RECKLESSATTRACTION

by AMBRIELLEKIRK

  “You look very sexy tonight,” Rich whispered against the nape of my neck, pressing his chest against my back. “And you smell delicious.”

  I placed a folded linen napkin onto the placemat on the table and turned my head slightly to kiss my husband. “Thank you. And that smell is probably the caramel sauce for our ice cream. It’s almost ready.”

  The outline of his manhood pushed against my backside and I fell further back into his embrace.

  “Mmmm,” he moaned. “Caramel covered ice cream. My favorite dessert. But I’m pretty sure the scent of your skin is what has my cock so hard.”

  I turned around to fully face him, sliding my arms to rest on his shoulders and pressed my palms against his nape. I inhaled the spicy fragrance of the new cologne that I bought him just before his lips descended on mine. We shared a sensuous kiss near the dinner table as the candlelight created a dim glow in the room.

  It was Valentine’s Day and Rich had verbally wished for an intimate dinner for the two of us. That same morning, as I was at the market shopping, he informed me that we’d have a guest join us. The change of plans had caught me off guard, of course, but Rich’s line of work involved interaction with business prospects on a daily basis. It wasn’t uncommon for us to attend a dinner with one of his partners and maybe the spouse. Since we were married now, Rich was more than ecstatic each time when he introduced me as his wife. Everything was happening at breakneck speed for us these days. Even our marriage happened virtually overnight. Three months after Rich’s proposal, we were married and settled in together.

  I pulled away from the kiss. “Are you sure our guest won’t be bringing anyone else? A girlfriend or anything?”

  Rich shook his head. “Just him.” He looked down at his wristwatch. “He’s a bit late, but he should be here any moment. You know him already and he’s not a client, so we don’t need to be so formal. It’s Trevor.”

  I glanced up at him between narrowed eyes. “Trevor? As in Trevor Stanley?”

  “Yeah. My good buddy from college. I introduced him to you at the company party this past December right when we were about to leave.” Rich slid his fingers along the strap of my red dress—the dress he’d specifically instructed me to wear. “Remember?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. I knew full well who Trevor Stanley was. The truth was I’d met Trevor at the diner long before Rich’s introduction. My lips parted, but the memory of the kiss Trevor and I shared under the mistletoe came back to me vividly. Ever since that night, Trevor began visiting the little diner more frequently than before.

  “So, um…we’re just going to get to know each other a little better. Have a few drinks and get cozy, just like old times.”

  I shook my head. “What do you mean? Get cozy?”

  Rich played with the curls resting on my shoulders. He didn’t make eye contact as he parted his lips to speak.

  The doorbell rang before he could get any words out.

  “I’ll get it,” he informed. “I bet this is Trevor. Why don’t you finish up the caramel sauce while I have a word with him?”

  * * *

  Camille

  Eight months ago –Valentine’s Night – 7:01pm

  The three of us were seated at the dinner table and I had just plated the main course. Breaking the thick tension in the air wasn’t easy and that feat had been accomplished as the topic of discussion focused on my culinary skills.

  I didn’t want to spend the rest of our Valentine’s night in awkward silence, so this time I struck up the conversation.

  “So, tell me how the two of you really met?”

  I sat down, folded the linen napkin across my lap once again and glanced across the table at Trevor. He was dressed formally for this dinner date in black slacks and shirt. He was striking more now than when I first laid eyes on him at the diner.

  Rich picked up his fork and knife. “I—”

  “We—”

  Both men spoke at the same time.

  Trevor cleared his throat and continued. “Officially we met at a frat party, but we’d also bumped into each other a few times around campus.”

  “My designated driver bailed out on me and Trevor drove me home.”

  “That’s interesting.” I took a sip of my wine. “You should know Rich better than I do. You’ve known each other for so long.”

  Trevor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” His gaze went back and forth from me to Rich. “Married couples tend to know a bit more about each other than old college buddies.”

  “Of course we do,” Rich answered for me and then slipped his hand on my thigh under the table. “Camille and I met when I was going through a rough time with securing alternative care for my parents. And she saved me from bad coffee.”

  We all laughed.

  “Believe it or not I was asleep in the corner of a coffee house when she woke me up.”

  Trevor chuckled. “Camille does make the best coffee.”

  Rich’s hand froze on my thigh. “Oh? You’ve served him coffee.”

  I straightened in my chair. “You two work right across the street. Trevor comes to the diner on his lunch break sometimes.”

  “Ah, you never told me you visited the diner for lunch, Trevor.”

  Despite my discomfort, Rich’s hand moved further up my thigh and his fingers gently parted my legs. I threw him a look of indifference. What the heck was Rich doing? We had a houseguest.

  “Everyone we work with has eaten lunch there at least once. I thought it was common knowledge,” Trevor replied.

  What Trevor forgot to mention was that we talked whenever I wasn’t busy with other customers. When I was too busy to chat, we mostly just exchanged glances. I enjoyed his company. The majority of the time, I even anticipated it.

  I glanced up and instantly locked gazes with Trevor. His eyes appeared to hold a question as he observed me.

  Rich parted my legs further and slipped his fingers behind my silk panties. I gasped and then bit into my lips to hold back my surprise.

  I turned to look at Rich, throwing him a warning look.

  “It’s okay, babe,” he whispered.

  “This doesn’t seem okay,” I whispered, nervously.

  “There’s this gift I want to give you. You know how we’ve been talking about adventure in our relationship.” He found my wet entrance and slid his fingers inside. “I thought maybe that you, Trevor, and I could um…well, I want to watch him fuck you and then I want to give you pleasure at the same time.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. My mouth fell open and a hot flash of mortification rushed through me. I caught his hand and moved it away from my aroused center to my thigh. “You’re insane. Come in the kitchen with me. Let’s have a talk.”

  I stood. Trevor stood, but Rich remained seated.

  “You mean, you haven’t told her about this plan of yours?” Trevor asked Rich.

  “That’s why we’re all sitting here,” Rich said, chuckling nervously.

  “You know what? Just forget about it. I’m going to decline.” Trevor shook his head and backed away from the table. “Camille, I do apologize, but I thought you knew. This isn’t how I want things to be with us.”

  “Us?” Rich inquired. “What do you mean us? Are you talking about you and my wife?”

  “Yes, as I matter of fact, I am. Your wife is my friend. Don’t you think you should tell her stuff like this beforehand?”

  “Knew what?” I looked back and forth from Trevor and Rich. “You thought I knew what?”

  “I was invited here to give you your fantasy. A threesome,” Trevor said.

  “What!” Pangs of anger surged up my spine. “My fantasy?”

  Rich finally stood. “Remember how we talked about adventure in our marriage?”

  “No. That’s not really what I meant.” I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I’m not that type of woman and I told you this.”

  “I’m going to leave now,”
Trevor intervened, and dropped his napkin on the table. “Thanks for the dinner…for everything. There seems to be a misunderstanding here.”

  Trevor let himself out of the house and I immediately turned on Rich.

  “What in the heck did you just arrange?”

  “Listen, I fucked up.” He grabbed my forearm. “But I didn’t know how to tell you and I kind of wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted you to experience what it was like to have two men pleasing you.”

  I tried to move away from the table. “That is your fantasy. Not mine! I’m not a swinger, Rich. I told you that. I will never be. I thought we had an understanding.”

  “Just here me out—”

  “No.” I raced off to the kitchen.

  Rich was right behind me. “It was a stupid idea, okay? I’m sorry.”

  A million different emotions ran through me. Humiliation, anger, betrayal, and hurt. Why would Rich not tell me that he’d suddenly had this urge to re-enact his past through me. He’d told me that he was through with the lifestyle. Did our marriage mean nothing to him?

  “I’m completely happy the way we are, Rich,” I replied, turning around to face him.

  “I know. I love you for that, babe.” He kissed my temples and then pressed his pelvis against mine until I was up against the kitchen counter. “Don’t hate me for this. Me suggesting that was just a dumb mistake. Will you forgive me?”

  Innocent blue eyes pleaded with me and I remembered how I fell in love with this gentle side of Rich before.

  “I can try.”

  “Let me make it up to you,” he mumbled against my throat and nipped my delicate skin. “I love you.”

  “Richard…”

  Before I could protest, he hoisted me up on the countertop and peeled my panties aside. “Absolutely beautiful.” He sucked at the sensitive lips of my sex. “You’re right, Camille. I shouldn’t share you with another man. This is just too delectable.”

  He covered my clit with his mouth and sucked gently. My legs fell open to his gentle tongue. Gripping my thighs with both hands, he buried his lips deep into my sex, moaning in satisfaction against me.

  My head fell back and to the right where I spotted a dozen white roses in a vase near the kitchen sink—the one’s that Trevor brought here for me to thank me for preparing dinner. The bottle of red wine Trevor brought for all of us to share was situated right next to the roses.

  I closed my eyes and tried to forget. I tried to forget Trevor’s voice—his smile.

  His kiss.

  I couldn’t.

  I panted unevenly as Rich’s tongue plunged in and out of my sex. Grabbing his hair for support, I enticed him to find a rhythm that drove me to the brink of climax.

  Without warning, a vision of dark brown, brooding eyes, and full lips struck me and a wave of ecstasy claimed me. I came hard and fast for my husband, but it was not my husband who occupied my mind.

  I was wrecked.

  Wrecked beyond redemption.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Trevor

  Present day

  For the next few days, I was in Buffalo, NY on business meetings with my new direct report from Sweden—Steven Ahlquist. My new boss and I got along just fine. He wasn’t the micromanaging type, which suited my work style quite well. Ahlquist told me more than once, prior to and after hiring me, that as long as I completed my projects and brought in the big bucks, then I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. In his exact words—he managed the project, not the individual. It was a win-win for me.

  But it wasn’t really my work that I was worried about right now.

  I hated that I couldn’t see Camille and hated it more that she wasn’t responding to me. Every thing she did and every choice she made affected me. But none of her choices affected the way I felt about her. That was the most difficult part of having these feelings for Camille. I would never be able to shrug off how I felt no matter what she did to try and hurt me. I couldn’t bear to stomach the notion of sharing her.

  But if I had to…

  No. Others I could share, but not Camille. Never Camille.

  But had it come down to that? The way she was locked in an embrace with her husband nearly had me puking in my car yesterday evening.

  I sighed and glanced into the mirror of the restroom. It was a good thing that I was the only one in here. I was unraveling fast because I didn’t have what I wanted. Yet. I’d wait forever for Camille if I had to.

  Would I see her at the Winterball? Would I see her ever again at all?

  Seeing her so near to Rich again was like having a hole carved into my heart. Should I have revealed myself so soon? I couldn’t keep it from her any longer, not just because I wanted her to know how much I craved her, but because I wasn’t the deceitful type. I’d run to her with my heart open that evening only to witness what appeared to be a reconciliation with Rich.

  I was at a disadvantage, being hundreds of miles away, and I was certain now that Rich was taking advantage of that.

  I wished this trip hadn’t come up so unexpectedly. Ahlquist had literally phoned me yesterday afternoon with news that we had some business to attend to in Buffalo, NY. I should have been ecstatic, but I was not. My visit to the pastry shop to see her, of course, had yielded some heart-wrenching revelations. How could I ever think that Camille and Rich could fall out of love so easily and that she’d just walk into my arms?

  Had I waited too long? Had I hidden behind TEMPTED909’s profile too long?

  I had wanted to approach her about us for months once I learned of their pending divorce, but I knew what she thought already. It wasn’t right. I was her husband’s work partner. I was their friend. I was enticed to have a threesome with her and Rich, but I declined after realizing what Rich’s intentions were.

  I was one of the reasons for their divorce. I knew that much. Her excuses were valid, of course, but that was beside the point. All that was behind us now. What was done, was done. And after all that, I still wanted her like I craved a glass of ice cold water on a sizzling hot day.

  If she demanded it, I’d run to her, but she hadn’t. Dammit, if she would only just answer the phone. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to read her words. Above all else, I wanted to see her.

  Camille was mine. She was my prize. My light. My fire. Mine.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Camille

  3:13pm - The Beaudelaire Hotel, New Orleans, LA

  I couldn't remember the last time I’d been so nervous over a lot of people in a room with me. They crowded the hotel like a swarm of flies and I could barely make heads out of tails. The ball didn’t begin until 7PM, so I could only imagine how much more crowded it would get. Of course, they paid me no mind as I checked into the Beaudelaire three hours after my intended arrival time. I had plans of calling Trevor’s cell to meet him for lunch, but my flight took off later than expected. The Internet service on the plane was shoddy and I could barely get connected to check my messages.

  What if Trevor stood me up? Of course, it would serve me right if he did. I could only imagine what he thought about me after seeing my most recent interaction with Rich.

  I swallowed and looked around again as the clerk checked my reservation on her computer.

  The event reminded me of a convention…for the grown and sexy. There appeared to be people of all ages there. Some were in their twenties, like me. Others looked to be in their mid to high forties. There definitely was no age discrimination here and there was a good mix between both women and men. This type of event was right up Rich’s alley. He could have and would have splurged himself like he was at a buffet. It was why Rich had been one of my initial suspects for sending me an invite to this type of event.

  “Mrs. Broughton, your room is ready for you. Here is your key.” The hotel clerk slid keys to me from across the counter. “We ran out of rings earlier. I’m so sorry.”

  I’d seen several guests sporting and showing off souv
enirs in the form of rings with stones in a multitude of colors.

  “That’s okay,” I replied. I had just shed a wedding band. What made her think I wanted to wear any other ring? Of course, I didn’t say that.

  Just as I was about to grab my bags, the bellhop was at my side.

  “I’ll help you with these. The elevators are through that hall.” The bellhop pointed to a hallway. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  Camille

  It took me the next few hours to prepare myself for the ball. I wasn’t worried about how I looked or my choice of outfit. I was really concerned about what to say to Trevor. What was there to say really? Should I apologize or demand an explanation as to why he invited me here?

  I dug in my purse for my iPhone, but there was no voicemail or text indicator. I bit at my cuticles and then thought better of it. I didn’t want to ruin my fresh manicure. Then I found myself biting the corner of my lip and parted them once more after realizing that I was wearing red lipstick.

  I sighed deeply. Why couldn’t we just talk at the diner back in Houston or somewhere close by where no one could interrupt us? Why here, at the Den?

  White pumps to match my mini dress lay at my feet. It seemed like forever had passed since the last time I’d gotten all dressed up.

  Rich and I used to go out to extravagant parties all the time. He knew practically everyone. He had to in his line of work—sales. He was rather convincing when it came to selling his company’s products, just as he’d convinced me that he and I were perfect for each other and that we’d be together forever. But he lied when he didn’t have to, and because of that, I simply couldn’t trust him anymore. No matter what Rich said, I truly believed that this separation and, ultimately, this divorce was good for both of us. I wasn’t the one for Rich, and he knew that. He couldn’t pretend to have the perfect wife anymore with his imperfect visions of what a married couple was.

  I bent down and slipped the pumps on my bare feet, grabbed my mask, and exited the seclusion and comfort of the room.