ROMANCE: Mr. Mystery: (New Adult Bad Boy Romance) (Contemporary Mystery Short Stories)

by Viva Fox

  “Are you alright?” asked Derek, snapping my dazed self back into the present somewhat, and I blinked stupidly up at him, seeing him as though for the first time, and the guilt rising inside me seeming to subside all at once.

  “I, um... Yeah... I'm fine... It's just fast, is all...” I said, smiling at him, wiping my brow of sweat and straightening my body out for him, trying to make myself look as sexy as possible in his presence.

  He grinned, looking at me, and I could tell from his expression that he was almost certainly undressing me with his eyes. “Well, in that case, I don't want to be too forward or anything, but... Well, I have a place, just a couple of blocks away from here... You wouldn't want to swing by, by any chance, would you?”

  Although my cheeks were flushing scarlet at this point, and my trepidation about all of this felt hotter and more forbidding than ever, I nonetheless stammered like a fool, “O-okay,” and allowed myself to be led in his wake back to the house.

  And almost from the moment I set foot into the door, the two of us were on one another, inseparable, and tangled up so fiercely that it was almost suffocating. We rolled around through the house, nearly choking one another on our respective love as our tongues pushed deep into one another's open mouths, our kisses getting hotter, wetter, and more intense with each slick, progressive peck.

  Before I knew it, the two of us were in his bedroom, and things were amplifying to levels that made me dizzy to even consider. I mean, hell, even when I'd been single I'd never let myself be operated on with this amount of intensity, and I'd always been one for taking things slow and steady. But now, God help me, it was like I just couldn't get enough of this delicious bastard, and the feeling was, quite apparently, very, very mutual.

  He draped me across the bed like an extra blanket, and I lay there, astonished, as he peeled his sweat-soaked shirt up off of himself, sliding the fabric up coursing along his slick, astonishing flesh, and tossing the article to the floor.

  My eyes went wide as I gazed at the glory of his body, his intense pecks, his blaring, heaving six-pack abdominals, and the deeply cut trenches of his Adonis muscles, pointing like an arrow to his treasure below the belt, which, for its part, was so thick and so hard that I could practically see its outline clearly through the mesh of his jogging shorts.

  He denuded me as well then, putting his hands all over me, and sliding me out of my already scanty little uniform into complete vulnerability in his presence. My sports bra came melting of almost effortlessly, and without missing a beat he was descending on me, putting his face to my tits and lapping at me, treasuring every inch of the abundance of my bosom.

  I felt like crying as his tongue rolled in circles around each of my tender nipples, his teeth sinking into me, stretching me out, and his hand clutching tightly onto whichever of the two breasts wasn't presently being serviced orally. I loved the warmth of his mouth up against me, coating me with his saliva, and getting me so damn worked up that I could barely sit still on the bed.

  And gradually, his free hand began to creep down further along my body, fingers crawling like an insect along my heaving abdomen, tickling me playfully on his trek down to my jogging shorts, until at last I was trembling from head to toe with bated anticipation.

  Then, God help me, I could feel his fingers beginning to slip beneath the fabric of the tight shorts, penetrating their sweaty confines and giving me a considerable deal more to withstand as I collapsed beneath his efforts. He began to rub me, to slide his palm all around the clean shaven swath of my mons pubis.

  Sensations burning in my loins and my legs sliding up and down along the sheets as I awaited the moment of his touching down. He came so, so close to the prize every time, always pulling away at just the right moment, knowing he was doing a damn fine job of tormenting me, and backing up just long enough to devastate me before returning yet again.

  Finally, however, he did at last progress, pushing his fingers back up out of the fabric, and seizing a firm grip on the waistline. He began to roll my shorts and panties down from off of me, pulling them from my pelvis to my thighs, up to my knees, and then sliding them down and yanking them clean off of my ankles altogether.

  I braced myself, now, completely naked and vulnerable in his present, and the pool of sweat soaking the sheets beneath my excited body expanding further and further with the passing of the moments.

  He put his hands on my knees, pushing them wide apart, as he lowered himself down onto the bed. Then he stared into me, gazing into the floral folds of my body, as though considering them with reverence, and hoping to approach them with the absolute utmost of care and tenderness.

  And then, like that, he touched me, slowly pushing his fingers into me, and causing me to gasp out in sheer, splendid pleasure, this being the point of no return. Slowly he pushed the skin around, with a soft, wet squelching of his digits through my body, caressing me with a degree of expertise that seemed almost to surpass his years, and even the service paid to my clitoris seeming exceptional.

  I was falling, fast, I realized, and yet somehow never fast enough, and just when I thought my devastation could go no futher, here came his head, dipping down between my thighs, and preparing to excite me to an extent I couldn't even conceive of only hours before that morning.

  He kissed my pussy, and I whimpered, and every nerve in my body seemed to light up with sensation. My buttocks clenched, and my spine arched up from the bed, and my fingers curled tightly up into the sheets, clinging onto his drenched bedspread for dear, sweet life. And he began to consume me, to push his warm tongue deep into my body, to lap and to lick, to taste and to touch, as though I was the most delectable thing in the world he'd ever had the pleasure of consuming.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I moaned, staring down my writhing body at him, his head bobbing in between my thighs, each touch of his lips and tongue up against me sweeter than the last, and the extent to which my torment might progress driving me up the wall with desire.

  I closed my eyes, struggling harder than ever against his efforts, and without really meaning to I began to wrap my legs around his head, practically strangling him as I pulled him deeper and deeper into myself, and yet his efforts only growing more and more intense as the moments ticked along.

  And then, at last, he hit my sweet spot just the least bit too hard, and I found myself spiraling out of control, my body rippling with an orgasm that came smashing into me like a freight train. I screamed, and pulled him into my body tighter than ever, and nearly burst my own eardrums by the time I at last came drifting downward. My body spent and ravished to an almost unholy degree, and my head spinning as he carefully extricated himself from between my quivering thighs.

  And now it was his turn...

  I watched, in a sticky, exhausted haze, as he climbed up onto his knees, and began to peel his way out of his jogging shorts, as well as the tight, agonizing little black man thong he had apparently been wearing underneath the thing.

  My eyes went wide as I gazed at his thick cock, swaying toward me like the branch of a damn tree, the tip seeping lightly with pre-ejaculate and making my body tense up with anticipation, knowing that taking him in was going to be no easy task.

  But of course, I only had a partial idea of just how difficult fitting him into me was going to be...

  Now, he was lifting my body upward, positioning me onto my hands and knees, arching my spine and thrusting my splayed ass wide open out toward him. My first clue that he was getting ready to take a very alternate route to the one I'd been expecting was when I heard the cap to the lube click open, and a generous glob of the stuff being squirted out into his hand.

  I knew precisely what he hand in mind now, I thought, and I wasn't sure exactly how I should feel about this... For one thing, it was indeed a bit forward of him to assume I was okay with anal- which I was, in and of itself, though he had no way of knowing this. But, on the same token, I loved the notion of being taken like this, conquered almost, and his reign over my bo
dy established firmly for the short period of the tryst.

  I shuddered happily as I felt his hand come pressing lightly against my anus, coating me with a generous portion of the lube, and then I heard him applying a decent amount of the stuff along his own shaft as well, which got me even more worked up.

  And then, before I knew it, he was mounting me, climbing up onto me like a damn animal, pushing his weight down onto me, and exercising his full control over me as he pushed himself inside. He pierced me lightly, and then pushed his way in, in, into my body, inch by inch of his immensity sliding into my deepest, tightest fathoms, stretching me out so wonderfully that I thought I might just climax on the spot.

  Finally, he touched down inside me, holding himself in place for some time, until at last drawing back out, and proceeding to hammer so deep inside me that it was mind-boggling. He pounded me, hard, his thrusts full of force, energy coursing through me, smashing and blasting and fucking my lights out, his pelvis smashing loudly, repeatedly against the jiggling cheeks of my ass, doing me so hard that I could hardly see straight by the time his jackhammering reached its apex.

  And at last, after so much sweet brutality I could hardly stand it, he pushed down one final time inside me, holding himself in place, and beginning to overflow. He ejaculated into me, a long, hot load, filling me up so thoroughly that I began to grow overwhelmed by him, and setting me spiraling over the edge.

  Anal orgasm raced through my body, harder and more powerful than I'd ever experienced it in the past, satisfying me beyond belief as it made my toes curl, and tore screams of pleasure from my lungs, and set the entire room spinning happily around me as at last the sensations subsided.

  It wasn't until he pulled out of me, and I collapsed on the bedspread in my exhaustion, that I realized what a colossal mistake I had just made, and the regret then seeped through my body like a poison.

  Good God, what had I just done?

  Chapter 2

  I spent about a week after this all took place trying to downplay the incident, trying to pretend as though it had never occurred, and doing my absolute damnedest to clear it out of my head altogether.

  There was no real surefire way to be successful in my efforts at doing this, of course- it wasn't like something you could prepare for ahead of time so you knew what to expect, so I largely had to play it by ear as I went along. I started acting especially nice to my husband whenever he was home, the guilt overpowering me more often than not. And though I'm sure this probably could have given me away to someone less naively trusting than Daniel, it never seemed to me as though he expected a thing.

  What was more, I took it upon myself to bring an end to my daily jogs, thinking that they could only lead to me falling down the same path to Derek's door once again, and that whatever small pleasure my daily exercise might have brought to me, it was a small price to pay for the sanctity of my beloved marriage. I already had one all-consuming secret standing between Daniel and I, and I needed to cut this thing off at the source if I had a hope in hell of avoiding its blossoming into a catastrophe.

  Quite frankly, however, this resolve at self-improvement didn't last long at all...

  I began to grow stir crazy within a matter of days, missing my daily exercises and, admittedly, missing Derek, and my body burning in spite of myself for a reunion between the two of us after that first sordid affair.

  I caved into temptation yet again, after little more than a week of fidelity to my husband...

  I had half feared that Derek would be gone as I set out for that first jog one hot, heavy morning, turned off as he may have been by my disappearance following our first roll in the hay.

  But sure enough, there he was, right on schedule at the exact point where I'd come to expect to find him.

  And once again, I went back to his place with him, the two of us peeling out of our clothes, and going at one another like tigers in the glorious sanctity of his bedroom. This time, it was I who dominated, climbing up on top of him and bouncing up and down on his cock with a fierce desperation, burning for him as I'd been doing for the past week, and craving satisfaction as his immense shaft came plunging repeatedly up into my deep, tight, wet folds.

  Once again, the two of us finished to completion and satisfaction, and this time there was no guilt to come flooding over me in my resolve for wanting him. In fact, only a short while after this first round of screwing, I was on him again, sucking him off until he was stiff enough to give repeat performance, and then the two of us going at one another even harder than ever.

  And for several days, that was the way things unfolded between the two of us. I would look forward to my jog more and more every morning, motivated by Derek's bedroom at the finish line, and the two of us having hot, filthy sex for hours until I was absolutely shaking with pleasure from head to toe, the two of us wrapping up together in the shower and getting clean together when we weren't preoccupied with getting dirty all over again.

  And Daniel, God love him, didn't notice a thing all the while, nor did the guilt that sometimes crept up on me manage to succeed in preventing me from partaking in that which I so desperately reveled.

  And then one day, something peculiar happened. I got to the now very familiar intersection where Derek and I had taken to colliding on a daily basis, and my studly sexpot was nowhere at all to be found. Perplexed, I paused there for a moment, thinking he might just be running late, and that a package like his was more than worth hanging around the mailbox for, if you catch my not so subtle drift. But alas, he never did show up, and once I got through my initial annoyance at the fact, I've got to admit I began to feel just the least bit worried about him.

  I decided, at this point, the two of us had reached a level of familiarity with one another that me stopping by at his place to see what was going on couldn't possibly hurt anything, and accordingly I sped down the street in his direction, anxious and curious, and just the least bit fearful as to what I might find.

  And what that thing was proved itself even more shocking than I could have imagined...

  I noticed, walking up to his doorstep, that Derek's car was still sitting idly by in the driveway, as sure a sign as any that he was still at home. Maybe he was sick, I thought, and then a smile spread wide across my lips, at the thought that I wouldn't really mind all that much playing doctor with him...

  But then, I rang the doorbell, and a moment later, my jaw just about smashed against the floor at the sight of the man who greeted me.

  It was Daniel... Staring at me, grinning perversely, a smile that, in my state of shocked guilt, I could only think to interpret as threatening, devastating as hell, and my mind raced, scrambling, as I struggled to piece together what the hell the explanation for this might possibly be. And then, suddenly, a cold, icy chill ran through my body, and I began to fear seeing Derek's murdered body strewn out across the living room floor.

  “Jesus... Daniel... God, I... What are you doing here?”

  He didn't answer, however, and slowly the door creaked open a little bit further, to reveal the sight of Derek standing behind him, looking almost as darkly at me as my husband. At least he wasn't dead, I thought, although this did little to clarify what the hell was happening, much less how I should be reacting to all of it.

  It was Derek who spoke up in response to my query, his voice calm, collected, and yet so tantalizing that it made my legs tremble with every slow syllable that slipped out through his lips. “After the two of us had been... Meeting for a couple of weeks, it sank in for me that I really knew next to nothing about you. It really wasn't much of my business, I thought, but just out of curiosity, I decided to do a little bit of digging about you through social networking...”

  I swallowed hard, knowing this couldn't possibly end well on any level, but anxious to hear the conclusion of events all the same. I wanted my sentence swiftly, to simply get it over with and be done with it, and not have this guilt hanging over me any longer.

  “And, well,” he continued,
“Imagine my surprise when I found out that you were a married woman. It took me a few moments to absorb this fact, and when I did, I realized that I couldn't be responsible for breaking apart a marriage. And so, I decided to do the most decent thing I could conceive of, and tell your husband the truth.”

  This was it, I thought, everything stopping around me, as I held my breath in terrified anticipation.

  “To my surprise, however,” he continued, with disturbing collectedness, “he was remarkably understanding about it all...”

  And then, taking over, my husband chimed in: “My only disappointment was that you didn't think to include me in your little extra fun as well...”

  And with that, my head spinning and my ears ringing with the words that I simply couldn't believe I was hearing, the door to the outside world was closed behind the three of us, and things became very, very perverse, very, very quickly.