Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Arianna had spent three hours perfecting her witch costume, and now she stood at the bottom of the stairs feeling every bit the sexy spellcaster she'd intended to be. The black velvet dress hugged her curves in ways that made her feel powerful, dangerous even. The tall pointed witch hat cast her face in mysterious shadow, and the thigh-high stockings—sheer black with delicate seams running up the back—made her legs look endless above the glossy patent leather boots.
She'd expected her husband to notice. To appreciate.
Instead, she found him already sprawled on the leather couch, remote in hand, wearing the same faded blue t-shirt and jeans he'd had on since noon. The television glowed with the opening credits of some horror movie he'd apparently started without her.
"Trick or treaters will be here any minute," she said, adjusting her hat with what she hoped was a seductive tilt.
Kevin glanced over, his eyes flicking from her face to her legs and home; the daily stress began to affect her again. He offered a small smile. "You look nice, babe. Really."
"Nice?" She stepped closer, the hem of her dress swishing against her thighs. "I was going for bewitching."
"You are," he said, already turning back to the screen. "But the game's on after this short movie, and I figured we could just put the candy bowl outside. Do we really need to do the whole costume thing?"
Arianna felt the excitement drain from her chest like air from a punctured balloon. She'd been looking forward to the holiday all month—the first Halloween in their new house, the chance to be playful and flirty, and to feel desired. The costume had cost a small fortune. The boots had given her blisters during the breaking-in period.
She lowered herself onto the couch beside him, the leather cool against her bare thighs, and crossed her legs with deliberate slowness. The dress rode up. Kevin didn't look.
"Just one hour," she said softly. "Then we can watch whatever you want."
He carefully ignored what she had said.
…
What he didn’t register is that behind his wife's simple words lay a tremendous depth of despair.
They had married young; she was 18 and a couple of months old as they were on their honeymoon trip to Paris and Barcelona, and those two weeks had been the most romantic days of her young life. He had been so attentive, caring, and so loving! And he had fucked her every. Single. Day.