Page 5 of Demanding Husband
Vince grabbed his phone before sinking to the floor. He could feel his legs trembling, even while sitting, and his heart was beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird was flying inside his chest. He unlocked his phone with shaking hands and saw a text from an unknown number. Without thinking about it, he opened it and read:
“Hi. You don’t know me, but I know you. I’m the girl who was in your bathroom yesterday.”
Vince’s stomach dropped. All of the aches and pains vanished from his body. He leaned forward and brought his phone closer to his face, intently rereading the words on the illuminated screen. He couldn’t believe it; how had she gotten his number?
Another text arrived:
“I’m sorry you found me like that. I shouldn’t have broken in but it’s not my fault.”
Vince frowned. How was it not her fault? Did someone force her to break in? Was it a dare, or a bet?
Yet another text came through:
“I found out about you while researching buildings for a school project. Ever since I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you.”
Vince stared at the wordschool. What school was she in? College? High School? Was she of age? Had he walked into a felony in his own bathroom?
Vince almost didn’t want to keep reading. This girl, whoever she was, had invaded his life because of some little obsession. And if she wasn’t of age, he could get into serious trouble. But if she was not... his mind played with the thought. He closed his eyes and shook the thoughts loose from his mind. That was a dangerous path he didn’t want to go down. He couldn’t.
More text messages followed. He read them:
“I love your intelligence—the way you design buildings to be both modern and brutalist, soft and hard, undeniably masculine yet so feminine. There’s a beautiful duality to your work that enticed me.”
“You use your job for the betterment of the world—thinking in terms of biospheres and making sure to maximize the efficiency of your buildings.”
Vince’s brows rose then scrunched down over his eyes. It sounded like a little teenage crush. So innocent, almost childish. For a moment, he sat wondering if he’d blown this all out of proportion. Was she just some messed up kid wanting to chase a fantasy?
“You make me wet, Mr. Bugatti. So damn wet.”
His eyes bulged and his legs found the power to stand. He held his phone at arm’s length. Any doubts he had about her vanished. There was no doubt in his mind that this was something much bigger than a teenage crush. This could escalate quickly and he knew he needed to tread very, very carefully.
“I want you, Mr. Bugatti.”
“I will do anything you want me to. Whatever it is that your wife denies you, I will do it.”
“I just want to be able to love you. I want to feel you inside of me. I want to taste your skin. I want you to spurt inside of me.”
Several more texts arrived, but he was afraid to read any more. He quickly forwarded the messages to his wife, not knowing what else to do.
He was hard for this girl. He pulsed and throbbed, growing harder and larger with every second that passed. All he could think about was doing exactly what she wanted—enjoying her behind his wife’s back.
“No,” Vince said out loud. “No, no, no.”
He deleted the messages then rushed out of the gym, heading to the bathroom down the hall. Reading that message made him feel dirty, though he’d done nothing wrong. He needed a shower, a nice cold shower to wash away his sweat and his shame. Then everything would be back to normal and he could go back to pretending he didn’t want that little teenage temptress.
Chapter four
Will you do it?
Loreleididn’tfeellikeherself anymore. Since she’d found out about Claire breaking into their home and sending those inappropriate messages to her husband she’d become a shell of her former self. She’d given up on trying to look good, washing her hair felt like a chore she couldn’t be bothered with, wearing make-up made her feel like a fraud, and dressing in fancy clothes was pointless. Vince was urging her to take some time off, enjoy herself, relax. His persistence only made her feel worse about herself. She wasn’t overworked—she was a woman obsessed.
Her friends spoke to her in soothing tones with gentle smiles. Lorelei felt like an even bigger idiot after spending time with them, so she started to cut them out of her life, turning herself into a recluse.
No matter what everyone else thought, Lorelei knew the truth: she was consumed by the idea of her husband screwing a teenager. How easy it would be for him to replace her with a beautiful, younger model. The images refused to go away, no matter how much she willed them to.
The worst part of it all was that Lorelei wanted it to happen. She would never admit it to Vince, or her friends, but she desperately wanted her husband to screw that girl. The absurd desire came from somewhere deep inside, a depraved pit in the deepest depths of her mind, and it plagued her. The compulsive need flowed through her every second of every day, taking control of her mind. Taking root in her body.
For a while, she’d thought she was broken. Why would she want her husband to be with someone else? Why did the idea of watching him bang some random girl turn her on so much? Lorelei couldn’t help but think that maybe she wasn’t truly happy in her marriage. Maybe this was her subconscious’ way of trying to break it off. Or maybe it was much simpler: she was disturbed and needed to seek professional help.