“Oh shit, I’m about to explode. Grace, I’m gonna come all over your tits.”
After a few more powerful thrusts, Seth pulled out and aimed over her stomach, the white spray of ejaculate landing over her stomach and breasts.
“Toss me another condom and the lube. It’s time to double-team. She’s good and horny now,” said Trevor.
Her legs flopped weakly open when the two men released their hold on her thighs.
“I’m getting in this time. Look, Grace, this is all for you,” said Bryce, stroking his big cock as he stood over her.
“Turn over, baby.”
Trevor had himself sheathed and lubed once again. This was his party, and he made the rules. When she returned to all fours, Bryce slipped down through her middle on his back once again. He fondled her breasts as Trevor pushed a thick wad of lubricant into her anus with two fingers. His cock came next. After shoving in a couple inches past her anal ring, he paused, allowing her time to adjust to the stretching. He began pumping, very slow at first, working into a steady rhythm. After about a minute, her discomfort vanished, and she found the sensations oddly enjoyable. New, more intense gratification flowed through her with each passing second.
“Okay, Grace, you’re doing perfect. Now, lower yourself over Bryce.”
Trevor pulled her upper body more erect until he had each breast in a hand, his dick still wedged in her ass. Bryce positioned his erection just under her hungry pussy. Trevor forced her lower, and the second penis found its target. He had to bang into her, past the tightness from the other shaft sharing her body. Once he was completely inside her, the sensation of fullness brought her instantly to orgasm. She screamed and both men started fucking her harder.
“Do you like being fucked up the ass, Grace? Tell me.”
She remained wordless, busy focusing on the acts being performed.
“Tell me!” he insisted.
“Yes,” she muttered.
“Yes, what?”
“Fuck me!”
“That’s not what I asked, Grace. Tell me you like being fucked up the ass. Tell James and Seth to suck your tits.”
She tried to stop her panting long enough to reply. “I love being fucked up the ass. Suck me, fuck me, do anything to me.”
Hungry mouths latched onto her breasts. Her nipples were like exposed wires, every suck causing surges of energy to strike into her pussy and ass.
Seth dangled his dick, already firming up, near her mouth. Young stud. Begging for a taste, she opened her mouth. When he moved closer, she closed her mouth over his shaft and savored the silky texture and the taste of her own fluid coating him.
“I want some ass too,” Seth said.
“Hey, it’s my turn.” James applied a condom to his erection and poured a healthy helping of lube to it. Her body was charged with excitement, so many men, so much desire.
Trevor pulled out and helped her to her feet, Bryce held her other side. They lifted her under her shoulders against Seth.
“Wrap your legs around him, Grace. Seth, find her pussy quick.”
She hissed when they impaled her on his dick. Seth kissed her with brutal passion. Trevor and Bryce supported her weight by the buttocks and armpits, so she wrapped her arms around Seth’s thick neck. She knew what was coming, and it excited her. But, when James slid into her tight ass and filled her body so full of masculine sex, she still moaned like a whore.
“Fuck, Trevor, this is heaven. So tight. So good.”
The two men at her sides supported her weight as Seth and James penetrated her roughly. She savored the fullness, the many levels of pleasure assaulting her. Within minutes, each man orgasmed, and those final wild pumps brought on her new release.
When they lowered her over the bench, she was barely conscious. She thrummed with an intoxicating rush of afterglow.
She heard the sound of material sliding over skin, zippers pulled, and cowboy boots stomped on. When she finally managed to slit open her eyes, only Trevor remained, fully dressed.
“Fun?”
She smiled lazily and managed to nod. Exhaustion fell over her like a heavy blanket, pulling her back into unconsciousness.
Chapter Twelve
Grace slept clean through the night until late morning the next day. By the time Trevor carried her to her bedroom from the barn the night before, the sun had long set. How many hours had they been at it in the tack room? At the time, she had only cared about melting into the soft comfort of her bed and going numb.
Voices in the hallway had her stirring. She glanced at the clock, eleven. Almost time for lunch, and damn, did she ever feel starved.
She still wore her clothes from the night before, minus her undergarments, and her shirt was backward and inside out. Trevor’s attempt to dress her. Time to hit the shower.
She returned to her room after nearly an hour of pampering: hair conditioning, shower, shaving, and makeup. The voices coming from Mr. Wagner’s office across the hall grew louder than earlier. She made out Mr. Wagner’s voice, and Scot’s. It wasn’t like either of them to get impatient, so she listened at the door, still as a statue after dressing.
“You’re going to let her get away with this? Don’t you even care? Dad, you can’t let Mom marry that bastard. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“Scot, she’s a grown woman. I don’t make her decisions for her.”
“Well, fight for her. Do something!” Scot shouted the last words, which made Grace jump away from the door.
Footsteps, more voices, and increased commotion began.
Ken’s voice.
Her body turned to ice, her heartbeat picked up double time, and a fine sweat broke free all over her. That voice. He conjured up a soul-deep fear within her. In an instant, she returned to that introverted girl with no self-esteem or ambition. She knew her general happiness would anger him. He thrived on her misery.
“They agreed on a month, not a lifetime,” Scot continued.
“Well, we’re in love, and it’s our decision, not yours, so back the fuck off.” Wait. Did Ken just admit to loving Mrs. Wagner?
“He won’t sign your papers, so keep them, and get off our property.”
“Scot, you should go,” said Mr. Wagner, his voice controlled and smooth. “I’ll discuss this with Mr. Cartwright.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. My mom should be here explaining herself, not him.”
“Only two people still need to sign papers. Your father and Grace.”
Her heart seized when he said her name. She thought it might never beat again.
The front door slammed as she climbed out the bedroom window and slunk around the house to the front. Scot leaned against the side of the house and spotted her as soon as she turned the corner. She froze midstride and locked eyes with him.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“Anywhere but here.”
A look of concern crossed his face. “You wanna get out of here? Come with me.”
She followed Scot to his car parked in the front of the house. The entire time, she only took shallow breaths, expecting Ken to burst out of the house any second. Only after they passed the gates welcoming them to the Wagner ranch did she take a full breath. She closed her eyes briefly as she crashed from the overload of instant stress relief.
“Thank you,” she managed to say.
“For what?”
“Saving me. I heard most of what was going on from my bedroom.”
He nodded, his eyes fixated on the dirt road in front of him. The sky seemed to darken, the clouds rolling in with a stiff breeze mirroring her shift in mood.
“Do you want to divorce your husband and marry my father?”
“No! Well, it’s complicated. For one, I don’t want to marry your father. I didn’t come here to break up your family. None of this was my choice or doing, I promise you that. But...”
“What?”
“The marriage I left behind wasn’t exactly a fairy tale, more the kind of stuf
f nightmares are made of.” The statement was perfectly honest. Scot deserved that much. “Where we going anyway?”
“My apartment.”
They travelled in silence the rest of the way. Grace stared out the window in a daze, thinking about her future and the choices she’d have to make. Although she was not exactly sure what had transpired back at the house, the gist of it was clear. Ken wanted out of the marriage. No jealousy or sadness bloomed within her, more relief if anything.
The town they entered lacked the modern amenities of her city. Hometown charm at its finest. The big house they approached had a red metal roof, white painted brick, and a wraparound porch. It had three mailboxes fixed near the front door, a triplex.
She followed Scot through the unlocked door and up three flights of creaky wooden steps to the loft. The ceiling slanted on either end, and no walls divided the large open space. It was easy to tell a bachelor occupied the space. A bachelor computer geek. Two desks were pushed together where two computers and an extra screen sat among stacks of disks and miscellaneous computer parts. Boxes lined the far wall in different states of being unpacked. The single bed in the corner remained unmade, and clothes covered the only sofa.
“You live here?” she asked in disbelief.
“I know. It’s a little messy.” He moved ahead of her, gathering clothes in his arms to make a clear space for her on the sofa.
“It’s not that. I mean, your dad’s rich, right? Why would you live in a shitty little apartment when you could have anything you want?”
“This is what I want.” He sounded offended. “I don’t need handouts. I can make my own way.”
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
He dragged a folding chair across the floor and sat backward on it in front of Grace.
“So…what are you doing here with my father? You said you’re not happy in your marriage and the wife swap wasn’t your idea, so why agree to it?”
She sighed. How could she explain the kind of control Ken had over her? “It’s complicated.”
“Did he force you?”
“Kind of. You don’t know Ken. He’s very aggressive, and when he sets his mind to something, you’d be a fool to get in his way.”
The muscles in Scot’s jaw clenched. “Then call me a fool because there’s no way I’m going to sit back while he marries my mother. She’s in way over her head.”
“Doesn’t she love your dad? I know he loves her.”
“She’s confused.” He rubbed his temples. “That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.”
“I’m not confused anymore,” she said. “I know what I have to do, but it won’t be easy.”
“A divorce?”
“I can’t go back to him. I don’t love him. I’m not even sure if I ever did, looking back.”
He ran his hand through his mop of hair and sat straighter in the chair. “What will you do?”
She gave a dry chuckle. “I’m a thirty-five-year-old woman who hasn’t held a job in three years, has no money, and has no friends. It won’t be easy starting over, but it’s a better option than living with him.” She laughed without humor. “Guess I don’t have a choice now either, considering he wants out of the marriage just as much.”
“He’s a fool. If you were mine, I’d never give you up.”
He held her gaze as heat radiated through her. Silence blanketed the space until, with acute senses, she heard each of them breathing. She looked at him through different eyes. No longer Mr. Wagner’s kid who despised her, she saw him for what he truly was: a twenty-eight-year-old man, not unlike his father, with rugged good looks and deep blue eyes. She noticed his broad shoulders and thick forearms, his lower lip slightly fuller, and a strong, handsome jawline.
What was she doing? Mr. Wagner’s son had to be off the menu. She had some boundaries, didn’t she?
“You wanna see some of my work?” he asked, changing the subject to neutral.
She quickly hopped on board, anxious for a distraction.
He pulled out his rolling computer chair for her to sit and leaned over the cordless keyboard. She loved his scent, clean and fresh. Irish Spring. With his torso stretched out in front of her as he played with the buttons, she couldn’t help but admire his toned form.
“There. What do you think?”
Huh? She looked at the two screens as he clicked through several pages.
“What is all this stuff? Are you some kind of designer?”
He smiled, something she never saw him do. It suited him. He had a wide, cute smile with a dimple up in his cheek and perfect white teeth. “I took computer design in college. I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“Your dad doesn’t approve?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure he’d rather me continue the family business and raise cattle. But, he’s got his replacement for that…since I didn’t turn out as he hoped.” Resentment rang in his voice.
“Are you talking about Trevor?”
He turned his head to glance at her but said nothing.
“You have to know your dad loves you, Scot. He talks about you all the time, and he’s even trying to get into computers to have something in common with you.”
“At least with Trevor he doesn’t have to try. He’s the son he really wanted.”
“Don’t say that. It’s not a competition.”
The screens went black, and Scot stood straight. “You want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
Uncomfortable much? She deliberately planted herself in the middle of a family drama. But Scot had to know the truth. Mr. Wagner had even told her that Scot was his pride and joy, his greatest possession in life. It pained her to see them pulled apart for no good reason.
She must like punishment because she couldn’t let it go. “Are you close with your mom?”
“She’s my mom.”
“Well, I’m not close with my parents either, if it’s any consolation. I think they’d be happier with me staying in a miserable marriage as long as everything looked good on paper.”
“I guess I’ll give you the same advice I should be giving myself then. Don’t care about what other people think, and live your own life. Of anyone, you know what’s best for you.”
“Glad to hear you have the theory down pat anyway.” She smiled at him. He carried her drink over, a chilled can of Coke. His body was looser, less tense than a minute ago. No need for them to be at each other’s throats or become enemies. They were just two travelers in life who happened to cross roads. Sometimes one just had to laugh at life, joke at all the surrounding misfortunes.
“Theories. So many things amaze me. For example, how my father became a billionaire with handwritten records and no knowledge of a computer.”
“He’s old school.”
They connected more, Mr. Wagner the bonding glue between them. “He doesn’t even own a television.”
“Television’s overrated anyway. I’d rather read.”
They made their way to the sofa, Scot tossing more clothes to a pile on the floor. “Really? What do like to read?”
She blushed. “Mostly romance. I need the escape most days.”
“Haven’t read much romance. I like sci-fi, some mystery.”
They continued to talk…about everything. Their favorite authors and books, what they studied in school, activities they participated in. Surprisingly, they had much in common, which enabled their conversation to deepen, become more intimate. She talked to him, like a person, like an equal. No act, no worries about what she may say wrong. This felt so natural, so right.
Hours passed by like seconds. Scot sat sideways on the sofa watching her, a barely there smile giving him a handsome glow. He assessed her with hooded eyes, perhaps changing his perceptions of her as a person, which she liked.
The phone rang, and Scot blinked a few times before snapping to attention. He went to answer it, and after a few minutes returned to Grace.
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“That was Jenna. Ken’s gone. He left the divorce papers at the house for you to sign.”
She exhaled, glad to hear he left.
“I can take you back now,” he offered, his hands in his pockets.
From his patience to his mannerisms, he reminded her of Mr. Wagner. “Back? To my pretend life? I don’t know where I belong anymore. Sometimes I think this life is more real than the one I left. At least here, I can be myself.”
“Then don’t go back. Sign the papers, and be done with it.”
“Then what?”
“Live your life. Do what you want.”
He held his hand out to help her up, which she accepted. She wouldn’t call his hands smooth, but not rough like Trevor’s or Mr. Wagner’s. “I don’t know what I want,” she muttered.
Scot steadied her with a hand to each upper arm, holding her in place. “Answer me one question?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Did you and my dad do anything together? I know he can’t, you know, but anything else?”
Why did he ask? She wondered if his only concern was his parents’ marriage or if he had a personal interest in her.
“Nothing. I promise. I’ve only been here a couple weeks, but I love your dad…like a father. He’s never tried anything either. Not once.” She hoped the information calmed any fears he had about his father. Mr. Wagner was a good man, and in no way did she want to be the catalyst to further pull apart their father-son relationship. It already saddened her that they weren’t closer.
Scot cupped her cheek, which surprised her. He didn’t seem the affectionate type, and he’d only ever been standoffish with her at the ranch.
“I’m glad.”
Chapter Thirteen
The divorce papers? Try a divorce bible. A stack of fine print so high, it would take the next two weeks just to read. New thoughts crossed her mind as she flipped through the pages. Why should she start over with nothing? Ken started the divorce process, and she shouldn’t be the one to suffer. He acquired most of his wealth since their marriage, and some of that should belong to her. God knows he played the relative angle often enough, letting every business contact know he had married an Ellis.
Saving Grace Page 8