wondered a million times if he or Sheila even noticed the picture.
His only explanation for the affair had been those cutting, parting words. You’re ice, Sam. Of course I found someone else. Why wouldn’t I find a real woman? She’d always been self-conscious about her lack of femininity, so his words served as miniature shotgun blasts, ripping her apart, leaving her barely breathing.
Cheri, and her not-so-gentle reminder that Sam needed to get a grip for Michaela’s sake, had been a lifeline, dragging her out of the dark, desolate hole. Cheri worked Sam for months, but finally convinced her to make a fresh start—away from the overwhelming reminders of all she’d lost with her dad’s passing, away from Michael and his constant torment, and especially away from her traitorous brothers.
The decision was terrifying, but Cheri had been right. She was going nowhere fast in Columbia, and in Myrtle Beach, she’d at least have a chance of finding peace and happiness.
Here she was, two months later. For the most part, she’d learned her way around Horry County and no longer needed the GPS to guide her every turn. She’d gotten used to their new house and didn’t jerk awake in the middle of the night, trying to figure out where she was. She and Michaela were still adjusting to not having family nearby, but they were doing okay.
At what point, she wondered, would she get used to sleeping alone?
She flipped her eyes open and stared at the bottom dresser drawer—the one holding more toys and lubes and gadgets and gizmos than the world’s best-stocked sex shop. Cheri was an in-home adult toy party consultant, and anytime they came out with a new product, Sam was first in line to buy.
All for the sake of giving Cheri an honest customer review, of course.
The truth was, even though Michael thought she was icy and uninterested in sex, he couldn’t have been more wrong. After Michaela was born, the stress of having a newborn in the house caused things to become strained between them. Just as things were getting back on track, her dad died, and her world collapsed.
She needed to be loved and cuddled, held close and reassured everything would be all right. All he wanted was to rut, have a quick orgasm without regard to her, then roll over and go to sleep.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex. She did. A lot. She just no longer wanted to have sex with him.
She slipped out of bed, sank to her knees, and opened the drawer. So many choices… so little enthusiasm. Some nights, she had a strong desire to go through the drawer and experiment with everything. She enjoyed learning her body, figuring out what excited her and what didn’t… which, turns out, there wasn’t much she didn’t enjoy.
Tonight, however, Friday-night fatigue made this more a function of need than playful, experimental fun. She picked up the Waskly Wabbit and studied the thick, vibrating shaft and tiny flicking ears. Normally a crowd favorite, tonight the little fella held no appeal. She tossed him back into the drawer and hesitated as her hand drifted across the spanking strap. She fingered the rough leather before moving on to the wooden paddle.
Sitting up on her knees, she gave herself a few smacks across the ass and hissed as the sting spread down to her thighs. She loved the pleasurable pain that came from being spanked—which had been a complete shock—but playing with the strap and paddle drove home the solitude more than anything else.
She replaced the paddle and picked up the Double Dare—a good time with not one, but two imaginary studs. She’d had serious reservations about ordering the intimidating double vibrator and doubted she’d ever use it. After polishing off a six-pack one night, she decided to take the double dong for a spin. Surprisingly, it became her favorite.
She gave a heartless laugh. Who would’ve thought the Ice Queen would enjoy a pretend threesome? However, she needed to be in an adventurous frame of mind and