Page 43 of The Devil

“I’ll be out in a little bit,” Amal calls out, her tone aloof.

I try the door but find it locked. “What the fuck, Amal?”

“There’s a second bathroom. You can use it.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, then grip the doorknob and turn hard enough to pop the flimsy lock and push open the door to find Amal soaking in the tub, mouth opening in a surprised O.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.

“Checking on my wife.”

“You just broke the lock.”

“Thought you were running a bath for us. It is our wedding night,” I say and step inside. The room is steamy from the hot water and Amal is leaning against one end of the two-person tub hands protectively if not a bit dramatically covering her breasts.

“Did it occur to you I might need a minute alone.”

“You had a minute. More than one.”

I go to the toilet, lift the lid to take a piss.

She mutters something as I flush then walk over to the sink to wash my hands. In the mirror I see her gaze is glued to my ass. When I catch her eye and raise an eyebrow, she quickly looks away.

“Do you have to stand there naked?” she asks.

I cross the spacious bathroom and step into the tub. Amal pulls her legs back.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Conserving water. Better for the environment.” I settle in across from her and we watch each other, her with her arms still covering herself, me with mine spread over the edges of the tub. “Come here,” I tell her, gesturing with a curl of my fingers.

“I’m fine here.”

“Come anyway, little wifey.”

“Little wifey?”

“Just trying it out since Little Virgin is out. Now come here.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I think you’re taking the obedience thing a little far. If you’re not getting out, I will.”

She makes to stand but I grab hold of her arm and pull her down to me. Water splashes out of the tub making a mess on the tiled floor.

“Did I miss something?” I ask, surprised at her behavior. “Is there a reason you’re being an asshole?”

“I’m not. I just need a minute!” She struggles as I wrap my arms around her, holding her back against my chest.

“You were crying.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I have eyes in my head.”

She shrugs a shoulder.

I lift her, turn her to face me.

“Did I hurt you?”