Dad Bod Doms: Henry

 

Henry

“The Dad Bod Doms,” we chorused, doing a male fist bump thing as we prepared to leave for our respective homes after our yearly camping trip. Our cars were packed, and I was itching to get on the road.

It was a pact. An agreement between four old friends. Maybe more a challenge to recapture the lost spark that used to make our marriages so successful. At least Ray, Faris, and Logan were talking to their wives. After years of failed fertility treatments and demanding careers, my relationship with Natalie needed some help.

Whole days went by without a word from either of us. We didn’t fight—at least not like what appeared to be happening between Faris and Leyla—but things weren’t right and the distance between us was almost painful.

Although I thought it was stupid at first, the more I considered the idea, the better I liked it. Instead of stopping for the night halfway through the sixteen-hour trip back to Minneapolis, I drove straight home. I couldn’t wait to start making things right with Natalie.

By the time I pulled into our driveway, I was so tired I could barely see straight and didn’t bother unpacking my car. After taking a shower in the guest bathroom, I crept into our bedroom. Natalie was already asleep, which was no great surprise. She never stayed up much past ten, and it was already almost two in the morning.

Sprawled on her stomach with the sheet kicked away, she looked like an angel. Her pale skin shimmered in the moonlight, gleaming like alabaster. The ceiling fan whirring lazily overhead stirred a few strands of her silvery hair and I resisted the urge to brush it away to reveal the curve of her shoulder.

There was no time like the present to get started on the Dad Bod Dom Challenge. It had been awhile since we’d last made love. Actually, it had been close to a year because I was an idiot. My dissatisfaction with my job shouldn’t have spilled over into our relationship.

What I wouldn’t give for a do-over. I’d have never let us drift so far apart. Between our respective jobs and the heartbreak of realizing we’d never have a child together, I’d let our marriage flounder. No more. I was the dominant in this relationship, and it was past time I acted like it.

Thankfully, I remembered how to wake a sleeping wife and make her happy about it. Settling in bed next to her, I drew the scent of her floral perfume deep into my lungs. It was criminally expensive, but I loved it.

She grunted irritably, making me smile. I kept it up, brushing soft kisses over her shoulders until she rolled over. I circled a dark peach nipple with a fingertip, remembering how she used to love having them clamped.

No. Bad Dad Bod Dom.

Tonight was for reconnecting with each other. I needed to tell her how much I loved her, and I wanted to hear her say it back. Our playroom in the basement could wait. Lowering my head, I pulled her nipple into my mouth and sucked gently, then teased the other to ripe turgidity with my fingers.

She moaned and arched her back, her head falling to the side as her hips shifted upwards. Her slim hand drifted between her legs and I let her play with herself for a few minutes before covering her fingers with mine.

Waking with a jerk, she let out a frightened squeak and tried to pull her hand free. “Henry? What—”

I kissed my way up her chest to her lips, my cock throbbing at the wetness coating my fingers. “Shh, baby girl. Just relax and let me love you.”

Circling her clit with my thumb, I pressed a finger inside her and she bucked against my hand, letting out a soft whimper of pleasure. It was good for a start, but I wanted to give her more. I kissed her again, relishing her passionate whine, then moved slowly down her body to lay between her legs.

The soft fragrance of her heated passion wafted over me as I lowered my face to her core and licked the sweetness from her swollen flesh. I missed the platinum ring she used to have in her clit hood, but she’d taken it out when we started fertility treatments. Deciding not to go there, I got back to work.

Fresh arousal coated my lips and chin as I devoured her, learning her body all over again. A finger pressed against her g-spot still made her spasm and cry out with delight. I sucked her clit into my mouth, teasing the sensitive nub with the tip of my tongue.

She pushed her pussy into my face and tangled her hands in my hair. “Henry! Oh, God, please! I need to come!”

I almost lost control and nutted right there. She remembered. After all this time, Natalie didn’t forget to ask for permission. Giving her clit one last suck, I crawled up and settled between her thighs, then positioned myself at her entrance.

“You can come with me, baby.” I eased my cock into her tight channel, gritting my teeth against the urge to pound her into the mattress. “Just a little longer.”

“Feels so good.”

“I love you, Natalie Mercer.”

Instead of answering, she kissed me, her lips hard and desperate, frantic with need. The taste of her consumed me as I reached between our straining bodies to thumb her clit. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and I needed her ready. Balls aching, I slid an arm behind her thigh, opening her to my possession. Her inner walls rippled around me, heralding her orgasm.

“Come for me, baby. Let go.”

Crying out, she exploded, her hips bucking wildly as she chased her pleasure. Unable to hold back, I had no choice but to follow her into bliss.

Panting softly, she let her head fall back to the pillow. Wetness glistened on her lashes, but I didn’t worry. Natalie sometimes cried after climaxing. Kissing her eyelids, I brushed the tears away and rolled to my side before I crushed her.

“Hi, honey. I’m home,” I murmured, nuzzling the soft skin under her ear.

“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.” Her voice steadied, and she turned to let me spoon her.

“I missed you.” I kissed the back of her neck. “We have a lot of catching up to do, but tomorrow after we’ve both had a good night’s sleep.”

My eyes drifted shut. After too little sleep and monumentally good sex with the love of my life, there was no way I’d be able to stay awake. It was enough to have her in my arms again.

 

Natalie

Shit, shit, shit!

My pussy dripping, I eased out of Henry’s arms and scuttled away as carefully as I could. Thankfully, he was out cold, his snoring a familiar nighttime melody.

Had he seen anything? The letter I’d left, or the empty closets? Grabbing a T-shirt and some jeans, I crept out and dressed in the hallway, praying he’d stay asleep. There wasn’t time to clean out the last of my stuff from the spare room I used as a studio.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why hadn’t I said no? And why on earth had he decided he wanted sex? He hadn’t so much as spoken more than a few words at a time to me in months. I grimaced and hopped on one foot to put my sock on. I might not have been the best at communication, but at least I’d tried.

Henry hadn’t changed a bit. He still knew how to make me go off like fireworks. Worse, for my libido and my ability to say no, he still had that damned Prince Albert piercing that felt so, so good sliding into me.

I’d been so stupid. I wanted one more night in the house we shared. Like a swan song for our marriage, it was supposed to be my chance to say goodbye to everything. Martine, my therapist, said it would be good for me, but neither of us expected him to come home early. I made a mental note to yell at her during our next session. She was big on personal reminders like that.

Henry didn’t scare me physically. He might be a deviously imaginative sadist, but it would be anathema to him to cause me bodily harm.

But there were all kinds of hurt, and not all of them were physical.

I took one last tour of the house, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. The door to the room Henry used as his man cave remained steadfastly closed. I never went in there, not even to clean. My feet were silent on the hardwood floor I’d once found so charming, and I wondered if Henry would sell the place once I was gone.

Maybe he’d get another sub. The thought made me unaccountably jealous and sad, and I wondered why I cared.

Moving into the kitchen, I straightened the folder containing the documents Henry would need, but my fist clenched around the house key I meant to leave behind. I forced myself to let it go, flinching at the metallic jingle when it fell to the wood surface of the dining room table Henry bought at an estate auction just before our second anniversary. The thick Queen Anne legs still had rope marks from our first play session in our new home, and…

Stop it.

My body buzzed from his lovemaking and I forced myself to focus. Grabbing my purse, I set the alarm and walked out, steadfastly keeping my gaze fixed on my car. For once, I was going to focus on me. Not on the happy house full of laughing children I’d always wanted but would never have, or on the man who, until tonight and his unprecedented intimacy, was more roommate than husband.

How had my life gone so sideways? I wished I had the nerve to confront him and tell him I was leaving. I wasn’t putting the entire blame for our failed relationship on Henry. It took two people to make a marriage work. Maybe I should have been more insistent about talking, or done something else to make things better. I grimaced, remembering the last time I tried.

Knowing his work schedule was a clusterfuck, I made an appointment with my own damned husband to make sure he got home at a reasonable hour. I ordered a steak and lobster supper from what used to be our favorite restaurant, dolled myself up in a slinky dress, and…sat at the table for almost three hours while he worked late. It was the last time I asked him to do something.

A part of me still loved Henry. He was my first in so many ways. First lover, first husband…first dom. Only dom, I corrected myself. I willingly gave up control to him and loved every single moment. Husband, lover, sexy sadistic bastard sometimes. Henry was all those things, and at one time I’d counted him as my best friend.

Then he’d set me adrift without a lifeline, and left nothing to hold me together. To say I was terrified was a monumental fucking understatement, but I had to go. I needed to find the Natalie that used to be. The brave one who wasn’t afraid to take a train across Europe, or walk up to a handsome man and ask him out. The old Natalie—because the new one sucked.

“Fake it until you make it, hooker,” I muttered. When my phone connected with the dash display, I turned up Nine Inch Nails as loud as I could stand it. Henry always hated my choice of music, but he wasn’t going to be around to complain anymore. Brushing away my tears, I drove away.

Fuck Henry Mercer and the horse he rode in on.