He avoided looking at her, but she could see the tension in his face.
When she rinsed the dishes, she hoped he would hug her as he had done the previous night. He did not, but she felt his eyes on her. Why do you look at me when you know I can't see?
She expected him to take her to the store and waited for something to be said, but nothing was. Having all the cleaning done so she could take a day off for herself, she decided to go for a walk. A stroll through his orchards might help clear her mind or give her insight.
She noticed him out of the corner of her eye giving her a strange look when she went out the front door.
A chill wind blew and a cold sun greeted her. The trees surrounding the property on three sides whispered promises to her with the wind. The cold was not enough to deter her and she wandered into the bright gold of the autumn peach trees. Golden leaves on the trees moved in the wind and sun and also shifted gracefully on the ground.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Blake and Trent were on her mind, chasing her through corridors of questions. Why had Trent traded her for a truck? Even if it was temporary, shouldn't their love have kept them together? Wasn't that how all the songs went? And why had Blake become interested in her? Was it interest? Was it fascination? Was it just her worn jeans that hadn't seemed to impress him this morning?
She looked up and closed her eyes, letting the sun rest on her face. What do I do? I love my husband and yet I find myself thrilled with his friend in a way I shouldn't. What's happening?
Running steps broke her probing thoughts. She blinked her eyes open and looked to see Blake trotting to her through the leaves.
His look was angry and curious, a mixture of conflict that created within her a tension and caused her shoulders to clench. He said, "Are you all right?" His eyes told her he expected a certain answer.
The strength she saw in those blue eyes and the determination in the lines of his jaw melted her insides to jelly. She stammered, "Y—Yes. Why?"
He scowled, his eyebrows drawn down. "I don't want to be doing something that causes you pain."
She searched his eyes and face, looking for a trace of something she could use to decipher his puzzle. "I'm…"
He gripped her shoulders, looking more intently at her. "I'm trying to control myself; I want you to know that."
Why? She blinked, wondering why she was thinking that. Did she really want him to let go? Should she? Her husband flashed through her mind; he was somewhere to the north, working for them and hoping for a better future for them together. Should she be standing here in the leaves with his friend? But there was nothing wrong with what she was doing, really. She was just standing there.
He was gripping her still, searching her face.
They stood in the orchard of trees with only the wind stirring the leaves for sound.
She felt at peace, but at the same time filled with a yearning tension that was grasping for something unseen. She felt the immediacy of need for action, but couldn't discern what it was. Was she supposed to twist from his grip? Slip away and let him deal with his own tortured efforts of control? Why didn't she want to? Was she supposed to stand still and hope his will was strong enough for both of them? And did she want him to be strong?
She stood on the edge of something high, but was as fragile as one of the leaves beneath their feet.
Blake shook her, ever so gently, his mouth twisted in determination. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes frantically searching hers. His fingers gripped tighter on her shoulders but whatever he was about to say, he didn't. He snapped his mouth shut in a firm line and turned away.
She watched him stride through the leaves as if striding towards his destiny – away from her.
Stunned loss replaced whatever yearning tension had been there. Had she missed something? Had he been about to say something devastating? Had she missed an opportunity to draw it out of him? Why didn't I act, instead of thinking?
She watched him enter the barn.
Loud clanging sounds echoed out angrily. It sounded as if he was throwing things methodically around.
She stood there, mouth opened, wondering after him. Alone in the leaves with the wind, she listened to the slow cacophony of metallic impacts from the barn. Something metal went spinning across the floor of the barn, making that wobbling sound as would a trash can lid settling loudly on concrete. What's he doing in there?
More banging, this time faster, as if he were punching something, or kicking it.
Is he angry at me? And why? For wearing the old jeans?
A growl emanated from the barn with the cessation of sound.
~ ~ ~
Molly sat on the couch, watching him come and go about the house. He seemed focused on one thing, then something else, moving with a purpose that said he was going to accomplish something.
Finally, he stood before her, fists and teeth clenched. "Bird season starts Tuesday. Don't hunt bird much, but think I'll take off for a week. We can go to the store and get you stocked up."
She stood. A week? What? "Wait, you're leaving?"
He gave an abrupt nod. His blue eyes were sharp and loaded.
She clutched his arm. "Don't go."
"I can't stay here—"
"Why?"
He jerked his arm back, but she held on. He said, "I need to get away."
From me. "Why? I don't want you to go. Is it because of me?"
He went still and silent. After a deep breath, he said, "Yes."
"Why?" Her voice held a high quaver.
He pressed his lips together in effort, breathing through his nose. Through clenched teeth, he said, "Because I want you like no other woman."
Ice flowed down her spine and she dropped her mouth open in surprise. Warmth flowed up from her pussy and collided with the ice in a spray of shivers that sent tremors through her limbs.
He sighed again, straightening. "And you're married to my friend."
She gripped his arm tighter, not wanting to let go, now that she knew his struggle. "But—"
"I need to get away."
"I don't want you to."
His jaw clenched. "Don't you understand? It's all I can do to keep my hands off you." He bent his head towards her to give force to his words. "I need you. I want you and I can't have you." He started to pull back.
Her hands clawed. Act and stop thinking! "Wait, maybe we can help each other." Her mind was flying in every direction. Help each other? Why did I say that? I want to feel him, touch him, feel his touch.
He frowned. "Help each other? How?"
That's what I'd like to know. Maybe the truth… "I heard you the other night…"
"Heard me? What?" His eyes drew down in suspicion.
"I…" She swallowed. "I wanted to apologize and went to your bedroom. I heard you…call my name."
He was as still as a pillar.
She pulled on his arm, thinking fast, and grabbing at the first thought that came to her mind. "Maybe you could help me talk to my husband." She blushed, unable to believe what she was thinking.
"Huh?" He looked completely confused.
Don't think about it. Just say it. "Could I…play with you while I talk to him? I could pretend it's him…" She pulled his arm again, quivering with fright, panic, and desperation. "Please?"
"Play with me while you talk to Trent? So you can imagine it's him?"
"Yes."
She heard her cell phone. Answer me, Blake, please. Hurry. She pulled his arm again.
He sighed through gritted teeth, but his voice was a guttural whisper and a fire was in those blue eyes. "I'll do it."
CHAPTER 10
Molly raced for the bedroom, pulling Blake with her. The tremors in her limbs became worse; she almost felt as if she were vibrating.
She snatched up the cell phone. "Take your pants off." A panic was in her voice and thoughts. I'm doing this? Really? Me?
He removed his jeans.
She answered. "Hello?"
T
rent's voice bombarded her with guilt. "Hi, hun." He groaned on the other end, as if stretching. "How's it going there?"
She opened her mouth, watching Blake kick off his jeans. "It's going."
He sighed on the other end. "I swear I could sleep all day."
She motioned to Blake's boxers and pointed down, a thrill pushing in and making a counterattack against the guilt. The phone call, if anything, gave her enough courage by its immediacy to do something she might have never done – a release from the tension of needing to do something, if anything at all. She got on the bed. "Are you getting enough to eat?"
Blake straightened from removing his boxers. The head of his cock hung swollen, just peeking out from under his shirt.
Molly's eyes were large and her breathing was rapid. Simple words. Action. Not endless thinking about what might happen. This is the result and it was so easy.
Trent said, "Yup. No problem there. I guess we're both eating better, huh?" He laughed.
Blake motioned questioningly to the bed.
"Yes," she said to both.
Blake climbed up and rested his back up against the headboard. She scooted to his side and looked in wonder at his hardening cock. I'm actually doing this! No way, it was so easy. She reached out and paused just before touching it. Her thoughts tried to intrude, bringing self-doubt and guilt for company. She pushed her thoughts firmly away.
Trent said, "Do you eat with him?"
She dropped her shaking hand down onto Blake's erection and closed her eyes. "Yes…"
"Oh, I didn't know if he made you eat separate or something."
She moved her hand along its length and gently squeezed the helmet. "No, he's not like that." Touching another man's cock while talking to her husband did sort of link her to him in a way and gave her a little more courage and comfort to handle Blake's erection.
"Miss me?"
She began stroking Blake's shaft. "Yes, it's hard."
Her husband sighed. "Aw, I love you, Molly."
Act. Stop thinking about everything or you'll never stop being abandoned, dumped, and forgotten. She bent over and pulled her hair back. "I love you, too." She opened her mouth and placed it over Blake's cock, sliding her lips down his shaft. He tasted so good and his erection stuffed her mouth. Suck him. Suck him and just do it; don't think.
"It's awful lonely up here. Work around a bunch of guys. I feel really sorry for all the single men; they're all chasing after the same few women who live up here."
She moved her head faster up and down, enjoying the solid shaft brushing back and forth in her mouth. She pulled off and licked her lips. "Sounds like the women are in the sweet spot. Don't have to settle for the first guy that comes along." She used her hand to stroke Blake. His eyes were shut and there was a look of relaxation on his slack face.
Her husband laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could look at it that way. But the poor guys."
"What do you do with rebar, anyway?" She lowered her mouth back down and sucked.
"Oh, that was just the first couple weeks. Building some forms. I work with the mud crew now."
She listened to her husband describe what the mud was for though she wasn't really paying attention. She sucked and stroked, marveling at Blake's erection. He wasn't huge, but he had a perfect shape to his circumcised cock. Not huge, but still longer than her husband.
An ache twisted in her and she stroked him faster.
Trent said, "I wish there was time to come see you or a way to bring you up here. I miss sleeping next to you."
"I miss you, too."
"I miss the other stuff, too." He chuckled.
So did she. "I'm sort of thinking about that right now." She lowered her mouth again and gave Blake a big suck. He was panting. She heard her husband sigh on the other end as she sucked hard up and down on Blake's cock.
Trent groaned. "Torturing myself isn't going to do any good. Guess I'll get my shopping out of the way. Need to buy some more lunchmeat."
She went back to stroking and licked her lips. "Okay." That's okay, dear. You dumped me for a truck and I have a handful of cock right now. But she didn't feel all of the anger for it. Hiding there with the resentment was the love she still had for her husband.
Trent hummed on the other end. "I'll give you a call tomorrow night around seven. Let you know how my lottery tickets go."
Great. "Okay."
"I love you." Her husband's voice sent serenity over the lines and into her soul.
Her hand slowed on Blake's cock and she sighed peacefully. "I love you, too."
Blake got off the bed after the call ended.
She looked at him in confusion – the look on his face was accusatory.
He said, "Is that what you wanted?"
Oh no, did I do something that damaged something? Her eyes large and panicked, she said, "Yes, thank you."
He stooped and scooped his boxers and jeans. With a twist of his mouth, he left the room.
What did I do? I wanted to feel you, Blake. Why are you so mad?
~ ~ ~
She came out of her room and worried over nothing in the kitchen: it was clean. Instead, she worried inside. Did I totally blow it? Was my lame excuse to want to imagine my husband too lame? Does he think I'm weird? Why didn't I think this through? Why did I have to act instead of thinking about it?
His entry into the kitchen was startling.
She jumped and grabbed her shirt. "Oh, it's you."
He stared at her for the longest time, a tense silence stretching between the two that left her breathless. He took two steps and gripped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You didn't use me to imagine your husband, did you?"
Convulsive trembles tore through her. Her voice was a whisper. "No."
She was lifted suddenly in a scoop that took her feet out from under her. She was hefted easily in his arms. Her squawk of surprise sounded so much like a dippy duck.
He carried her out of the kitchen.
"What are you doing? What's wrong?"
His voice was gravel and lava. "I'm going to give you what you need."
"What?"
He strode into the bedroom and tossed her down onto the bed.
She bounced, legs and arms flailing.
He grabbed her legs and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing? Wait."
"Waiting's done." He yanked on her jeans button, undoing it with a jerk.
"You can't do this; I'm married."
"Sort of like how you blew me but you're married?"
She gasped as he pulled down her jeans. She struggled up and he pushed her back down. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but he was already yanking her jeans down over her knees. Her pussy was exposed and his eyes lit hungrily on it, like a wolf slavering over meat. She gasped. "You can't—"
"I can and will. I want you and I'm going to have you."
Explosions of lust, guilt and passion threw rainbows of color through her mind, even though her eyes weren't really registering much in her panic. Her knees were forced open. Her chest heaved as if she were drowning and gulping water but getting no air.
Then his tongue touched her pussy and everything she was and felt went spinning out of the window. She lost control and flopped limply on the bed as his tongued torched a scorching fire up her pussy and deep up inside.
She heard herself cry out in tension and relief, though she felt no control over the sounds she was making.
He savaged her clit with his tongue, driving an enormous, unseen wedge of ache twisting up her insides. The hair rose on her arms and even they felt filled with tension. She panted faster, driven by the soft mash of his tongue on her.
She felt her pussy lips spread to the invasion of his fingers. Spirals of spiky pleasure ripped up her waist, tickling the area where the top of her thighs melded with her lower abdomen. She cried out again, gasping faster and groaning when she could. His fingers moved, pushing at the ache and giving waves of temporary relief. But the a
che kept coming back stronger. The tension increased in her until she felt as if her trembling was vibrating the entire bed. She felt fragile, on the edge of a mighty fall – barely able to breathe.
His fingers curled up and his mouth sucked at her clit. The dual change tossed her fast over the edge and she was consumed immediately by a crushing wave of release. Tension exploded into a million fragments of pleasure and tingled along her limbs. She cried out loudly at the shock, then gasped as the tension came back again with a ferocity that shook her even harder.
Her body convulsed repeatedly, sending away the waves of tension with explosive releases that became almost painful with pleasure. She panted loudly as the waves slowed, and finally pushed Blake's head away.
Her clit tingled and pulsed with relief. She blew out a large, shaky breath. "Wow." Tingles ran up her body in a spray of sensuality and satisfaction. She looked along her body.
Blake was standing, removing his clothes.
Her eyes went large. "Um…"
He stopped, mid-button on his shirt. His cock was already half hard and bobbing gently. "What?"
"I…don't know." Should I? I'm married to Trent; I can't let Blake fuck me. That would be adultery. But isn't this what I want? What if I let him? What if he treats me like a slut after? What if Trent finds out? What if—
A scowl settled on Blake's face. He bent down and picked up her jeans. He tossed them down on the bed beside her. "Get dressed."
But—
He turned and left the room.
Wait…
CHAPTER 11
Molly cried silently in her room. Why did I stop him? Why can't I be more decisive? Why did I get dumped here and left alone? Why am I faced with choices I can't seem to make?
She made him dinner; she made nothing for herself.
He scowled at her, anger in his face.
Maybe I was right to stop him. He hates me now because I didn't put out.
His look got worse as she stood there, arms crossed, and watched him eat.
He finally said, "Why aren't you eating?"
My Husband Traded Me Page 5