Betrayed, p.2
Betrayed, page 2
“Oh, duh, sorry, I guess I can put this down now.” I walk to the table and place my gun next to my husband’s. Suddenly aware it’s bedtime and my house is what I consider to be freezing, I cross my arms over my chest so I’m not giving my brother-in-law a free nipple show. “Can I get you a drink or anything? Do you need me to set up the spare room for you?”
“No, no I just popped in for a second to talk to Logan about something before I drop the bomb on Caroline.”
“And now you expect me to be able to leave the room? You better not be divorcing my best friend, Parker. I don’t care that we’re family, I’ll kick your ass.”
“No, Ken, God it’s nothing like that. I’ll put it this way, do you really want to harbor a secret from her or would you rather be able to honestly be there for her when she tells you herself?” His eyebrows are raised expectantly and I must admit he makes a good point.
“Fine, I’ll go back up to bed. You be good to her or so help me, God,” I say, before realizing I’m reaching for the guns again and Parker is raising his hands, and giving me a wide-eyed stare. “What? I’m just taking these back upstairs to put them away.” I walk over to give my husband a kiss and whisper “don’t be too late” to him before ascending the stairs back to bed but knowing damn well I won’t be getting any sleep now.
Chapter 2
Sage
PULLING UP THE THIGH-high stocking, I fasten them to the garter belt hanging from my waist. The bustier I’m wearing pushes up my breasts in a fashion enticing even to my own eyes. A black silk robe is tied loosely around me, offering hints to what lies underneath. My hair is left straight and loose, hanging down my back, waiting to be ruffled and pulled by my eager husband.
I walk to the bed, my heels clacking on the hardwood floor. I perch on the edge of the king-sized mattress and await the arrival of my husband from the next room. Luckily, he doesn’t make me wait long. A few moments later, the doorknob turns and my handsome husband appears and he’s naked but for boxer briefs sitting low on his hips. I lick my lips as he stalks toward me, a blindfold dangling from his right hand.
Taylor’s pompadour hair is raven like mine with a side part. He’s obsessed with his looks and always makes sure his hair is clean, cut, and styled. He has a pair of black, square reading glasses he uses for teaching or for merely turning me on. What is it about a man in glasses?
He’s a dangerous sight, bee-lining directly toward me with a sly, mischievous grin. He towers over my five foot nine height at six foot two inches. He played soccer in college and still maintains his tight, built physique makes my mouth water just from looking at him.
“I want you blind tonight, baby.” Walking behind me, he reaches both hands around my head to secure the blindfold over my eyes, tying it tight in the back.
A few small kinks are all we ever experiment with – a blindfold here, some handcuffs and spanking there – just some small stuff. My ever-insatiable husband loves to play and tease – he’s a very visual man – but he’s never crossed the line beyond slight kinky curiosity.
“You look gorgeous, babe,” he whispers in my ear before kissing down my neck and eliciting goosebumps down my arms.
I rise onto my knees and he guides me to the center of the bed. He unfastens my robe and I let it fall off of me, the silky material gliding easily down my arms. It slides over my legs as it’s being moved, gliding across my calves as Taylor drags it away from my body. His breaths come in rapidly in front of me, but he’s not yet touching me. The anticipation is causing my panties to fill with hot, wet heat.
I sit back on my heels and wait for Taylor to make his next move. He places his hands on my outer thighs and ever so slowly drags them up to my hips, caressing and kneading my legs as he goes. His hands rest on my hips and his breath briefly crosses my lips before he devours my mouth in a kiss. He nibbles along my jaw to my ear and back down my neck, kissing and biting his way to my cleavage.
“Need more,” he grunts, the only two words he can manage before shifting on the bed. His hands are on my back, undoing the bustier and freeing my breasts from their prison.
The bed shifts again before Taylor’s hands cup my breasts. He pulls one nipple into his mouth and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. He gently pushes against the center of my chest, helping me to lay flush against the mattress.
I sense he’s hovering over me before speaking one word: “Open,” a command he often uses in bed whether referring to my mouth or my legs. I oblige by opening my mouth after the tip of his erection grazes my lips. As his cock hits my tongue, I reach my hands up to grip his thighs, anchoring my body for his imminent intrusion. He starts off slow and gentle, allowing my mouth and jaw time to accommodate his girth. Quickly though, he picks up the pace, thrusting hard and fast, hitting the back of my throat as I try to keep up. It’s less like I’m sucking him off and more like my mouth is hanging open as he takes what he wants.
Groaning, I hear him whisper “Fuck, babe” before pulling out of my mouth completely.
The bed shifts once more as he lifts off of me. He nudges my legs apart and kneels between them and captures my mouth in a searing kiss. His erection hovers at the entrance to my core, teasing the sweet spot between my legs. As he teases my opening, I allow my fingers to trail down my stomach so I can focus on the magic button itself. I begin to work myself up, my fingers circling over my clit with a rhythm and pressure that has been perfected over the years.
Taylor rolls over my body and lays to my right. Sliding his fingers up my leg, he pushes my hand out of the way and off my clit, taking over what I was doing with his own hand. “You know it’s always better when someone else gets you off,” he whispers in my ear, my only response being a moan of affirmation.
I’m close. My legs straighten as my body tenses, preparing for release. “Don’t stop,” I beg him, one hand gripping his thigh and the other curled around the sheets as he continues to furiously push me toward climax.
“Remove the blindfold,” he demands, sensing I’m close to orgasm. The blindfold makes no difference anyway as my eyes are squeezed shut with my head thrown back in ecstasy.
“Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” I half moan, half scream as my legs clamp around Taylor’s hand, not allowing him to pull away even if he wanted.
All too soon, the euphoria ends and the hand rubbing my clit quickly moves from pleasure to pain as my hyper-sensitive bud relaxes, forcing me to push his hand away to end the torture. I’m left feeling drunk from the high, my eyes fighting to stay open.
“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, babe; I’m not quite done with you.” He changes positions and once more finds himself kneeling between my legs. Pushing his fingers between my folds, he ensures I’m ready for him and groans in appreciation. Aligning his cock with my entrance, he teases me, spreading my wetness up and hitting my clit, eliciting a hiss to escape my lips from the soreness of my sensitive bud.
Abruptly he slams into me, causing me to gasp at the sudden fullness. He briefly pauses, giving me time to adjust to his size.
“You’re so wet, babe,” he says before slowly retreating and slamming into me once more.
I’m not one of those women you always read about who can orgasm on command – hell; I can’t even orgasm from penetrative sex alone. Luckily, I found a man who always ensures I’m taken care of one way or another. And just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t stop him from trying to get me off during sex. He reaches his hand between us to once again start rhythmically rubbing my clit. The sensation is too much, teetering precariously on the line between pleasure and pain.
Between his pounding into me and the pressure placed on my clit, I can’t help but let out a scream so wild it’s cathartic to the pain. From the moment my husband enters me, it is as if a wild animal possesses him and it is immediately a frenzied race to the finish. He pounds into me, unrelenting in his chase to release. He lifts my legs, angling my hips to get deeper and hitting my sweet spot over and over again.
“Oh, fuck,” he half-says, half-moans as he stills, his muscles taut from his release. As exertion takes over, he collapses onto me, quickly rolling to the side so as to not crush me under his weight. He leans in and kisses my cheek, both of us too exhausted and sated to move or talk. In what seems like seconds, my husband’s breathing steadies with sleep.
As I roll out of bed, the sticky wetness of cum slides down my thigh. I try not to drip onto the floor as I awkwardly waddle to the bathroom to clean myself up. Gazing unfocused into the mirror, I think about the conversation my husband and I had a few weeks ago.
“Sage, I don’t understand what the big deal is. You were on birth control before we had Lennon so why not go back on it?”
“Because I shouldn’t have to put those extra hormones into my body again, and frankly I don’t want to. The side effects were brutal – weight gain, migraines, mood swings. I’m feeling so much better now since I’m off them. You’re not the one altering your body just to have safe sex.”
“Safe sex with your husband! How many married couples do you know that use condoms? Sage, you know how I feel about them.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “You sound like a frat boy trying to coerce a virgin into unprotected sex, Taylor. It’s a fucking condom, not the end of the world. If you would reconsider –”
“Don’t even suggest another kid, Sage.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he says, “You know damn well how much I love Lennon so don’t even try to turn this around on me. But you know I never wanted kids before we had Lennon.”
“And we got pregnant with her while I was on the pill! Why would you want me to go back on it and risk getting pregnant a second time, then? If it’s such a big deal to you, why don’t you go get snipped? Vasectomies are reversible if, by some miracle, you’d ever change your mind.”
“Why should I have to undergo a procedure just to have sex with my wife?”
“Why should I alter my body just to have sex with my husband?”
We were at a standstill, neither side wanting or willing to cave. A few days after the argument, I received a phone call from the hospital as the emergency contact regarding Taylor’s upcoming procedure. I’m sad to say I don’t even know who the nurse was who called even though we’re apparently coworkers.
Taylor and I never discussed the phone call. I waited for him to mention it to me, so I never brought it up myself in hopes he would finally confide in me. It never happened, and one day he stopped wearing condoms and that was that.
After cleaning myself up, I tiptoe back to bed and climb in, careful not to disturb Taylor. As I curl up on my side, he puts his arm around me, caging me into his body as I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 3
Lexi
I SETTLE INTO MY WRITING chair, placing my steaming mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table to my right and sitting my laptop on, well, my lap. I pull open the gray black-out curtains that usually obscure the view to our massive backyard, allowing for natural light and a breathtaking view of the falling snow. Our expansive backyard is left untouched, the fresh snow glistening in the early evening sun. Outside it is quiet, a heavy blanket of snowfall silencing life beyond these doors. The eerie quiet, while tranquil and welcoming when outside, somehow simultaneously makes everything sound louder in these four walls.
The view is serene. It’s the perfect place to clear my mind and get lost in my writing. As the late afternoon sun descends lower and finally sets, I lose track of time, as I so often do when I write. Reading and writing has always been a cathartic escape from reality I have readily welcomed with open arms and an open mind. I live vicariously through every character; their lives, their stories, and the distraction they bring, give me a sense of calm nothing else can.
I get so lost in writing the perfect love story for my newest heroine I don’t even hear Grayson come home. It’s food I smell the before my husband even enters the room. When he comes into view, he clutches a takeout bag in each hand. After placing the food on the table, he walks over to me. I push my glasses atop my head so they don’t interfere with our greeting. He leans down to kiss me, his barely six foot frame still towers over my mere five feet. He brushes his rogue hairs out of his eyes for the brief contact our lips make. It’s short but so incredibly sweet. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of kissing my husband.
I really got myself a good one. Not only is my husband exceedingly thoughtful, but he’s also extremely handsome. His shaggy, sandy blond hair falls into his eyes, caused from running his fingers through it and tugging on it during a long, hard day of work. He’s a businessman, working with finances or taxes or something. I’m not really sure what he does on a day to day basis.
“I know you’ve been working on your deadline, so I figured I’d stop and pick up some food on my way home.” Walking back to the table, he takes the Chinese containers and chopsticks to each of our place settings.
“You’re too good to me; you’re spoiling me for other men,” I joke, a smirk on my lips. I sit down at the table catty-corner to my husband and we eat right out of the takeout containers and share food off one another’s chopsticks like we’re two teenagers in love.
After dinner, Grayson ascends to his office, as he so often does, working into the late evening hours. I’m about to sit down to continue writing when I hear my phone ringing from across the room. Fumbling, I finally manage to dig it out of my purse, where I must’ve left it after lunch with the girls.
Out of breath from rushing to answer before I miss the call, I check the caller ID. It’s Caroline. “Hey, Care.”
“I want to go skiing,” she states instead of greeting me back.
“I’m sure Parker would approve,” I joke, returning to my writing chair. As if Caroline Sinclair needs approval from her husband.
“Not only with Parker! I want us all to go skiing – you, Grayson, Sage, Kennedy, everyone. Just for a weekend – maybe next month? This will sound bad, but I don’t want the kids to go. God love them, but we need a break. That should give everyone enough time to arrange their schedules and get a sitter. Plus we can stay at my parent’s place in Aspen. What do you think?”
“But it’s so cold here already; why don’t we go somewhere warm?” I’m whiny, I know, but the temperature hasn’t been above freezing in over a week; I could use some sun and sand.
“Well, flying to Mexico is more expensive and further away than Colorado. Come on, Lex! It’s not like you can’t do your job anywhere!”
“I’ll talk to Grayson. As long as it’s after my deadline, I’m in.”
“Yay! I’ll text the girls and talk to you later.” She ends the call and I head upstairs to talk to Grayson about this mini-vacation.
I know he hates when I interrupt him while he’s working, so I rap on the door with my knuckles in a light, hesitant knock. When he doesn’t answer, I crack it open enough to pop my head in and whisper his name. My jaw drops before I’m able to get another word out. My husband’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, his jaw slack, his arm moving furiously under his desk, which ultimately means one thing.
“Oh my God, are you masturbating?” I hear the porn moan come through the speakers and it is confirmed.
“Shit, Lex,” he stares at me dumbfounded, eyes wide. His body is frozen stiff, no pun intended.
“Please, don’t let me stop you.” I smirk. Why is it so hot to watch your man get all primitive and wild, working himself into a frenzy toward his release?
“Are you mad?”
“No, baby, I’m not mad. I don’t care that you’re watching porn. Though, I am a little upset you didn’t ask me to join you.” I pout, turning on my flirtatious charm. No matter how long you’re in a relationship, married or not, it’s always fun to flirt.
“Oh, is my baby feeling frisky?” He’s flirting back, but he suddenly gets serious and his face goes from playful to somber as his mood changes. “Look, I’m sorry, Lex. You’ve been so stressed about your deadline so I didn’t want to bother you, and –”
“Exactly! I have been stressed, which is exactly why I could use some release.” I walk toward him and sit on the edge of his desk. “Besides, how can you even still be horny? I didn’t think my body was capable of having as much sex as we’re having. And if my body can’t handle it, how can yours?”
I have to admit — it’s a little weird having a heart-to-heart discussion with my husband while he’s still gripping his hard-on with the sounds of slapping flesh and over-exaggerated moans in the background. Distracted, I finally glance at the screen and notice Grayson’s porn of choice is a two-woman, one man threesome.
“Real nice, Grayson.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
Grayson was the stereotypical frat boy in college. He was half player, half douche. His family was rich, always making those pesky donations to his school to keep him out of trouble. If his sandy blond hair and hazel eyes weren’t enough to attract girls like flies, his trust fund certainly didn’t hurt. Anyone can overlook an obnoxious personality when the dollar signs flash bright enough. Since girls always flock in packs, Grayson also often enjoyed them in packs. In other words, he’s no rookie when it comes to a threesome. He was open with me about his past since day one, not wanting anything to shock me or catch me off guard, but just because he was honest about it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“What?” He eyes me with confusion. His eyebrows pull together and his forehead furrows as he tries to figure out my abrupt mood change. I help him out, pointing to his computer screen and drawing his attention back to the porno.
“Just forget it. “I huff and turn around to leave him to get back to his business.
“What do you want, Lex?” Grayson asks. His voice oozes with exasperation as if being interrupted while masturbating justifies his attitude. He places his hands on his desk in front of him, blocking his lower half so I no longer have to stare at his erection.
