Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I got off the phone and headed out to my car. If she wants to be with me then she’s going to have to accept that sometimes I can’t be there.
My business takes up a lot of time sometimes, and though I’d made many concessions for her in the past because to me my marriage had been more important, there still had been times I couldn’t be there.
If she’s going to believe that I’m cheating on her whenever we’re apart then this shit will never work. As long as I never give her reason to doubt me, then she shouldn’t.
19
When I called her at lunch I was deliberately short with her and got off the phone after only just a few words.
I watched on the monitor as she hung up the phone with a look of confusion and uncertainty and went back to the couch. She picked up her iPad and started scrolling through something.
Her face was very intense as she looked at the screen, as if whatever she was looking at had caught and held her attention.
It’s when the tears started and she brushed them away that I changed the monitor so I could see out of the camera that was positioned above her from behind.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the glare of the tablet screen but once they did I felt something I hadn’t felt for her in a long time. I felt compassion.
She was going through pictures of our life together from the looks of it. From our wedding to the vacations we took where we swore we weren’t ever coming back home, to just shots we took of each other around the house just because.
Why couldn’t she have remembered those times before she served me with those papers? And will I ever be able to get past that?
I’m not sure and that’s what keeps holding me back. I miss her so much sometimes it’s like an ache. Not fucking her this past week and a half has been hell on me.
I love cumming in her mouth and ass fine, but nothing beats the tight sweet warmth of her pussy, my pussy. I’m the only one to ever have her and I knew that hadn’t changed.
I would’ve known if anyone else had ever gotten that far with her. I don’t know how to explain it, but there you have it.
We have a connection, a bond that was formed the first time we met, the very first time I laid eyes on her. And I used to believe that shit was cast in stone.
I knew within minutes if not seconds that she was the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I actually imagined our life together back then, and nowhere did I see the darkness that fell after only two years.
But the real question now, after all has been said and done, is what had she known? While I knew I wanted forever with her. What had she known?
She’d sworn up and down when I asked her to marry me that she was sure of her love for me. Not just for what I could give her, but me, the man.
That had been important to me, as it would be to any man of means. It was a constant trial trying to figure out if the new people in your life were there for you, or your wealth.
I never got that sense from her, even though I had more money than her father would ever see and his wealth was nothing to sneeze at.
But with me I could give her the life that he father never did, even though she was already spoilt enough by his millions.
But that extra figure makes a big difference. It’s the difference between flying first class and owning a jet.
I think maybe part of the problem is that I’d loved her too much. She was my world, the one thing I thought of as only and completely mine.
She’d meant more to me than the fortune I’d spent so much of my life striving to amass, and I wouldn’t accept that I’d fallen short of showing her that.
I’d done everything right. Because I loved her, there was never any effort needed for me to do the things a man should do for his wife, it just came naturally.
I sent her flowers that I chose myself once a week, bought her little trinkets just because I could. And when we were alone together she was always the center of my universe.
Apparently fucking didn’t matter to her either, to me, the fact that I used to fuck her at least twice a day said a lot about my attraction to her. Where she thinks I got the energy to cheat is beyond me.
On the weekends after I pounded her pussy we’d go out to brunch, then shopping and then back home to bed, or the couch, or wherever I happened to take her down. How could she not see what that meant?