Page 69 of Am I the Only One

I guess this is why, in this political world, women keep their mouths shut while their husbands do whatever they want. I once thought they were weak doormats, but now I understand. Those women just know the effort of leaving isn’t worth it.

Standing at my dresser, I pick up the scissors and clip the tags off the new bra and panty set I bought earlier today. I lay the delicate lace garments out in hopes that Tripp will find them just as sexy as I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve bought lingerie—too long—but if I’m going to attempt to make our marriage work, I need to do everything I can to remind him of the young girl he fell in love with. The vibrancy and youth he still seeks out and desires. I may not be as young and green as Emma or the other women he’s fallen into bed with, I may have wrinkles and a few stray gray hairs, but I’m still a Montgomery. I’m still the woman who wears his ring on her finger.

It’s been nearly a week since I last spoke to Emma. I tried contacting her a couple of days ago, but the call went to voice mail. I think I scared her when I asked her about the texts and emails. Looking back at how I’ve handled this whole situation, I could kick myself for not being smarter, for not covering all my bases. But what’s done is done, and I don’t know how to move forward without any solid evidence. So, this is what I’m left with—sexy lingerie and Tripp’s favorite perfume of mine to help me in my quest to save our marriage. To make him see me in the same desirable light he sees the girls that so freely sleep with him.

I need to remind him that I’m still the same girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of. If he needs me to ramp it up in the bedroom, then I will.

I called Tripp earlier today, and he assured me he wouldn’t be working late, so after I slip into my new purchases and crawl onto the bed, he proves a man of his word when I hear him walk into the house. Of course, it crosses my mind that he might turn me down, which I should be used to at this point, but I’m a woman determined.

“Carly, I’m home,” he calls out from downstairs.

“I’m in the bedroom.”

With nothing but the silvery glow of the moon illuminating the room, I sit up on my knees, shove my hand in my bra, and give the girls one last much-needed boost before he appears in the doorway.

His brows lift in astonishment. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.”

He drops his briefcase to the floor and tugs on his tie, surprising me when he walks right to me.

When I take over removing his tie, he murmurs, “Stunning,” before gripping my hips.

I kiss him passionately as I begin to unfasten the buttons on his dress shirt, and I do my best to shut out the voice inside my head that’s telling me to sniff his collar. It’s something I do quite often just to check if I can smell the traces of the other women. Instead, I throw myself into Tripp, ripping his shirt off and eagerly pulling him down on top of me. His lips spill over the lace of my bra, sucking my nipple into his mouth through the delicate fabric.

We move in a way we haven’t in years, and that alone is enough to muffle those taunting voices. His deft hand trails up my inner thigh, and I cry out in pleasure when his fingers slip inside my panties and find their way into my body. The room spins, forcing me to close my eyes when euphoria takes over. Without missing a beat, he continues to pump his fingers at the same time as he rips my panties off. When his hot mouth covers my most intimate parts, my hands fist the sheets, and I wonder where this man has been for the past few years. Because this is the man I fell in love with. The man who, on our wedding day, snuck up to the room I was getting ready in and fucked me wildly while hundreds of guests mingled on the back lawn below, right on the other side of the window. But Tripp didn’t care. And with the attention he’s giving me, I doubt I would stop him if those people were standing in this very room.

His tongue abandons me, and when I open my eyes, he stands over me as he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down.

“Where has this Carly been hiding?”

Short on breath, I respond, “I’ve been here all along.”

He looks so powerful, standing in front of me bold and naked when he says, “Tell me how you want it.”

“Howeveryouwant it.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a pleasing smirk, and I gasp when he abruptly flips me onto my belly, grabs my hips, and yanks my ass up in the air. On my hands and knees, my vision blurs when he licks through my seam. It’s a gentle touch that he doesn’t let me get used to before he pulls away, only to return with rapture. He thrusts into me hard, jolting my body forward and ripping a moan of pleasure from my throat.

Tripp unhooks my bra, and it slips down my arms, falling around my wrists. When he palms me roughly, everything inside my body swims in voracity while his hips drive into me over and over. Reaching behind, I clutch my hand around the back of his neck. He drops one of his hands from my breast to between my legs, sending me over the edge much quicker than expected. I explode as he buries himself deeper, my body shuddering as pulses of ecstasy radiate through my entire being. My vision blurs, and in the next second, Tripp grunts loudly as he comes. His chest sweats against my back as we both lose ourselves, and the room fills with the sounds of our orgasms—wild and raw.

Arching back into him as he drives into me a few more times, he drains himself inside me before pulling out. A moment later, we collapse onto the bed—breathless and sated.

“Shit,” he pants, and I smile.

And this—this right here—is what I want him to remember when he thinks of me, not the nagging housewife who’s grown old and stale. I want to bring that excitement back into our marriage so he doesn’t have to seek it elsewhere. With that very thought, I do something unexpected when I crawl between his parted legs and take him into my mouth, licking him clean as he stares down at me in shock, proving he’s far more agile than his age when he grows hard again.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

I crawl on top of him and take control. Straddling him, I roll my hips and savor this feeling I’ve been missing—the feeling of my husband inside me. I ride him, and it only takes half the amount of time as our last round before we are both ripping apart at the seams in our ferocious orgasms.

Falling on top of him, head over heart, I listen to thethump,thump,thumpas my own beats slow. My body softens against his, relishing what we should have never let fall apart. How did we become so strained? At what point did we decide to drift? I never knew how difficult this life would be when I chose to marry Tripp. This political world is filled with fabulists and monsters, but they’re disguised as the good guys to fool the public into believing they’re honest, believing that they’re fighting for the good of all of us.

Lifting my head, I stare down at Tripp and wonder when he became one of them. As I look into his eyes, I refuse to accept that the man I fell in love with is no longer there. Beneath the grime, I want to believe his goodness still exists. I can’t ignore that he is the man who took my side and stood up for me when his parents were so against us getting married. He didn’t let the opinions of others sway him. No. He stood strong for what he believed in. Maybe he still does. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as I’ve led myself to believe.

“That was unexpected,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “What got into you tonight?”

I smile with a shrug. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”

---