Do Us Part

by Alessandra Torre

  He is my husband; maybe it is time to take off the gloves and pull some hair. I am here with him, she is a memory wrapped in abandonment. I have a fighting chance. I just need to time and place my blows.

  We stand in the line at customs, Nathan’s hand casually slid into my back pocket, occasionally tugging me to him for a kiss. I am wearing one of my new outfits, picked without the benefit of an outfit book or numbered hanger. It feels rebellious, choosing my own clothes, the simple act bringing a grin to my face.

  We are four hours away from home. Four hours until I see Drew — and have to have a decision made. I know what I want; I just need to find out if the fight is worth the risk.

  This morning I threw away the notepad, its white surface damning my mind into a catatonic state, unable to create a single word of clarity. Besides, my needs are simple, no need for a physical list.

  Move in. I want to live in the main house, to feel like a member of the marriage rather than a sequestered leper.

  Sleep with him. I want his arms around me at night, his breath on the back of my neck, the hard line of his muscles within easy reach.

  Sex. I will not fuck in front of others. Especially Drew. I can’t handle wondering what he is thinking, or how he is feeling.

  A job. I’d like to fill my days with something other than waiting, the long drone of expectation too hard on my psyche.

  That is it. Four demands. I’ll ask him on the plane, once we are in first class and away from the crowds. I want to have his answer, want to have a plan in place, before I step off the plane.

  CHAPTER 4

  I watch his profile, wishing I was across from him instead of next to him, so I could study his face without being so blatantly obvious.

  “It’s been a good trip.” He stretches his legs out, one reaching into the aisle, and leans back, turning to look at me.

  I nod, a spot of silence beginning, the perfect opening for me to speak. “I’ve been thinking … about our marriage. And whether or not I will stay.”

  “And?”

  “You asked me to make a list of things I would need. There are only a few.”

  He says nothing, just watches me. Waiting.

  “I want to live in the main house and sleep in your bed. Out in the guesthouse, by myself, I feel more like an employee of yours, someone you fuck and then disregard. It’s not a situation I want to continue.”

  “And the sleeping? Couldn’t you move inside without spending every night with me?”

  I hesitate. Part of my demand was a negotiation tactic. Ask for more than I need, in hopes that he will settle where I want. I didn’t have to have the nights. But I wanted them, had treasured every second of the last two nights. Plus, if I planned to fight for this man, I would need those evenings as part of the seduction of his heart. “Maybe not every night, but at least two a week.”

  “Before I commit to that, what else is there?”

  A small grin pulls at my mouth. “Sex. You’ll have to keep your controlling habits behind closed doors.”

  He laughs, pulling my hand to his mouth and nipping it slightly. “But I love taking your body before an audience. Love to see them watch you fuck.” His words turn dangerous as he speaks, the light behind his voice turning to sizzling heat, his mouth on my hand a brand that marks me as his.

  “Why?” I stammer. My eyes close slightly as he flicks a delicious rhythm on the meat of my palm with his tongue.

  “It’s how you look when you fuck, when you are unrestrained sexually.” He drops my hand, the break in connection sudden, my mind racing to recover without showing anything on my face. He turns in his seat, fully facing me, his eyes latched on to mine. “That first night, when we came into the club … I was supposed to talk to you then — supposed to pitch you on a life of glamour and whisk you away. But it was how you looked under the lights. How you danced for me, the sexuality breathed out of you like it was part of your soul. I wasn’t supposed to use you that night, to have you …” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “… suck my cock, but I couldn’t help it.”

  His erotic words send a spike of arousal through me; the dark and confident look in his eyes makes me want to pull out his cock right here.

  “I didn’t know what to do after that, so I left. Business kept me away for a bit, and when I came back, I fell for your sexuality all over again. When you dance, when you move … you put on a show that drives a man wild.”

  “I want you to be the only one who watches … at least for a while. Until I find my own footing in our relationship.” I lick my lips, focusing on my words. “It is important to me.”

  He reaches out, cupping my face in his hand and rubbing a thumb over my moist lips. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. And I can keep our sex behind closed doors; you don’t have to ever do anything more than that. I just wanted to explain why I had enjoyed fucking you like that. Part of it was the control, my desire to keep you emotionally distant. But the other half of it, my personal arousal …” His voice drops to a growl, the desire in it tangible, and he pushes gently on my mouth, his eyes closing as I open my mouth and gently bite on the meaty pad of his thumb. “I want to make you happy, Candy. I’m so sorry I made you do those things.”

  I say nothing, the emotion in his eyes enough for me. He is sorry, and an apology was more than I ever expected. I gently release his thumb from my mouth, smiling at him.

  “Was that it? Just those three things?”

  I nod, figuring that I can bring up the job at a later day, the bulk of my needs covered in those three requests. He looks down, running a hand over his mouth and then studies my eyes, his dark blue depths searching me.

  “If you stay … if you continue to act as my wife … I’ll make those concessions. But we need to have more public exposure, and some high profile interviews and photo shoots at the house. I need to draw her out, need to push our relationship into her face.”

  A smile breaks out, my excitement too great to contain, the mention of Cecile a small price to pay for such forward progress. His own mouth twitches in response, and he reaches out, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him, planting a soft kiss on my head.

  “It’ll be tough,” I mumble into his chest. “But I’ll pretend to like you. At least when the cameras are rolling.”

  He pulls back, using his other hand to tilt up my chin, his blue eyes smiling down at me. “What a good wife you are. Thank you, Mrs. Dumont.”

  I don’t respond, my witty comeback lost as his mouth closes on mine, a soft kiss that deepens, my body relaxing and sinking into his embrace, my heart nose-diving after it.

  His lips … they are incredible.

  CHAPTER 5

  I feel like I have started a new journey in my life. Yes, it is strange and twisted — the two of us living together as husband and wife. He does it in a desperate attempt to win back the woman he loves. For me, it’s an equally desperate attempt to corral the man who is stealing my heart. Even if he doesn’t fall in love, being with him, feeling his hands on my body, his eyes on my soul, his laugh on my lips … that will be enough. I am not that different from the woman who stood on stage two short months ago. I wanted an escape, and I got one: complete with money, a renewed relationship with my father, and a devastatingly gorgeous man — a man who has turned out to be charming, funny, and a sexual beast in the bedroom. Even if he can never fully be mine, this life is more than I ever expected.

  I suddenly understand why a woman would stay with a cheating man. It seems better to be happy with someone you love and overlook the fact there is someone else. Better than your thoughts and heart aching for them while you live a life alone. And I don’t have the additional influence of a family — round, adorable children who climb into Nathan’s lap and call him Daddy. It’s just me, with a man that I can’t stay away from.

  I look out the window as the plane dips below the trees and our city comes into focus. North, along the brilliant blue curve of the ocean, I see our neighborhood, landsca
ped squares with mansions squatting possessively on blue-green lawns, gates and pavers directing the rich as they go about their worry-free lives. Home. Where Drew will be waiting.

  I turn to Nathan. “Will Drew move out?” The question seems sudden, and I rush to explain it. “He was staying there to watch me, right? Since I am no longer a threat, and I am moving in … it’ll be a little crowded with the three of us.” Especially in my heart.

  He laughs. “Crowded? In ten thousand square feet?” He leans forward, squeezing my hand. “No, you’re right. Besides, he’s staying in the second master suite, which would be more appropriate for you than one of the guest rooms. I’ll have the staff move you in there tomorrow. I’m sure Drew is more than ready to get back to his home.”

  I smile, sitting back in the seat. Inside, my thoughts churn. I’ll be sleeping in Drew’s bed — his scent, his touch, everywhere around me. Something I’m not sure fresh sheets and cleaning products will remove.

  The plane shifts beneath us and makes a downward slope. Time is almost up.

  Drew is outside washing the cars when we pull up. I am almost nauseous from the stress, the expectation of seeing him, speaking to him. Nathan, on the other hard, is exuberant, striding up to Drew and flashing him a smile, his arm encircling and pulling me tight. “Money has been transferred, and I convinced the Missus to stay, to put up with me for a little while longer. Things are coming together.”

  He leans down, kissing me on the top of my head, his hand sliding down to cup my ass. I can feel the need coming off him, his fingers gripping me possessively. I risk a look up, finding Drew’s eyes taut on mine, the stare hard, a bitter smile sweeping over his features while his cold eyes hold me in place.

  “Is that so?” he drawls, sliding a wet towel over the hood and then tossing it into a bucket.

  He is breathtaking when exposed, his bare muscles wet and tan, sweat mixed with soapy water that creates every woman’s wet dream. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, unable to pull my gaze from his eyes.

  Nathan’s hands, sliding around to the side of my leg, his fingers teasing the line of my shorts, brings me to the present, and I turn and look at him.

  Green versus blue. The dark blue depths of Nathan’s suck me in, aristocratic perfection surrounding those eyes that lock the latch to my heart. I am his. Despite the other gorgeous man before me, the one who demands with those golden green eyes my love, this is the man I want. Nathan is the one who has my heart. Nathan speaks, his hand gripping my skin. “I — ”

  “I know.” I speak quickly and softly, wanting to stop the words before they leave his lips. “I know what you want.”

  A smile tugs at his mouth and he laughs, breaking into a full-force grin, bending and sweeping me into his arms. “I’m going to take my beautiful wife to bed,” he says to Drew, pulling me to his mouth for a kiss. “Oh, and she’s convinced me to move her in. So you are officially relieved of house duty. I know you’ve been wanting to get back home, away from all this luxury.”

  Drew laughs, turning back to the car, his gaze tripping and tugging on me in its exit, my sadistic eyes unable to look away, unable to ignore the train wreck that is occurring before me. “Let me finish this car, then I’ll pack up.” Nathan’s legs are already moving us toward the front door, his eyes on me hungrily, his mouth curved into a smile.

  His bed. A space we rarely fuck, our sessions kept to unromantic, highly visible places. He carries me there, tossing me onto the duvet, yanking at the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head with barely contained excitement. “You mentioned knowing what I want?” he growls, the shirt tossed aside, his strong chest exposed, abs firm, his hands frantic at his belt. “Show me. Show me that perfect little body that I am about to worship with my cock.”

  I move quickly, matching pace with his movements, wanting, needing, to have him bare inside me right now, dominating me, the joining of our bodies in raw, unprotected union. He is fully naked by the time I have my shirt off, his strong, lean body crawling onto the bed, fully secure in its nakedness, his hands unbuttoning my shorts and tugging them and my panties off and down my legs.

  A pause. His eyes survey my body, and I drink in the sight of him naked, kneeling in between my legs, his eyes black with need, his cock hard with arousal. It bobs, straight out, my mouth watering with the urge to suck its hard length.

  “You are so beautiful,” he groans. “I want to do so many things to your body.” He reaches down, his hand wrapping around his length, moving up and down his shaft. I moan, reaching my own fingers down, needing something inside of me right now, my need too great to go unsatisfied.

  He chuckles, stopping my hand, moving it aside as his fingers brush against my heat, dipping inside one digit, then two, his eyes closing briefly. “Jesus, Candace. You are so … perfect. So hot and tight. Always ready for me.”

  I arch on the bed, grinding against his fingers, needing them deeper, thicker, my eyes locked on his hard length, the erotic view of his hands on his cock, his eyes on me, his mouth open in unrestrained lust.

  “I should have fucked you that first night,” he groans, moving his cock down, his fingers out, the head of him hovering at my opening, his hands gripping my legs as he pushes inside in one smooth motion. He withdraws slowly, watching our union as inch by inch he pulls out, my body weeping at his exit. “If I had known then how perfect you are, I never would have passed on that opportunity. You are too amazing to not fuck at every … available … opportunity.” He pulls the final inches out, my back arching, my eyes begging, his hand resuming its movement of masturbation.

  “You assume I would have been willing,” I gasp out, a smile across my face.

  He tilts his head, possession in his eyes. “Do you think you could resist?” He positions himself back at my entrance, rubbing his head up and down my wet slit, easing in slightly, then pulling out, taking his stiff head to my swollen clit, brushing it gently.

  “Of course,” I breathe.

  “Bullshit. By the time I finished with you, you would have been begging for my cock.” His smug tone backs up his words, his cock pulling away from me as he strokes it again.

  “Is that so?” Everything in me is centered between my legs. I have forgotten how to breath, forgotten how to move, to think, to do anything but have this man fuck me back into reality.

  “You tell me.” He releases his cock, grabbing my legs and lifting them so that they point to the sky, spread and open for him, his unrestrained cock finding its way straight to the source of my need. “Do you need my cock?”

  I stay silent, my stubbornness combining with the curiosity of wondering what he will do next.

  He moves, the head of him entering me, then withdrawing, then entering, my want rising and falling and rising as he fucks me with short, half-strokes, his mouth brushing against my calf, his tongue tickling out a pattern against my skin.

  I groan, trying to slide closer, to get more of him inside me, the incredible pleasure just short of enough, my orgasm reaching, straining, but not making the connection.

  “Do. You. Need. My. Cock?” He grunts out the words, every other dip of his cock deep, then shallow, then deeper.

  “Yes!” The word explodes from me, a plea for help in a deep hole of pleasure. I speak, the words quick and breathless. “I need you so badly. So fucking badly, Nathan. Please. Please give me what I need.”

  He shakes his head, keeping his thrusts short, keeping me hovering on the brink of insanity. “Tell me that you are mine. To use as I wish.”

  I whimper, an ache inside me that is almost painful in its intensity. “I am yours. You are my God.”

  He moans at the words, dropping my legs and moving above me, his movements now unrestrained — full, deep thrusts arcing me higher, higher, higher. His face above me, features tight, breath ragged, fast fucks putting his cock exactly where, exactly when, and exactly how I need it.

  Orgasm — a blinding, waving curve of pleasure, peaking and falling, peaking and falling,
every thrust of his cock bringing me a fresh burst of sensation, breathing life into it and keeping its momentum, the moment impossibly long, before it gradually ebbs, losing force until I am nothing but languid pleasure.

  His fucks bring me back to the present, my legs wrapping around and gripping the hard muscle of his ass, my hands clutch and nails dig into his back, our bodies meeting in perfect orchestration until his eyes clench. He grunts, giving me four deep, hard thrusts, the seed of his pleasure spilling inside of me, physical heat pooling as he shudders and then is still.

  “Fuck …” he whispers, hovering above me, his eyes on mine, wonder in them. “You have no idea how incredible that was.” He rolls off me and onto his back, his cock pulling out, my body yearning for it the moment it is gone. I roll over, curling up against his side, my hands unstoppable in their quest to touch, my fingers trailing up and over the lines of his abs, settling and stopping against his chest and resting there, his heart pounding beneath my palms.

  “I didn’t do much,” I say, closing my eyes. “I just laid there.”

  “You don’t have to do much,” he says groggily, his mouth pressing gently against my hair. “You do me in with just a smile.”

  We are lying there, naked and half asleep, when the door opens and the end of my world walks in.

  CHAPTER 6

  She is beautiful, but I already knew that. The day after Drew told me about Cecile, I went to the library and used one of their computers. My hands felt foreign on the keyboard, the mouse awkward in my hand. It had only been two months since I had my laptop, but so much had happened that it felt like years. I now understand why Nathan had wanted me to have limited access to the internet. Had I researched him, his history, his past, I might have figured it out. I certainly would have found out about Cecile. Photos of them together are everywhere — dominating old gossip articles, filling the images results with occasional pictures of Nathan and me dotted in. Our trip to Napa, the paparazzi shots of us at events — it is a drop in the bucket compared to their two years together. And, as gorgeous as she looked in those photos, it pales in comparison to the woman standing before me.