I try my best to seem calm. This is complete madness, and yet I’m not running out of the living room. I’m not saying no. Do I actually want him to do as he’s suggesting? I literally can’t remember the last time he ever has. We’ve never been that couple. We don’t…well, we just aren’t like this.
He pats the couch again. “Now, Daphne.”
“It’s fine. We really should get to bed. You’re still recovering, and we have the funeral tomorrow. I don’t know what got into me.” I let out a forced laugh. “It’s been a long time, and I was trying to relieve some stress and—”
“Now.”
My heart beats so loudly in my ears, I’m sure he has to hear it as well. “You don’t need to show me how—”
“If I have to get up and drag you over here, you will regret it. Now get over here and spread those legs.”
Jesus, the man is serious. Dead serious. And even though his threat sounds aggressive in the wording—and completely unlike him—his tone remains calm and firm.
Not sure what else to do, as nothing I’m saying to defuse the situation is working, I stand up and take the first step toward him. Have I gone insane? Am I really walking toward Apollo so he can finish what I started? Did he just want me to lie there and…come? I can’t remember a time we’d ever done anything sexual if it wasn’t in the bedroom. The light cast from the fire is bright. He’ll be able to see everything if I truly spread my thighs like he’s commanding. The darkness from our room won’t conceal me from his view. Am I seriously even considering this? I could simply say no. It’s not like we’ve had sex in what feels like forever. Months… Maybe even a year.
But I continue on. With each step I take, my resistance seems to dissolve, and I am morphing into…willing… Or maybe just accepting of what my body desires. My body wants to come. Or maybe it’s that the embarrassment and shame of this entire situation is just too much, and I simply want it over with.
I stand before him, eyes cast down, praying he will direct me on exactly what he wants me to do next, because there is no way I will be able to even guess.
“Lift your nightgown and bare yourself. I want to see,” he commands so easily.
Does he not find his words, and what he’s asking me to do out of the ordinary? He seems so cool and casual, and acts as if this is just an everyday occurrence for us. Maybe for many lovers, but definitely not for us.
Attempting to drum up the nerve to pull up my nightgown, I peek up and make eye contact. With our eyes connected, I feel the thundering beat of my heart, a tingle between my legs, and a bizarre nervous desire rocking my body. With one powerful expression that tells me he is losing his patience and I better act fast, he gives me the courage to surrender to his request. When I pull up the hem to my belly, I shudder as the warm air from the roaring fire in the room touches my ass that my lack of panties doesn’t prevent.
I’m bare. Exposed.
He stares at my nightgown. His eyes seem to darken as he takes in every lacy inch. “Remove it completely.”
I pause, not sure I have the inner strength to do as he asks. He hasn’t seen my body exposed fully in bright light since…well, I don’t know when the last time was. Insecurity of my body takes over, and I’m not sure I’m willing to be nude completely.
“Apollo,” I begin.
“I’m your husband. You’re my wife. I want you naked.” He glances at my bare pussy. “I want to appreciate all of you.”
The way he says the words has jolts of electricity sizzling through my veins. The sane and reasonable part of me wants to scream no and storm out of the room. Yes, we are married, but we’re estranged. And even if we weren’t, why is Apollo acting so out of character? I should leave, but the sinful and wicked part of me wants to do exactly what he commands without hesitation.
My mind and body are at war, and I’m not sure which one I want to win, and which one will be defeated.
“If I have to do it for you,” he says, breaking my internal dialogue, “I might just have to spank that naughty ass of yours before I lick every inch of that body.”
Spank? Lick?Is this man for real? Oh my God, this is for real.
My mind might scream no, but my body does exactly as he asks, and I remove the nightgown, standing nude before him.
ChapterSix
Daphne
“I like that your pussy is bare,” he says as his eyes seem to darken right before me. Even though he’s staring at the most intimate part of my body, I don’t feel threatened or afraid.
Humiliated, yes.
Ashamed, most definitely.
Nervous, without a doubt.
But never do I truly fear this man.