Caroline Harrison has had enough. After eight long years in an unhappy marriage, she’s ready to throw in the towel. Her workaholic husband, Bentley, is done too—choosing his career over his wife. They’ve met with their lawyers and only need to get through the holidays until their divorce is finalized.
Bentley isn’t ready to tell his family about the divorce, so he asks Caroline to spend one more Christmas at his mom’s under the ruse they are still happily married. Together, they set out on a seven hour car ride in the middle of the Canadian Caribou to put on one last happy show. What could be an opportunity to rekindle their love and spend quality time together turns out to be a road trip from hell.
When a surprise snow storm catches them off guard, Bentley and Caroline find themselves in an accident without any possibility of help in their near future. At one point, their love was all they needed to survive. But now, when all they have is each other against the frigid winter storm, will they find the love they lost before it’s too late? Or will this be the end…in more ways than one for Mr. and Mrs. Harrison?
The road back to us may be a turbulent path, but in the end, it’s worth the chaos because it leads back home.
“I’m coming,” she lies.
I’ve made love to her enough times to know when she truly comes. Her pale skin turns pink and tiny beads of perspiration build on her forehead. She pants softly, but the breaths become more erratic as she nears the edge of her climax. But tonight? Tonight, she’s pretending, her body lying limp like a fucking rag doll, and she’s making hideously fake moans. So I’ll finish and get off her.
She doesn’t know that I know about her seeing a divorce attorney. I saw the e-mail on her laptop. Her correspondence with the lawyer was so robotic and cold—much like our marriage these days. That was two days ago, and I haven’t slept well since.
I’m sickened at the thought of it, but I’m not really sure what to do. Instead of confronting her about it, I’m selfishly fucking her as if I don’t already know.
Her moans are phony as hell, and I almost can’t come because of them. Grabbing a handful of her tits, I thrust hard over and over until I feel the tightness in my nuts.
“Fuck!” I groan loudly as I burst inside her—quite possibly for the last time.
As soon as I’m done coming, I pop out of her body and climb off the bed. Then I stalk over to her nightstand, wrench it open, and find her vibrator.
“Here,” I snap as I toss it to her. “Maybe you can really come now since I don’t seem to do it for you anymore. I guess it’s a good fucking thing you’ve already filed for divorce.”
Ignoring her tears and the painful throb in my chest, I storm off toward the shower.
We’re fucking over.
About K Webster
I love my husband of 11 years and sweet kids. My passions include reading, writing, graphic design, and shopping! I absolutely love social media and the power of how it connects people all over the world. You can usually find me easily on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!