In Too Deep

1. Julia

"But whatever this is, it's working. But we're in two different worlds"

"Okay baby girl, I’ll see you for Thanksgiving next week, the girls and Nate are coming for dinner too” I tell my only child as she speaks to me from her home a few short miles away.
I haven’t seen her for awhile and can’t wait for next week. The four girls get along like they’ve known each other all of their lives and it makes both Marshall and I really happy that combining our families worked out so well.

I’m patiently waiting for him to get home from God’s knows where having been away for almost two weeks and I’ve missed him so much.

Twenty minutes later, the wheels of his truck screech to a halt in front of our home and my body thrums with excitement, Marshall and I were very good at sexting while either of us were away and this time had been no different.

Sitting on our couch I try my best not to show any of that excitement as the front door opens and slams behind him, I smile as I hear the sound of his car keys being thrown on the table and the inevitable swearing as he tries to remove his jacket in a hurry “Wife!” he calls out loudly and I ignore him knowing full well his levels of impatience will grow with every second I don’t respond to him and boy do I love being on the receiving end of that boiling pot.

His sock covered feet pound the small hallway heavily as he makes his way to our kitchen and I recline back  on the soft couch in there and wait.

Marshall Mather’s never does anything quietly.

“Wife, where the fuck are you?” his voice takes on a high pitched quality to it, a sure sign of his growing irritation.

He walks past the door and keeps going doing a double take as he catches me out of the corner of his eye, he steps back into the kitchen, thrusting his hands deep down into his pockets, jaw ticking with annoyance “I’ve been yelling for you, why the fuck didn’t you answer me?”  he stares at me as I stand and walk deliberately slowly towards him before coming to a halt a whisker away from his body, he smells sweaty and I guess he’s probably been to the gym “My name isn’t wife” I stare back at him and his fists clench at his sides.

“No that’s right, it’s Slut isn’t it!” he raises an eyebrow and looks so cocky I could smack him, but I surely do love this game of cat and mouse.

“Bingo” I whisper against his lips and he emits a low growling noise from the back of his throat.

In my day to day business I was dominant, I hadn’t gotten where I was today by letting anyone ride roughshod over me. I had a handpicked team consisting of mostly men working for me and in order for them not to take the piss out of me I ruled over them with not quite an iron fist but I’d go there if I had too and that was the reason Marshall and I had worked out so well, I came home from a hard days work and he’d take over, he was the boss at home and I played by his rules although sometimes I’ll admit I was letting him think he was the boss of me just because I didn’t need to think or worry about anything at home he took care of business in every single way and I mean all ways, coming home from work I actively looked forward to him calling me his slut and making me get on my knees and suck his dick for an hour, hell it was therapeutic as fuck to switch off and drift away in my own mind while he took pleasure from me. I loved him, from the moment I met this man I loved him.

Who would have thought that a recovering drug addict, legendary rapper would end up married to an ABBA obsessed, pharmaceutical consultant, I sold prescription drugs, legally I might add all over the world. I never kept any of it at home, I didn’t think after all this time that Marshall would even think about touching anything but I’d promised his very concerned friends that I would never put temptation in his way. It had taken me a good year or so to convince him that there was an ABBA song for every mood or everything that happened to us. He stared at me in disbelief every time I talked about them and I had selective hearing any time he rattled on about fucking Spiderman.