Stitches

I’m mostly teasing her, but I should know better. Moira slides to the floor in front of me, unbuttoning my slacks and dragging them down. She looks up at me playfully, then frees my cock and takes it into her mouth, eager to please me.

Luckiest bastard in the city, I’m telling you.

Once my wife finishes sucking my cock, I am feeling a lot better. Griff’s problems are still big, but I don’t have to think about them for a few hours. Right now I want to take my wife out and let her have a nice night—she can’t do that if she’s worrying about me the whole time.

It’s easy to let go of my cares when it’s just me and Moira. It gets a little harder when we get to Griff’s house and I see Ashley stroll out in front of him, draped in some expensive fucking designer dress she spent his money on. I’m not a greedy bastard; I worked my ass off to build something for myself so I could enjoy it, and I spare no expense to please my little minx, but she deserves it. She’s loyal and loving, not going behind my back doing things to hurt me.

Meanwhile Ashley cheats on Griff and treats him like an afterthought. She stops outside the car and fiddles around in her purse, waiting until he comes to open the car door for her. He offers her a tepid smile, but she doesn’t return it; she just drops into the car, beaming a fake smile at Moira as she slides in beside her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey. Ooh, I love your dress,” Moira enthuses, not knowing we’re supposed to be mad at Ashley tonight. I couldn’t muster up a compliment for her right

now if my life depended on it, but Moira doesn’t know any better.

I shake my head at her in the rearview mirror. Griff offers a fond smile at Moira, and at least she offers a warm smile back. “Hey, Griff. You look handsome tonight.”

There’s gruff affection in his tone as he greets her back. “Hey, Moira.” Since his wife is less cool about things than I am, he does not offer a compliment back. Moira knows the drill and doesn’t expect one.

“Took you long enough,” Griff tells me, shutting the passenger side door and shifting around in his seat. “You’re slow as fuck today, man. What’s your deal?”

“Sorry. My wife was giving me head,” I say bluntly.

Moira shoots me a look of disbelief, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my God, Sebastian.”

I grin at her unabashedly in the rearview mirror. “What? It’s a good reason.”

“That is a good reason,” Griff admits, glancing out the window instead of at me.

“You little slut,” Ashley jokes.

The fucking gall. She just took a stranger’s cock last night, and she’s teasing my wife for pleasing her husband.

I can’t fucking help myself.

“Well, maybe you and Griff would be in better moods tonight if you’d have sucked his before we picked you guys up.”

Griff looks over at me and scowls. “Relax. It was a fucking joke. Obviously she doesn’t really think Moira is a slut.”

“Jesus,” Ashley huffs. “What’s your problem today?”

You’re my fucking problem, I want to tell her.

I don’t. I turn my attention to the road, avoiding Moira’s look of confusion. She wasn’t really offended. I’m sure she just took it as Ashley joking around. Even if she knew it was more than that, she would shrug it off. Moira hates conflict.

It’s a rough ride to the restaurant. Ashley is in a snit now; Moira is uncomfortable, and Griff seems to think if he looks at me hard enough, he’ll be able to see into my head and figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

It was a mistake to come out tonight. I thought we could have one last night out, but I’m too pissed off at Ashley. I’m pissed off for Griff. I’m pissed off for selfish reasons—this is going to be a fucking mess that I don’t want to deal with. When I tell him, it’s going to break his heart, but I have to. This is the second time I’ve caught her; that doesn’t mean she hasn’t done shit like this other times and just been smarter about it. I keep searching her for some sign she feels guilty, but there’s nothing.

I’ve known for years Ashley needed a lot of attention. She’s insecure about herself—tries to hide it behind bravado and layers of make-up, but she’s missing something inside her. Even though she doesn’t have to, she likes to put on slinky clothes or tight tank tops and sop up the male attention she gets working at the club.

Attention is one thing. Fucking the assholes is another.

Maybe it’s not her fault one man isn’t enough for her, I don’t know. All I know is, if she wanted to fuck someone over, I wish she hadn’t picked my best friend.

Griff doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he really sinks into it. I’ve always known he’s a lifer, since he attached to me and never left my side. It was the same when he fell in love. The first time he’d been young, only 18. Eva, the best friend of a girl I was seeing. He got really attached to her, but she didn’t attach the same way. Cracked his heart wide open, then continued to fuck with him on and off for the next year.

After that, he was strictly casual. Me, I’ve always been pretty casual. I’ve had exactly three serious relationships—Moira is the third, and obviously the last. Other than that, I liked to keep it light. A few months, tops. Once I started feeling bored, I moved on.