Black Swan Affair

by K. L. Kreig

  I don’t know this couple. I don’t know their lives, their story, or how hard they had to work to get to this moment. But what I do know is—as I sit here and watch two people clearly in love twine their lives together forever—I am filled with hot regret.

  I squandered my day.

  I stood in front of Kael, repeating the same vows this couple is now saying, and wished wishes I should never have wished.

  Now I wish for entirely different things. I wish I had a chance to look deep into Kael’s soul when speaking true words of love and devotion. I wish I could make him understand how he’s painstakingly pieced my broken parts back together. I wish he knew that I will be eternally grateful for the unexpected gift he’s given me. Given us. I wish for a redo of it all. Our courtship, our wedding day, our honeymoon, our first time. Our entire life together.

  I quickly wipe remorse from my face as the crowd stands and cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Needlemeyer. Eck. Poor girl. When the happy couple glides by us, they’re so lost in their own bubble we could be four-headed aliens and they wouldn’t even notice. We stay put as the wedding party passes us next, followed by the cutest little girl in the most adorable navy-blue dress and matching patent leather shoes. Petals from the small bouquet she’s winging back and forth sail to the ground behind her. She squeals and takes off down the long aisle as a boy a few years old in a smart navy suit chases after her. Following on their heels is a crazed woman, presumably the mother.

  “Cassie, Aiden!” she yells. “Stop this instant.”

  Cassie starts nimbly weaving between the pews, Aiden hot on her heels. Neither of them slows a stitch.

  Kael squeezes my hand and when my eyes find his, they’re alight with…anticipation? For our own? That thought would have petrified me just months ago. And not because I didn’t want kids. I’ve always wanted a family of my own. But because I always pictured them with Killian instead. Now…now, though, my picture is starting to slowly morph and twist.

  When Kael drops his lips to my temple, I exhale in utter contentment. God, how could I not know I had these crazy feelings for him before? So many years wasted. “Good idea I had, huh?”

  “I will have to concede you that point, yes,” I agree with a smile.

  “Come on. We can slink out the back, undetected.” He tugs on my hand. I stop him, though.

  “No. Let’s go give our congratulations to the happy couple.”

  He blinks a couple of times before a wide grin takes over his face. He nods. “I like the way you think.”

  Wagging my brows, I say excitedly, “Maybe we can finagle an invite to the reception? I can put on that sexy little black number you brought and let you make all the men envious.”

  He tucks me into his arms. “Ah yes, but then you’d show up the bride. And every bride deserves to be the center of attention on her special day.” Dropping a fast kiss to my lips, the celebration fades away as he continues in a low, promising timbre, “Besides, I have something planned for tonight with you in that sexy little black number.”

  “Sheila’s surprise?”

  “No. It’s my surprise. Sheila just helped me with a few loose ends.”

  This man. He’s so good to me. Too good.

  I wrap my arms all the way around Kael’s waist and cinch them hard. Burying my head in his chest, I inhale a lungful of his masculine scent and spicy cologne, wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.

  “Kael?”

  “Mavs?”

  “Would you maybe, ah, want to renew our vows someday?” It won’t make up for what I took from us the first time, but maybe it gives me a second chance to do it right.

  He stills. Most of the guests have exited the church or are milling around the entrance. So there’s no one around when he pulls back a short breadth and cups my cheeks with his big hands. When I see the fat drops of water in his eyes, my own blur.

  “You want to renew our vows?” The surprise in his voice slays me.

  Suddenly I feel flush. My stomach flips like a net full of fish is in it. I can’t speak, so I nod instead, spilling all the drops that have built up in my lids.

  “Mavs.” His voice cracks. He stops and swallows. Shuts his eyes for a brief moment. “I would renew my vows with you every single day for the rest of my life if that’s what you wanted. My life has always been pledged to you.”

  I bite my lip, trying like hell to hold in a sob. “I want,” I whisper hoarsely. I want more than anything.

  Kael places his forehead gently to mine. His lids fall shut. He breathes in deep. “Just name the date and time, Swan.”

  It’s easier to pull myself together when he’s not staring at me with so much love I still don’t yet feel I deserve. “I know you like untraditional, but I’d like to do it on our one-year anniversary. I want small and intimate. Maybe even just us.” I don’t want drama and yesterdays staring me in the face.

  “I’d like that.” He must feel the same.

  “Okay. It’s a date then.”

  “It’s a date then,” he repeats, breathy and sweet. “One I wouldn’t miss on my life.”

  Later that night, we walk into Barrington’s, a swanky bar just blocks away from our B and B. A chill runs the length of my spine from the bitter cold outside. I think the temp has dropped fifteen degrees since this afternoon. There are a few flakes of snow in the air and while I need to get back to the bakery, I wouldn’t mind if we woke up to a foot of snow, stealing an extra day here. I’m in no rush to head back to Dusty Falls and everything that awaits us there. Spending uninterrupted time with Kael, away from it all—let’s be brutally honest, away from Killian—is as if an enormous weight has been lifted from my chest.

  I see nothing but Kael. As it should be.

  “Oh, look, there’s a nice secluded table in the back.” A perfect place for slipping off a shoe and running my bare foot up Kael’s thigh until his eyes dilate and hood. Until his cock gets so fucking hard, he makes me give him a hand job under the table. He refused to touch me earlier, making me shower alone. I’m still a little cross about that. He said, “Anticipation heightens the senses, Swan. And I want every one of your senses strung tight as a bow by the time we get back to our room.” Well, I can string his senses into knots, too.

  “Let’s order a drink first,” he whispers against my cheek. With a hand at the small of my back, Kael maneuvers us around to the far side of the long granite bar and smoothly orders. “I’ll have a Babyface Nelson.”

  “A Babyface Nelson? What’s that?” I ask, looking up at him. That sexy dimple of his pops when he simultaneously quirks the corner of his lip and winks.

  The bartender nods and reaches for a bottle of Jack Daniels. My forehead scrunches. Kael doesn’t even like Jack. But it doesn’t come off the shelf. Instead, the bartender pulls it forward, like a lever or a switch, and the wall to our left, which is painted entirely black, slides open with a soft whisper.

  “Thanks, man,” Kael says.

  “Oh my God. What is this?” I ask in wonder, staring at the open staircase in front of us.

  Kael ushers me forward, my hand now trapped in his. When we walk through the open space it shuts behind, closing us in, muffling the noise. We’re now on the landing of a dimly lit narrow wooden stairway. The steps are old and worn. Curved a little in the middle from so many years of use. A closed steel-gray door at the bottom traps us in.

  “Where are we?” I whisper. It echoes loudly, sounding as if we’ve stepped right inside a tin can.

  “The gateway to heaven,” Kael smoothly answers.

  I pivot and grab the lapels of his peacoat. Sliding to my tiptoes, I bat my eyes seductively. “You told me this morning that was between my beautiful thighs.”

  Storm clouds roll into his brown eyes, deepening them to an inky black. He steps into me. I step back. He steps into me again but I have nowhere to go because my back is now flush with the brick wall. Dropping his palms on either side of my head he presses his lower half fully into me. He’s so damn hard
. It takes my breath away.

  “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he tells me. His tone is low and gravelly. Guttural. Yeah, guttural and sinful as hell.

  “Here?” I’m panting. Panting.

  Steely, determined dark pools of lust bore into mine. “Yes.”

  My body temp soars. I’m so damn hot and bothered right now I feel like I’m melting right into the wall. My eyes dart to the doors on either side of us. “Right here? In this stairwell?”

  “Yes,” his husky voice whispers with surety against the shell of my ear. My lids drift shut. My lips part on a gasp. One of his hands has slid down my outer thigh. Finding bare skin, he’s now trailing it back up. Pretty soon he’s going to discover the surprise I was saving for later. “Oh fuck, Swan,” he growls long and low when he hits my bare, uncovered pussy. My bare, uncovered, dripping pussy.

  Then I’m the one to curse when he pushes two greedy fingers inside me. And I hoarsely gasp his name when he starts fingering me with pure, focused dedication to my pleasure alone.

  It feels so good all I can do is hold on for the ride.

  I’m fully aware we are dangerously exposed. My dress is pulled up to my waist, my privates on full display as my husband finger fucks me in a public place. Anyone could walk through either door. At any moment. But that also heightens my need…deepens this primary element inside me to connect with him on every possible level.

  “So wet,” he rumbles as if in pain. “So ungodly wet, Mavs.” God in heaven, I am. The sound of my flesh being worked is wild and decadent.

  I snake a hand between us so I can grip his erection over his slacks. He groans and pulses twice in quick succession when my fingers wrap around his girth. I stroke him up and down. He swells more with each pass.

  “I should have bent you over the bed and taken you in front of that floor-length mirror before we left,” he grunts against my lax mouth.

  “You should have,” I manage to cobble together. I’m so lost in us, in the places he’s pushing me, that I act without thinking. With my free hand, I undo the single tie on my side holding the two halves of my dress together. I tug the material apart, exposing my sheer black bra. It barely covers my beaded nipples.

  “Holy shit, Swan.”

  Every nerve tingles with unimaginable sensitivity as he zeroes in on my breasts. The way he looks at me is electrifying. Like I’m the last meal he’ll eat on earth so he’s going to make the most of every single bite.

  Never stopping his diabolical inner caress, Kael dips and clamps a protruding bud between his teeth. He strikes fast and hard over the thin fabric. I cry out, my painful pleasure reaching my ears in short waves. Then he sucks just as hard, wetting the cup.

  My sex clenches, tightening so I feel every push and drag of his fingers against my walls. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

  Winding a leg around his opens me up farther to him. He takes advantage of my new position by adding a third digit. The second his thumb begins feathering my clit I start to quiver.

  “Kael, God. I’m going to explode.”

  “And you’re gonna make me ruin these pants if you keep that up.” With every brush upward, I circle right under his sensitive glans. Good Lord, I wish my mouth was on him right now. “Maverick, fuck that feels good.”

  I feel drunk right now. High, free, heady. So damn brazen I want his cock driving me into the brick instead of his hand. Without his objection, I pop open the button on his slacks and drag his zipper halfway down. Suddenly the scrape of metal against concrete sounds right before laughter reaches our ears. We both freeze.

  “Shit,” Kael mutters.

  My core feels empty when he quickly withdraws his fingers and wrenches my dress back together. But he doesn’t move back. Instead, he grabs my face between his palms, wetness glazing over my cheek, and smashes his lips to mine. He kisses me with passion and longing and serious frustration. Feet pound against wood. Voices get closer. A few whistles are heard. Aimed at us, I’m sure. And still, Kael keeps kissing me. He only stops when we hear the secret door slide shut, leaving us alone once again.

  Pressing our foreheads together, he grumbles, “I almost fucked you right now. Damn the consequences.”

  The air is charged, crackling. Beckoning me on bated breath to be wickedly bad.

  “Do,” I press him, breathlessly. Jesus, what am I saying? Public sex?

  He angles back slightly, his gaze gripping mine. His ambers blaze hot. So hot my entire being is on fire. Wordlessly, he reaches his hand down. When I hear his zipper separate, I let my dress fall back open. I feel his cock, stiff and velvety, against my stomach only a second before he runs the thick crown through my wetness. He wraps a palm around the back of my thigh and winds it around his so my heel brushes his calf. The breath whooshes out of me when—eyes never leaving mine—he plunges inside in one vicious thrust.

  “Oh, God.”

  My orgasm, which had waned with our interruption, barrels back. It’s sharp, instantaneous. It takes me by such surprise, Kael has to slam his mouth to mine to swallow my keening wails.

  He fucks me hard, almost callously. His hips slap, relentless and bruising, his pubic bones slamming against mine with each rough drive.

  “Holy fuck, Mavs,” he breathes, impaling me twice more before releasing on a long, broken stutter. Spent, his body goes slack against mine. His weight makes my shoulder blades dig into the grooves of the wall behind me. The weight feels good, though, so I don’t push him back. We should move. We don’t. “That was…”

  “Yeah,” I pant in agreement. My eyes are screwed shut. My skin beads with sweat. My heart’s pounding against my ribs. The scent of sex loitering in the air is unmistakable. “That was.”

  “Don’t use the restroom,” he says, grunting. “I want my come sticking to your thighs.” He pushes these dirty words into my ear. Holy mother, the things he says sometimes.

  “That’s kind of cavemanish,” I tease as he sweetly but efficiently rewraps my dress. He even ties the bow nice and pretty before tucking himself back into his pants.

  He leans back in and presses his lips gently to mine. “Guilty. You make me completely lose my head, Maverick. Always have.”

  I grin, all glowy. Positively overflowing with all the feels for him. “So, ah…where were you taking me, husband of mine, before you fucked me half to death in a secret stairwell?”

  He expels a rush of air that washes over my face. It still smells like the mint he had after dinner. “I love hearing that, you know.”

  “What?” I reach up and run my finger along his strong jawline, loving the feel of trimmed stubble under the pad.

  “Husband. I love being your husband, Maverick. I’ve always wanted that and there was a time when…” He stalls. Throws his gaze to the floor quickly. Returns it back to mine. The heat that was in them before has been replaced with some sort of ache. “There was a time when I thought maybe that wouldn’t happen.”

  My smile drops and my breath catches in that little pocket at the back of my throat. Is that why every time he’s inside me, it feels as if he’s trying to brand not only my soul but my very spirit as well? Is he worried I’ll change my mind and run to be with Killian instead, given the chance? Would I? I’d like to be able to say with 100 percent certainty the answer is no, but the honest to God’s truth is…I can’t be sure. Killian will always be wound around me in some way. Regardless of if I’m ever successful at severing that hold he has on me, his imprint will always be left behind. There’s simply nothing I can do about that.

  Time kinda slows down as we search each other’s souls. What does he see? Does he see a woman who has changed over the past few months? Does he see a woman who has truly fallen in love with the man before her? Or does he see one who he thinks betrayed him with his brother of all people? That’s what I feel when I look at him now. Even though Kael and I were not a thing until Killian and I were well over, I feel as though I’ve betrayed him somehow. I suppose I have in a way.

  We
both know it. We both think it. Neither of us will acknowledge it, though.

  My heart beats double time. This is the part where we edge up to that ambiguous line. But do we cross it? Do we mention his name and pick that scab at long last or do we skirt around it once again?

  I honestly don’t know what to say, so I stay mute and just wait.

  He leans in. Touches his lips lightly to my forehead. Then pulls back way too fast. “Come on,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I wanted to show you a real live twenties speakeasy that’s so exclusive you can’t get in unless you know the right people.”

  Circle it is.

  “Okay.” As I flash a brief smile and set my palm in his, letting him lead me down the rickety stairs, I have to wonder about that circle, though. It keeps getting smaller and smaller and smaller. We’ve worn the edges smooth and thin.

  They’re fragile.

  They’re cracking.

  Pretty soon there won’t be anything left.

  Then we’ll have no choice but to enter the very center where hurt feelings lay buried beneath our feet, waiting to be unearthed like ghosts in a graveyard.

  I’ve lost track of time.

  How long have I been in this room? It’s supposed to be a sanctuary but feels like a sinking ship in the middle of an ocean. Oxygen’s precious and each shallow breath in will eventually be my last.

  Has it been minutes? Centuries?

  I don’t know.

  I’m not sure I care.

  Several people have come in and out of the chapel. I watch them, silently. They sit or kneel. Some light a candle. Some don’t. They whisper in prayer. Weep softly. Beg and barter for their loved ones. They don’t think I hear them, or maybe they don’t care. Maybe they think if we all band together in a show of unity, it will save at least one of our loved ones currently fighting for their lives.

  But unless it’s mine—unless it’s him—I don’t care.

  Callous. Selfish and heartless. Say what you want about that thought. It doesn’t make me a bad person. All it makes me is human.