ONE: On Our Wedding Anniversary

ONE: LYRA

How To Ride a Guy like a Pro. 

Slowly sit over him and insert his dick into your pussy while maintaining eye contact with him. 

Place your two feet under his thighs and slowly rotate your hips. 

You can milk his penis by shooting your butt out, then go in slowly and continue with the rotation. 

Don't be shy. Remember that you're in control, and remember to alternate between riding him and bouncing on his dick. 

The lady's voice played on a loop in my head as my husband drove us to the getaway he booked for our 4th wedding anniversary. I've watched countless riding tutorials on YouTube and read up countless articles on how to please a man in the bedroom just because I needed to make tonight count. 

It was the first anniversary that we'd actually celebrate because things started going awry for Aaron almost immediately after our wedding. His business started crashing. His investments failed. Everything went wrong. He blamed me for it, even though he didn't say it verbally, but he stopped touching me barely five months into our marriage. The only thing we had between us that was remotely close to sex was whenever he needed me to get on my knees for him to fuck my mouth for as long as he needed to relieve his stress.

A couple of months ago, he told me things were looking up for his company again because they got a wealthy investor. This significantly lifted his mood, and he started looking at me again, complimenting me and dropping chaste kisses on my forehead. We went from being strangers who rarely spoke to having late-night conversations over dinner. Our relationship blossomed again, and I started thinking of how to seduce him and bring sex back into our relationship when he told me the plan for our anniversary, even though he had never remembered the date for the past three years. 

It didn't end there. He got me a set of lingerie. Booked spa visits for me where he paid for services that upgraded my looks and prepared my body in a way a bride would be prepared for her wedding night. It reminded me of how racy things were between us before we got married, and during the early months of our marriage, before he got tired of my sloppy movements and rigid body. 

That made me desperate to please him, hence the YouTube tutorials and the numerous sex articles that I was currently replaying in my head so I wouldn't forget what I've watched and practiced on pillows. 

“You look really good tonight, Lyra,” he complimented me for the umpteenth time, and an embarrassing giggle left my mouth. He glanced briefly at me, grabbed my hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to it. 

My body heated up, and that part of me that hasn't known a man's touch in more than 2 years flared to life. I unknowingly rubbed my thighs together as an ache bloomed between them. Before he told me the plans for our anniversary, I'd perfected the art of not thinking about what I wanted, but now my body was constantly in overdrive because I've been thinking about how this night will play out. 

I've been thinking of how he'd take that lingerie off me and the things that'd follow… 

I rolled down the window for fresh air to calm my nerves, only to see that we'd driven past the metropolitan areas and we were now driving into quieter areas in the city that I'd never been to before. 

“The guest house is quite far,” I pointed out, and he nodded. 

“Yes, he… I mean, I wanted somewhere really quiet.” 

I smiled again, even though his explanation didn't exactly add up. But I didn't mind. I only wanted us to have a good time and go back to the loving couples we used to be. 

“Lyra,” he called out, and I turned back to him. 

“I know I haven't been the best husband lately. I know I've been distant and abusive, and I truly regret it,” his face contorted into harsh lines that made my heart drop. Without meaning to, I covered his large hand that was on the center console with mine. 

“The company was in a really bad shape, Lyra. Our stocks were pummeling. Investors were pulling out. Everything was crashing down on me, and I was stupid enough to take it out on you instead of allowing you to be my supportive system.” his voice cut off, and my heart dropped. It hurt to see him this vulnerable and regretful. 

“It's fine, Aaron. I'm fine. We survived it, and now your company is doing well again. We should focus on that.”

“Yeah, right,” he smiled at me as we drove further into quieter roads, “things will be better now, I promise you. I'll be more present. More attentive. We can start planning all those trips you've always wanted us to go to, even before we got married.”

“Yessss. Remember how I've always wanted us to go to Turkey? I've always imagined walking down those close-knit shop aisles while you take my pictures. And also Burj Khalifa in Dubai. Also Italy. Remember the pasta I've always wanted to try? Italian restaurants just don't get it right here and…”

I trailed off when I realized that his brows had quirked up in a way that conveyed his displeasure, and I instinctively shifted back just before his face softened into a smile. 

“It's good to see you this chatty. I've missed it, and all of this won't be possible without Raguel Whitebrock.”

Yes. Raguel Whitebrock. He was the name I've heard more than a hundred times over the last couple of weeks. My husband keeps mentioning him at every opportunity he gets. It was Raguel who changed everything. He was the one who decided to invest in a dying company. He was charismatic. He was successful. He has been on the Forbes list since forever. He was a Times-acknowledged billionaire. Aaron was literally obsessed with him in a way that'd have bothered me if he were a lady. 

“Remember Raguel, right?”

“Sure. He's your investor. That one who saved PetroVale Energy.”

“Yeah, he actually hasn't saved us yet. He hasn't made the investment because he has a request that must be met before he'd give out the money.”

“Ohh,” I muttered, trying to conceal my disappointment. I didn't want us to talk about Raguel or his today. I just wanted us to focus on us. 

“I'm sure you can meet the request. It's probably a managerial role or a stake in the company or something like that.”

“That'd have been simple,” he swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbled up and down. He looked at me again, and I sat up when I saw the guilt in his eyes. 

“He requested a night with my wife.”