His cold, clammy hand reached out to mine. “Tori, you were perfect, as usual. Give me a private show right now. Let me see my sexy wife in real life. I wanted that last night too. You know how much I enjoy having some of you after I watch. By not coming home, you denied me that pleasure.”
My heart sunk. “Stewart, I have to meet Maura today…” I looked toward the clock on the bedside stand. It was almost eleven o’clock. Shit! I’d slept late. “…in about an hour.”
His clouded eyes narrowed. “I’ve received many requests from our friends. As you know, we haven’t been able to accommodate them, but now we can. Is that what you’d prefer? Say the word, Mrs. Harrington: a private show for your husband or another visit to the warehouse?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled. The ghostly scent of Parker’s cologne whiffed unmistakably through my suite. I opened my eyes abruptly. He wasn’t with us. We were still alone; it was only my imagination. I fought the growing nausea as I assured myself I wasn’t losing it. “Please…”
A sadistic smirk emerged from his graying complexion. “All of this is of your own free will, my Tori, completely consensual. Now, tell me, which do you prefer, here or the warehouse? Perhaps both? The day is young.”
“Stewart, what about Maura?”
He nodded toward my bedside stand. “Your phone is flashing. Maybe she’s left you a message. Maybe she’s unable to attend. If not, you can call and cancel or postpone.”
Debating my options, I walked toward my phone. Each step on the plush carpet seemed as though I were stepping through quicksand: the next step more difficult than the one before. Picking up my phone, I read the screen. There were three text messages. It didn’t take long to see that none of them were from Maura. I closed the app. I knew who at least one was from, and I couldn’t stomach Brody’s kind words with Stewart’s darkening blue gaze watching my every move. I kept my back toward my husband as I said, “The messages are from Val. She was worried about my driving home so late.”
I turned to his raised brows.
“What’s your decision, Mrs. Harrington?”
Exhaling, I turned back away and searched my contacts. Finding Maura Craven’s name, I hit CALL.
Catching her voicemail, I made my tone as light as possible. “Maura, I’m sorry to do this to you on such short notice. Stewart’s having a difficult morning. I don’t think I should leave him today. Please, dear, give me a call and we’ll reschedule.”
I disconnected the call and turned back toward my husband. My chest became heavy as I saw his flaccid penis. He’d obviously lowered the edge of his sweat pants and exposed himself while I spoke.
Not hiding my cruel tone, I asked. “Did you beat off while you watched yesterday?” I knew the answer. He couldn’t get off with a Hoover vacuum. The disease and medicine had taken away more than his ability to stand.
“Come here.”
Resigned, I moved forward. My new concern was getting to the bathroom in search of lubricant. Without it, there was no way that cock would get inside of me. Momentarily I remembered my arousal from the night before. If only I could relish the idea of Brody’s come being there with Stewart’s dick. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to enjoy the irony. Seductively, I leaned down and kissed his lips. Summoning my most appeasing voice, I said, “Let me go get ready for you. I’ll be right back.”
He reached for my hand and placed it on his dick. “No. You can get ready right here.” His hand tugged at the cord around my waist, opening my robe and exposing my nightgown. “Mrs. Harrington, you are overdressed for this show. I believe you know my rules.”
Allowing the robe to fall from my shoulders, I pulled the nightgown from my head.
“Panties. Tsk tsk. Those were never needed when you slept where you’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I can’t sleep with the nurses checking on you all night long. You know that.”
“Panties. Off.”
The lace fell to my ankles.
“Now, I want to feel those marvelous lips. The ones I watched suck our friend’s come yesterday afternoon. Let me feel that beautiful mouth on my cock.”
I fell to my knees as the overwhelming scent of sickness infiltrated my senses. Fighting back the bile that threatened my throat, I reached for his limp cock. It flapped in my grasp. As I tried to direct it toward my lips, revolt spurred in my empty stomach.
“That’s my girl. So good at following directions.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. It was a phrase he used in the warehouse: his idea of praise. In reality, each time he said it, I felt more like a well-trained dog.
Up and down my head bobbed, my lips chapping as time passed with no result.
Unabashed, Stewart reached for my hair and pulled my eyes upward. “You’re losing your touch, darling. I think you might need more practice.”
I reached for his sagging balls in desperation.
“Oh, yes, I feel it.”
I was glad he did. I didn’t. Maybe I could convince him of an ejaculation he didn’t really have. I quickened my pace, willing saliva where only dust remained. Dramatically, I changed my pace, gagging with the sound of forced swallowing.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed as his head wobbled backward and he exhaled an ethereal breath. Pushing me away, he demanded, “Now show me that sexy pussy. It used to be so tight, so wet.”
I leaned back on my ass, spreading my legs and fingering my lips.