His jaw ticks and I look away from him and ask, “Is it time?”
Dr. Chimes clears her throat and nods as she looks at her watch then murmurs, “I want to see you both again next week, the same time,” I shake my head knowing it is a waste of time but she quickly states, “You have a lot bottled up Ashley and it is time you spoke about why you stopped sleeping with your husband.”
Yeah, that is never going to happen. I refuse to explain to this cheating bastard why I couldn’t let him near me, why I struggled with his touch, he doesn’t deserve to know.
Without a word to either of them, I stand and walk out of the room, hoping Tyler will finally see reason and just sign the papers.
There is no coming back from what he did.
Chapter 1
Trigger – Age Twenty Eight
Buzzing surrounds me as I gently fill in the butterfly tramp stamp on my client, Trish’s, lower back, a cliché tattoo that I hate fucking doing. She has been trying to lift her ass in my face the entire session. Her short-shorts not even covering most of her ass cheeks as she tries to get my attention.
Unfortunately for her, I’m not even tempted.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s hot as fuck, her body one for men to drool over even with the fake tits, and my dick has taken notice, because she’s not my wife.
Ten years we’ve been married, ten years of struggling with my guilt for wanting Ash to abort our son who is fucking amazing – something she has no idea about and will never find out especially if I want to keep my balls. Ten years of trying toconvince my mama this was the right route to take because Ashley was always going to end up with me.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do feel a little resentment, but it’s a feeling I need to squash, no, a feeling Ihaveto squash because my wife, she doesn’t deserve my resentment or my feelings of missing out. Especially when she gave me an out, twice, gave up school so I could continue with my degree and become more for the Rebels MC, a club I grew up in, a role my dad used to have and handed it down to me as soon as I got my degree in fine arts.
Ashley went to work, basically every single day until late, bringing in money when I couldn’t. All while being the best mama to our son, even taking him to work with her until my mama finally pulled her head out of her ass and offered to babysit him with the encouragement of my dad.
Fuck, the thought of hurting Ashley all because I never got my playboy days like my brothers did, is sickening. I still feel like I missed out after ten years of always wanting to be inside my wife, it just makes me fucking pathetic.
I love her, I do, so fucking much and even now, she’s still working, still refusing to give that job up. Still placing all her checks in our joint account even though she doesn’t have to, proving to everyone she didn’t want the cut, didn’t want the title of being an old lady. Fuck, she refuses to wear her property because of the shit people said about her and hasn’t worn it since she was eighteen. Even though she does wear her simple thin gold wedding band with honor I fucking miss seeing her wear my leather.
I really need to get her a diamond ring, especially with our eleventh wedding anniversary coming up and hopefully convince her to wear the leather with pride again.
I sigh as I dip my needle into some more black ink and continue my work, trying to ignore my gut churning. The pastand my stupid teenage mind making regret fucking high. I hate feeling resentment towards Ash and sometimes towards our son, and I pray she never finds out about how I’ve been feeling on and off over the years.
She’d fucking leave me in a heartbeat, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose her because I will spiral.
The woman is my life.
“Trigger,” Trish whispers with a seductive husk as I glide my tattoo needle over a sensitive bit on her back, and I roll my eyes even though my cock did twitch, which is just normal, I mean, I’m only human after all. Though, if Ash ever got sexual desires for another man, I’d probably kill the fucker, which is just hypercritical, I know.
“Nearly done,” I mutter, and she hums out “Okay” as I finish filling in the last bit of the butterfly.
So fucking cliché.
“Alright, all done,” I state two minutes later as I put my gun down and grab my cloth and some gel to gently rub it over her tattoo as I explain, “I’m going to place a light adhesive film over your tattoo, after roughly twenty four hours you can remove it then gently wash it with fragrance free soap and water or antibacterial soap if you can find it. If you have any problems, you can come back and someone here will see you.”
“How about your number?” she says as she looks back at me as I place the film over her tattoo, taping it in place. I look at her to see a seductive smirk tilting her too thick lips. She husks, “That would be easier than coming in, wouldn’t it?”
Should have seen that one coming.
I tilt my lips as I automatically reply, “Somehow I doubt my wife and son would be too happy with that.”
My confession does it, her smirk dies as her body locks up and embarrassment etches her. I shake my head as I lean away,removing my gloves, fucking happy she’s my last customer of the day.
Maybe I can convince my wife to spend the evening with me instead of working.
We’ve both been busy, me especially and honestly, I fucking miss her.
Just as Trish climbs off the chair, my door opens with a bang, making us both look, and my smile automatically fills my face as my son rushes inside.
