Chapter 16

Sixteen

P addy

I surprised even myself with how I'd handle things with Pretty. On one hand, I shouldn't have even entertained the idea of sleeping with a married woman. On the other, it felt sinfully satisfying knowing she broke her bout of involuntary celibacy just to be with me. I knew from the moment she kissed me that what we were doing was immoral, but what I wasn't expecting was how addictive I found her presence to be. That was why after the first time, I had to put an end to it. There was no way I'd ever be able to stop pursuing her if I went back for another taste.

In the past few weeks she'd been respectful, ignoring it altogether and just letting me do my job. But there was a hurt in her eyes that left me stricken with shame knowing I was the one who put it there. I know I had hurt her feelings, but I didn't see another way to go about things without digging ourselves into a hole we couldn't get out of.

It was just better this way. I fancied her too much to see her sacrifice her livelihood. Plus, I convinced myself that she'd likely never accept the real me anyways. The me with the hidden scars. The me that woke up to bloody nightmares.

Using the main kitchen to prepare a few snacks for later, Pretty walked in, her demeanor especially prickly as she poured herself a glass of water at the kitchen sink.

"Everything going all right, Mrs. Washington?" She pursed her lips.

"So, we're back to that again? Okay…" she said, laying her cup down on the counter beside me before caressing her cheek, worry obvious in her expression.

"I feel like I've respected your space. Tried not to overstep my boundaries, but I don't know how long I can do this for. The ignoring each other. Pretending like nothing happened. I'm not built like you, Paddy. I can't just turn my feelings off. For Christ's sake, you've been inside me. Something about our time together entered the depths of something missing in my soul. The part of me that wishes I didn't have to be the strong Black woman everyone thinks I am. The part of me burdened with responsibility. For once , I got to be taken care of. That may not have meant that much to you," she paused, wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes.

"But it meant everything to me. So, for you to walk around this house ignoring me, you cannot imagine the hurt and rejection I feel," she admitted, as she cast her gaze downward and began playing with her nails. Packaging up the mini sandwiches. I turned to face her, crossing my arms at my chest.

"You're clever in the way you picked up on my ignoring you, but it ain't for the sake of me being able to turn off my feelings. It's for the sanctity of our own sanities. If I lay another hand on you, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself. I'll want you all the time. The shitty thing about my curse is that it takes away all my guilt, my remorse in any situation. I don't care if you're someone's wife or mother. All I think about is how to make you mine. I never let myself get this wrapped up with a woman before, but there was just something about you that made me change my mind, and that terrifies me. You make me do things I told myself I would never do," I confessed, only to see the light leave her eyes.

"This isn't easy for me. I've never done this before. I don't know how to navigate how I'm feeling, especially because I'm doing it on my own. If it was a misstep on your end, I can handle that. It'll take me some time, but I'll survive. But the way we've been handling things just makes me feel so confused, especially when you say you want me." Lifting her chin with my fingers, her teary gaze meant mine.

"That's the thing. It wasn't a misstep for me. Wrong? Yes. But furthest from a misstep. And like I said, you make me do things I told myself I would never do. Like this..." Without warning, I leaned in and kissed her, the presence of her beautiful tears making her lips taste salty.

Our mouths moved and melded, devouring our lust for one another in deep gasps and light moans. I knew kissing her was a bad idea, but I was fucking hard headed, so when Vernon made his way into the kitchen and found us eating each other's faces, I almost didn't see him until he shouted bloody murder.

" What the fuck are you doing with my wife ?" Backing away anxiously, we separated, the tension in the room high with rage and anger.

"This isn't what it looks like," I blurted.

"You sure? Because it looks like you were just kissing my wife ." Pretty jumped in between us, the act of getting caught making her a panicked mess.

"Vernon, baby, if you just took a minute to calm down and let me explain."

"Pretty, I don't want to hear nothing leave your mouth right now. Go upstairs, and I'll deal with you later. I want to talk to Mr. Sullivan, man to fuckin man." I know I was preparing myself for a fight, but I didn't think it would end well for him.

Me? I was totally in the wrong, but I wasn't gonna sit around and let someone kick my arse. My hope was that this man could scrap so I wouldn't feel bad about the damage I planned to do.

"It's all right, Pretty. We're just going to talk," I assured with a nod, and quietly she excused herself, her heeled steps loud as she flew up the steps. Vernon's fist met my face in a punch not even fit enough to be a certified challenge but I fixed my face and rose my fists.

"The first one's free. But if we got to do this, then so be it." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the idea, surprising me when he poured himself a drink.

"Oh, put your damn fist down. I wasn't lying when I said I just wanted to talk to you. That punch was more off my initial anger, but now I'm ready to just be civil. So…" he paused to take a sip.

"How long have you been fucking my wife?" It felt like a trick question, but considering what he just walked in on, it didn't make sense to lie.

"We were only together once. And trust me, I understand that if at this point in time, you'll no longer need my services. Just give me some time to pack my things and I'll be out of your hair." He got another glass, surprising me by pouring me a drink and sliding it over.

"I never said I would no longer be requiring your services. Now, drink up. I have another proposal for you." If I hadn't seen him pour and drink it himself, I wouldn't have put it past him that he was trying to poison me. He was strangely calm for a man who just walked in on his wife kissing another man.

"Truth is, I'm not even mad about catching you and her. Aside from initial reaction, Pretty and I haven't been happy for a long time. I know I can't be what she needs right now, but maybe you can." I choked on my drink.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm always away for work. When she's here, it's always by herself. What I'm saying is, I wouldn't stand in the way of what you both got. So long as it didn't interfere with our lives at home. So long as the two of you are being discreet. I want to protect my son and I want to protect our family's image. I know, with you being a man, you understand what I'm talking about?" Oh, I understood, all right. If he was allowing this while asking for our discretion, it meant that he was already doing the same. All while Pretty sat around here moping, wondering why their marriage was falling apart.

"Do you get what I'm saying?" He asked again, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Loud and clear, lad," I said, taking the last swig of my drink.

"So, how do you like fucking Pretty?" My brow lifted, puzzled by the question.

"Did I hear that correctly, mate? You want to know how I liked fucking your wife? You sure you want to bark up that tree, lad? Because, truth be warned, you might get your feelings hurt." Did I like fucking her? Like was an insult to that regard. I was obsessed with fucking her. In fact, I hadn't stopped thinking about fucking her since the first and only time.

"You know, I've always had this fantasy after she had Elijah, and her body started changing. That I would bring home other men and watch them fuck her brains out," he admitted, making me question if he did put something in this drink after all.

I was into some fucked up shite but never had I ever been asked to fuck a man's wife right in front of him. The idea of it sounded like my kind of debauchery. One to add to the playbooks, but I didn't think she'd go for it. She was too classy, too cautious, too modest. Made me wonder, did he even know his wife well enough to know that.

"Definitely something to add to the bucket list, but I don't think she'd do it. She's not that kind of woman." And yet, she had spread her legs for me . She had crawled for me . She had even taken a spanking for me . Maybe she could only be that woman for me, but I knew she certainly couldn't be it for him.

"She would do it if she knew that that was the only way I'd let her have you," he challenged, as he poured another drink for the both of us.

"Do you think that I can discuss it with her first? Even if she agrees to it, I can't say that it would be an everyday thing. I care about her comfort." Something he likely couldn't say the same for.

"I leave for Baltimore in the morning. I could get my sister to take Elijah for the night to keep things… for grown folk ."

"Tonight? You want this to be tonight ?" That hardly gave me any time to warm her up to the idea. Hell, it wasn't even enough time for me to get acquainted with it. But if I could convince her to say yes, nothing would stand in the way of me owning her again, something I've looked very much forward to.

"I'll talk to her," I confirmed.

"Listen, when you first stepped foot in this house, that woman couldn't stand you. And now? I catch you kissing in my kitchen. I'm not even trying to be funny but I'd say by the way you've probably already had Pretty, you're already halfway there."