I know my husband well. He’s trying to figure out how to fuck me with three kids in the house who are likely to come looking for us any moment.
When he removes his eyes from my body to search mine out, I know he’s figured out we don’t have a hope in hell of having sex right now. With one long exhale, he says, “Tonight. I don’t care if it’s the fastest sex we’ve ever had. I need you.”
It’s those last three words, said with Donovan’s signature intensity and darkness, that cause me to nod in agreement. Because even though I know I’ll be almost dead with exhaustion tonight, my husband’s need for me always pulls me in.
I kiss him. “I love you.” One last kiss. “Tonight.”
Layla
11:10 a.m.
I send my husband a text as I sit on the beach watching the kids make sandcastles.
Me
I’ve been thinking.
Me
We should cancel all our plans for this weekend, ask your Mum to have the kids, and you should take me away somewhere, just the two of us.
Me
I want to spend the weekend naked with you.
11:20 a.m.
Me
I’m thinking about all the filthy things your tongue is capable of.
11:30 a.m.
Me
Is that a no?
11:40 a.m.
Me
Too bad if it’s a no from you because it’s a yes from me and I just called your mum and organised her to have the kids from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. You’re taking me away. To the beach. And you’re going to fuck me for 48 hours straight. Just FYI.
12:30 p.m.
Me
I’ve booked a hotel. Tell me you can get away from work by lunchtime on Friday. I may start without you if not. I’ll be sure to keep you updated with videos until you get there. I know you like to watch.
12:45 p.m.
I check my phone to see if Donovan has replied to my messages. My husband is not a fan of texting, so I never really expect him to reply to my messages. I just like sending them and imagining him reading them. He’ll always respond if it’s something important, but I didn’t really expect him to respond to the ones I’ve sent him today.
There’s no reply from him.
That doesn’t bother me. I know he’s busy. I just like knowing he would have been thinking about me each time he received a text.
“So, J’s on the couch tonight?” I say to Madison who has just spent ten minutes telling me about the fight they had this morning that she’s still annoyed over.
