Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)

Chapter TEN

(Colleen)

What the hell was I about to do with Brad?

HONK SHOE…

I feel hot breath on my neck and the faint scent of Brad’s soap. I wiggle, cuddled up against my husband. I withhold a small squeal at the thought. My husband. My Bradley. I was having the biggest drought known to womankind. At one point, I wasn’t sure if my vagina was still present or if it had taken up on holiday. But now? Now, I’m curled into my lifelong best friend and new husband, and I’m actually liking the feel of his arms around me.

Honk shoe…

In the stillness of the morning, I breathe in his scent and then it happens.

Burp!

Holy crap. The husband did not just burp in my ear. Oh, but he did. I groan and cover my nose to hide the smell. Despite the pungent aroma of his morning breath, I’m really not all that put out. There’s something about being in bed with a man, about having a man in my life that makes those nasty little smells not so awful.

Honk shoe…

I wiggle again and feel what Brad refers to as morning wood pressed up against my backside. My face flushes and I don’t know what to do. I crane my neck around to peek at Brad, finding him fast asleep—mouth hanging open, the roaring sound of his snoring trailing out of his mouth. I feel emboldened, being in his bed and wrapped in his arms. So I do something that I’ll deny until my dying day. I press my butt against his erection, feeling its slight twitch.

Honk shoe…

Brad’s breathing comes in short pants and his arms tighten around me, leaving no room between me and Mac. A moan involuntarily falls from my lips. It’s been a year since I’ve been with anyone. I had dated a guy very briefly before I realized it wouldn’t work out. Peter left me with the distinct impression that he felt women should be seen and not heard. Clearly, we were not meant to be. And if I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t quite fit in his world; square peg, round hole, and all that.

Last week I had some semblance of self-control; last week I was still single and not in a fake marriage with the appearance of being taken. Last week I was still Chief and Mrs. Frasiers’ greatest disappointment. Last week I was still Colleen Frasier, Esquire. Now I guess I’m Colleen Frasier Patrick, Esquire? No. No, I’ll keep Frasier professionally; too much paperwork to change things around. I’ll stay Frasier for professional use and adopt Patrick for personal use.

I continue to think about the small details of being married. Do I need to inform my bank? What about my automobile insurance? Probably. Should I get a ring? Do I even want to wear a ring? Well, I do like diamonds. I wonder if Brad will buy me a ring? Where will we live? Here, probably. I peek around the room, inspecting its size. This is a small house. I have a lot of shoes. Oh, where will my shoes go!

“Damn,” Brad holds onto me for dear life and grinds Mac into my butt—all thoughts of my beloved shoe collection forgotten as Brad dry humps my ass. I’m frozen, unable to move, contemplating rubbing against him. I want to rub against him and feel the friction I so need, afraid of what that might lead to.

“Baby,” Brad moans, leaning into my ear, “You feel so good.” His breath, hot on my skin, sends chills down my spine. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep. I hope he’s asleep. Wait… maybe I don’t want him to be asleep.

“Right there, baby,” he begins thrusting into my backside roughly. My breath catches. My heart speeds up. My body moves involuntarily, meeting his thrusts. The feeling is divine. This feels right and good and… so good. My brain is mush. I can’t bring myself to stop, even if I am encouraging my childhood best friend to sleep-hump me. Husband, he’s my husband; I try to reason with myself.

We move together and I can feel the dampening between my thighs. Brad’s hands wander and find purchase on my breasts. They’re covered by his large t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His large, masculine hands knead my tender flesh through the cotton shirt causing my nipples to harden almost immediately. I moan louder than I should and rub against Mac, who is nearly pressing against the very place I want him. If I just shift up a little…

“Uh,” Brad’s voice startles me. He sounds awake. I cringe and close my eyes in fear. I’m mortified. No matter my mental state, my body is still yearning for him. “Colleen?” His voice breaks off in a breathless squeak at the end. He’s panting. Wanting. Needy.

“Yeah?” I croak nervously. My eyes are shut as tightly as they can get. I can’t even. I can’t even. I don’t even know what I can’t even, but I damn sure can’t. Can’t focus. Can’t explain. Can’t excuse. Just can’t. All that I can comprehend is that I need him to squash this ache in the pit of my belly.

His hands are still on my breasts. I feel him shift behind me, though he doesn’t remove his hands and he doesn’t move away. It’s just that now… now Mac is exactly where I need him. I gasp. At least I think it’s a gasp. It felt like a moan. But I hope it’s a gasp. God I hope that was a gasp.

“What are we doing, pretty girl?” Brad leans down and runs his nose over the shell of my ear. My breathing is strained.

“I don’t know,” I admit. But I need this. I need him to not stop. I need this to continue.

“Brad?” I press myself even harder against his erection and I feel it twitch. We moan together, sliding against one another in urgent need. “Please don’t stop.” The words fall from my mouth and I can barely believe I’ve said it. Brad thrusts up against me roughly.

“Finally,” he mutters, turning me on my back and crawling over me. My legs part, on either side of his thighs, as he slides himself to right where I need him. Most of his weight is supported by his forearms, only his lower half presses against me, lined up against me.

Need takes over and I reached out and grab his neck, pulling him to me. I capture his lips with my own and we move together fluidly. Tongues meet and slide together. I’ve kissed Brad before. Probably a lot, but then we’ve known one another since birth. Kissing Brad has always been nice—great even. But this feels like more. This is more than a couple of drunken friends. This is more than two teenagers fumbling through the motions after prom. This is more than a dare. This is plain, unfiltered need.

Our bodies bump and grind against one another, one of his hands dipping underneath the cotton shirt and traveling up my naked skin where he kneads my bare breast. I can barely contain myself. His hands, rough against my skin, are nothing like the hands of the men I am used to dating. They’re the hands of a man who works hard for what he has. They’re the hands of a man who takes pride in what he does. The rough, calloused skin flicks my nipple causing me to buck against him.

Feeling emboldened, I reach down for his boxers to yank them off when Brad’s house phone rings. We ignore it but our movements falter as we try to keep the rhythm going. The ringing is distracting but we do our best to block it out. The portable is across the room, sitting in its dock. It’s too far. I might combust if he moves to answer it. The ringing persists and the answering machine picks up. My mother’s voice stops us dead in our tracks.

“Colleen, Bradley… kids… I’m so sorry to distract you,” she sounds sweet as she leaves the message. Too sweet. “Especially if you’re….” and she whispers, “Having marital relations,” and I swear I hear Emily giggle in the background. “But Colleen, darling, that Michael Nate from your work. He called your father and I. He said you were supposed to be in court this morning. He’s worried about you.” I don’t hear the rest of her message.

I push Brad off me and fly out of the bed, damp with need, panting, and in search of the clock. I find it. On the nightstand on the other side of the bed, the alarm clock reads 11:57 A.M. I don’t remember having to be in court this morning, but I did have to be in the office. How in the hell did I sleep in? Why in the hell didn’t my Blackberry wake me up? What the hell is Thomas doing calling my parents? All these thoughts are combating with the one clouding my every thought. What the hell was I about to do with Brad?