The Mistress

by Lexie Ray

  THE MISTRESS

  Part One

  L E X I E R A Y

  Copyright © 2015

  Published by: Rascal Hearts

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact us at Info@RascalHearts.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  ­­Chapter 1

  Red lipstick. High heels. Black lace. Those were always the images that ran through her mind whenever she heard the word. Mistress. She cringed at the harshness of the title. Domineering by nature, mistresses were bad seeds. Stereotypically holding an ever-encompassing sex appeal, they were the focus of desire for men everywhere. The women you see showcasing at a gentleman’s club – those are mistresses. Not Haley. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

  Their passionate groans echoed in her head as her mind drifted to the night before. Haley’s senses were on fire all of a sudden, and she rapidly started remembering the images in such detail that it frightened – as well as excited – her. The moment he pushed her full-figured body against the wall with lustful force was the moment she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. In fact, she had pinpointed that to be the moment of no return. She had never felt that wanted, and the high that it brought was intoxicating – addicting, even.

  The dim light of the room came from one singular lamp tucked away in the corner of the office atop his dark mahogany desk. Its tiny glowing presence did little to rid the room of darkness, but it did ignite just enough for Haley to gaze upon Preston’s face. His complexion was clear, jaw strong, with a face of intimidating fierceness. His eyes, which usually glimmered with a slight – but ever present and unexplainable – innocence, then only held a raw and intense sexual desire. The innocence, which had always softened the masculinity of his face, was gone. Those immaculate blue orbs were glazed over – his inhibitions were lost. He was running on pure instinct. He was pure man in that moment; prehistoric man – primitive in his sexual desire with no regard to consequence. Her body quivered. He was the hunter, and she was his prey.

  She became lost in a sea of blue seduction as she peered into his dominating eyes. He smirked, and she remembered being angry for a moment as she looked down and realized that he had ripped away at her shirt. He must have sensed the negative emotion, because only a moment later his lips found hers and his tongue forced its way in. The kiss caused her to shudder as it sent electric currents throughout her entire body. She moaned into him, grinding her sex into his rock-hard member, swearing that she felt it pulse against her.

  She gripped at her sheets, just as she did last night, groaning and aching to be touched the same way she had been touched just hours before. Mistress. The word forced itself back into the forefront of her mind. She was a mistress. His mistress.

  The feel of his flesh beneath her fingernails as she clawed at his back; the taste of his sweat as she sank her teeth into his shoulder; the intensity of his groans – full of lust and passion – as he thrust deeper and deeper into her core – those were the freshest of memories. The recollection of her senses was dangerous. She wanted more, needed more. The very thought of the previous night made her wet with desire and longing, longing for what she had only just last night.

  Her imagination continued to spiral and swim farther from the present and into last night’s world of pure infatuation. It was only the vibration of her phone that pulled her mind away from the glorious distractions. In that instance – the moment in which her body and mind finally synced with the present – Haley panicked.

  Catapulting out of bed and away from her thoughts, she scurried across every inch of her bedroom, gathering clothes and throwing them on haphazardly. She was late. Perhaps she did it subconsciously so that she wouldn’t have to see him just yet, but consciously? That was a different story. Haley hated being late. Always having been the punctual woman that she was, she was even more disappointed with herself than she had been just a moment before.

  She was recalling the events of a night never meant to exist. It was a mistake, she tried to reiterate into her mind. But that wasn’t an easy task; it didn’t feel like a mistake, and that fact made it all the more difficult.

  In the course of two days she had felt she lost herself completely. Who is this person? Haley was never so careless, and there she was – just this very morning – reveling in the careless mistakes that she had committed, which in turn created another bout of carelessness. She was late. She was late. She was fucking late. She couldn’t help but laugh at her mind transfixing on an imaginary rabbit with a pocket watch as she scurried out the front door.

  The ride to work wasn’t as lighthearted as her departure, however. In fact, it was quite the opposite: a truly excruciating endeavor. She was late, and she knew what that meant, but moreover, she couldn’t stop replaying last night’s instances in her head. The constant battle between her conscience and her twitching sex caused time to stand still.

  It seemed like she had driven a hundred miles before she pulled into the suburban neighborhood – which in reality was only a few miles north of her apartment – and looped her car into a parked position at the cul-de-sac drive. There it was. The house she had worked in for twelve years.

  Standing two stories tall, the house was so welcoming with its white brick siding and blue shutters and trim. Before last night, she truly had felt at home for the last twelve years. “Haley!” a familiar, high-pitched voice called out from inside the house. She smiled. She knew that voice all too well. Its angelic sound bellowed out to her; the very epitome of innocence, it touched her heart and soul and put her instantly in a mood of pure happiness.

  Before she knew it the extravagant white front door blocking her from the full extent of her guilt flung open and a small ten-year old girl appeared and ran down the steps. “I’m going to be late for school!” the little blonde girl yelled before grabbing Haley’s hand and leading her to a silver van. “Where’s your brother?” Haley asked hurriedly as the small-bodied girl dragged her behind.

  “I’m here,” a deeper male voice muttered from behind them. She turned around to see the tall, slender twelve-year-old slumping down the sidewalk towards the vehicle. Shrugging past the two females, he grabbed for the van’s sliding-door handle. He still hadn’t looked at Haley. He seemed upset. Angry, even. Did he know what happened last night? It was then that the almost-teenage boy looked over his shoulder and muttered, “Dad wanted to talk to you.” Her throat caught and she gasped slightly.

  She had to forcibly remind herself not to get caught up into the imaginative thoughts that were reeling through her mind. Did he know what happened? That incredible, sensual happening. Several moments of intense unmistakable pleasure all combined to create one magical night. One mistaken night, she tried to remind herself again, feeling guilty for even entertaining the thoughts as positive ones.

  “What about?” she asked, feigning an innocence she couldn't believe actually sounded sincere. After all, she had always been a horrific liar. “I have no idea, Haley. Maybe because you were late?” he snapped sarcasticall
y, his voice cracking slightly. She restrained herself from giggling at the boy’s pubescent showings. The important thing was that he didn’t know. He was just being Lucas; angry at the world. She had to admit, the teenage demeanor he was displaying was amusing. He continued to speak in an exasperated tone as he flung open the van’s sliding door. “The first time in our lives that you’re late, and it has to be when he has all this crap going on at work. He’s been a real dick lately–”

  “Language,” Haley interrupted, calmly yet forcibly, as she watched him jump onto the van’s ledge and sit in his seat.

  Even if it was amusing, she didn’t allow them to use foul language. The word ‘dick’ was definitely in her list of swear jar words. Dick. Dick. His dick. His hard, throbbing dick. Pull yourself together! her conscience screamed at her. What was going on with her? She hadn’t the slightest clue. He was messing with her, changing her.

  “Pardon me, madam. I meant to suggest that Father was being a real pain in the derrière, a real drag if you will,” he emphasized sarcastically, acting out his best British accent. Lucas’s antics definitely were enough to get her to snap out of her sex-crazed stupor. “Get in, worm,” he finished, looking to his wide-eyed little sister, before throwing his head back and putting in his ear buds.

  “Give me a break, Lucas. I had stuff going on,” Haley remarked, lifting the little girl into her arms. Her blonde hair flowed across Haley’s face, and an aroma of vanilla and lavender filled her nostrils. Where did the baby smell go? It was then that Haley felt the weight of the girl. She was very thin, but still much heavier than Haley remembered. Why were these children suddenly almost as tall as her? She smiled, a touch of sadness hidden beneath as she sat the young – and becoming strikingly beautiful – girl into the backseat beside her brother.

  “Do you still love us?” the girl asked sweetly.

  “I do. Very much, Sophie,” Haley replied, her eyes beginning to gleam. She did. This unconditional love had been twelve years in the making. At only thirty-four, she had spent a large part of her adulthood with these children. Caring for them, nurturing them, she had watched them grow into the double digit pre-teens that they were. What was she doing? She was messing with Lucas and Sophie’s family.

  Chapter 2

  After dropping the kids off at their respective schools, she allowed the guilt to fully rush over her. How could she have been so selfish? Driving back to the house to fulfill the rest of her daily duties, she realized what her actions last night truly meant. She would be walking into a house in which she was no longer truly welcome. She had disrupted the binds of family and the sanctity of marriage by allowing her desire to take over.

  Pulling into the cul-de-sac drive for the second time that day, a wave of regret crashed into her harder than it had before. It felt as if she had been involved in some sort of water boarding torture; her entire body felt as if it was drowning, suffocating and begging for oxygen. Foolishly, she thought that it had taken large amounts of courage the first time she pulled in, but the second time was almost unbearable. Feeling triumphant and surprised at her ability to move forward, she continued to pull closer and closer to the two-story home.

  The rumble of the pavement beneath the van’s tires had never been so loud. It was as if the vehicle were heavier, as if it were burdened literally with the metaphorical boulder resting on her back. Her brims burned with fiery heat as tear droplets formed and fell, trailing down her pale cheeks. Looking at the house, she sobbed, knowing that as soon as she got inside, images of the prior evening would flood in.

  Guilt. Regret. Nausea. She felt it all. Though, she felt it for not only the act itself, but for hoping more than anything that he was inside the house still so that he could comfort her, take her into his arms and soothe her. She sighed and dried her tears as she looked on the house before her. Turning off the ignition, she took a deep breath and made her way out of the van.

  As her feet slammed against the pavement, she made note to lightly shut the driver’s door. She didn’t want him to know she was there. Not quite yet. She didn’t want to face the truth. She wanted to breathe in the fresh cinnamon aroma of the home, and feel like she had every other day for twelve years – welcomed. If only for just a moment, she wanted to feel that overwhelmingly soothing feeling once again, even – or perhaps, especially – if it was the last time.

  The walk across the sidewalk leading to the door was unusually long. Her stomach fluttered, and nausea set in. She wasn’t sure if it was the guilt this time, or if it was nerves from the possibility of seeing his face after what had transpired between the two of them. She reached the door, slowly turned the large, extravagant brass knob, and entered the home.

  The cinnamon scent rushed over her, and she breathed it in like she always did. This time, though it did still tickle her nose pleasantly, it did not welcome her. She couldn’t pretend. Not even for one moment could she act like she belonged. Not anymore. She felt like an intruder.

  A spout of dizziness surrounded her as her stomach jumbled in knots. She felt her mouth begin to drool and knew what it meant. Salivating soon turned to heaving, and she fled through the immaculately decorated foyer to the first door on her left, just beneath the stairs. The bathroom.

  Her illness swept over her as she vomited profusely, barely making it to the porcelain bowl across the room. She sunk to the tiled floor. Guilt. Definitely guilt. She didn’t even think about Preston this time. She thought about Marissa, the wife, her employer of twelve years, the woman who hired her as a nanny when no one else would. In fact, no one else had even given her resume a second glance. Marissa was the only one to take a chance on her – and this was her repayment.

  “I fucked her husband,” she groaned, as she flushed the toilet. Wiping her mouth, she tried to stand. Struggling to get to her feet, she grabbed the sink to pull herself up and steady herself. Finally standing, she leaned against the sink, exhausted – and there it was. Her reflection. This was the first time she had seen herself since the incidence. “Cheater!” she heard a voice call out. It was almost as if she had heard her own voice, but it couldn’t be, could it? It was more malicious and defiant than her actual voice had ever been before. There was a sinister tone behind it, and before today she would have never believed she’d been capable of ever sounding like that – but now, after all that had happened, she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure she knew herself at all anymore. After all, wasn’t she being sinister by sleeping with someone else’s husband?

  "Cheater." That's all she heard – all she saw when she looked in the mirror. "I should be wearing a fucking scarlet letter," she growled at her reflection. Haley never swore. She couldn’t believe herself once again. She had been cursing far more than usual, but after everything else, that was the least of her worries. Full of guilt and disgust, her mind reeled once again to the man who caused it all – that disgusting, cheating man. That cocky smirk and those egotistical remarks made her scowl with annoyance and frustration.

  But it was those glorious full-bodied muscles gleaming beneath the beads of sweat that both of their bodies produced during that oh-so-sensuous act which entrapped her thoughts. The feeling of his body pressed against hers, the ripple of his abs rubbing against her flesh – it all was enough to cause her body to tremble, even now, when she was on the brink of a full-blown meltdown.

  Haley pulled her muddled brown hair into a ponytail, and tried to remain calm. After all, people cheat all the time, and she wasn’t even the one cheating, right?

  Wrong.

  She couldn’t turn or twist it in any direction to make it look better, make her feel better. No matter how you looked at it, she was not a victim. Therefore, she was a culprit; whether main offender or accomplice, she had done what she had done.

  No matter how much of a lying and deceitful ass Preston may have been, she was still just as guilty – if not more so. She was guilty not only of sleeping with another woman’s husband, but the father of the children she had been the nanny of s
ince the oldest one’s birth twelve years ago. She was guilty of betraying a woman she had known for twelve years, and was even quite fond of, truth be told. She was guilty of way more than he was. She was the mistress.

  How did this all begin? That was the question she continued to ask herself as she stared at her unkempt reflection. This complex web’s origin began as a mere professional relationship twelve years ago. She remembered how grateful she was just to have a job, and that’s all it was – a job. The Lancers paid the bills and she obediently did what she was told.

  She burped the baby, changed the baby, fed the baby, cleaned the house, cooked the meals, did the laundry, and ran their errands. She did it all. They were both busy people – he was CEO of a company, and Marissa owned her own bakery downtown. Over the years, though, her relationship with them both grew to become more personal. How could it not? She had been there for so long. It was only natural for people who were in such close proximity to each other to become close. Never in her wildest dreams, though, did she think that this would happen. She got too close. Way too close.

  Her friendship with Preston and Marissa had always been a bit peculiar, but it was definitely well-grounded and healthy. She had their issues with them, usually in regards to the time spent with their children, but overall they were great parents and great company. She enjoyed spending time with them as a couple, as well as separately. Over the years she had even become a staple in all of their family outings and occasions. She truly was welcomed.

  It was one night though, which she could pinpoint, that caused the entire balance to shift. Where she had once enjoyed their company equally, this one instance created a bias towards choosing him. He became her confidant in only one night. It was a Sunday, around four years ago. That night, she recalled, was the one night that she needed someone, anyone. She just needed to know that someone out there was listening, not just hearing, but actually listening. He had appeared like an answered prayer, and it was then that she knew that she could trust him.