Her entire body jerked and I knew I'd found it. I pressed my fingers against it as I took her clit between my lips. She wailed, pulling on my hair hard enough to hurt. I felt her body contract as she came, her pussy squeezing my fingers. Fuck! I could only imagine feeling that around my cock.
I continued working on her clit and g-spot, drawing out her orgasm until she was babbling in Czech. I raised my head and slid my fingers out of her, watching as a shiver ran through her. I reached over to my bedside table and pulled out a condom. I wasn't sure how long I would last, but I was confident I could get her to come at least one more time.
I held up the condom and looked down at her. As much as I ached to be inside her, I was going to make sure this was what she wanted.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Ano.” She nodded her head. “Yes.” Her eyes were almost black with desire.
I rolled the thin latex down, stroking myself slowly as I leaned over her and I positioned myself at her entrance. “Slow?” I needed to know because my control was slipping.
She shook her head. “Fast.” She grabbed my hips.
I surged forward, burying myself inside her in one long thrust. She cried out, her body arching against mine, pushing me deeper and harder. Her fingers flexed as she slid her hands around to my ass. I felt the unspoken encouragement and began to move. Deep thrusts over and over again. She hooked her ankles behind my knees, giving herself the leverage to meet every stroke and changing the angle of penetration so that the base of my cock rubbed against her clit and the head of it pushed against her g-spot. It was one of those rare moments where all of the pieces came together without any effort.
I lowered my head without breaking our rhythm and took her nipple between my teeth. I didn't bite down – I wasn't sadistic – but I did nip and suck, using her gasps and moans as indications of how much she liked it. I felt her body start to shudder and knew she was close. I sucked the hard little point into my mouth and picked up the pace. I wouldn't last much longer and I didn't want to make her come, then build toward another one I couldn't finish.
She cried out my name as she came, every muscle tightening around me. Her spasming channel contracted around my cock, massaging it and driving me over the edge. I released her breast and pressed my face against her as my hips began to jerk. I groaned as pleasure washed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. It had been too long since I'd come and I felt all the tension of the past few weeks finally easing away.
I collapsed on her, unable to hold myself up. I knew I would need to roll over, but for the moment, I was unable to do anything but catch my breath and listen to her jagged breaths and the rapid beating of her heart under my ear.
There were doubts and questions lurking, waiting to pounce, but for the moment, they were kept at bay and I let myself bask in the aftermath of good sex. I'd deal everything else tomorrow.
I rolled off of her and tossed the condom into the nearby trashcan. I didn't want to think about anything else at the moment. Not about if or how this would change things. Not about whether or not it would be prudent to let her sleep here instead of sending her back to her room. All I wanted to do at the moment was sleep.
I pulled the covers over us, wrapped my arm around Livie's waist as she snuggled back against me, and let my eyes close.
Chapter 15
Blayne
The first thing I realized when I woke up was that I wasn't hung over. That was a plus. It meant I hadn't drunk as much last night as I thought I had. It also meant I hadn't been as drunk as I thought when I'd kissed Livie.
Shit.
The memory hit me. I hadn't just kissed her. I'd fucked her.
Shit, shit, shit!
This had the potential to be very bad.
Or, I countered as I forced myself to open my eyes, it could be really good. I was facing the wall so I carefully rolled over. The bed was empty. Okay, that could go either way. If she'd stayed, she could've been expecting too much and turned into some clingy woman who thought we were in love, so I wasn't sure that not finding her was necessarily a bad thing. On the other hand, if she'd woken up completely freaked out and left me, it could be bad. I could only imagine having to explain to my father that my wife left me because we'd had sex.
There was no note, so that was good. The blankets and pillow were rumpled, but cold so she hadn't gotten up recently. I pushed myself up and saw my clothes from the night before still on the floor. Hers were gone. Again, it could be taken either way.
I climbed out of bed, unsure if I should dress and then go look for her, or shower first. I sniffed myself. I smelled like sweat and sex. If I found her like this, she might take things the wrong way and think I was some sleazy guy who'd seduced her. But I didn't want to be all formal now either. And, if things had gone as bad as they could go, I'd have to leave the apartment to look for her. I really didn't want to go like this, especially since one of my dad's spies might spot me and think that Livie had left after catching me with another woman.
My brain felt like it was on overload. I needed a shower, as much to clear my head as anything else.
I didn't take long, not wanting to make things worse if she was pissed at me. I pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed a shirt, just in case I had to go after her. I was at the door when I smelled it.
Bacon.
She was cooking breakfast. My stomach growled and I remembered that I hadn't eaten much the day before. I didn't know if the breakfast was for just her or for both of us, but I took it as a good sign that she hadn't freaked out and run.
Maybe, I thought as I headed down the hall, I’d catch a break and things wouldn't be weird. Maybe this would actually be better.
When I'd first decided to do this, I'd resigned myself to being around a smoking hot woman with a sexy accent and not doing a thing about it. She'd probably been the first woman I'd ever actually told myself was off-limits. And probably the only one I'd ever enjoyed talking to without the express purpose of seduction. It wasn't like we were friends, exactly, but I'd thought that was where we would end up by the time this was done. I'd never had a woman who was just a friend before.
Now, we'd slept together and that would change things. I still didn't want a relationship with her. Not a romantic one anyway. I didn't want a wife and in three years, I'd still want my freedom. I didn't want to have sex with only her while we were married. The idea of only being with one person for even that amount of time freaked me out. But, I couldn't say I found the idea of having an in-house friend with benefits to be entirely unappealing.
I wondered if she was already thinking along those same lines or if I'd have to talk her into it. Obviously she wasn't going to enforce the whole 'no sex' part of our contract. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t go back to that. I had to admit, I'd be a little disappointed if, after last night, sex was completely off the table again.
It had been amazing. The feel of her skin against mine. How her body had moved beneath me, with me. The scent of her mingled with the alcohol we'd had to drink. The taste of her. How hot her mouth had been and the extreme pleasure of having her sucking on me. What it had been like inside her.
My erection pressed against my zipper.
Dammit. I should've known better than to think about sex this early in the morning. I was usually pretty good when it came to stamina and recovery, but first thing in the morning, I never had a problem getting it up at least twice. I frowned. Now that I thought of it, maybe never spending the night had been a stupid thing. My frown turned into a smile. Livie was just down the hall now. In the morning.
Oh, yeah, what had happened last night could definitely turn into a good thing.
I just had to make sure she didn't read too much into it. She was a reasonable person though. Sensible, matter-of-fact. She had plans and lists. I doubted she'd be all emotional about things. She probably already had a list of twenty-five pros and cons to continuing to have a non-romantic physical relationship.
I hoped at least one of those reasons was that I was a good lay.
I entered the kitchen but stopped in the doorway and enjoyed the view.
Livie was standing at the stove. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up and it was untucked, giving her a much more relaxed appearance than was her normal state. Her hair was pulled up, but rather than her usual tight ponytail or other up-do, it was a sloppy ponytail that held her curls in an attractive mess.
My stomach clenched at the memory of those curls spread out on the bed while I'd gone down on her, then when I'd been above her. They were as soft as they looked and I had the sudden urge to bury my hand in them. I wondered if she'd let me do that if I took her from behind...
I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of things other than sex with Livie.
Rotting meat.
Sewage.
My high school art teacher naked.
That one did it. Nothing like good old Miss Havermash to kill the libido. Don't get me wrong. There were plenty of unattractive teachers I loved. Miss Havermash had been proud of the fact that she only bathed once a month and never shaved.
I opened my eyes. It was safe to approach now. I definitely wanted her again, but the need wasn't as urgent. It would give us time to figure out how this was going to work before we ended up in bed again.
I put my hand on the small of her back and leaned toward her as she turned.
She gave me a shove that knocked me back a couple feet.
“What was that for?” I asked, rubbing the spot on my chest where she'd made contact. It didn't exactly hurt, but it sure as hell hadn't been love tap either.
“May I remind you that we had an agreement? No physical contact that is not necessary in public to maintain the illusion.”
I frowned. She was seriously going to remind me of that now? “And what about last night? I mean, when we came back here, we sure as hell weren't in public?” If she thought last night was a mistake, that was one thing. This was something else. She was acting like I'd broken our agreement by trying to kiss her right now when she'd accepted a whole lot more than a friendly kiss not too long ago.
“I do not understand,” she said.
“That makes two of us, Liv.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I mean, you were fine with me kissing you last night. In fact, you were fine with a whole hell of a lot more than that.”
She glared at me. “What are you saying?”
“You're serious?” I stared at her. “It wasn't exactly like I seduced you last night. You were just as into it as I was.”
“Into what?”
“Dammit!” Why was she being so fucking obtuse? “Fucking, Liv! I want to know why the hell you're so pissed about me trying to give you a kiss this morning when we slept together last night.”
Her eyebrows shot up and she did nothing to mask the confused expression on her face. “This is not a funny joke, Blayne.”
“I'm not joking.” I'd never felt less like joking.
“And we did not have sex last night or ever.”
End of Vol. 1
Twisted Affair Vol. 2
Chapter 1
Blayne
I was confused.
Okay, that wasn't entirely accurate. The word wasn't quite strong enough to convey how fucked up I felt.
I was head-spinning, ass-backwards completely baffled. Perplexed. A plethora of synonyms. Each one ending in a giant question mark.
The last three weeks had been insanely weird. First, I drank so much that I passed out, stole a horse and was tossed in jail. That led to my father, the esteemed Benjamin Franklin Westmore Sr., deciding that if I didn't fix my mess of a life – live the way he wanted me to live – I would be heading toward my thirties with no money, no place to live, no car and no inheritance. Part of “straightening up” involved getting married.
And that’s how I – Blayne Westmore, committed lifetime bachelor and man whore – found myself standing in my penthouse kitchen with my wife.
Livie Dusek was a breathtakingly beautiful twenty-three year-old Czech immigrant who I'd met after leaving my parents' disastrous attempt at an arranged marriage. Through an odd set of circumstances, Livie and I had become engaged and then married within a week of her hauling my drunken ass home.
It had been set up as a business arrangement, of course. I would pay her to stay married for the three years my father insisted on and she'd added her own condition: no sex. No physical intimacy at all, actually. I hadn't minded, though she was hot enough to make me think twice. But then good ole daddy had added a little addendum to our agreement. Monogamy. Sleeping with anyone other than Livie violated my father's sense of propriety. In his mind, arranged marriages were okay, but fucking outside that arranged marriage was not. Stupid, I know.
Monogamy presented a whole new set of problems since Livie had been adamant about no touching outside of what was required for keeping up the ruse. No way in hell could I endure three days let alone three years of forced celibacy.
None of this was the reason for my current state, however. My latest dilemma was due to the gorgeous former model I was married to standing at the stove, looking at me as if I’d grown two heads. I'd met her last night at a club so we could talk about how we were going to deal with three years of sneaking around to have sex with other people. After we'd set up the guidelines, however, things had turned into something other than business.
To my surprise, she’d been all over me and we ended up having sex.
Here’s the thing. It wasn’t just 'not bad but I've had better' or 'this is going to be awkward because it wasn't that good' sex. No, we'd had 'come hard enough that I'd seen stars' sex. I supposed it was possible she'd faked her orgasms, but I doubted it. I'd slept with a lot of women and it wasn't just about the sounds. I'd felt her pussy contracting around my fingers and my cock. Possible to fake, but not something I thought she'd done. Maybe it was just the ego talking, but I was pretty sure she'd enjoyed herself as much as I had.
Again, not the confusing part. No… that had come not more than a minute ago when I'd tried to kiss her, hoping for a little early-morning action. She'd pushed me away and acted like I was infringing on her personal space. She even looked appalled. When I asked her what had changed since last night, she'd looked at me like I was crazy. I'd had to spell it out for her, and then she'd dropped the bombshell…
“...we did not have sex last night or ever.”
I stared at her. I wasn't one for sentimentality or dwelling on the past, but the sex last night was pretty unforgettable in my opinion. So much so that I wanted more and that wasn't normal for me. Usually, I was a one and done kind of guy; more than that made girls clingy. With Livie though, I could still see those caramel-colored curls spread out on my bedspread, her dark green eyes full of desire. I could feel her soft skin, the weight of her breasts. I could still taste her for shit’s sake.
And now she was saying we hadn't had sex? I mean, I understood having second thoughts, morning-after regrets. That was when people had awkward conversations or snuck out for a walk of shame. Since we were married and living together, the second option wasn't a possibility. I'd anticipated some weirdness. Maybe a conversation about how last night had been a huge mistake. How we shouldn't do it again. That would've made sense and I could've argued against it.
I just couldn't wrap my head around complete and total denial.
It wasn't even like she'd said it in a tone that implied she accepted what had happened, but didn't want to think about it or discuss it. No, this was the rebuff of the century. So much so, even my cock was embarrassed.
Maybe it was just a language barrier. That had to be it, right? Maybe she'd phrased things wrong, chosen a wrong word.
“There is extra bacon in the pan.” It took a full two minutes for the words to register. Livie had turned her attention back to the stove as if our ‘I did not have sex with that man’ conversation hadn’
t happened. “You are welcome to it.”
“Liv, we need to talk about what happened last night.”
She gave me a scathing look. “It is Livie, please.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Sorry. Livie.”
She sighed and turned around to face me, the expression on her face one of patient tolerance. “I apologize. I do not usually shorten my name.”
I nodded. “I'll try to remember that.”
I wasn't sure why it was a big deal. People had pet names for their significant others. It was probably something we should consider since it wasn't only my father watching to see if our marriage was a scam. The INS would be involved at some point, I was sure. Trying to get one over on them had some serious consequences, but this wasn't the time or the place to worry about nicknames giving things away. I had something more important in mind.
“Livie, we need to talk.”
“Blayne, I do not know why you are insisting on having a discussion about a night that didn’t happen.” She put some bacon on a plate with toast. “Are you sick?” She looked at me and I shook my head. “Do you wish to know where I was and what I was doing? I do not mind sharing with you if you are concerned about appearances, though it is not terribly exciting. I was working in my room.”
She turned toward me, holding up the spatula in a way that reminded me of the cook at Dad's house when she'd smack my knuckles for trying to steal cookie dough.
“Perhaps we should discuss boundaries regarding what we are required to share with each other. If you feel you need to know where I was, then I shall need to know where you were and who you were with.”
She walked past me without a second look. I, however, could only stare. I knew what that firm, tight ass felt like and it made me hard just looking at it. I didn't understand why she was trying to pretend that nothing happened. Did she get a concussion from where I rammed her into the headboard a little too hard?
Still stunned, a million questions went through my head.
Twisted Affair: The Complete Series Box Set Page 9