Hungry Like the Wolf
By
Mandy Monroe
© copyright by Mandy Monroe, October 2010
Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, October 2010
ISBN 978-1-60394-464-9
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
With a stifled gasp, Nicole pushed back her desk chair and got up stiffly from her seat to rub her now numb butt. Wryly shaking her head, she grimaced as the deluge of pins and needles assailed her from, what felt like, head to toe. As the annoying prickling tingles attacked her lower limbs, she took a few stumbling steps from her worktop and gingerly stretched her foot en pointe in the vain hope that the uncomfortable needle-like sensation would soon dissipate. As it began to wane, she sighed gratefully and wandered over to the first of the three windows in the farthest corner of the room.
She'd tried to make this room as comfortable and pleasing to the eye as possible and to a point, she'd actually succeeded. The entire office was calming and soothing, free from clutter and prepared for the work she had to do.
The room was square shaped and while blandly painted in a dark beige and sparsely furnished, its focal point was the three windows on the east wall. The plainness of the room was accentuated by the lush views of the outside world, but the two complimented each other. The simplicity of the atmosphere didn't detract from the earthy garden. Looking out on to a leafy yard, filled with trees and old oaks, it was a perfectly lovely view and one she appreciated immensely.
Red leaves fluttered to the ground, autumn having turned the once bright green foliage to a more somber shade. Really, the yard needed raking, but a part of her loved the messiness of it. It reminded her of being in a park and kicking her way through the deep piles of leaves.
Sighing, Nicole realized she hadn't done anything so playful or childlike in a very long time. A part of her longed to go outside and make angel shapes on the loamy ground, but she held back.
Was this why Joe had sought succor from another, younger woman?
Was it because she was boring?
As the pins and needles abated, she flexed her muscles a little and sighed again. Glaring mutinously out of the window, she march out of her office and down the hall. Opening the door, she let it bang unheeded against the wall and marched outside. With a cry of laughter, feeling exuberant about giving in to the urge she'd had before, she launched herself into the huge pile of leaves and began to move her arms and legs to create an angel.
Angel now completed, she lay in the disbanded pile of leaves for a moment. Staring upwards through the densely packed branches, she saw the bright blue sky and the gleaming pure white clouds that mocked the season. It was hard to believe that it was autumn.
She supposed that this was one of the perks of working at home. All her family believed her to have a quaint job and to a point, they were correct. It was convenient, but still damned hard work. Just because she didn't have to work from 9-5 they considered her job to be less of a pain. They considered it to be less of a chore-hardly deserving to be considered work. Working irregular hours didn't mean that she never had to work. She still had to put the same amount of hours into her job. It was impossible telling them that though. They were stuck in their ways and refused to see her work as a real job.
At this moment in time though, she didn't care. For the first time in a long while, she took advantage of the fact that she didn't have to work from 9-5, that she could work when she wanted to. Perhaps it was about time that she stopped listening to her family and started listening to herself. That thought made her snort in self-disgust. She was far too much of a wimp to cut the apron strings. Her family worked on the principle that what Mama wanted, Mama got. What Mama believed, be it true or false, was always correct. A true matriarch, Nicole's mother would never allow her to cut the family ties.
Scrunching her nose in annoyance at that train of thought, she tried to disregard it as she scrambled to her feet, cleaning up as best she could before turning to look down at her work of art. With a smile on her face, she headed to the kitchen to grab a soft drink from the fridge. It was an unseasonably warm day and the small burst of energy had warmed her thoroughly. She could feel small beads of sweat forming on her temples and upper lip. Her T-shirt clung damply to her back and although the fans swept gustily overhead, they didn't cool her down any. Finally reaching the refrigerator, she grabbed a drink, popped the top, and sighed in relief as the cool refreshing liquid soothed her overheated body. As she drank, a guilty thought popped into her head. Unconsciously, a blush started to form on her cheeks, and she clenched her eyes tightly shut.
She had no business thinking about the men working upstairs-not the things she'd been thinking, for God's sake! The ink was barely dry on her divorce papers and, truthfully, she still felt married, felt guilty about having lustful thoughts about men not her husband. Her Mama certainly considered her to still be a married woman. It felt wrong to think about the builders and the carpenters upstairs on the third floor. Well, it wasn't wrong just to think about them. It was wrong to think about them with no clothes on and sweat gleaming on their work-hardened and muscularly taut bodies, particularly so because they were all younger than she was. It was wrong to think of Hugh, the foreman, and his brother, Byron, with nothing but their tool belts on and everything else laid bare to her lustful gaze.
She gulped when the images refused to go away and took another sip of her drink, feeling hotter than before. Unable to help herself, her mind crafted a perfectly detailed mental image of what they would look like with no clothes on and with the heat from the day settling against their skin, creating a glistening expanse of delicious flesh. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she bowed her head against that glorious image and bit her lip uncertainly. She cleared her throat in a vain attempt to clear the image from her mind and began to tap her fingers against the can.
There was nothing wrong, surely, with checking on their progress? If, at the same time, she happened to glance over Hugh and Byron, then that was her prerogative, wasn't it? No one else knew what had been running through her mind, thank God. She could peruse them in silence and without their knowledge or awareness that she was checking them out.
Starting up the carpeted stairs, she quickly reached the second floor hallway. The staircase was open so that when you looked over the banister and either up or down, you could see what was happening on the three different floors. As she began climbing to the third floor, she hesitated as Hugh's husky yet strong timbre rang throughout the floor above and filtered into the stairwell.
Feeling a little guilty at unintentionally eavesdropping, she took another hesitant step upwards, reasoning that he wouldn't be speaking so loudly if he didn't want other people to hear. It obviously wasn't a private conversation!
"...Yeah and the damn woman had the audacity to say that I was at fault! I mean she practically wore me out- wanted to fuck at least four times a day, sometimes more. She was insatiable and I had no problem with that- what man would? But to fuck other men, as well? How much sex did she need, for fuck's sake?"
"She must have been a nymphomaniac, Hugh. You lucky bastard!"
"Lucky? Who knows what the fuck I could have caught from her! Hell, that's why I had to get tested. She could have been riddled with all kinds of disease and even with our constitutions and immune systems, we're not totally infallible. I can't believe that all that time she was literally fucking me over, putting my damned health at risk,
damn crazy woman!"
"Don't make out like you're hurt. If anything is hurting you, it's your dented ego and pride. She was as much your fuck-toy as you were hers. Sure it's battered your dignity a little, but at least you didn't love her. Better a bruised ego than a bruised heart, you narcissistic prick."
The voice was deep and had a husky timber to it. Although she wasn't one hundred percent sure, she thought it belonged to Hugh's brother, Byron. She doubted that Hugh would have allowed any of his employees to speak to him in such a nonchalant and disrespectful way, so it just had to be him.
"Thanks for the loving support, oh brother mine!" Hugh muttered wryly. "But none of that makes her actions right. If I fucked someone else, which by the way I didn't when we were together, I would have used a condom. She never wanted to use a condom with me. She said she didn't want to and told me she was on the pill besides. So, if she didn't use one with me, she wouldn't have used one with anyone else. I wouldn't be surprised if that was a fucking lie, as well. I swear she'd completely lost it. I should be grateful I'm not a father for all the care she'd taken with her body!" he complained, the irritation he felt evident in his tone of voice.
"When did you get the results back?"
"Ten days ago and thank fuck I'm all clear. It's taken all this time to establish that I'm completely free of everything. I bet if we hadn't split up over eighteen months ago, I wouldn't be so damned lucky! She could have been around the whole state by now!"
"What made her call you last night?" Byron questioned curiously.
"She was bored and wanted to fuck me. Those are not my words, mind you, but hers. I told her that I'd only just managed to ascertain that I was free from all STD's and that I didn't feel like having to go through that whole procedure again."
"I bet she loved that," Byron said with a chuckle.
"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Hugh said, laughing coldly. "I just wish I'd realized what kind of person she really was in the first place."
"Don't look so damned martyred. You enjoyed her 'sluttish' ways and don't deny it. I agree it was out of order for her to cheat and not use protection, but what's done is done, man. Get over it or I'll start thinking that you want to be with her again," Byron warned teasingly.
"Prick," Hugh muttered, his voice quieter and less aggravated now.
"You love me really, brother dear."
"Good fucking job. How long till this project is done, do you reckon? He was on the phone again last night, damned jerk. He wants a detailed estimation of time restraints. Fuck, I'll be glad to be out of this place. The man makes my flesh crawl."
"Yeah, it freaks me out that he can watch us. It's the first time I've been caught on camera without my pants around my ankles," Byron joked.
Hugh's booming laugh reverberated around the walls at that comment.
Despite herself, Nicole felt like she was being embraced by his show of humor.
"Yeah, well, I don't know what Nicole sees in that guy. There's something perverted about the way he watches us. Dirty old man."
It should have hurt or at least shocked her that the workmen Joe had hired to fix the house were bitching about him. But she had to agree, it was creepy for him to have installed cameras. And, yes, since he'd cheated on her and left her she'd called him a bastard more times that she would like to recall. But, she'd gone along with it when he'd talked about installing the cameras in the house because, in his own words, it was to 'Insure that he wasn't being taken to the cleaners by cowboy builders.' Rolling her eyes as she could almost hear him saying that in that tone of voice he always used when he was talking to her as if she didn't have enough sense to realize something that to him was as plain as day, she leaned closer to the banister to listen more carefully.
"They're divorced, didn't you hear?"
Flinching as the stark state of her situation was laid bare to all of the workers, she cringed. She couldn't help but think if they knew that much that they must also have heard why she was divorced-because Joe had managed to get some woman pregnant. She wouldn't have felt so-discarded if it had been anything but that, wouldn't have felt like a complete failure. Her mother had often told her during their marriage that Joe was a good man and a good husband. She knew that her mother wasn't pleased with this latest turn of events.
Personally, over their fifteen year marriage, she'd often thought that wedding herself to Joe for life had been a complete and utter mistake, a disaster from start to finish. Since their separation, her mother had done nothing but reiterate that Joe was a good husband, that he'd always provided for her and helped their entire family when times were hard. So, she could recognize that there were good points and, she supposed glumly, that was the real reason she wanted him back, the reason she hadn't completely accepted the divorce, however final, because she couldn't stand the thought of not being able to help her family out when they needed it.
As she tuned back into the conversation, she heard Hugh.
"No! Really? She finally left the bastard?"
Hugh's voice had a definite spark of interest and curiosity in it.
"Uh, no, actually. He dumped her. Apparently he'd been fucking some beach bunny and wound up getting her pregnant."
"Damn, he's more of a bastard than I thought! Why the fuck would any man cheat on a woman like Nicole?"
"The hell if I know. Have you seen her breasts? And that ass!" Byron exclaimed before moaning lustfully.
Hugh laughed in agreement. "It's perfect for an ass-fuck," Hugh admitted throatily.
A shock wave traveled through Nicole. Eyes flaring wide open at that extremely bold statement, Nicole fought the desire to run down the stairs and back to her office right then and there. It was difficult to not clear her throat in embarrassment and harder still to remain where she was and maintain absolute silence. Her cheeks started to flare bright red, and she could feel the burning heat flush her face. The most feminine part of her was pleasantly surprised that they both obviously found her attractive, but, at the same time, it was highly discomforting to know that her workmen knew the detailed ins and outs of her personal life and her marriage.
She fanned her hands in front of her in an attempt to try and cool her face down. She was so focused on how mortified she was that several minutes passed before she realized that they weren't talking any more. With a grimace, she realized that now that they'd stopped talking, they would definitely hear her footsteps on the stairs and probably come to investigate if she tried to high tail it back to her room instead of going up to view their progress on the upstairs. They would undoubtedly draw the conclusion that she had overheard some of their little talk. The only option open to her was to continue on up the stairs and face them calmly and coolly. She was several years older than both of them. Surely she could remain collected enough to be in the same room as them despite what she'd heard, for a few minutes at any rate. She wasn't such a jackass that two men, gorgeous as they both were, could make her tongue tied! Or was she?
Could she actually stand in front of those men and pretend as if she hadn't just overheard their conversation? Sure, she wouldn't be tongue tied, but she knew that the flush that had crept over her cheeks had yet to dissipate, and she didn't have to look in a mirror to know that all the emotions that the men's conversation had inspired were written all over her face. Sure it would be hard to tell what she was feeling since she was also having a hard time analyzing it, a confusing mixture of lust, embarrassment and a reciprocal attraction seemed to be warring inside of her.
Deciding to take the safest option, Nicole spun as quietly as she possibly could on her heel and crept down the stairs. She headed back to her home office and made sure that her work had been saved before shutting the computer down. Her mind was buzzing with all kinds of disturbing thoughts, and she knew that she wouldn't get any work done in this state of mind. Switching the screen off, she headed to the connecting door to her bedroom. Seeking the comfort that only her bed could provide, she lay down and began to stare at the ceiling. T
he blank canvas of her bedroom was neither soothing nor constricting. It offered no answers to the turbulent questions that were oscillating through her very being.
Was it wrong to want three men at once?
She wasn't sure if she loved Joe anymore. Even though he wasn't still technically her husband, they'd been married for fifteen years and it felt disloyal to even think about wanting another man. There was no harm in still wanting him, but wanting Hugh and Byron? That was beyond wrong, it was just plain sinful. She tried to think about how she would feel if Joe was there. She knew that if he were, she wouldn't be feeling any lust. He had never really stirred sexual need or burning desire in her. There was a comfort to being with Joe. Being nearly fifteen years older than her, she knew she'd chosen him because she'd seen him as sort of a parental figure. What she felt for the two men upstairs was so beyond the feelings that Joe inspired in her that it actually frightened her. She hadn't realized that she could feel so much.
Shivering a little, not sure why she felt cold now when she'd been hot all day, she sat up and tucked herself under the bed covers. Consumed with her thoughts, she didn't hear the knock on the office door or the footsteps inside her office. She almost jumped out of her skin when her bedroom door opened and Byron popped his head around it. He looked startled to see her sitting in her bed.
"Nicole, are you alright?" Byron asked, concern softening his voice and making his eyes glow warmly.
She shook her head at him a little more fervently than she'd intended. "Y-yes, y-yes. Of course. I'm fine. Is there something I can help you with, Byron?" She damned herself for quavering at the start but was somewhat mollified to have eventually sounded steady.
"No," he said and hesitated briefly before replying, "Well, if you're alright, there is something. I just brought this list of materials by. We need your approval before taking it to the lumber yard. With Joe not being here . . . well, I need you to sign for it. You're almost always at your computer now, are you sure you're not ill?" he asked, pausing. "Your eyes . . . they look a little glassy. Do you feel okay?"
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