As predicted, Ray doesn’t check if I’m ready. He swipes some lube on me and slides in. For the next twenty minutes, they switch off positions, swapping back and forth between who has my ass and who uses my mouth. I go through the motions, mostly detached, until Zach has me on my back, feet in the air, as Ray steps behind the camera.
“Come before I do,” Zach whispers while he’s jacking me off. “I want this to be good for you.”
He seems like a nice guy, and I appreciate he wants me to get off. He’s hitting just the right spot, and the familiar warmth spreads through me, climbing up my legs and pooling in my balls. A few moments later, my body shudders as I let go, white ropes spilling across my abdomen. Zach groans as my ass tightens around him. He pulls out, finishing in a few strokes, and comes on my stomach.
Ray stops recording and breaks down the tripod while Zach heads for our bathroom. A few minutes later, he comes back out and tosses me a wet rag so I can clean myself up. You would think my boyfriend would have done this for me, but he’s too busy reviewing the footage to notice that I’m still lying there covered in cum.
“Thanks for the good time. I always appreciate a tight ass,” Zach says to me, giving me a wink.
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I respond with a smile.
Ray finally lifts his head from his phone, as if he forgot we were in the room. Even though inviting other men into our sex life was his idea, any hint of flirtation from me always sparks that familiar flash of jealousy in his eyes. Zach must pick up on it because he quickly changes the subject.
“Oh, and Ray, I’ll text you the contact info for the guys doing the collab in Florida next month,” he says. “I can’t make it out there, but they’re looking for more guys. I’m sure they’d love to have you.”
“Awesome, thanks, man.” Ray’s enthusiasm is instant.
I don’t know what they’re talking about, but the mention of Florida sets me on edge. We can’t afford a cross-country trip right now. I’ve been saving for two years for an Alaskan cruise; it’s the top trip on my bucket list.
“See you next time,” Zach says as Ray walks him out.
I finish cleaning up, strip the sheets, remake the bed with fresh ones, and crawl under the covers before Ray returns. He heads straight to the bathroom without a word. I should be sleeping so I can get up early to finish the extra work I pushed off, but I’m too wired, bracing for an argument about this Florida thing.
When Ray finally emerges and climbs into bed, I speak up before he can turn off the light. “What’s this about Florida?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
He sighs, folding his hands across his chest. “There’s a couple on OF putting together a big collab in Fort Lauderdale next month. Zach hooked us up, and I think we should go. It’s great exposure, and we could get out of this rain for a few days and into some sun.”
I’m fuming, but try to hold it together. It’s better if I remain calm and state my case rationally.
“How are we supposed to pay for that?” I sit up, reluctant to have this conversation lying down. “We’re not touching the emergency fund, and the vacation fund is for the cruise. Alaska matters to me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Babe, Alaska can wait. Growing our brand is way more important than some fancy trip you want to take.”
“But I’ve been saving for the cruise for two years,” I say, sounding desperate. “I’m the one who makes most of the income, and it’s my savings. Shouldn’t I decide what we do with it?”
I know the second it leaves my mouth that it was a mistake. The slap takes me by surprise—sharp enough to jolt me, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to burn. My hand flies to my face. He’s shoved and grabbed me before, but he’s never done this.
“Fucking hell,” Ray seethes, rubbing his hand as if he hurt himself. “Do you not want us to succeed? Don’t you care how much this means to me? And it’s our money, not just yours. You need to get over yourself and support what we’re doing. We’re going to Florida next month, and that’s final.”
I’m still frozen, trying to process that he just hit me. My cheek feels warm under my palm. I can’t find any words.
Ray grabs his pillow. “I’m sleeping in the guest room,” he snaps, before storming out and slamming the door.
Tears sting my eyes as I press on the spot in my chest where the ache lives. I don’t love Ray. I hate how I let him treat me. But somehow, a part of me still doesn’t believe I deserve better.
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling for hours as my insecurities creep out of the dark. Do I deserve this? Is it my fault? How did my life end up here?
When I was a teenager, I dreamed of marrying my best friend, building a family, and growing old together. Instead, I’m stuck here, trapped in a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.
I wake up exhausted, with my alarm going off an hour early after only a few hours of sleep. There’s an accounting software project I’ve been working on that I need to finish. Ray is still in the guest room; he rarely gets up before 9 a.m.
I love my job as a software engineer. I’ve always been interested in computers and making programs run more effectively. After graduating with a computer science degree, I found a great job in Portland. As my projects became more complex, the company funded my master’s degree.
I met Ray the day I graduated from my master’s program. I was celebrating with coworkers, my mom, and my older sister, Heather, at an upscale restaurant in downtown Portland. Ray was bartending, and when I approached the bar for a round of drinks, he caught my eye with his red hair, pale skin, and strong build. He’s six years older and a few inches taller than I am, which I liked. Relentlessly flirtatious, he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he asked me out on a date.
After a couple of hours of work, Ray appears in my office doorway, coffee in hand, looking refreshed and alert. It seems last night didn’t disrupt his sleep.
“Feeling better this morning?” he asks, calm as can be. “Sorry for slapping you. If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have lost my temper. You know, we Murphys run hot and can’t control it.”
