Page 96 of Bad Husband

“It’s beentoofucking long,” I groan, palming my dick under the blankets between us.

“Actually…” Madison’s close enough now she’s kissing my neck, my shoulder, any place bare skin is found. And it’s then I wonder if I pushed her head lower, will she kiss something else. “We had sex in the shower last week. Remember?”

“No, I don’t remember,” I mumble, my hand finding its way between her legs to see if she’s wet. “That was last week.”

With my eyes on hers, I dip my head, snuggling between her shoulder and her neck and then scoot toward her, bringing our bodies in line, our chests touching. My left hand moves to her hip as she hitches it around my waist and I squeeze a little, loving that she hasn’t lost all the baby weight because it gives me something to hang onto.

Women? Listen up. Men like a little something to grab, so don’t be too concerned with being stick thin. We don’t want to fuck a bag of bones. We like curves. And more importantly, we like to put our hands on said curves so when we reach out and give you a little squeeze, don’t push us away.

Madison interrupts my thoughts when she grabs a fistful of my hair and forces me look at her. “If you’re going to fuck me, stop messing around. We don’t have a lot of time before the baby’s up.”

She’s right. I need to get to work.

“Jesus,” I draw out, moving between her legs, her knees created an opening for me. Hovering above her, my lips move to hers, my hands beside her head, holding myself up.

Immediately, she’s breathing heavily, cheeks and neck flushed. She’s easy to read.

So we came to the conclusion it’s been a week, so naturally, it’s one of those times when we find ourselves fumbling around, and the only sounds are grunts and groans because we need it that bad.

“Fuck,” I whisper, suddenly the one rushing now, a gasping breath against her cheek as my mouth moves along her jaw and to her neck. “Hurry up, baby.” My hips press forward, my patience gone. “They’ll be up soon.”

“Then get a condom on and stop fucking around.”

She has a very good point. And we certainly don’t need another baby just yet. You’ll see why soon.

In record speed, I jump out of bed, lock the dog in the bathroom and grab a condom from the nightstand. I love my kids, but no, I don’t want another one. After getting it on, I’m back between her legs, bringing my left hand to her cheek as I enter her. It’s my attempt to be romantic.

Our lips meet at the same time. Licking the seam of her lips, she opens her mouth for me, my tongue meeting hers. I damn near moan at the sensation, but I don’t, and she does, her hands moving across my back and to the nape of my neck before they take up residence in my hair.

This image of us right now, the one you have of two people frantically trying to get in the few moments of privacy they are allowed as parents, is one you’ll see in most bedrooms where children are raised. Alone time is something that’s never scheduled but stolen when the crazy little bundles of energy are asleep.

“Stop thinking,” I whisper, knowing her mind is elsewhere, despite her kisses never faltering. “That’s it. No more thinking.”

I know when she finally stops thinking and melts into me. But it’s hard when our overly curious and insane black lab begins scratching and barking at the bathroom door where I’ve barricaded him so we could have sex. If he isn’t locked in another room, he stares at us the entire time. Believe me, it’s unnerving having a dog stare at you as you fuck your wife. I don’t even like dogs.

Gripping my neck, Madison looks over my right shoulder at the door to the bathroom to make sure that asshole of a dog stays put. Just when we think maybe we might make it before he starts in with the barking, he begins to howl.

Little bastard has the worst timing and I know any minute he’s going to wake the baby in the next room.

“Damn it,” she mutters, shaking her head and turning into my chest.

Her legs fall from around my waist when Rowdy’s barking reaches an all-time high, and he begins his obsessive jumping as though he’s going to come through the door at any minute or destroy the bathroom. Both of which he’s done before. Many times. It’s a good thing I can fix drywall and doors.

Have I mentioned I don’t like dogs? All I can say is at least it’s not a cat.

Madison sighs, her arms flopping against the mattress. “Ridley, he’s going to destroy the bathroom again. We should stop.”

I pin her hands above her head against the headboard. “Don’t you dare stop, Madison.” I groan against her lips, my breath catching in my throat as I continue to move in and out of her. “Weneedthis.”

I’m mostly referring to myself here, but judging by the wetness coating my dick, she feels the same way.

“I know we do….” She sighs. “But he’s destroying the bathroom.”

I’m not having this end on account of that fucking dog, so I rise up on my hands to change the angle. “I don’t care. I’ll fix it.”

I nearly come when we switch positions because when you’ve been denied sex for so long, even the slightest movement can make you come because it’s literally been so fucking long since you’ve had any stimulation down there.

All that aside, I can hear Callan outside the door with the baby. Thank goodness I locked the bedroom door.