Reclaimed Obsession

Chapter 4

I didn’t respond to that. I got dressed in silence instead, but as I reached for my shirt, Lena continued.

“She doesn’t deserve you.”

I paused. “That’s not your decision to make, Lena. I’m still married to her.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, “but your reality is your dear wife fucking other men with your permission.”

I left without another word.

_______________________

“Shit, shit, shit…”

The drive home felt longer than usual.

I had completely forgotten that Clara planned to cook my favorite meal tonight. After that, we were supposed to have “the talk” again and figure out how to improve our open marriage.

As much as that sounded ridiculous, to my ears, I shouldn't have forgotten about it. When I finally stepped into the house, everything looked exactly the same—clean, perfect… like nothing had changed.

“Ace?” Clara’s voice came from the living room.

I walked in slowly. She stood there, dressed elegantly as always, her expression neutral—until her eyes landed on me.

They narrowed instantly.

“You didn’t come home early. I called Frank, and he said you didn’t invite him out for a drink—” She suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

Her gaze locked onto my neck.

“What is that?” she asked, her voice turning sharp.

“Is there something on my neck?” I raised a hand, trying to wipe it off.

“Why do you have those marks on your neck, Ace?”

My body went cold.

I already knew what she was seeing. Lena had deliberately left hickeys where my clothes wouldn’t cover. Why would she even do that? Oh, fuck.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” I kicked off my shoes, shrugged off my jacket, and pretended she wasn't standing there. But I could feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

“I asked you a question, Ace.” She fumed, throwing out an arm to block my path. “Why do you have those marks on your neck? They look like hickeys!” she screamed.

I took a deep breath and raised my gaze to her. “It's none of your business what I do, Clara. You made it clear we're in an open marriage. Whatever I do now is none of your business.”

I was so focused on my message to her that I didn’t notice the relaxed look on her face. But her snort brought me back to reality.

“Awn, that's cute, my sweet husband.” She scrunched up her nose like I'd just told her something cute and disgusting at the same time. “Did you really think telling me this would make me jealous? Jealous of you? Come on. You are too damn stupid for that. And let's be honest, if you ever try to fuck someone else, they'll tell you the same thing. I'm sure wherever you went, looking so drunk and scrappy, you were probably spat on.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Was I though?

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I’d had a great fuck tonight, yet my own wife's words hurt more than they should. It shouldn’t bother me this much.

Lena was hungry for me. She never made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

But shit. Clara's words still hurt.

I turned immediately—refusing to let her see how much it affected me—and walked straight up the stairs. I slammed the bedroom door shut.

She would never come in here anyway.

My hands grabbed the nearest pillow I could find and without further ado, I screamed into it, punching the headboard hard.

Again.

Again.

Fuck!!!!

This was what she wanted, right? An open marriage where we could fuck whoever we wanted. But now I came home with a hickey and… suddenly it was a problem.

Why did it feel like I was the only one breaking? Why did she get to make me feel miserable while she was out there pretending Daniel was her damned cousin?

For months, I’d believed it.

Months. Like an idiot.

Who knew it was the same man who gifted my wife the car she gave me for my fucking birthday? I released the pillow, letting it drop to the floor.

My hand throbbed. Shit. I had to clean this up. My work was all I had now. I pulled the cabinet open, rummaging for a bandage. The moment I was done, I felt relieved.

Maybe we should have that talk. Right? I mean, Daniel fed us, gave us everything we had—even my job. All I had to do was talk to my wife. There was still the sweet Clara I married, the one who came to me confused about a pregnancy and I accepted her anyway.

I had every reason to reject it then, but I didn’t.

So, rules. Yeah, once we set the rules, we should be fine. Number one rule—no fucking anyone without the other present.

By the time I gathered myself and stepped out, I heard something.

A muffled moan… accompanied by the creaking sound of furniture. My heart pounded as I followed the sound. My heart broke knowing what I was about to find.

But my legs carried me there anyway.

The sound led me to my study.

The door was slightly ajar… I pushed it open to see—Clara bouncing on—wait. That didn’t look like Daniel. My eyes widened as I saw the thick part of the man's cock buried inside her, the glistening purple, veiny head driving in and out of her at full speed.

Clara’s mouth hung open, drool trailing down as she screamed silently with every thrust. The bastard was driving into her hard, right there on my leather chair.

“Fuck!” Clara found her voice and slapped a portrait of us at the beach off the wall. The frame smashed to pieces, and yet they didn’t stop to check what had fallen.

My stomach dropped. I whirled around, running down the stairs. She had found another man to fuck within days?

Did Daniel even know about this?

Suddenly, my phone beeped, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Samantha, my darling mother.