Sleeping With My Lover, Living With My Wife

Twelve

*Patrick's POV*

The car ride home with Allie is long and miserable. I sit in silence, knowing that if I open my mouth, I'll tell the stupid bitch how much I hate her. She literally ruined everything for me, but she really doesn't seem to care. Obviously, because she got exactly what she wanted.

I stare out the window of the passenger side, refusing to even look at Allie. I've never truly felt hatred towards anyone until she had to come along and fuck everything up.

We finally pull into the driveway of our house. I spring out of the car, slamming the door behind me and storming through the front entrance. Before I can get any further away from Allie, she yanks at my wrist, spinning me around to face her. "Patrick, baby, wait! Can we talk? Please?"

"No," I bluntly state, attempting to pull away from her firm grasp. She only holds on tighter.

"Patrick!" she whines, exaggerating the vowel sounds in my name.

"No, leave me alone!"

Allie begins to cry, sobbing into my shoulder, expecting me to comfort her. I reluctantly place my arms around her to get her to shut up. Just like I knew they would, her weeps begin to dissipate. She glances up at me with large, glossy eyes before kissing my neck multiple times.

Allie forcefully shoves me against the wall and roughly presses her lips to mine. I allow them to touch for only a second. Then I push her away, causing her to stumble slightly before regaining her balance. She furrows her eyebrows in frustration.

We stand facing each other, in a stare off, daring the other to be the first to make a move. I stay motionless, awaiting Allie's next action.

She smirks as she grabs the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. Then she unbuttons her tight jeans and pulls them down to the floor, stepping out of them. Now she's only in a bra and panties, desperately trying to turn me on. Does she understand the definition of gay?

I laugh at Allie's stupidity, but she's not willing to give up just yet. She rubs my chest, attempting to portray a seductive look, and nibbles on my neck. "Baby, I love you so much! I understand you think you're gay, but I know you can still make me feel so good," she whispers the last part, sending shivers down my spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Allie smiles and grabs my hand, happily leading me to the bedroom, and says, "Well, how about I show you Trick?"

I'm enraged from hearing the pet name from her rather than Pete. "Don't you dare call me that!" I warn.

"Awe, does my poor Patty Cakes miss his little Petey?" she mocks. It takes all my willpower not to smack her. I make an attempt to break free from her grasp, but she has me pinned to the bed.

"Why don't you show your deserving wife how you pleasured your undeserving boyfriend."

"How?"

Allie gropes my dick through my pants and says, "Fuck me in the ass, baby."

I laugh in her face before pushing her off of me, "How about you go buy a dildo and fuck yourself in the ass!" I'm quite impressed by my sassy retort and chuckle as I leave the room.

I walk down the hall to an empty bedroom, locking myself inside. I plop down onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. All I can think about is Pete. I think about the first night we met, how gorgeous he looked in the dim lighting of the bar. Then I think about our first kiss, our amazing first kiss, and all the incredible kisses after. I think about the way he talked to me, the way he cared for me, and the way he touched me. I wish he was touching me right now.

After wiping away enough tears to see clearly, I fish around in my pocket for my phone and pull it out. I swipe to unlock it and go to my messages, searching for my conversation with Pete. My thumb presses on his name and I begin to type.

Hey... I can't stop thinking about you. I love you and miss you like crazy 😘

I sit and stare at the message I sent, waiting for a reply. I don't get one. Instead, underneath the message it says: read at 9:48 pm.

I sigh and decide to send another.

Pete, please talk to me. I know you hate me right now, and I completely understand, but I need a chance to explain a few things.

I wait a few more minutes, before a similar note shows up below the message: read at 9:57 pm.

More tears begin trickling down my cheeks once I tell myself that he meant it when he said he never wanted to talk to me again. I'm not giving up, though. If it's going to take a million messages for him to reply, then I'll send a million messages.