My Daughter Called Another Woman Mommy

“Hardin, please slow down… fuckk!!”

My palms press weakly against my husband’s broad shoulders, pleasure numbing my brain as he slams into my swollen pussy harder and faster. 

His thick, fat cock stretches my walls with every brutal thrust, the wet, sinful slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet morning light. 

I should be pushing him away, but my hips lift off the mattress on their own, greedily meeting him thrust for thrust even as the words tumble out of me;

“Please, Hardin. I can’t t-take it… mm-hm! Faster!”

Somewhere at the back of my mind, it registers that I sound like a desperate slut. But I’ve long since passed the point of caring. 

One more savage snap of his hips and I shatter, my pussy clenching hard around him as a broken cry tears from my throat. 

Hardin follows a second later with a low, sexy growl that has my toes curling, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me in hot pulses. After what feels like an eternity, he collapses on top of me, heavy and spent. 

For one blissful second, I bury my nose in his neck and breathe in his delicious Old Spice scent like a starved woman. 

I want to stay like this forever. I really wish we could stay like this forever.

But I know my husband. I know even the slightest movement might remind him that he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here with me. 

My gaze drifts towards the heavy draperies as I force myself to remain still. 

I barely breathe. I don’t dare shift an inch, terrified that if I do, Hardin will remember himself and pull away. 

It’s our sixth anniversary and for once, I’m letting myself believe that maybe, things could be different. 

Maybe Hardin will stay. Maybe he’ll hold me a little tighter and finally whisper the words I’ve longed to hear for the past six years.

Maybe he’ll finally tell me he loves me. 

The thought barely marinates when Hardin suddenly stirs. My arms fall to the bed and I watch helplessly as he starts to roll off me, his jaw already tightening with irritation? Anger? These days, I can barely tell.

A desperate whimper slips past my throat and I lurch forward without thinking, my fingers closing around one of his huge biceps in a frantic attempt to stop him. 

Hardin freezes. Then, finally, those dark grey eyes settle on me.

Have you forgotten what today is? I want to ask. But I still have a few scraps of dignity left, so I just settle for whispering; “where are you going?”

He lifts one brow, that familiar look of impatience already settling over his face.

“I have an important board meeting in the next thirty minutes.”

Something inside me finally cracks and tears spill down my cheeks before I can hold them back. 

“I thought you said you were free today.” I choke out, hating how pathetic I sound. “You said we could spend time together. Don’t you remember?”

For a moment, Hardin doesn’t respond. 

His dark eyes remain fixed on my tears, slowly tracing the wet tracks down my cheeks.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression hardens and his lips press into a thin line.

“I don’t have time to lie around all day, Keona. I have work to do. Maybe next time.”

He tries to leave again but I hang on tighter, unwilling to let him go just yet.

“Please, Hardin?” My voice comes out small. “I don’t wanna be alone today.”

It’s our anniversary. Don’t you remember?

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them out. 

I hate how needy I sound. How needy I feel.

I hate that loving this man has reduced me to clinging to him for scraps of attention and begging him to stay.

Hardin looks down at me, and something about the way he studies my face makes me hold my breath. For one brief moment, I think he might actually reconsider. 

Then his jaw clenches. And he gently but firmly pulls his arm from my grip. 

“Find something meaningful to do,” he says, his tone painfully dismissive. “Don’t just lie around all day.”

I watch him leave, my heart cracking to pieces as I mourn the loss of his body against mine. 

“I love you so much, Hardin,” I whisper. “It’s been six years already. What do I have to do to make you love me back?”