Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2013 Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77130-504-4
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
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WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SEVEN SINFUL SECRETS
7 Author Anthology
The Knickers
Copyright © 2013
Doris O’Connor
The knickers burnt a hole in her pocket. They weren't hers. She'd remember French knickers of the expensive sort—the sort he used to peel off her with his teeth, when they were first married. Where had all that passion gone? Five years into their marriage and it had evaporated like the early morning dew under the glare of the sun. Their sex-life was non-existent, in fact, and now she knew why.
After all, there was only one reason a married man would hide someone else's used underwear in the inside pocket of his suit. He knew, of course, that she never checked pockets. It was a standard joke between them that Mareijke was no housekeeper. No, her talents had always lain in another department.
Mareijke thumped the steering wheel and blinked her tears away. She hadn't cried under the sympathetic look the dry cleaning assistant gave her, and she sure as fuck wasn't going to cry now.
"Err, you might want these?" When the middle-aged woman had handed over the offensive item of underwear with those murmured words the bottom had dropped out of Mareijke's illusion of her picture-perfect life.
No, she hadn't bloody wanted the knickers. She still didn't, and her fingers itched to burn the blasted things. If only she could do the same to the awful images forever imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Images of her husband in a passionate clinch with some faceless bimbo. He was surrounded with them at work, after all, and not once—not one fucking time—had Mareijke ever doubted his fidelity.
Stefano said he'd loved her wobbly bits. He'd encouraged her to embrace her natural body shape and had expressively forbidden her to diet. As a result the pounds had crept on over the years. She was now a shapely size sixteen. Curves in all the right places, he'd said, and only last month, he had insisted on her dressing up in one sexy outfit after the other, whilst he had snapped picture after picture in his private studio.
It had been her birthday present, and she had truly loved those pictures.
"Is this how you see me?" she'd asked.
"Si, cara mia. You are beautiful." She'd melted under his whispered endearments that had taken the sting out of the fact that he hadn't touched her.
"You're tired, cara. Let me take you home and run you a bath."
She'd thought it sweet at the time. Now, she wasn't so sure. He'd left on a three week photo shoot in Monaco the very next morning, and since his return he'd been politely distant.
No doubt all the time he'd been away, he'd been shagged up with one of the very stick insects he claimed to not like. The bastard!
Mareijke swore under her breath, seeking refuge in anger. Anything had to be better than this gut-churning disappointment, the knowledge that her marriage was a sham, and that she'd lost the only man she'd ever loved. A tear splashed on her lap, and she swiped at her eyes. She was not going to cry over this, not out here, where anyone could see her.
Her nosy neighbors didn't need any more fodder for their gossip mill. Curtains would be twitching at her early arrival home as it was. Having made the trip to the dry cleaners in her lunch hour, she'd phoned in work, claiming a plumbing emergency at home.
She couldn't deal with clients right now. She'd cut someone's ear off, instead of their hair the state she was in. No, she needed to get home, to get her head together, to be ready to face Stefano, when he did eventually come home.
Her breathing hitched, and she almost stalled the car when she drove round the last corner and spotted her driveway. It should be empty—a fitting representation of her life—but instead Stefano's fire engine red Porsche sat in the drive.
So much for being busy at the studio all day. An ice-cold fist closed around her heart, as another thought occurred to her. One so heinous that she stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself from letting out the scream bubbling at the back of her throat. She howled instead, the sound more animal than human.
Surely he wouldn't bring one of his floozies here whilst he thought her safely busy at work? The fact that she had come home to fresh sheets on her bed more than once over the last week now took on a sinister meaning. She'd assumed it was the new cleaning lady being extra efficient, but what if it had been him, covering up the evidence of his adultery?
Bile chased the tears clogging up her throat away, and she swallowed hard. Only one way to find out, and by God, if he did have someone in there, she'd eat his fucking balls for dinner, and not in a way he'd enjoy. The house was quiet when she entered. Too quiet, and she took the stairs two at a time, only to stop dead on the landing.
Stefano's lust-filled groans trembled through her, and this time she did not stop the flow of tears. It was one thing to suspect he was having an affair. Another thing entirely to be confronted by the evidence. Rooted to the spot, she couldn't move. She did not want to step into the bedroom they shared and see him entwined with some floozy, but she couldn't make herself move away either.
Whoever his lover was, she was the quiet sort, because Stefano's groans changed tempo, telling her how close he was to release, but not one peep came from his partner in crime. Was he cheating on her with some cold fish, who didn't respond at all? The bed creaked, masking Mareijke's soft gasp, when she heard Stefano growl her name.
Despite the situation her nipples beaded, and her thong grew wet. She'd never had been able to resist the deep, commanding pull of his slightly accented voice, and like a puppet on a string her body responded instantly to the man she loved. Without any conscious effort on her part, her feet carried her forward and into the open doorway of her bedroom. Blinking several times, she tried to get her blurry vision to clear.
Mareijke had to be seeing things, or she was having a particularly odd dream, for there on the bed, his long dexterous fingers wrapped around his thick shaft lay Stefano. Instead of catching him in the act of adultery she had caught her husband at the cusp of his self-inflicted release.
Stefano lay surrounded by the pictures of her photo shoot. Naked, bar frilly French knickers—not unlike the ones she was still clutching in her hand—and wearing stockings and suspenders, Stefano jacked off, head thrown back in ecstasy.
It was the hottest thing she had ever seen. Her six foot two, super masculine husband writhed on the bed, the knickers pushed under his balls, as he handled his massive cock with ever faster movements and bunched the silky fabric with his free hand.
Her mouth went dry, and she rubbed her thighs together in a vain effort to relieve the throbbing in her core. She wanted to be the one getting him off, to rub her swollen breasts over his chest hair and guide his magnificent erection into her mouth to taste his very essence.
His musk invaded her nostrils, pitching her need for him higher, and she grabbed the door frame for support, and balled her other hand into a fist to stop herself from either reaching out to him or thrusting her fingers inside her own underwear to rub her aching clit.
Stefano reached his release and shouted her name as his cum ar
ched and hit the bedcovers, and this time Mareijke couldn't suppress her groan. His eyes flew open and connected with hers, and her throat constricted at the passion she saw in his gaze. For only the second time in all the years she'd known him, a fierce blush stained his sculpted cheekbones, and he shook his head and swore.
****
Hand still wrapped around his softening shaft, Stefano froze. He thought he had imagined her flowery scent, so caught up had he been in the illusion that it was Mareijke's lush lips wrapped around his dick. In his fantasy she had been dressed in one of the corsets from the fashion shoot. Her impressive tits had fallen out their confines, cushioning his dick, and he had thrust in and out of that velvety cocoon, every upward thrust greeted by his wife's eager mouth.
He grew hard again, just remembering that vivid image, but one look at her face cured him of that arousal. She had been crying, if her puffy eyes and smeared make-up were any indication.
Cazzo. He hadn't meant for her to find out like this, hadn't wanted to see the disgust in her face when she found out his previously hidden kink—one that he hadn't been able to bring himself to share with her. He had always been the dominant partner in their relationship, and real men did not dress up in women's underwear. He could still see his father's putrid face contorted in rage when he had found a teenage Stefano experimenting with his mother's clothes. They had been intended for the charity box, and Stefano had spirited them away. In a scene not much unlike the one he found himself in now, his father had walked in on him masturbating, with Stefano dressed in frilly underwear. Instead of tears, however, his father had used his fists.
"No son of mine is going to grow into a sissy. Real men do not act like that."
His mother had intervened before Pappa had managed to beat him into a pulp, but she, too, had condemned his actions. Stefano had buried that side of him deep down in his psyche, and had not allowed himself to act on his desires, until recently.
"Why?" Mareijke's whispered question sliced through his heart, and pulled him back into the present. He couldn't look at her, so instead he tucked his dick back into the knickers, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensation of the silky fabric caressing his cock, and covered his groin with one of the cushions.
If she, too, looked at him in disgust, he couldn't stand it. He shrugged his shoulders, and Mareijke swore.
"Fuck it, Stefano. Look at me. You owe me that much. I thought you had a fucking affair, damn you, you … you bastard." Her voice broke on the last word, and he flinched when a pair of French knickers hit him square in the face.
"How dare you? How dare you make me think the worst, when all this time you … you … what is this? Why, Stefano? Do you want to become a woman, is that it? Is that why you've gone off me?"
Hurt replaced the anger in her voice, and he had to reassure her.
"No, angelo mio, that is the last thing I want. I want you so much I ache." He risked a look at her, and she released a long drawn out breath, as though she'd just remembered how to breathe. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin, and a blush spread across the cleavage visible under her button up blouse. The simple black pants she wore to work emphasized her curves. Curves he loved to distraction, and he had missed losing himself in. Her toes curled under in her sandals, and he smiled at the fire engine red nail varnish. Mareijke matched her nail varnish with her underwear, and he felt himself harden again at the thought of what she might be wearing under her sensible work outfit. He had to answer her question, however, and once he did, she would no doubt be ringing their solicitor for a divorce.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and bunched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. The bed dipped next to him, and her small hands covered his. Her scent enveloped him, and the weight of her breasts rested against his biceps. He cursed under his breath. He couldn't think clearly when she was this close to him. With him dressed as he was this was too real, too intense, too much like all his fantasies turned reality for him to comprehend.
"Help me to understand this, Stefano. We always talk—always. I've missed our talks, almost as much as I've missed you. I love you, Stefano, so much. Please, talk to me. Why?" She released his hand and ran a finger up and down his stocking clad leg. "Why this? Does it turn you on?"
Heaven help him. Her warm breath feathered across his jaw, seconds before she kissed his jawline, and he groaned. The finger on his thigh trailed higher. She drew circles along his naked skin, until she hit his shaved scrotum. He shuddered, and his balls drew tight, his cock now so hard he would be able to pound concrete with it. Mareijke nibbled his ear, and he couldn't believe her next words.
"Because seeing you dressed like this makes me horny as hell."
He had to be hearing things. She could not mean what she had just said. However the short bursts of her warm breath against his neck and the hardness of her nipples against his arm confirmed the truth behind those words, as clearly as the musk of her arousal. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be wet for him. Her body gave her away, as surely as his own responded to her. The dominant in him rose to the fore, and he halted the upwards progress of her hand with a growled, "No."
She froze, and he fisted his hand in her hair, pulling her head backward to enable him to study her face. Stefano lost himself in the tender and hopeful expression mirrored in her beloved features, and he kissed the tears still clinging to her eyelashes away.
Mareijke sighed in submission, and he smiled into the kiss he slanted across her lips. How he had missed her, the simple act of kissing, tentative strokes of her tongue matching his forceful ones, as he took the kiss deeper, angling their bodies until she was lying underneath him on the bed. He yanked the cushion still between them away with an annoyed growl and thrust his frill covered cock into her groin. She gasped into his mouth and clung onto his shoulders. Arching her hips to meet him thrust for eager thrust, she locked her ankles behind his ass, and Stefano grunted his approval. This is what he needed, this reassurance that she still wanted him as much as ever, and suddenly he couldn't wait anymore. He wanted her bound and naked, the silky walls of her tight pussy milking his cock, as he fucked her hard and fast.
He broke the kiss with a bite to her lower lip that made her squirm, and he cupped her mound. The damp fabric made him smile almost as much as her hiss of pleasure when he pressed against her clit. A shudder went through her, and her eyes went wide when he straddled her legs.
"Grip the headboard for me, and don't let go."
She complied immediately, and he grabbed the ends of her sensible blouse and yanked hard. Buttons popped and fabric ripped as he pulled the thing clean off her, and his breath stalled in his lungs at the vision in front of him. His wife's ample breasts were barely concealed by the scraps of red lacy scaffolding covering the heavy mounds, and he ran his knuckles across the hard nubs clearly visible through the see-through fabric. They firmed even more, and she arched into his touch. Her little teeth made imprints on her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses, and her whole body shook in need when he ran a finger under her bra cup. He pulled it down freeing that breast to his gaze and with a grin at her bent down and sucked the rosy tip of her nipple into his mouth.
"Stefano … please…" Her lust-filled moan shot straight to his cock, and he suckled harder, kneading the other nipple between his fingers. He knew how responsive she was to this kind of stimulation, and helplessly trapped as she was under his legs, he could feel the rising tension of her body, her desperate need to come. Breath coming in short gasps, her auburn hair feathered across the pillow, she held onto the headboard with a white knuckled grip, as her body clambered towards release.
She screamed her annoyance when he released her nipple and bit down hard, causing her to pant harder. With an audible rip the delicate lace of her bra gave way under his ministrations and her bountiful curves spilled into his waiting hands. Stefano pushed them together and blew across her distended nipples. Mareijke squirmed underneath him. A fierce blush spread across her
sweat-slicked skin, and her head rolled form side and side. He drank in the sight of his wife lost to her arousal, and a sense of calm settled over him, like it always did, when he gave her pleasure. Even without the discussion that they would have to have soon, he knew that all would be all right between them. Stefano lifted himself off her and pulled her pants off, taking her lacy thong with them. The musk of her arousal drew him, and he left the trousers dangling just under her knees. Pushing her knees up, he angled her lower body until she was half lying on her side. With her hands still clutching the headboard and her legs trapped inside her trousers she had nowhere to go, and he ran his hands down the curve of her hip and kneaded her ass cheeks. She pushed into his hand with a small moan, and he brought his hand down on one shapely ass cheek.
"Yesssss, again … Please, Stefano … I need." The rest of whatever she was going to say was lost in the sound of his hand connecting with her milky flesh, and his cock threatened to split its lacy covering, seeing the red marks of his possession. Hearing Mareijke's needy sighs in his ears, he couldn't wait one minute longer. The sheets of the bed were stained with her arousal, and without further ado he freed his throbbing dick and aligned himself with her wet entrance.
"I'm going to fuck you now, cara. Is that what you want?" He growled his question into her shoulder and bit her ear, soothing the sting with his tongue.
"Stop talking, and do it already." The panted plea made him grin, and he thrust home with one hard move that seated him balls deep inside the tight clasp of her pussy.
"Jesus, cara, I missed you. You're so tight. I can't do this slow." She tightened her internal muscles in answer, and he stopped thinking and gave himself up to sensation. Every thrust into her silken hold took him closer to his release, until the world narrowed to just the two of them locked together, riding the waves of sensation. He shifted his hips, angling his thrusts to make sure she went over before him, and Mareijke exploded under him.
Seven Sinful Secrets Page 1