Winnie’s moans stop and the vibrator goes silent. She must be aware of what’s going on now, and has paused what she’s doing. I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue. If she stops, I’ll stop too, I promise myself.
But after a moment, the vibrator turns back on. She lets out a series of moans and whimpers, louder this time than before. I take that as my cue to continue, and I pump my cock up and down, chest heaving.
I’m getting close, but I want to finish when Winnie does. I stroke myself more softly, and try to hold myself back. On the other side of the wall, Winnie lets out a curse and a sob, and then says, “Oh my God.” The vibrator gets louder, and I think about how fucking soaked she must be, how much of a mess she must be making.
“That’s right baby, soak my sheets for me. Make a mess on my bed. Give yourself exactly what you need,” I say, not giving a fuck if she hears me. I’m beyond reason or rationality right now. All I can see is her.
And then I hear her cry out, “Yes,” followed by a series of moans. She must be starting to come.
I pump myself hard now, letting the pleasure rise and crest within me. My vision goes white as I start to come, the orgasm sweeping through and consuming me. In the other room, I know that my wife is coming with me, and our moans blend together, filling the house.
I come down from the high and stand there panting. I just had one of the most intense orgasms of my life, and I wasn’t even with a woman. But just listening to Winnie had me more turned on than I’ve ever been. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
Maybe I need a cold shower. I tug my sweatpants back on and cautiously open the door. I listen for Winnie but don’t hear anything. She must be staying in bed. I sneak into the bathroom and turn the water on, setting the temperature as cold as I can. The water hits me and I gasp, but I make myself stand under it, letting it soak through my hair.
After a few minutes I turn the water off and start toweling myself dry. I walk back into my room, and slide into the small bed, feeling a bit more clear headed.
But when I close my eyes, all I can see is Winnie.
And that night, her whimpers and moans, and the image of her spread out on my bed, fill my dreams.
24
WINNIE
Instead of getting up earlylike usual, I lay in bed until I hear the front door slam and Jonah’s truck turn on. And even then, I’m cautious as I peek around the corner and check that he isn’t in the living room or kitchen. I let out a sigh of relief.
After what happened last night, I’m dreading seeing my husband. I’m not sure what got into me, but when I heard him moaning from the room next to mine, I didn’t want to stop. Instead, knowing he was there, stroking himself right along with me, made me feel even more turned on and in need of release. I swear I even heard him tell me to soak his sheets or something, which made me blush but also made me moan.
It’s been a long time since I did something as intimate as that with a man. I dated and slept with guys in college, but in the years since, I’ve rarely gone out with anyone. My parents—especially my father—wanted to approve each of the men I dated. Needless to say, we have very different ideas of what a suitable man looks like.
They tried to set me up a handful of times with their friends’ sons, but I always sabotaged the dates. One time, I pretended to get sick in the bathroom after eating some bad shrimp. Another, I farted so loudly in the guy’s truck that he never called me again.That one was Candice’s idea. And when I actually found a man Iwantedto date, they made me break up with him. I met Tom through Carly’s husband a year ago, and he was cute, funny and most importantly, kind. But we only made it a month before my parents deemed him “unacceptable,” and told me to break up with him
In any case, none of the sex I had in college or with Tom was as electric as what I shared with Jonah last night. He didn’t even touch me—he wasn’t even in the same room as me—and I still came harder than I ever have.
Fuck. Me.
In the kitchen, I find a full pot of hot coffee and the red mug I’ve been using next to it. Jonah has left a bottle of hazelnut creamer in the fridge as well, even though I know he doesn’t drink it. He must have seen me sadly looking at the skim milk he has. There’s also a packet of oatmeal and a banana out on the counter.
My heart flutters.
“It’s just a banana,” I mutter out loud.
He’s just making sure I know where everything is. I’ve only been here for a few days and I don’t know where the oatmeal is kept. That’s it. Nothing more.
But still, I can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through me. And his gesture is enough to make me feel like what happened between us last night is okay.
Jonah happensto get home that night just as the steak I’m cooking starts to smoke like crazy. And I mean, really, really smoke. Because I forgot about it for a few minutes while I was scrolling through Beau’s instructions for mashed potatoes.
The smoke alarm starts to blare as Jonah walks into the kitchen. I look at him, and then look at the steak again, and just start flapping my hands at the stove, trying to get the smoke to go down. When that doesn’t do jack shit, I run to the kitchen window and throw it open.
“Winnie?” Jonah yells over the alarm.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you should turn the stove off.”
“Oh my God! Right!” I turn the burner off and move the pan over, wincing a bit because the handle of the cast iron is pretty hot. “Ouch.”
