“You want this, Clove?” Turner asks as he strokes himself. “You want me to fuck that tight, sweet pussy of yours or do you want me to fuck that hot mouth?”

I gulp and stare up at the man who I know is my husband, yet seems different in the few short hours since he has been home. Even though I want to take him in my mouth, I spread my legs even farther, which seems to be enough of an answer for him. He lets go of himself and bends down, taking his shoes off along with his pants and briefs, and scoops me out of the vehicle. He slams the door shut and sits down on a workbench with me still wrapped tightly around him.

Without any warning at all he grabs his dick and slams inside me so hard, my head falls back. I swear to everything holy I black out for a second, but I am instantly awakened as my husband drives his massive cock into me like this is the first or the last time he is ever going to have me. I thrust my pelvis back and forth and grind down on him as hard as I can while clenching his dick the best way I know how.

We have never before had sex so animalistic. I tilt my head back and groan. In response, he grabs my thin t-shirt and rips it right down the middle, then unhooks the front clasp of my bra allowing my heavy, aching breasts to hang free. He cups one in his big hand and brings his mouth down on the other, sucking on my already pebbled nipple while biting down and then pinching my other nipple in between his fingers.

“Oh, fuck! I am going to come, Turner. God, I am going to explode all over you!”

Releasing my breast from his mouth, he brings his lips to mine and ravishes me with a brutal kiss. Our tongues and teeth clash, and I scream his name into his mouth as I come all over him. Within seconds, he heaves himself up into me as far as he can get then stills us both as I feel his warm juice spill inside me.

We are both breathing so damn hard it takes us several minutes to be able to calm down. Turner has always been such a careful lover, always tender and putting my needs before his own, but this was definitely the best sex I have ever had.

I sit here and stare into the eyes of my handsome husband and really look at him. Even though he made sure to satisfy me more than he has ever done before, now I cannot help but wonder what in the hell happened to my gentle Turner while he was gone. The man staring back at me doesn’t look like the same man who left me a week ago. No. This man has a blank expression on his face; his eyes are as vacant as they come.

Chapter Two

“Turner?” I ask softly. “Is something wrong?”

His brows furrow as his eyes bore heavily into mine, mystified. I quickly climb off of him, instantly feeling the loss of his connection. That must be what finally snaps him out of his stupor.

“Fuck! Clove, baby. I am so damn sorry.”

I watch my loving and caring husband put his face in his hands and his shoulders sag. I sit down next to him on the bench and place my hand on his shoulder.

“Talk to me,” I say tenderly. He lifts his head slightly.

“It seems like all I have ever done since you picked me up is say sorry. But I am sorry, Clove. I didn’t mean to take you so rough like that.”

His eyes plead with mine as he looks at me.

“Turner.” I place my hand on his chin to hold his gaze to mine. “Did you hear me complaining? I loved it, honey. Rough, smooth, slow, fast. It doesn’t matter to me. That just showed me exactly how much you missed me.” I nudge his shoulder slightly. “Don’t ever apologize for wanting to take me like that ever again.”

We sit in silence for several minutes before he stands up and retrieves my shorts and panties out of the car and hands them to me along with my flip-flops. Then he picks his jeans and boxers up off of the garage floor and pulls them on, leaving the top button of his jeans open. With a smirk on his face, he tentatively takes a few steps toward me.

“So you liked it rough like that?” He reaches out and pulls me close to him. I place my hands on his strong, sturdy chest.

“I did.” I whisper.

“I did, too. Thank you for forgiving me for my little space out a few minutes ago. It’s just . . . God, Clove. If I ever did anything to hurt you, I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“I am not some fragile flower who is going to wilt and die if you hold and squeeze it too hard, Turner, so quit beating yourself up. I actually loved welcoming you home in that way.”

I lay my head on his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart, but the tone of his voice when he said he would never be able to forgive himself makes me think that Turner is trying to convince himself of that fact more than he is trying to convince me.

“So tell me about this conference? Was it boring?” I question Turner as we are eating dinner.

“Fuck, yes, it was boring. I hate those damn things and you know it. The state has made a few changes but not anything we can’t go over at work tomorrow,” he says as he knocks back another beer.

I’ve lost count. He drank three in less than an hour while I was making dinner. Turner usually has a beer or two a few times a week; maybe more if we go out on a date or with our friends, but nothing like this. And he’s hardly eaten any of his dinner. It’s his mom’s fried chicken recipe, his favorite. He usually devours everything on his plate and most times goes back for more.

I’m not paying attention to a word he is saying as I sit there listening to him drone on and on about the conference he went to. It’s like he’s flinging shit out of nowhere just to have a conversation about something he said we would discuss tomorrow. I use the time to study him covertly. It’s not big things, but subtle changes in his mannerisms that for some reason have put me on edge, like how he gestures certain ways with his hands. And, not one time since we have sat down has he looked at me when he speaks.

Panic starts to set in and I try not to let it show. Is he hiding something from me, or am I just paranoid because we have been away from each other for the first time? I don’t know what to make of his strange behavior. Is he having an affair? Oh, God. No, please don’t let that be it. I watch him get up and put his half-eaten plate into the sink and pull another beer out from the fridge. He slams the door shut with his foot and I jump from the sound.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, love,” he says as he walks up behind me and cups one of my breasts in his hand. I feel his warm, beer-scented breath against my neck. “You ready for round two, Clove?”

He pinches my nipple between his fingers and it stings. What is up with that? It’s not that the pinching hurts so much; it actually feels good mixing a little pain with the pleasure. It’s just, that’s not what he does. Turner loves to bring my breasts to his mouth and suck until he has them nice and hard, and then he likes to run his hands over the top of the hard peaks.

My mind just isn’t focused on sex right now, I guess. I have never turned my husband down when he wants it, but I’ll be damned if I am going to have sex with him right now. He just doesn’t seem like himself.

All these dark and gloomy thoughts run through my head. Night and day. Black and white. I sneak a peek at him through my lashes. Yup, I’m pretty sure this is the same man I dropped off at the airport a week ago, I joke darkly to myself. So why is he acting so strangely? I turn my head away from him and pick up my plate to take it to the sink.

“I need to clean up the kitchen. Why don’t you go relax in the living room and find a movie to put on? I’ll be in shortly and we can watch before we go to bed.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Let me just grab another beer and I’ll get out of your way.”

He walks past me and I watch him like a motherfucking hawk. My husband is hiding something from me, and I am going to dig around until I find out exactly what it is.