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cheerful, but he knew it was forced, like she was trying too hard.
    His flight was late leaving due to thunderstorms in Paris and by the time he got home, it was almost eleven o’clock on Friday night. He paid the taxi driver and carried his suitcase up the stairs to the front door. The lights were still on inside, but the curtains on the huge front windows were drawn. He walked in and set his bag down, retrieving the box of macaroons he’d picked up in Paris for her. She loved the colorful little cookies, especially the pistachio-flavored green ones, so he’d made sure to buy extra of those.
    The sound of the TV came from the living room and he went in that direction, surprised she hadn’t come out to greet him as she usually did. But when he walked in to find her curled up in the corner of the couch holding the small throw over her scantily clad body, he had to smile.
    He was powerfully attracted to her, had been ever since the first day he’d seen her. She was pretty, beautiful even, although she hardly seemed to know it herself. Long dark hair, a small, pale face with delicate bones, large caramel eyes, and full luscious lips. She stirred when he pulled the blanket away and glimpsed her bare legs. She opened her eyes and sat up, still a little confused from the look in them. He whistled, his cock stirring to life.
    “Wow,” he said, taking her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. He held her tight to him before his hands wandered to the bare cheeks of her ass. She wore a dark red halter-neck teddy that just covered her small breasts with a thin strip of lace. It was split down the middle and underneath she wore a matching thong. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he said, lifting her off the floor. Although high-heeled slippers lay on the floor by the couch, she was barefoot and at 6′4″, he was a good foot taller than she and weighed almost twice as much next to her petite form. He loved that disproportion between their bodies. He loved that he could pick her up and put her where he wanted her, how he wanted her, and fuck her tight little pussy.
    “I fell asleep,” she mumbled between kisses as he set her back down on the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt, her hands finding his bare chest.
    Michael reached to push the button on the remote and switched off the TV while she peeled his shirt from his body. Once that was out of the way, her hand slipped into his pants, gripping his cock. She stood back and looked at him with a determination he didn’t expect, didn’t know. She’d always been more shy in the bedroom, letting him take the lead, which he liked. This was different.
    “Fuck me,” she said. “I need you to fuck me.”
    He almost smiled, devouring her with his eyes, and this time, hauled her off her feet altogether to carry her up the stairs and into their bedroom. Once he had her on her back on their bed, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and settled himself between her legs, taking one lace-clad nipple into his mouth while he pressed his cock against her pussy.
    “I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
    In the next moment, he pushed her panties aside as she spread her legs wide. Looking down at her, he thrust into her hard, watching her face as he fucked her.
    But she broke eye contact before it was over and even as he came, she turned her face, twisting away a little once he’d spent himself inside her.
     
    * * *
     
    “You didn’t come,” he said.
    “You know it’s hard for me to orgasm,” she replied, her back to his front as he held her tight to him in the darkness of their bedroom.
    “It didn’t used to be hard, Soph,” he kept on.
    A single tear slid out of the corner of her eye. “Michael, just let it go.”
    He exhaled and reached over her to turn on the light. She quickly wiped at her face, not wanting him to see any evidence of tears.
    “We need to talk, Soph. We need to figure out how to fix this. I don’t know where your head is.” He ran a hand through