My Husband Sold Our Perfect Marriage on Tour, So I Ended It on Stage novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Last Page

The door of the ninth-floor suite closed behind us with a soft click, and Jack stood in the dark with water running off him.

I turned the lock.

I turned the second lock.

I put the chain on.

"With a lock," I said.

He smiled, and it broke something in me.

I took his jacket first.

It was black, soaked, heavy as a wet animal, and I dropped it on the carpet.

I took his shirt next, pulling it up over his head.

His chest was lean and hard, with dark hair across the middle.

A pale scar ran under his ribs, from a rigging accident he would tell me about later.

The anchor on his forearm moved when he lifted his arms.

I put my mouth on it.

He made a noise in his throat.

"You're shaking," I said.

"So are you."

"I'm cold."

"No you're not."

I wasn't.

I was on fire.

He took the knot of my wrap dress in his fingers, the same one he had opened behind the road case, and pulled it slowly.

The wet green fabric fell off my shoulders and pooled at my feet.

I stood in my underwear in the middle of a hotel room with my husband's picture on the dresser, and I did not care.

"Take that off," I said, and pointed to the dresser.

Jack crossed the room.

He turned the frame face down.

He came back, and I put my hands in his belt.

"Lie on the bed," I said.

"Roz."

"You read to me for ninety-four nights. Lie on the bed."

He lay back on the white duvet with his arms above his head, a long wet line of a man, and watched me unbuckle him.

I knelt between his knees.

I pulled his jeans down and his cock sprang up against his stomach, thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

I wrapped my hand around it.

He hissed.

"Look at you," I said, and heard how rough my voice was. "Look at what you've been carrying around."

"Since Cincinnati," he said. "God. Since Columbus."

I licked the head, slowly.

I tasted salt and heat.

I took him into my mouth an inch at a time.

His hips came up off the bed, and his hand dropped into my hair.

"Roz. Roz, fuck."

I took more of him.

I let him feel the back of my throat, and I looked up and watched his face fall apart.

His mouth was open.

His eyes were half shut.

His fingers tightened in my curls and loosened and tightened again.

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