The Chauffeur [Complete]

Chapter 3

I was excited because now I had something to look forward to. Sam and I need this. There's been a drought for far too long when it comes to our sex life. And tonight, that changes.

After rubbing my arms and legs down with body lotion that smelled like coco butter and vanilla, I grabbed my white satin robe from off the back of my bathroom door and slipped it on.

I was feeling sexy this evening. I'd showered, shaved everything that needed to be shaved, and covered my body in layers of vanilla scents.

Feeling smooth, bare, and ready to be made love to, I went back into my bedroom and got on top of the comforter.

Hours had passed since I made dinner, ate, and tucked my daughter into bed. Luckily, her room was doors away from mine, so she wouldn't be able to hear me and Sam. I wouldn't want to scar my child like Andi's parents had done her.

As I lay there, frequently glancing at the time on my alarm clock, I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

It was pretty late. Around eleven o'clock at night. Sam should be home soon, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'm trying to stay awake for him, but this bed feels super comfortable, and all that work I'd done drained me.

My eyes close shut. Then they fly open again. I shake my head before resting my cheek on the back of my hand.

I need to stay awake. I must. I look way too damn good to let this all go to waste. And I didn't accidentally nick myself while shaving for nothing.

The weight on my eyelids grew even heavier, and I ended up giving in. I closed my eyes, letting sleep devour me whole.

My eyes shot open when I heard the security alarm beep when the door was opened. It stopped beeping after a few seconds, heavy footsteps filling my ears.

They got louder the closer they became. They stopped for a moment, and I knew Sam was checking in on Everly. He hadn't seen her all day.

The footsteps continued, reaching all the way to the bedroom. The door was opened, Sam pausing in the doorway when he saw me.

I sat up, removing the robe and tossing it onto the brown leather chair stationed in the corner of the room. His eyes wandered, taking me in slowly.

"Is that... new?" He questioned, still drinking me in.

"Mhm. You like?"

He tugged at his tie, pulling it loose. He nodded. "I do." He yawned before disappearing into the closet.

"Are you going to come take it off me?" I asked, now wide awake.

I hear him yawn a second time. "I'm sorry, but not tonight. I'm too tired."

My shoulders slumped in disappointment. Of course, he's too tired. How stupid of me to think he'd want to do anything other than sleep after the day he's had?

Sam popped back into the room wearing only his boxers as he dug around in the dresser for pajamas. I watched him get dressed in a solid white tee and blue and white plaid pants.

He ran his fingers through his hair and joined me in bed. His blue eyes were back on me, and my heart quickened. Had he changed his mind?

"You look really good."

My lips curled up into a smile. "Thank you."

He leaned in to give me peck on the lips before murmuring goodnight and turning away from me. His lamp light was turned off, and the covers pulled over his body.

I huffed, annoyed and sexually frustrated. I'll just have to try again in the morning. But for now, I need to get rid of this pent-up tension between my legs.

I scooted off the bed and went back into the bathroom. I closed the door, my body flush against it as I leaned my head back and sighed.

I was so sure that tonight would be the night we found our spark again. When we were younger, we practically had to be ripped apart from each other because we never left each other's side. And after a day of work, he made time for me.

But now, it seems as though my husband doesn't even care to try. He knows our marriage isn't what it used to be. People change. We've changed. But that's why I'm working so hard to bring back the spark. I want us to be like we used to be.

Pushing myself off the door, I shifted to my side of the sink and opened up the drawer where my sex toys were kept.

I grabbed the pink vibrator and turned it on. The toy buzzed in my hand as I pressed on the part that ached the most. I lurched forward, my free hand shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter.

A soft moan spewed past my lips. I was tired of this. Tired of letting a battery-operated toy bring me to an orgasm when I had a husband sleeping in the next room.

Widening my stance, I rocked my hips into the toy, imagining it were my husband's fingers.

I moaned louder.

I'm so unbelievably touch deprived that frustration can't even begin to describe what I'm feeling. Especially when I'm ovulating. I become a whore when I'm ovulating.

I'm practically throwing myself at him, and still, he claims he's too tired and goes to bed. I don't know what more I can do. I feel like I'm the only one putting in the effort.

We aren't even in our thirties yet. Dios(God), I bet the old people are getting more action than we are.

I bit down on my lower lip, adding more and more pressure to the toy as my orgasm neared.

Is it wrong of me to feel tired of this marriage? Tired to trying by myself? I don't want this to end. I love Sam. He was my first everything. But I'm starting to feel that that might not be enough anymore.

"Joder(Fuck)," I whimpered, feeling my insides contract, followed by an orgasm that should've been the result of my husband and not this damned vibrator.

Spent, I waited until my leg stopped shaking and my breath to return before straightening up. I cleaned the toy before shoving it back in my drawer and returning to bed.

Sam snored loudly, his back still turned to me. I wanted to hit him so badly. I laid down on my side, deciding to face away from him. I tugged on the covers, hearing him stir in his sleep before belting out another nasally snore.

I rolled my eyes.

If nights like these continue, it might be time we get a divorce.