The Mistress

by Lexie Ray

  His free hand explored her body until he teased the area between her legs.

  “You're so fucking wet!" he gasped.

  “We’re in the shower,” she teased in response, knowing that her desire was becoming a nuisance, aching, begging for his touch.

  She needed it not only because she wanted him. Not because she wanted to be wanted. But because she wanted to feel pleasure, pleasure from her husband. She wanted him to thrust in and out of her until their bodies’ needs were fulfilled and they had both had their inevitable releases. She wanted them to need one another, please one another. But more than anything, she wanted to forget the sadness and disappointment that she had felt all day. She just wanted to feel good. She wanted to feel his heat radiate from his cock and into her core once again. She wanted to feel warm. She wanted to feel cared for.

  He looked at her with false frustration in regards to her teasing.

  “What are you going to do about it?" she asked, truly wanting him to answer.

  As soon as her question left her lips, his demeanor changed significantly. She wanted to laugh again. How many times was that today? He looked at her with determination, but he did not speak. Instead, with one hand he teased her entrance once again, the silkiness of the fluids making his fingers slip into her core. She moaned, and his other hand explored her, as if aching to make new discoveries. He moved across her stomach, causing a tingle to rise over her spine and finally settled on her breasts, lightly cupping them.

  “Don’t be gentle...” she whispered into his burning ear. He still didn’t speak, and she saw the look of determination still sprawled out over his face; it hadn’t changed, but his jaw suddenly clenched, and a growl sounded in his throat, and his eyes narrowed. He looked angry, but she knew he wasn’t. She could tell, however, that he wanted to make her sore, because as soon as she spoke, he tore at her nipples, pinching them roughly – making them hard with arousal.

  He pumped his finger into her more quickly, before adding a second and then a third. “Don’t hold back!” she screamed in a threatening tone; she couldn’t believe how dominating she sounded. She actually liked it, and she could tell he did too. He still hadn’t spoken; instead the only noises he seemed to be able to manage were low groans from the bottom of his throat.

  She heard him swallow hard and saw him nod in concurrence. Feeling gutsy, she spoke again. “Are you going to do what I tell you to do like a good little boy?” He nodded again, and she smiled devilishly. She could get used to this. "I want your hands on my hips – now!"

  He did as he was told and put his hands on her hips, shaking with excitement. She was testing him with that last small command, but now she knew that he would do what she asked – everything she asked. It would all be exactly how she wanted it. She could definitely get used to this. “Tighter!" she ordered again, and again he obeyed. He moaned and tightened his grip on her hips, his fingernails digging into her as he did. She whimpered at the sensation.

  "Good boy! Now, I want to be closer to you," she demanded, and as if her words were an enforceable law, he pulled her hips against him and slid down the shower wall so that they were both on the floor; her on top, straddling him. She felt his hard shaft brush her mound with vigor, and caused a great amount of excitement to flow from her already aroused center. Satisfied with the new position, she leaned forward and pinched at his nipples, teasing them so that they were matching hers in erectness.

  "Grab my ass!" she demanded again, projecting herself upwards, losing temporary contact with his thighs. As her hips jutted her body upwards, she parted her thighs so that her knees were touching the shower’s floor. When she moved, though, her folds had lightly brushed the tip of his cock, causing her to yelp from the contact. God, she wanted it. She needed the contact again. He grabbed her ass, and she repeated, “Don’t be gentle.”

  She pushed her breasts together and pressed them into his face. And, doing as he was told once again, he tightened his grip on her ass. His hands were strong, and it hurt – but it also felt deliciously good. Her body was positioned like an A-style tent over him, and it was because of that glorious position that she had him pinned still. She smiled, enjoying the feeling of being in control.

  Lately, that was the one thing she seemed to be lacking. She felt as if she had lost control of everything and her world had come crashing in from all corners around her. Not this time. This time he was hers, and she was in charge of everything. He couldn’t even move without her instructing him. She giggled maniacally – she had him where she wanted him.

  She could tell, though, that he also liked it. She could tell that he wanted to know how to please her. Hell, on several occasions he had begged for her to be move vocal, and here she was demanding him, ordering his every move. She buried his head in her cleavage and began her list of orders again.

  "Bite me!" He did.

  "Suck me!" He did.

  He was robotic in his movements, but the fire that was ignited in his eyes told a different story. Unlike a machine, he felt. And in this moment, he felt arousal. His hands still firmly gripping at her ass, his hardness continued to bounce upwards, as if magnetically drawn to her dripping pussy.

  Having been married for so many years, she felt solace in knowing that they were still capable of doing this to one another. She grabbed his desperate cock, her grip tight, and brushed her folds with the head. She was repeating what had happened by accident just moments before; lightly at first, just like it had been, but then – taking advantage – began to rub herself vigorously.

  Desire must have taken him over, because he longer waited for her instruction and parted her folds while gripping at her ass. Courage still pounding within her very soul, she decided to punish him for his indiscretion. She tightened the already tight grip around his cock and roughly quickened her pace against her clit, the friction burning her slightly. He cried out in pain.

  Marissa laughed, and decided he had had enough. She finally let go of him and wiggled out of the grip on her ass. Just as he was about to speak, her ass het his thighs again, and she leaned into him for a gentle kiss. “As fun as it was ordering you around, I would rather you to make love to me...” she said softly.

  A single tear fell from his left eye, and his vulnerability shone through like she had never seen before; it was as obvious as the sun, and that wasn’t like him. She caressed his cheek lovingly and wiped the tear away. “We’re in the shower – I have a lot of drops on my face,” he said to her, a laugh escaping him. She knew that what she had done hadn’t made any sense, but it was something about a tear – especially when it came from Preston. She wanted the tender moment, and she could tell he had too – despite his joke.

  He pulled her lips back to his and lightly and softly let his tongue wander. Marissa felt more love in that kiss than she had felt in any other kiss that they had ever shared. It was almost unexplainable, really. All she knew was that it sent a chill through her entire body and that it had stopped at her heart – and strangely, yet immediately, changed to a warming sensation. She felt it consume her as she guided the head of his member to her entrance and allowed him to slip inside of her for what she knew would be the final time of the evening.

  Together their bodies rocked in unison, and a new desire was found, a much more gentle and loving one. Marissa had loved the domination and desperate dirtiness of their earlier antics, but there was something truly special about this encounter. It was slow, tender, gentle – nothing that would usually cause sexual beings to climax quickly, but as they looked at each other, the water streaming down their bodies, they knew they wouldn’t last long.

  Her hips rolled against his in perfect rhythm. Their sighs and moans had seemed to fuse together in a unifying sound that had bestowed upon her ears in a truly blessing manner. She loved this man. She loved what he did to her. She loved how he made her feel, especially in that moment. Her body tensed, and she felt herself climax around him. There wasn’t cussing or dirtiness as she bucked wildly against him
, clamping down on his rock hardness. There were only the sounds of pleasure and love as they collapsed against one another – completely spent.

  Chapter 17

  The two women sat in silence, cups of coffee in hand. It had all started out as a normal morning with the two women chit-chatting in friendly fashion. It wasn’t until Marissa had mentioned something that Haley knew the time had come.

  “The sex was so good that I’m actually still fluttering today!” Marissa blushed.

  Marissa was talking about having sex with Preston, and Haley knew what she had only had suspicions of before. He was playing them both, falling into bed with both women by telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. Haley was fed up. She wanted Marissa to know. She wanted to try and move forward from her mistakes. She didn’t know how it was going to turn out, but she knew that she had to do it. She had to try to have a relationship with this woman.

  She was on the brink of spilling her guts, but wasn’t quite sure how to do it yet. She felt like she should have warned him of this, but knew that he’d only talk her out of it. This was the right thing to do – and her rationale was finally clear.

  Her mouth opened and closed a multitude of times, and she still couldn’t speak. She just couldn’t find the words to say. How do you tell someone you’re sleeping with their husband? How can you tell someone that he’s been playing both of you, each probably receiving sloppy seconds? How can you tell them that not only are you sleeping with them, but you’re also in love with them? How can you say that and then explain how you love them and hope they hold no hard feelings? No hard feelings? Are you shitting me? Haley snapped at herself. She knew better.

  A slam came from another room, and thundering footsteps surrounded the room. The women jumped in fear and shot their bodies instinctually to look out into the living room, and their eyes befell Lucas. He had shot through the front door with anger and shut it with equal force.

  He tried to run straight for the stairs to the left without the women noticing him, but it was too late for that. His clothes were torn, face tattered and bruised – he’d been beaten.

  “What the hell happened to you!” Haley shot, leaving the kitchen and running towards the boy, Marissa in equal pace.

  “I second that, and if you didn’t want us to notice you, you should have been quieter coming in!” Marissa’s voice was panicked, but Haley had to give her props for her words always being logical despite the emotion caked on them.

  “I’m fine!” Lucas spat. He tried to run past the two women, but together they engulfed him in their arms. He shook roughly in effort to free himself from their grasps, but he was unsuccessful. He was weak, not in muscular fortitude – but in stamina. The boy must have been put through the ringer, Haley thought with sadness.

  Questions of what happened, who did this, and why came flooding out of their mouths, and Haley knew they weren’t going to learn as much as they wanted to. Not only was he embarrassed by it, scared of it – terrified even, by the expression shadowing over his face – but she believed that he honestly barely knew why he was being bullied himself. There were signs that he was being picked on, but no one believed it would be to this magnitude.

  “It’s only gonna get worse,” he cried before eventually freeing himself and flying upstairs.

  They looked at one another in disbelief, neither woman knowing what to do. All they knew was that they had to do something. Anything. And Marissa, becoming the bold leader, mentioned that together, they were to make a pact that they would. They would do something.

  A pact. A promise for the future. The future. Would there be a future? Guilt overtook her once again, and she knew it was time. And then, and only then, could the women make any sort of promise for the future. Even if it did regard Lucas, she didn’t feel right making any sort of promise that may be broken. She gulped, her saliva heavy as boulders.

  There’s not a lot that’s certain in life. The truth was that the only thing that was certain was that life was most certainly uncertain. In fact, as Haley always seemed to find, irony reared its ugly head in every corner and crevice. It sure as hell wasn’t certain. Not as long as irony existed.

  She had never expected her parents’ demise, she certainly never expected to be a thirty-four divorcee, but more importantly – she never thought that she would turn her back on the only family she had known since her parents’ deaths.

  Haley never thought that she could lose love. You’re always taught in the storybooks and fairy tales that love is forever and without condition. When you’re a little girl, you dream about love because it is truly the purest form of human affection. When you’re a little girl, you actually believe. You believe all the bullshit, and more importantly you buy into the idea that you have to vie for it for your entire life.

  What you don’t know is that it isn’t just a romantic love that you end up vying for. It is love in general. It is acceptance. And even if you’re fortunate enough to find it – you can still lose it. Because even love in its purest form isn’t completely without condition. Yes, families fight. People fight. But shit happens, and sometimes the luck of the draw is not in your favor.

  Haley had to wonder though, were the wheels of fate set in motion from the beginning? Can we ever change the direction in which they turn? Can a broken past only lead to a broken future? If so, then is it even worth trying to mend your desolate life? She hoped more than anything that her attempts wouldn’t be in vain, as she swallowed hard – her throat still catching. She was still unable to articulate words.

  “The truth shall set you free.” That poor, pitiful saying had been preached to her for as long as she could remember. Freedom. That fucking word. What did it mean? The definition of such is “the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action”. Absence of necessity? Are you shitting me? It was necessary that she tell Marissa. She had to. Absence of coercion or constraint? Bullshit. Her guilt was constricting her at this very moment, squeezing and exhausting her of dear life.

  Freedom from what exactly? Her guilt would always imprison her, even if she were somehow forgiven for her transgressions. She would end up hurting a family full of people she loved and cared for no matter what; whether or not they knew – they’d be hurt. It was as if she were a killer in the night – stabbing every one of them – draining them of their last breath. Regardless of whether or not she snuck in, a shadow in the darkness – their final breath was still taken.

  Marissa noticed Haley trembling with tears, and pulled her into a hug. Haley stiffened, causing Marissa to pull away from her grasp slightly. She looked into her eyes, and Haley reciprocated. She saw the sadness and disappointment. Marissa wanted to know why. She could tell she wanted to know why. But she wasn’t ready to tell her. Not yet. Because in the realm of reality and truth, she wasn’t ready to admit it. It would mean that she had been weak, and that she truly cared about him: Marissa’s husband. In return, the admittance of that would mean that more tears would flow, and everyone knows with tears comes loneliness.

  “You’ve been so distant lately,” Marissa sounded. “What’s wrong?”

  She had to hand it to her – the woman was strong. She had lost her dad just a few days prior, and here she was, being a friend. She was worried for her. Genuinely so. Haley felt even worse as she saw the woman’s eyes tint over.

  Love’s bitter thorns prick those poor souls brave enough to wander through its brush with hopeful prowess. This was the second time her heart’s contentment had led her astray. This was the second time love had left her broken – wondering what her next step was and where it might take her.

  Haley pulled Marissa to her again. She wanted to hold her closely in an embrace of familial love. She wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. Because it wouldn’t be. She knew it wouldn’t be. Ever. Not again.

  “Marissa, it was me....” she began, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished that she could take them back. She was scared, scare
d of losing everything, yes, but more than that – she was scared of hurting someone who was already hurting. But she had spoken to Joseph, and she had known of Marissa’s suspicions, and she knew she had to say something or she would find out eventually.

  “I’m the mistress...”

  ~~~