Fragments of us

I stared at the clock for the hundredth time that evening, tapping my foot anxiously against the chair leg. Even though the day hadn't started as well as it could have, I'd had high hopes for it. Now, not so much. Quinn was late. Again. The birthday dinner I’d painstakingly prepared was getting cold on the table, and the ice was slowly melting in the wine bucket. The chocolate cake I'd tried my hand at decorating looked sad now that the candles I had placed around the table were melting. Some had even gone out. Times like these made me wonder what had become of the man I married. I felt like I no longer knew my husband, and he no longer knew me. He'd forgotten my birthday today, so while he was at work, I told him of the intimate dinner I planned for both of us. I even made chocolate cake, which was his favorite, even though I'm not a big fan of chocolate. I glanced at the clock again. It was just a few minutes to eleven o'clock. I sighed and wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye, uncaring that it smudged my carefully applied makeup. Slowly, I began to put the food away. After all, the day was almost over. Nothing was special about celebrating a birthday when you had only an hour left until the next day. I dumped the food into Tupperware containers and poured myself a glass of wine at the same moment I heard the front door open, and the sound of shuffling feet. A male voice sounded like it was reassuring someone else, and I hurried to the living room to see Quinn stagger in. He was held up by his best friend Raymond, who looked at me apologetically. "I tried to get him to come home earlier," he said quietly. I blinked back tears quickly and hurried towards them. "It's alright. Thank you, Ray." Quinn jerked at the sound of my voice and turned to me drunkenly. He stared at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. "You... Where have you been all this time?" He slurred, reaching up a hand to gently brush a lock of hair from my face. I startled, and stared at him wide-eyed, mostly because I could count the number of times Quinn had willingly touched me in the past month. He smiled. His breath smelled faintly of whiskey. "You're so beautiful..." Raymond shook his head and walked Quinn over to an armchair before leaving. After I shut the door behind him, I returned to my husband and gingerly sat on the arm of his chair. "Quinn," I said softly. With some effort, he looked up at me. "Yes, baby?" When was the last time he called me baby? "Did..." I sighed. "It's my birthday today," I continued. "I told you." As if he was just remembering, Quinn's eyes darted around the room until they rested on the chocolate cake I still hadn't taken away. His eyes lit up. "You made me a cake, baby?" He slurred, wrapping an arm around my waist. "It's not..." I started to say. Before I could finish my statement, Quinn's grip tightened suddenly, and he pulled me into his lap. I gasped and stared up at him in shock. Of all the times he came home drunk, he'd never noticed me, much less made a pass at me. "You know what I love most about you, baby?" He asked softly, still staring at me with that adoring expression. Dumbfounded, I shook my head stiffly. Again, his fingers traced the curve of my face, and he leaned in. "You... You're...so beautiful..." Quinn's mouth came slanting down over mine, and for the first time in months, my husband was kissing me. I stiffened, mostly from shock, but then my body began to respond, starved as it was for his touch. His tongue slid into my mouth, gently probing, and a moan escaped me. "Quinn..." I gasped when his hand suddenly found my breasts. "So beautiful," he murmured, taking a second to admire the dress I'd bought specially for this occasion. That reminder that today was supposed to be special was all the clarity I needed. I wriggled out of his grasp and tumbled to the floor for a short moment, before scrambling to my feet. He stared up at me, a confused expression on his face. "You're drunk," I said, my chest rising and falling from the flood of sensation he'd let loose in me. He blinked. "You're drunk," I repeated. "And you forgot how special today is to me, even though I reminded you." "I..." Quinn shook his head, still looking at me helplessly, like he had no idea what to say. It was hopeless. I sighed. "It's alright," I said, more to myself than him. "Let's get you upstairs," I mumbled. To his credit, he did most of the work, while I just hovered by his side to make sure he didn't take a tumble down the stairs as we made our way to his bedroom. I shoved the door open, letting it swing shut behind me as I helped him to his bed. When I let him down, he took me with him, making me sprawl over his chest. I could feel a telltale hardness just over my belly. I stared up at him, and he stared at me too. "Baby..." Again, his lips met mine. When I tried to pull away, his hands on my hips stopped me. "Let me make it up to you," he whispered against my lip, deepening the kiss. "Please." The heat was too much to bear, and I didn't exactly want to have to find a battery-powered release later. I missed my husband badly. Quinn kissed me like he missed me, too. Like he needed me. He was gentle when he tugged my clothes off, and was even gentler when he took a n****e in his mouth and sucked. I gasped, and when I tugged at his clothes, he held my hands above my head and smiled softly. "Keep them there," he ordered. "Let me love you." Quinn kissed a hot trail from the middle of my breasts, down to the valley between my thighs. His tongue was warm and sure, and licked me in all the right places. When he finally sank his erection into me, I was panting and squirming with need. "Quinn!" He groaned and kissed me sloppily, our bodies moving in tandem, and building up speed. I clenched tightly around him, seeing stars as my release met me like a freight train. It was as if my o****m had triggered his, because Quinn suddenly bucked, driving deeper into me, and spilled. "Vera," he panted. "Oh, God, Vera!" It was like a splash of iced water over my hot skin. Quinn collapsed on top of me while I panted with my eyes wide open. Finally, he rolled off, his eyes shut peacefully. I stared at him. I could already feel my heart breaking. I had thought I was finally having a passionate moment with my husband. And maybe I was. But he wasn’t having it with me. He was having it with Vera, whoever she was, because it wasn’t me.