Divorced and Falling for the Tattoo Master

~ SIENNA ~

A married woman addicted to her sèx toy? Yeah, that's me. If the poor thing could grow wings, it would have flown far away from me and never come back. I remember thinking it was overpriced when I bought it on a vacation with Harry in Paris but now? Now, I have gotten my money's worth and more.

With a sigh, I picked up the rose vibrator and increased the vibration level to the highest. Lately, my usual level was not doing it for me anymore. I inserted the díldo part of the toy into my pússy and brought the rose sucker to my swollen clít. My legs were spread as wide as the bathtub would allow, the scent of my strawberry body wash wafting around the large bathroom.

Soon, my moans were wafting around too. In the beginning, I used to cry out Harry's name but now it's just ooooohs and aaaaahs. No way I'm moaning the name of a husband who hasn't touched me in months.

I tried not to think of Harry's shortcomings and concentrate on the waves of pleasure running through my body. My pupils were rolled back and my legs were shaking just as fast, if not faster than the vibrator itself.

Just when I was about to reach an órgasm, the vibration slowed and the buzzing quieted. Soon, I was left with only the sound of my ragged breaths. Apparently, my bad habit of forgetting to charge my devices had caught up with me - in the worst way possible.

With all the strength in my séx deprived body, I hurled the dead vibrator at the wall on the far end of the bathroom. It fell to the ground with a clatter but didn't disintegrate. Value for my money truly.

The door to the bedroom opening startled me. I didn't hear Harry's car pull into the garage. Quickly, I rinsed the remaining lather off my body and carefully stepped out of the bathtub.

When I entered the bedroom, Harry was pulling his socks off and throwing them into - no, beside - the laundry basket. His blue suit looked rumpled but I guess that was expected since he slept over at the office last night. Recently, he had been working extra hours to meet ridiculous deadlines as his company hit a rough patch.  

"Hey babe. Finally home," I greeted as I waltzed to meet him; títs bouncing, ass jiggling, smelling of strawberry and my own arousal musk. Any other man would have immediately had me pressed against the wall and fúcked like I keyed his favourite car.

But my husband of five years looked at me like he was watching paint dry. "Hi Sienna. Towels dirty?"

"What?" I barely heard him over the sound of my thumping heart. What I was about to do was making me nervous.

"Are the towels dirty? I thought you would have worn a towel or something."

Damn! This was Harry's reaction to my naked body? I swallowed a lump in my throat and continued my plan. Nothing like a hórny woman who is tired of séx toys and needs the real thing.

"The towels are clean all right. I just wanted to show you this..." I slipped two fingers between the folds of my pússy, looking up at him from the brink of my lashes. A small whimper escaped my mouth.

"Sienna..."

Was his voice heavy with lust or was it all in my head?

"Yes, babe. Come help your wifey out. My short fingers can't reach where I need them to," I teased as my free hand moved to his belt buckle.

"I have something to show you too," he said.

"Right after you come all over my face, babe." I had to entice him by promising his own pleasure first.

I finally yanked the stubborn belt off and slipped my hand under his briefs, finding and holding his díck. It was already semi hard and continued to harden under my touch - a good sign. But an even better sign? Harry didn't stop me. Oh my God, it's Christmas in April! I was finally going to get a good pounding and the thought of it was driving me crazy.

I brought the fingers that were in my folds to Harry's lips. "Wanna taste?"

Just then, his phone rang and I immediately knew I would hate the song Viva la Vida by Coldplay for the rest of my life. Of all the times in the world, why did the caller choose to call now?

Harry stilled and held my hand that was stroking his díck.

"Surely you're not going to take that." I eyed him.

"Of course, I am. My company is at the brink of collapse. It could be any of the people I've been praying to get a call back from for weeks."

I let go of him and crossed my hands over my bréasts. Steam must have been spouting from my ears.

Harry picked up his phone. "Hello?"

He listened.

"What?! Which hospital? I'll be there in a few minutes." He was already fixing his briefs and picking up his belt when the call ended.

Shít!

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"I have an emergency."

"No kidding." I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they would fall off. "I am asking what the emergency is."

"Not your business."

"Not my business?! Really, Harry? You haven't touched me in months. Months! And then this one time we're getting into it, you get a call that has you rushing off and you won't even tell me what the problem is?"

"Fine. Cassy got into a car accident and is in the hospital."

"Cassy? Your site manager that looks at you like you're a séx idol? She was probably thinking of rawdogging you instead of watching the road-"

"Don't speak about her like that," Harry interjected.

"Oh, really? Do you ever say this to anyone about me? When your mother asked me if I have 'scrambled eggs' because we don't have a baby yet, did you ask her not to speak about me like that? Harry, did you?!"

The memory of that day multiplied my rage. My hands moved to his collar, shaking him vigorously. "What haven't I done to be the perfect wife for you? I manage the home well, I give you my body, I support your company with my money and ideas... What more do you want from me, Harry?"

"You want to know what I want?" His voice could freeze the Arctic. "I want a divorce."

I waited for Harry to laugh. He was joking - he had to be. I didn't get estranged from my parents and give up my promising career to be his housewife only for him to come home on a random Tuesday morning and ask for a divorce.

But his face stayed serious.

"Why?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean why? You might not be a lot but you're a Harvard cúm laude engineering graduate. Surely, you can tell when something isn't working. And this marriage? It hasn't been for a while now."

My voice quavered. "I thought... you said it was work. You said you were losing contracts. I thought that was what the distance was about. And that once things got better for the company, we would be back to normal. And I was waiting-"

"Waiting?" he interrupted with a snarky laugh. "No, Sienna. It looks like you went and got yourself busy as well."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're cheating on me."

I laughed bitterly. "If you want to end our marriage, at least don't be a coward about it. Own your decision and don't accuse me falsely."

"I knew you would lie," he said, reaching into his briefcase and retrieving a set of papers. "Well, Miss Sienna Monroe, how do you explain this?"

I was still recovering from the shock of being addressed with my maiden name by my own husband when the papers came flying down. He didn't even have the decency to hand them to me.

"What are these?" I asked as I bent to pick one. Harry didn't answer - he didn't need to. The answer was staring at me in the form of a picture.

A sinfully erotic picture of a man and a woman in a bedroom. He sat on a chair while she straddled his laps. The man's identity was conveniently hidden as he had his back to the camera. I could only see his long dark hair. But the woman's face was clearly visible. And even though it was a static picture, anyone with eyes would tell that at that moment, she was letting out a loud moan.

It was the face of a woman at the apex of séxual pleasure and I would recognize that face anywhere because it was mine.