They talked; he told her what he wanted. His cock, wrapped in her hand, was magnificent on the big screen.
“That’s it, stroke it, baby.”
Watching, listening, she could feel him in her hand again, the smooth, warm flesh, how hard he was, the slight unsteadiness of his voice. A tiny drop of pre-come rose from the slit of his cock. It had felt like silk as she smoothed it over him. She caressed him, talked to his cock, cupped his balls, then suddenly she swooped down and sucked him into her mouth. She remembered that first taste of him, salty yet sweet.
She took him deep, her eyes closed, and God, she looked like a woman sipping Dom Perignon and eating chocolate. Her red lipstick and fingernails were decadent on his flesh.
She glanced at her nails now, some of the polish already chipped off after cleaning. Up on the screen, she was Cinderella at the ball; down on the couch, she was just a scullery maid.
On-screen, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “Suck me, baby, please.”
She drowned in the sound of his voice, his desire. He’d made her beautiful to the camera, the lens loving on her face. She didn’t feel disgusting or perverted. She was perfect. His gorgeous cock in her mouth was delicious. She could taste him even now, feel the silkiness of his flesh between her lips. She’d loved sucking him, adored it, wanted so much more of it.
She was good. God, she was good. She could hear it in his voice. But she wanted to see his face, see how she affected him.
The moment came. With an abrupt scene change—the point at which he’d stopped the camera to put it on the tripod—she was suddenly between his legs as he sat in the chair.
Oh. My. God. She had never seen a more perfect man. Every muscle bulged with perfection, not an ounce of fat. The planes of his face were taut with desire, his skin flushed with need. For her, for what she could do to him.
He talked to her, praised her, as his body rose and fell to meet her mouth.
“Jesus, baby, you’re so goddamn good at that. You’re killing me.”
His legs started to shake, and she removed her hand, sucking him deep, all the way. The camera suddenly zoomed, and she could actually see the pulse of blood through his cock.
For long moments, there was just the delicious slurp of her mouth on his cock, as if she were sucking candy, his throaty purr of pleasure, and her own moans. She hadn’t realized she’d made any sound at all. But there, on the screen, was the evidence of how much she’d loved it.
This wasn’t filthy or raunchy or disgusting. It wasn’t porn. It was art. She was wet watching herself, watching him.
Then he stopped her, rolled on a condom, and pulled her astride him.
“I thought you were just going to videotape me sucking you.” She heard the nerves in her voice. It had been the first time since she’d dropped her dress on the floor that she’d started to feel uncomfortable.
Rand stroked her clit. “You’re so fucking wet. Put me inside you. I want you to see me taking you on camera.”
With that one touch, she’d wanted it all. The sight of his cock filling her made her heart flutter. All the sounds, the movement, their hot breath, her moans and cries—Rachel was flushed and wanting all over again. Even as she watched, she couldn’t resist spreading her legs and slipping her hand inside her sweats. She was so wet, so hot, dazed, drugged.
She watched as she orgasmed on-screen, as she squeezed her eyes shut, moaned, threw her head back, and slammed down on him, taking him deep, holding him in, her body shaking, her breasts bouncing. While she watched, she drenched her fingers with her orgasm. Then she was sucking him again, and when Rand splashed her face with come, she climaxed once again in the here and now. It was beautiful, perfect. She wanted that, what he’d done to her up there on the screen, she wanted it again and again.
Finally, he was just holding her. She hadn’t realized he’d still had the camera going then.
They were lush and loving in each other’s arms. They whispered, smiled, and he rubbed his come all over her breasts. Then he kissed her. God, she remembered that kiss, the taste of his come still in her mouth, the scent of it all over them.
She remembered being afraid to watch the video. Now she knew why. It wasn’t her fear of looking disgusting or slutty.
It was this.
On her TV screen, Rachel kissed him like a woman in love.
* * *
“IT WAS SO COOL, MOM.” NATHAN, EXCITED AS ALL GET-OUT ABOUT his first driving lesson. “I took the online classes every night, so on Saturday I could get behind the wheel.” Gary had taken him down to get his driver’s permit. “Mr. Filpot”—the instructor—“said that’s the fastest anyone’s ever done it.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” Rachel didn’t want to say anything to bring him down. She hadn’t seen him this animated since Gary had left her.
Gary had dropped the boys off early, before dinner. He probably wanted to get started on screwing his girlfriend every night before he got his sons back in a week.
Gosh, that sounded bitter, especially since she’d dropped the boys on him an hour early last Sunday to do the same thing with Rand. She’d rushed around the house this afternoon, erasing any evidence of her debauchery with the video, stowing the SD card and her vibrator safely beneath her panties and scarves. She’d wanted to call Rand, hear his voice one more time, tell him how much she’d loved their movie, but it was too late.
“What do you guys want for dinner?”
“Hamburgers and sweet potato fries,” Justin jumped in, probably feeling like he’d been ignored while Nathan went on and on about his driving lesson.
“The hamburger’s frozen.”
“We can go to the store, Mom,” Justin insisted.
“And I can drive.” Nathan glowed with his excitement.
Oh God. She should have known that was coming. “You need a little more practice with the instructor before we go out.”
“I only get six hours of driving with him, and to get my license, I need fifty hours of practice. Dad let me drive.”
Rachel resisted rolling her eyes like Justin. This was the ever-increasing habit, pitting her against Gary. Honestly, now that she’d agreed to his driver’s permit, it was bad policy to deny him the practice. That was passive-aggressive, to say yes to the lessons, then nitpick about his behind-the-wheel time.
“All right. Let’s do it.”
“Yes.” Nathan punched the air.
By the time they arrived back home, Rachel had a tension headache, her teeth hurt from clenching them, and she’d worn a hole in the passenger side floorboard slamming on brakes she didn’t have.
“You did great, Nathan,” she said as she sliced the sweet potatoes.
“Except when he almost ran down that old lady and her shopping cart in the parking lot,” Justin added.
“Did not,” Nathan shot back.
“Did, too.”
“Boys. Is your homework done?”
“Yes, Mom.”
She gave them both a look.
“Almost,” Justin muttered.
Nathan didn’t look at her; obviously his wasn’t done either. “Finish it up while I’m making dinner,” she said.
It was a pleasant evening, the burgers were good, and they watched an action movie the title of which she couldn’t even remember and didn’t care about. Curled into the corner of the sofa, she marveled at how nice the last three hours had been. No fighting or sniping, no sullenness. All she’d had to do was agree to let Nathan drive. She should have given in months ago. After all, she’d lost the battle anyway.
Over dinner, she’d told them about her going back to school. Neither had put up a fuss. Nathan had graciously said he’d have no problem babysitting Justin, at which point Justin elbowed him. The timing had been just right, another boon out of letting him start his driving lessons. Things were definitely looking up in the Delaney household.
As things exploded on the screen, she thought of her own ex
plosions of a very different kind. The things Rand had done to her, what she’d done to him. Oh, it was bad to be thinking about it when the boys were in the same room, but she couldn’t stop since she wasn’t the least bit interested in the movie.
Really, what could be the harm? Neither Justin nor Nathan would ever know. She didn’t sigh or moan. She just…imagined. And wondered how she would survive a whole week. Rand had pegged it. Once you started getting it, you wanted more. Desire didn’t wane; it grew exponentially. Like you’d gotten hooked on a drug.
She was barely aware of the exciting finale in which someone jumped onto a moving gasoline truck and saved the day by blowing it up without singeing a single hair.
Then it was an hour after bedtime, the house quiet around her. Rachel couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, her body on fire like the exploding gasoline tanker, and when she glanced at the clock, she’d been lying there an hour and a half. She was wet, her nipples aching, her skin sensitized to every shift of the covers across her skin.
She needed an orgasm. She wouldn’t be able to sleep without one. She should never have watched that damn video this afternoon. It played over and over in her mind. She could taste Rand, smell him, feel his hard flesh beneath her fingers. She needed relief, just a small one. She knew she shouldn’t do it with the boys home. Bad, bad, bad. But she couldn’t sleep. It was crazy. She wanted Rand, his voice in her ear. She needed it, had to have it. She couldn’t stop herself.
Rachel reached for her cell phone, turned on the Bluetooth, and dialed Rand’s number.
14
HE’D WAITED TWENTY-FOUR HOURS FOR HER TO CALL. BY SUNDAY night, he’d figured it would be the following week since she’d been so adamant she wouldn’t do anything with the boys in the house.
“I have to be very quiet,” she whispered when he answered.
“Does that mean you can’t have an orgasm?”
He could hear the beat of silence ring through his bedroom, then she said, “You’re a dirty man for getting me to do this.”
“I’m a very good man or you wouldn’t have called. Did you like your movie?”
“It was filthy.”
“So you loved it.”
She laughed softly, and his balls tightened. She had such a sexy voice. He was sure she didn’t have a clue about that, and if he told her, she wouldn’t believe him.
“Let’s just say it was interesting.”
“How many orgasms did you have while you were watching it?”
Again, that beat of silence.
“Come on,” he urged. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Two.” Pause. “At least.”
Christ, she got him going. She was demure, yet when she let herself go, she was amazing. “Which part did you like best?”
“Well, uh…” She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He wanted her to admit what it was. He liked learning about her needs, storing them up, using them to make the experience better the next time. “Was it when I fucked you? When you could see how beautiful you are, how perfect my cock looks inside you?”
“That was good,” she whispered, then added the crowning touch, “but I loved sucking you and watching you come on me.”
Holy hell. “Touch yourself for me.”
A long, lovely sigh fluttered across the airwaves. “I’ve been touching myself since you picked up.”
“Dirty woman.” Jesus. She’d actually called him for phone sex while the kids were home. He didn’t want to compromise her personal code, but he also didn’t see anything wrong with it. Her kids had no clue what went on in their mother’s bedroom, but they couldn’t expect a gorgeous woman to put herself on the shelf until they were out of the house. “I want you to come.”
This time she moaned, softly. “I needed to hear your voice.”
He liked the fact that she needed him, that it wasn’t enough on her own.
“I watched that movie”—her breath hitched—“and it made me crazy for you. It was so naughty, Rand. I couldn’t help watching it.” She talked, her voice rising, falling, her breath a pant, then a moan. He stroked his cock to her sounds. “You were so big, Rand…and I could taste your cock…as if I were doing it all over again.” Her voice stopped and started. He wished to God he’d been to her house, so he could picture her on her bed touching herself for him. She groaned, then grunted softly, as if she was trying to hold it all in, but she was coming for him, creaming, his name barely on her lips, but there.
Then her voice again. “Oh God, I really shouldn’t have done that. But it was so good.”
And she was gone. He hadn’t come, but Rand didn’t care. He stroked leisurely, keeping himself hard, and imagined her spread-eagled before him.
He imagined stealing into her room to give her a fantasy.
Christ, it was good awakening Rachel from the deep slumber of a seventeen-year marriage.
RACHEL COULDN’T BELIEVE SHE’D CALLED RAND. FOUR NIGHTS IN a row, she’d succumbed. By last night, Wednesday night, she’d called him the moment she was sure the boys were asleep, giving up resistance completely. Where the Borg and Rand were concerned, resistance was definitely futile. As she put together lunches for the boys, she couldn’t stop thinking about Rand, about the way he made her come with just words. God, she needed him. How the mighty fall when they’re horny. He’d figured out how much she loved the burglar and pirate fantasies, and he embellished, sometimes giving her to the whole darn crew, who were, of course, well bathed and freshly shaved before they had at her, as befitted a fantasy. Rand made sex so much fun. Especially over the phone.
Life was good everywhere. Nathan was human again. Justin was a perfect little eighth grader. They did their homework and even helped with the dishes. What’s up with that? She knew she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but honestly, she’d started to worry that her sons had been taken over by pod people.
The high school and middle school were across the street from each other, and though they could have walked, she’d been driving them this week. Or rather, she’d been letting Nathan drive to get his practice hours in. The lessons were improving his sense of responsibility. And what Nathan did rubbed off on Justin; it always had.
Hot sex and well-behaved children did wonders for a woman.
Rachel breezed through the morning, marveling at her efficiency. Bree was closeted in her office with the IRS auditor. The guy was wide-shouldered and tall, like the watchdog he was supposed to be. Rachel was proud of Bree. She’d been nervous about firing Marbury and conducting the audit herself, but she was in there doing her thing. Rachel gave her a thumbs-up behind the auditor’s back before Bree closed the door.
When Rachel delivered Dominic’s mail, he was in his office rather than his testing lab. “Hey, Rach.” He smiled.
Dominic was a hottie at six-one, with dark hair and a sexy smile that made a girl melt. Of course, he only had eyes for Erin, which was amazing after fifteen years of marriage and the tragedy they’d been through.
Rachel liked the nickname he used for her. Funny thing, she hadn’t noticed his smile until Rand walked into her life. Then, all of a sudden, she’d started seeing all men in a sexual light. Like a woman in heat.
She laid his mail on his desk. “It’s mostly junk.” But Dominic liked to pick through his own junk.
“You have a few minutes to review a sales brochure for me? I’ve got Atul and Cam working on something else right now.”
Dominic did all the marketing, in addition to engineering their products. Atul handled the website and documentation, and Cam was their software engineer.
“I don’t know enough about the products, Dominic.”
“It’s not rocket science. Check it for typos and stuff that doesn’t make sense. It should be in layman’s terms anyway. Give me your opinion on whether it catches the eye.”
She felt a rush of pleasure, just as she had when Erin complimented her on how she’d handled Matt and Steve. “Sure, I’ll read it rig
ht away.”
He slid the brochure across the desk. “Take your time. Tomorrow is fine.” Then he started leafing through the mail.
Back in her office, Rachel got out her red pen and began marking up the brochure. It was fun. She wondered if Erin had said something to Dominic about giving her more to do. When she’d started at DKG almost five months ago, she’d answered phones and sorted the mail. She didn’t have any job skills, but thank God Erin had taken pity on her and given her a chance. Now she did everyone’s filing, matched payables and receivables, and entered purchase orders, too. She was learning a bit more about each of the systems, becoming more valuable.
She returned the corrected brochure to Dominic after lunch and told him she’d help out anytime. At one-thirty, the phone rang, and Rachel was shocked that the caller wanted her. No one ever wanted to talk to the receptionist.
“Hello, Mrs. Delaney, this is Miss Watson from Principal Torvik’s office over at the high school.”
Rachel’s heart started to race, and spots swam before her eyes. “Is Nathan okay?”
“He’s not injured. Don’t worry. Principal Torvik would like to meet with you today at four-thirty.”
“Meet with me?” She felt like an idiot, echoing the woman. Principal Torvik the dickhead wanted to see her. “Did Nathan use his cell phone in class again? Because I told him not to after the last incident.”
“No, Mrs. Delaney. Principal Torvik simply wants to discuss some behavioral symptoms Nathan is exhibiting.”
That sounded ominous. “What does that mean?”
“Please, Mrs. Delaney. That’s what the principal would like to discuss with you. At four-thirty.”
Dammit, why wouldn’t the woman tell her? Maybe Miss Watson didn’t know. “Yes. All right. I can be there.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Delaney.”
She stared at the phone for fifteen seconds. Just when she thought things were improving, what had Nathan done? Rachel left a terse message for him to call her at his next break. She’d barely pushed End when her cell rang.
It was Gary, not Nathan. “What the hell is going on, Rachel? The principal’s office just called and ordered me down there for a meeting this afternoon.”
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