I slid him an envelope before the therapy session with $5000 dollars in it to go easy on me, andthis is what he came up with?
“Er–” I said, remembering the scenes from a few days ago. My cheeks burned thinking about how I’d behaved for my wife.
I’d crawled on my knees and barked like a dog. Me, Silas Di Pietro, who never bowed to anyone, never backed down.
I’d licked afucking dog bowlfor her.
My cock twitched, swelling against the confining walls of my plastic cock cage, and I tried to adjust my position to get a better angle, but therewasn’ta better angle. It was designed to keep my cock flaccid, but every time I got close to Paloma my cock burned as it desperately tried to dig out of the cock cage.
And the even more embarrassing thing was that I’d done all of it and she still didn’t give a shit.
The shameful memory of how I’d given my fucking all to pleasure her, working my wife’s sweet little cunt like my life depended on it, and she hadn’t made one damn sound, let me suck desperately on her clit, the sweet juices running down my chin, and then she had a, what, fuckingpity orgasm?
I’d been too busy thinking I was such a saint for not fucking around on her that I hadn’t bothered to figure out what she liked best, what made her moan.
How could I offer her my heart if she didn’t even believe I had one?
In politics, the number one rule was not to show any weakness. But I was about to go belly-up for this woman.
“The truth is I married you for the wrong reasons,” I said to Paloma, panic clawing in my chest. “I thought of nothing else besides the fact that you were beautiful and innocent and. . .good for my campaign. The perfect Governor’s wife. That you’d never give me any trouble.”
“Sexist bastard!” Rowan’s voice came amplified through the air ducts from their office down the hall.
Damn, apparently they were listening in. But it didn’t matter. I had to take it on the chin.
“You were wrong about that, weren’t you?” Paloma said angelically.
“That was why I cheated. I was—I put you on this perfect high pedestal, and in my mind dirty sex wasn’t something you did with yourwife.”
“Was it the spankings you enjoyed the most or the thrill you got from cheating?” Mr. MacDonald asked, slurping a pickled herring into his mouth.
“The thrill,” I said. “I don’t give a fuck about spanking. I can get a thrill by skydiving.”
“And you?” Mr. MacDonald asked Paloma.
She slid her eyes over to me, biting down on her tongue with those perfect white teeth.
My cock pressed painfully against the cock cage again, so painfully swollen against the insides that I heard the plastic crack with pressure as precum began to fill the tight space. My own cock was drowning in this torture.
Paloma bent closer, one hand on my shoulder, and I tried to control my breathing, keep myself from whimpering at her proximity. Now that she wasn’t wearing lavender and ylang-ylang, I could smell her real scent, a hint of something spicy, but it was just herskin, mouthwateringly sexy and fresh and erotic.
“My dark secret, Silas, isI set you up. I knew you were cheating. You weren’t exactly subtle, you know, asshole.Ialerted the paparazzi.Iwas the one who sent you into a panicky spiral,Iwas the one who got you to confess. All so I could get you right where I wanted you.”
Her words were like a wicked purr in my ear as shards of frozen panic snapped my spine.
“I’ve got your balls in a vise, Silas.Give me the money.”
The threat in her words had me so hard my cock wasgagging, drowning in the cage, every inch bursting to get free and claim her as mine.
“But I want you,” I whispered.
With no place else to go, precum had now started to seepupmy belly, rubbing wetly under my belt.
“You know what you’ve done,” Mr. MacDonald harrumphed. “I’d adviseagainstgetting back with him, Mrs. Di Pietro.”
I choked down my rage.
“Let’s go, Paloma.”
