Trained to Crave the Dog

My husband owned a giant dog—so huge it stood nearly as tall as a person.

Ever since it saw me and my husband getting intimate, it couldn't take its eyes off me.

One night, I dozed off drunk on the couch.

That massive dog snapped its leash and started creeping toward me, step by step…

Another afternoon, I was on my yoga mat, kneeling with my back arched and hips lifted high.

I took a deep breath, holding the pose, feeling the pleasant burn through my core.

Then, out of nowhere, something heavy pressed up against me from behind.

It felt almost human—except it was covered in thick, coarse fur.

My first thought was Liam, my husband.

But the next second, a wet dog nose nudged my forehead.

Huff… huff… huff…

Hot, stinky breath hit my face, followed by a slobbery tongue dragging across my nose.

I snatched a dumbbell from nearby and swung it blindly behind me.

I missed.

Spinning around, I saw Ace crouched a few feet away, those big watery eyes locked on me.

That was it. I'd had enough.

"Liam! Get in here—now!" I screamed toward the kitchen, where he was cooking.

This was the third time Ace had tried to mount me during yoga—ever since Liam decided to get frisky where the dog could see.

"What's going on, babe?" Liam asked, rushing in with a towel in his hands.

"I told you not to do that in front of Ace! This is the third time he's pulled this crap! Either that dog goes, or I do."

Ace was a massive breed Liam had raised for five years. On his hind legs, he was taller than me.

Let's be real—if Liam wasn't home and that dog really wanted to overpower me? I wouldn't stand a chance.

Liam walked to the door, grabbed a feather duster, and started whipping Ace hard.

Ace whimpered and curled into a ball, looking up with wounded eyes.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It won't happen again," Liam said through gritted teeth, putting his whole arm into each strike.

He'd said the exact same thing the last two times.

I just stared, silent. My mind was made up.

It was me or the dog.

Ever since those incidents, I flinched every time I walked past another dog on the street.

Their owners looked at me like I'd already been violated by one.

Finally, Liam noticed I wasn't backing down. He stopped, frowned, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

I held up my hand.

"Don't. Don't give me that speech about how Ace got you through your darkest days. I don't want to hear it."

He closed his mouth. Scratched his head, conflicted.

That boyish face of his twisted with guilt.

My heart softened a little.

He was five years younger than me—a sweet puppy in public, but an animal between the sheets.

I loved his passion, but sometimes I felt more like his big sister.

Especially when he looked so torn.

"Fine," I sighed. "He can stay. But you have to get him neutered."

That was my final offer.

If he refused, I wasn't going to divorce him—but I was absolutely moving out until he figured out who mattered more.

"Woof!"

Ace barked loudly.