at the tv, and back at her again.

“If you’re scared, why are you watching it?” I question, and she shrugs, eyeing the tv nervously.

“It’s a good movie.” She mumbles, and I turn to leave her room.

“Cole, wait.” I stop and look back at her over my shoulder. She fumbles with the corner of her duvet, chewing her lip anxiously. “Will you, uh, will you stay and watch it with me?” She asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

I smile and lick my lips, “Scoot over.” I close the door and walk over to the bed. She pulls the covers back for me while I get in beside her and lay back. “Fill me in. What’s it about?”

Shayla shifts and leans back against the headboard next to me. “Okay, so this group of friends go on a road trip to this cabin in the middle of nowhere, and on the night that they get there, the main guy's girlfriend goes missing.” I watch her as she explains the movie to me. “So, they go looking for her, but then this fugly looking man shows up and drags them off, one by one, and tortures them.”

I chuckle, “That’s it? That’s why you were screaming?” She smacks my shoulder playfully and rolls her eyes.

“You haven’t seen him yet, watch and then judge. Oh God, look, that’s him, that’s him.” She groans, covering her eyes with an adorable squeal.

“Oh, he really is fugly.” I agree, wrinkling my nose at the half-man/half creature on the screen.

“See!” She peeks at the screen and yelps when the killer guts the woman, her intestines falling out on the floor. “Oh my God, I can’t.” She shifts, turning her head and pressing her forehead to my shoulder, eyes closed. I smile and shift, lifting my arm and wrapping it around her shoulder so she could nestle her face into my neck more comfortably. “I’m going to kill Aimee. This was her suggestion.” I hear her muffled voice and grin, brushing my fingers up and down her back.

“It is pretty graphic.” I feel her nod, and she looks at the screen again. Halfway through the movie, I feel my eyes growing heavy, and I hadn’t heard a peep out of Shayla either. I glance down and see she had fallen asleep, her head resting on my chest.

I shift a little trying to get out of bed, and she stirs in her sleep, snuggling further into me. “Mm, don’t go.” She whispers drowsily. I smile and press my lips to her forehead and continue to brush my fingers through her long, silky hair. The smell of passion fruit and coconuts, taking me back to Vegas when I first smelt her shampoo. I lay there with her in my arms, and it suddenly hit me, soon I’ll have to let her go. She’ll walk out of my life just as quickly as she came.

One hundred and fifty-two days. That’s how long we have left.

* * *

The next morning,we woke up bright and early to get ready for work. We woke up as we usually do, completely wrapped up in each other. Only this time, Shayla was on her side while I was spooning her from behind. Shayla’s alarm jolted us both awake from our peaceful slumber. She reaches over and hits the snooze button, closing her eyes again briefly.

“Cole.”

“Mmm.”

“That better be the remote pressed up against my butt.” She mumbles, making me chuckle.

“Why don’t you have a feel around, see for yourself,” I express, nuzzling her neck and groan when she kicks my shin. “Ow, Jesus,” I grumble, rolling onto my back with a yawn. “It’s scientifically proven that morning sex is a healthy way to start your day. A little morning loving would have been nice.”

Shayla rubs her eyes and sits up watching me as I stretch myself out. “Feel free to give yourself some ‘morning loving’ in your own room.” She tells me, pushing the covers back and getting out of bed. “I’m not going to ask how we even ended up in bed together again. I’m just thankful I woke up with my clothes on.” I lean up and watch her as she stretches. The loose shorts she’s wearing rises when she lifts her arms, giving me a nice view of the curve of her shapely bum. My mouth waters, and I feel my cock strain against the material of my boxers. Christ, if only she’d let me, I’d fuck her ten ways till Sunday tirelessly.

With a frustrated groan, I get out of bed and leave her bedroom. Time for another cold shower and some one on one time with my left hand. I’m going to lose my fucking mind and my cock to frostbite at this rate.

I was just about through jerking off when I hear a pounding on the bathroom door. My cock was still pulsing in my hand. “Cole! Get out of the bathroom, you’ve been in there forever. What on earth is taking you so long?” I hear Shayla’s annoyed voice on the other side of the door.

“I’d tell you, sweetheart, but you’ll only blush!” I holler back, lazily grinning when I hear her muttering on the other side as I step out of the shower. Wrapping a towel loosely around my waist, I walk over to the door and open it. Shayla turns and looks at me, her eyes skimming over my wet torso and lingering on the bulge under the towel for a drawn-out second.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” I drawl, eyeing her right back fixedly. Shayla blinks and clears her throat looking everywhere but at me.

“You have your own bathroom. Why do you insist on using this one every morning?” She questions, crossing her arms over her chest. I lean against the doorway and smile charmingly at her.

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