The Coming Home Reclamation Project

I refreshed my glass of wine as I stared at my phone, waiting for Kevin’s next text to pop up. He had texted all the right trigger words already between flights. I glanced around the room. It was immaculate. I’d run the vacuum, dusted, and washed the floors. I was even caught up on laundry, for once. I’d manage to read a full book. With him being out of town for work, I’d had extra time to make the house perfect. Plus, with all that and work, everyday doings had kept my mind off of him being gone, well, at least a little bit. I grinned. That was a lie.

He’d helped me climax from afar, but it just wasn’t the same as having him in person. I was showered and ready, my hair was curled into big, bouncy curls, and my skin smelled like hibiscus. I was so ready for him to come home that my lust was frothing at the mouth at the idea.

I scrolled through the previous texts:

Mmmmm …. Jenna, wanna pound you bad.

Make you scream.

Rough. Dirty. Hard.

I’d texted back: Yes, plz. Hurry. I need you.

My womanly arousal was already thick and throbbing with want, and he wouldn’t be home for at least another hour or three. He’d been on a work trip for the past week, and I’d missed him terribly every day, eating alone and going to bed alone. I’d come to realize I wouldn’t make a good single...