His Brother's Wife

by Mia Ford

I can smell her scent like a wolf smells its prey.

  I’m a different man now; rich, famous, confident, always in control.

  At least until she looks at me and I find myself melting like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

  Prolog: Zoe Maxwell

  “What are you doing in here?” I whispered loudly as Mark closed the door of the women’s bathroom and locked it behind him. He never spoke a word. Just smiled, roughly grabbed my ass and pulled me into him and pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t resist. I had given him permission to do such things the moment I stepped into the role of mistress and first wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

  Without a word, he hiked my sapphire blue cocktail dress up to my waist and lift me onto the edge of the counter as he proceeded to have his way with me. Sex with Mark was usually all about Mark. And quite honestly, as much as I couldn’t wait for it to be over, a part of me also enjoyed the way he used me. It reminded me of a past boyfriend, one I let get away.

  I knew what Mark liked. My role was to give him everything his wife didn’t, like hot sex in a public restroom while two hundred people milled around outside the door. I bit my bottom lip as his right hand forced my shoulder strap down to my elbow. He squeezed my left breast as his thumb fiercely massaged my nipple. I held my breath as he pinched my plump nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I loved the pain and pleasure, especially when the line between the two was so thinly drawn. We’d had sex several times over the past week. I was sore, but was eager to take the sex when Mark was free.

  I sucked on his tongue as he ran his hand down my stomach to the wet spot between my legs. I let out a quiet gasp as he slid his hand inside my silk panties and forcefully slid two fingers inside me. I pulled my arms from the dress, allowing it to slide down and over my tits to bunch around my waist. I laced my fingers around the back of his neck just the way he liked. Mark loved to watch my tits bounce as he fucked me. I was blessed with firm, round full breasts that Mark loved to slide his manhood through. He’d left a pearl necklace on my chest many times over the last few months. It was one of his favorite things to do. Like I said, I did the things his wife would never do. That was how our relationship worked, at least for Mark.

  “I couldn’t wait to have you,” he said over gusts of breath, his finger still thrusting in and out of me up to the knuckle. “When I saw you standing there… talking to Graham… so fucking sexy…”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said. “I’m… glad... you did…” I bit my lip as he forced three fingers inside me and curled them to search for my G-spot. Little sparks of delight shot through my body when his fingertips found their target.

  He playfully bit my lower lip and looked deep into my eyes. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

  “Mark, we’re… in a… public restroom… this is… insane…” I gasped as he pinched and held both my nipples firmly.

  He growled in my ear. “Spread your legs… Now…”

  There was an edge to his voice that made me blink. Something dangerous, something I’d never heard before. I put my hands on the edge of the counter behind me and spread my legs as Mark pushed my shoulders back toward the mirror.

  “Good girl.” He smiled as he let go of my nipples, releasing them finally from the vice of his fingertips. I was so caught up in the moment I didn’t even notice when Mark had unzipped his pants to expose himself. Before I had time to take another breath, he pushed aside the crotch of my soaked panties and thrust inside me until he go inside no further. I could feel my opening spreading to accommodate his girth. His sizable cock was Mark’s best attribute. It was a pity that endurance didn’t come with size.

  With an intensity that I had not seen from him before, Mark dug his fingers into my ass and started thrusting in and out with such force I thought for sure the people on the other side of the door would hear our grunts and groans. A few more forceful thrusts and he came to a dead stop as he shot his load inside me. I could feel the pulsating of his cock with each wave. And just as quickly as it had started, it was over. That was usually where things ended, but tonight Mark didn’t stop pleasuring me just because he had shot his load. To my astonishment and delight, he leaned down and kissed me hard on the lips; a good, long, deep, passionate kiss between lovers. His cock slid out of me, but was quickly replaced by his fingers.

  “Mark, what are you…”

  “I want you to cum, baby,” he said, his lips on my neck, his fingers working furiously between my legs. “Do you want me to make you cum, baby? Do you? Tell me, Zoe. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want to cum…” I whispered, my lips at his ear, his teeth on my neck. “Please… yes… make me… cum…”

  Mark slowly fucked me with his fingers as he kissed my lips, probing with his tongue. He was bringing me closer to orgasm with every stroke. I had never seen or felt him be so attentive. My knees clasped around his arm when the orgasm hit. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I prayed that he wouldn’t stop.

  “Oh… god… yessss… I’m… oh… Mark… oh… oh…” I clenched my arms around his head and pulled him to me as his fingers took me all the way home. He kept going, plunging, until I let go of his head and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop.

  “Let me breathe,” I said, playfully pushing him away, smiling coyly at him. He took a step back and matched my smile. His gooey right hand dangled at his side, dripping with our juices. He had just given me the best orgasm he ever had. Strange that it happened in a public restroom in the middle of a huge dinner party at a ritzy New York hotel.

  “That… was… amazing,” I said, panting, smiling at him. I turned toward the mirror and adjusted my dress down over my hips and back up over my breasts. I grabbed a towel from the stack on the counter and turned to the sink to wash up, still dazed about what just happened.

  “I’m glad it was amazing,” Mark said as he tucked his cock back into his suit pants and stepped over to the other sink to wash his hands. He dried his hands on a towel, dropped it in the dirty towel bin, then reached for his jacket that was hanging on the hook behind the door. He slid his arms into the jacket and stared at me in the mirror. “Since it will probably be the last time we fuck.”

  I frowned at him in the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He frowned back at me. His frown was much harder than mine. It was cold, resentful, angry. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you’re leaving town for a few months to research a new book?”

  Shit. How did he find out? I leaned into the mirror and tried to be coy. “I didn’t know I needed to inform you of my plans.”

  “It would have been nice if you had, Zoe. I respect you and I thought you held the same respect for me. Guess not, huh?”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. Respect? Really? Mark and I obviously had different opinions on the meaning of the word. “I didn’t tell you because I’m still not sure if I’m going to go. Or how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Zoe,” Mark said, huffing. “We both know you’re leaving for Costa Rica next week to research your next book, probably for a few months if the press release from your publisher is correct.”

  I forced myself to remain calm as I twisted the lipstick tube and avoided his stare in the mirror. “Who told you that?”

  “No one had to tell me,” Mark said as he moved in close behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, burning my skin like a hot desert wind. “It was front page of the literary section in today’s paper. Bestselling author Zoe Maxwell to spend the summer in Costa Rica researching her next bombshell novel. Leaving the man who loves her behind.”

  I glared at his reflection in the mirror. “The man who loves her? Really? Is that what we have, Mark? Love?”

  “You could have told me it was over,” he muttered, his lips pouting like a hurt little boy. “I should not have found out in the f
ucking paper.”

  “They weren't supposed to release anything because it’s not a done deal,” I said through clenched teeth. I willed myself not to cry. Instead, I let anger take the lead. “Someone at the publisher jumped the gun. I’m really sorry you found out this way.”

  “Does it matter now, though?” he asked, growling at me, his eyes seething with anger. “You’ve made your call. It’s over. We’re over. Fuck me very much!”

  “What did you expect, Mark?” I asked, turning to face him. “You’re a married man. You’re never going to leave your wife. Sooner or later we both knew that this would have to end.”

  “I just wish you would have told me the truth,” he said with a sigh that made him sound old and tired. “You should have said something when this first came up. I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while. Just because I’m married and this…”

  “This what, Mark?” I asked, leaning against the counter with my arms folded over my chest. “This what?”

  His hands sliced through the air. “This... What we have…”

  “You mean us sneaking around and fucking like deviants in public bathrooms and in the back of your car or at my apartment in the middle of the day because you don’t have the balls to leave your wife? Is that the this you’re referring to, Mark?”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. “You always knew that I’d never leave her.”

  “And you always knew that this would end, Mark.”

  He glared into my eyes for a moment, and then slowly shook his head as he went to the door. “Good luck, Zoe,” he said as he opened the door. “This has been fun.”

  Chapter One: Zoe

  I didn’t chase after him. He wasn’t even mine to chase after. He was never mine. But his leaving felt like I was sucker punched in the stomach. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as I stood there feeling devastated and confused. I was angry that the paper published the article. They were supposed to wait for another week. Goddammit!

  I felt the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Why is it every time something good happens in my life, people end up getting hurt? That’s not how it’s supposed to go, but it seems like it never fails. I always end up hurting those that are the closest to me. Even though Mark was not mine to love, I cared deeply for him and never set out to hurt him. I didn’t even know how or why I cared for him, but I did. The sex had never been that good. Heck, tonight was the best sex we’ve ever had.

  I dried my eyes and took one more glance in the mirror before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom as inconspicuously as I could. I kept my head down as I walked through the crowd and headed right toward the exit. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

  “Zoe Maxwell! In the flesh! How have you been?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, took a deep breath and turned around. It was Andrew Brock, a book reviewer for The Times who loved to take selfies with famous authors, yours truly included. I had to be nice to Andrew, even though he got on my last nerve.

  “Andrew,” I said, grinning as I held out my hand. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been fabulous,” he said with a smug smile. “I hear you’re about to take a little island vacation to work on your next book.”

  “Well, I guess you could say that,” I said, grinning.

  “I see your name everywhere now. Zoe Maxwell… Zoe Maxwell … Zoe Maxwell. Book signing here, personal appearance there, author meet and greets… Add to that yet another bestseller. Congrats.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” I said, feigning modesty. “And thank you for your glowing reviews.”

  “I’ve enjoyed all your books but I must say, the one with Jenny and Jake, now that story is my favorite. I gave it 5-stars, I believe, which I am sure helped sales quite a bit. Tell me, how do you come up with such steamy sex scenes?”

  “Well, I just…”

  “There you are!” A woman literally yelled at me from across the room. Shit. I recognized the shrill voice of Carla Grogan, a PR agent who had been pressing me for my business for years. I took a deep breath and held the plastic smile as she approached.

  “Carla,” I said as she gave me an air kiss on each cheek. “So nice to see you. How have you been?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, but let’s talk about you. I hear you’re leaving for Costa Rica to write a new hot romance series for Roland House?” she said, hand squeezing my arm. “Do they pay you to go there?”

  “Well, no, I pay for it,” I said, frowning at the question. “The next book series takes place in Costa Rica and since I’ve never been there, I’d like to get a feel for the country, the lifestyle. So that’s where I’m headed.”

  “Lucky you! And your latest book, Pleasing Him. Oh my god, I loved it! It’s like this sexy love affair slash erotic S&M thing with all the… “

  “Zoe?”

  I turned around as a great sigh of relief escaped my lips when I saw Graham Elliott, an executive at Roland House, my publisher, approach with his arms out. Graham was tall, thin, and as usual, impeccably dressed. His hair had gone silver when he was in his thirties, twenty-something years ago, but his face was tanned, youthful, and free of lines. Graham would have been the perfect man for me—older, reliable, handsome, successful—if he hadn’t been gay.

  “Graham, darling, how have you been?” I gave him a hug and whispered in his ear. “Save me, please.”

  “Nice to see you, Zoe,” he said with a knowing wink. He nodded at Carla and Andrew. “Carla, Andrew.”

  They wrinkled their noses at him and said his name as if it left a bad taste in their mouths. In unison, they said, “Graham.”

  “Andrew and Carla, it was nice seeing both of you,” I said, backing away. “But I have to call it a night.” I glanced at my watch as if it were a countdown to midnight clock. “Graham, we should meet for drinks or dinner before I leave.”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I’d love that.”

  “Well, you all have a good night and I’ll see you all later.”

  I waved from over my shoulder as I bolted toward the exit, keeping my head down to avoid eye contact with anyone else.

  I burst out the door, sucking in the crisp night air as I asked the doorman to please hail a cab for me. I stood off to the side, waiting, trying to go unnoticed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.

  I just wanted to get away from all these horrible people and the memory of Mark in the bathroom. And with any luck, the memory of Mark himself.

  * * *

  I don’t even recall the ride home. It was a blur. A complete blur. I felt awkward and confused. I wanted to talk to Mark but at the same time, I never wanted to see him again. He had no right to be in that bathroom, whether I was his mistress or not. There were boundaries in any relationship, though Mark would never let such things stop him from getting his way. Still, the sex had been amazing. I had actually orgasmed, something I rarely did with Mark.

  Typically, with Mark, it was, “wham bam thank you, ma’am” and then he was gone before I could catch my breath. I was always left to finish myself off. I could still feel the orgasm from tonight shaking through my knees. I’d only been manhandled like that by one other man in my life: Chad Walters, my college boyfriend who I hadn’t seen in years.

  Chad was a control freak, but in a good way. It was always his way or the highway. The sexual positions were always of his choosing and rarely, if ever, did he give me any form of control. He liked it rough and so did I. He liked to play and explore and he let me know over and over how he was in control. Sometimes his nature got on my nerves, but ultimately the sex was so fucking great I didn’t care who was in control. I would have left him sooner if I hadn’t been so addicted to his cock.

  After a while, though, I began to feel used by Chad and that was how I was feeling now with Mark. I felt I had no choice but to leave. A few months in Costa Rica would do me a world of good.

  After college, I took a job a few states away on p
urpose and cried the entire drive there. I felt horrible for breaking things off with Chad. I felt horrible for leaving him the way I did. I loved him. I really did. And he loved me and there I was running away.

  Chad called and begged me to return several times, which was so unlike him. It almost made me think the whole control thing was just an act and that he really cared for me. Gradually, however, time and distance took their toll and we slipped away from each other. The last time he called, I didn’t even answer the phone and he didn’t bother to leave a message.

  Even though he was gone, Chad had never strayed far from my mind. It still hurt to hear his name and every relationship I’d had since, didn’t compare to what we shared. We shared some intimate moments that were better kept secret. But sometimes secrets knife you until they bleed free. And that’s what happened to me.

  All the secrets Chad and I shared, things that were meant to remain just between us, ended up in my diary. Then, the heart-spilling, jaw-dropping, erotic moments ended up in a book, then on the shelf of every bookstore in the world. I changed the names of the characters, of course, but now my entire relationship with Chad had been read by tens of thousands of lusty readers. Yes, another bestseller. Fiction to everyone, sweet memories to me.

  Somehow getting it all out was like therapy. It took me years to write that story and tell it just as it happened. Every detail, every date, every sexual moment, that I could recall. Along with some secrets I never even told him.

  Writing that first book helped me close a chapter in my life that needed to be closed. Somehow, even though it was closed, it never seemed to go away. It didn’t seem to ease the feelings. It seemed to create more urges than I had to learn how to live with— urges I knew could never be fulfilled because he was no longer in my life. I had to learn how to live with the void of knowing there was nothing that could ever completely erase or ease the feeling of loss I felt when it came to losing Chad.

  Mark surely didn’t fill that void. If he wasn’t married, who knows what would have become of us. But he was married and I was just the mistress who sat by the phone waiting for him to call.