And, of course, she looks good enough to eat. Her black slim fitting dress molds to her perfect ass and hugs her long lean thighs with each stride. Below the knee, her bare, shapely legs glow like they’ve got a spotlight on them. Her strappy gold heels slow her down and let me catch up with her before she makes it to the door.
I wrap a hand around her bicep and spin her to face me. Her face is the picture of agony. But I tighten my hold on her and walk her backwards, until we hit her door. “You act like the world will end if people know that you fucked me. Are you ashamed of me?” I snarl.
Her eyes fly wide, and her full lips part to form a perfect circle. “ That’s not it,” she gasps, a hand to her heart as if she’s offended.
“Isn’t it?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “I was good enough for an island fuck, but only if no one ever knows?”
“Stone!” she admonishes me in another pearl clutching gasp.
“Then tell me the truth. Because I know it’s not that you don’t want me.” I demand.
She crosses her arms and taps her foot, her expression turning frosty. “I’m surprised you even care. You and your girl seemed mighty cozy.” She puts the last words in air quotes.
“My girl? What are you talking about?” I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.
“I saw the pictures,” she growls, puts her hands on my chest and shoves me hard enough to force me to take a step back.
My jaw goes from slack to rigid in the space of time it takes her to finish that sentence.
“I’m not seeing anyone. And hello? You’re married.”
“Well, I never lied to you about anything.” she yells, pointing indignantly at the ground.
I throw my head back and groan in frustration. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You said you loved me. And now, you’re standing here ripping my fucking heart out without so much as a flicker of remorse, makes me think that was a lie. And makes me wish I could stop loving you. I wish I could cut the stupid right out of my chest, Regan. But I can’t. And I’m so mad at you for it.” I don’t know why I’m confessing my feelings to this woman who I know I can’t trust them with.
She presses her lips together. Her thick fan of her lashes flutter furiously as she blinks back tears. “It wasn’t a lie. But this just can’t happen. You should go.” She tries to step around me, and I block her path.
I’d come here prepared to tell her to go fuck herself. But I need more than this. I need to understand.
“Regan, are you serious?”
Her dark eyes narrow with anger.“Do you know what will happen if we start seeing each other? I’m not even divorced.”
“You will be in six weeks.”
She stamps her foot in exasperation. “And the last thing I need is to play another round of Regan Wilde’s Love Life with the press. I just…can’t have another scandal.”
“So, you told everyone you hooked up with a random stranger? That’s less scandalous than saying you were kissing your first best friend?”
She winces and shakes her head,“If only that’s all you were. ”
She steps around me, unlocks her front door, and walks inside.
I should let her go, but the flash of misery in her eyes compels me. I grab the door handle before she can close it and follow her inside.
“ Do you think I’m the kind of man who would let you take all the blame and watch blithely while you burn?” I demand.
“That’s not what—Ohhh shit,” she yelps and hops on one foot over to the sofa and collapses onto it.
“What’s wrong?”
“I stubbed my toe because I wasn’t looking where I was going because you distracted me,” she speaks through gritted teeth and bends over to unfasten her shoe.
I kneel and take her foot in my hand.
“Stop it, I’m fine,” she grouses, but I ignore her, undo the tiny buckle and pull the strappy gold high heeled shoe off.
And just like that, I’m touching her. It’s only her foot, but it’s soft and delicate and pretty like the rest of her. I stroke the tips of her toes. “Where does it hurt?” I ask.
Her breath hitches and her eyes follow the path of my fingers as they stroke her feet. I lift her toe to my lips and press a kiss to each one. With each touch, her tight calf muscle relaxes. I press my thumb into the high arch of her sole and she moans my name.
It’s a call to worship, one that I’m heedless to refuse. My reverent gaze collides with her dark, hungry one.
Her chest is heaving like she’s been running. Her nipples are hard and pressing through the thin fabric of her blouse and from here, down on my knees in front of her, I can smell what she wants.
With our eyes still locked, I press my palms to the inside of her knees and push them apart. And then I surge up to fit my hips in the space I just created.
She opens for me, wraps her arms around my shoulders and sighs in relief.
I press my nose into her neck and breathe in her ginger, lemon scent “You smell so good,” I whisper. When I hold her like this…I know she’s mine. I wish she’d let me be hers, too.
“You do, too. Like everything I’ve ever thought was delicious,” she says, and her voice is pained, and I draw back to look at her.
She’s flushed. Wisps of her hair cling to her face. Her supple lips are parted as her breaths come in short pants. Our gazes lock in a battle of wills that I can’t afford to lose. But that I’m not sure I want to win.
We stay that way, suspended mid -motion for five, lust-charged, emotionally fraught seconds.
And then, we lunge.
When our lips collide, the whole world breaks open. When my tongue sweeps into her mouth, new solar systems explode into existence and I am home.
Her arms enfold my neck so tightly, I can’t move my head.
As if I’m going anywhere. Now that I’m finally here, I never want to leave.
I unzip her dress and tug it down to her waist and lean back to gaze on my bounty.
I almost blow my load at the sight of her. Her dark nipples are rigid and jutting, begging to be sucked. My hungry mouth can’t get there fast enough. Her back bows, and her fingers claw at my neck when I close my lips around the stiff, sweet nipple. I flick it until she calls my name, and then, I suck.
Her body bucks against mine. “I want you naked,” she growls, and nips my ear.
I relinquish my treat to unfasten my tie and rip my shirt open. Buttons clatter and scatter, and I don’t care at all. She sinks her teeth into my shoulder, and then licks and kisses the place she bites, over and over, while her frantic hands work at the button and zipper of my trousers.
My hands are just as frenzied trying to pull her dress all the way off. Her slim, strong hips are banded by nude lace panties that barely cover the lips of her pussy. She’s soaked through and left a spot right where she’s the neediest.
I take a moment to marvel at how exquisitely made this woman is. How perfectly we fit, how easily we come together. As much as I want to be inside her, I also want to just lay my head on her chest, listen to her heartbeat and savor being with her.
But then she whimpers and scratches my shoulders. “Please, please, please,” she chants.
I cup her heat and press the heel of my hand into her clit. She throws her head back, lifting her breasts, their tawny peaks jutting upward, as if in offering. I take it. I suck her nipples and stroke her slick, swollen pussy.
“Stone, baby, oh God,” she calls out in a husky, pleading voice that goes straight to my dick. My hands stop pressing and start pulling. Fabric tears and I release her delicious nipple, blow on it and watch it pucker before I kiss my way down her stomach.
“God, I’ve missed this so damn much,” I confess in between kisses and licks.
She’s intoxicating - the taste, the smell of her, the way it clings to me…I’m drunk on all of it.
“Stone, I need it…my clit it’s so…fuck…” she groans my name and shoves her hands into my hair, grinding her pelvis into my f
ace.
I press the flat of my hand to her stomach and hold her writhing body still. I pull her swollen, stiff clit gently between my lips and suck it while I flick her hood with the soft tip of my tongue.
The muscles of her stomach flex under my fingers and her thighs start to tremble so violently they slip off my shoulders. I spread her thighs wide and press my tongue inside her. She’s so hot and there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to ever have enough.
I want to eat her until she comes, but I’m so close myself and I need to be inside her more than I need my next breath.
“Have you been with anyone?” I ask.
“Only you,” she pants
“Only ever me,” I reiterate and bite the inside of her thigh. I slide up to nestle into the cradle of her hips, and without preamble or permission, push inside her.
For a moment, my vision blurs and I close my eyes against dizzying waves of pleasure that move relentlessly from my scalp to the soles of my feet.
“I want to slow down, but I can’t. It’s been too fucking long, Regan. I’ve been going god damn crazy, fucking my fist, coming on my stomach instead of in this pussy,” I confess in breath starved rasps while I press deep, deeper, and yet it’s not deep enough.
“Ah, oh my God.” She wraps her legs around my waist and presses her forehead to my shoulder. I bind an arm around her hips and cup her head with my other hand. I bury my face in her neck and make love to her for all the nights I’ve missed.
Every time I drive back into her, I taste something like heaven. I haven’t come yet, and I’m already hungry for her again.
“Lie to me, Regan. Lie to me and tell me that you are mine.”
“It would never be a lie,” she responds immediately with her hot mouth on my ear and our chests pressed together, so tightly, that I can’t tell her thundering heartbeat from mine.
She comes fast, clenching around me like a fist, and my control starts to slip and splinter.
“Wait,” she pants, and I pull out of her and lift off when she bucks her hips. She rolls out from beneath me and slides off the couch.
“What are you doing?” I turn around, and she puts a hand in the center of my chest and pushes me down onto the couch. My dick bobs, and her eyes follow the motion greedily.
She kneels in front of me, spreads my thighs, and drags her breasts over my erection. “I want you to come in my mouth.
“Then, why are you still talking?” I ask.
She chuckles and licks her lips, before she grabs my hips with one hand and cups my balls in her other. My head hits the back of the couch. “Fuck, Venus, goddess mine,” I chant nonsense words in a guttural voice. I tug the gold elastic holding her ponytail free and it falls in sleek sable waves, veiling my thighs. I lift it by the fistfuls so I can watch her suck me off.
Her kiss stung lips stretch around my length and her eyes close when she pulls me into her mouth until the pulsing head of my dick hits the soft back of her throat. Tears roll down her cheeks. I cup her cheeks and tug until she lifts her head.
She yanks free of my hands and glares at me.
“I thought I was hurting you,” I explain.
“You weren’t. But if you don’t put your dick back in my mouth, I’ll hurt you.” She yanks me forward. I glide back into her hot mouth. Her groans of pleasure vibrate around my cock every time I thrust into the pleasure palace of her mouth.
I don’t last ten seconds.
I come so hard that the rumble that started in my chest leaves my mouth in a growl. I throw my head back and. I shoot off - thick and fast – releasing all the tension, all my need, all my love, all my anger that I’ve held back like a tightly drawn bow flies out of me, and she takes it all.
She releases me with one last long suck and then falls back onto the rug with a groan. Her arms and legs sprawl artlessly while she stares up at the ceiling, panting.
“Regan, what are we doing?” I reach for her.
She rolls away and stands up, tugs her dress up and looks down at me with her hands folded in front of her like a fucking schoolteacher. “We shouldn’t have done that. You…your job, my kids, our families…there’s just so much going on.” She starts pacing back and forth.
“My job?” What the hell does that mean? I sit up and start straightening my clothes and watch her pace.
“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and I live a life incompatible with that. I have kids, you don’t want them. I live here. You want to travel. Your job has a morality clause, and I’m married, stained.” She slaps her chest with her open palm.
“Wait, what?” I stand, surprised at her mentioning my job again.
She keeps pacing, almost talking to herself. “I’ve done everything I can to protect you, but the minute we start dating, people will know. And everything I’ve done will be for naught. Marcel will ruin you. And for what? For a woman you don’t even know?”
“I do know you.” I put my hands on her shoulders.
“You don’t,” she snarls, and bares her teeth at me. “I’m not the girl you fell in love within that bakery or even on that beach. You like fucking me, but you couldn’t last five minutes in this fire with me.”
I lurch away, her words are like a backhanded slap in the face. If she notices my reaction, she doesn’t show it. She’s ranting, pacing, talking to herself.
“I’m trying to save Venus Rising, I’m trying to keep my children from spinning out of control and I am trying to let you go because it is for the best.”
“You’ll see. You’ll move on. You have to,” and then, she walks out and leaves me sitting there by myself.
I don’t go after her. I don’t trust myself to. I’ve never been so close to actually breaking something as I am right now. I stalk out to my car.
I can’t believe what a fool I’ve been. Thinking that this woman knew me and trusted me.
There hasn’t been a challenge in my life I haven’t been able to figure out. And this…this shouldn’t be a challenge at all. We are so fucking right together. But here we are.
And here we’ll stay.
I could go back inside and tell her I would have given up my job, my passport, whatever I had to, to protect her and what we have.
I could say it until I’m blue in the face.
And she’d never hear me.
I’ve already handed her my heart on a platter twice, and, both times, she’s found it lacking. So, she wants me out of her system. Then, that’s what she’ll get.
Chapter 48
The Jezebel
Regan
The Jezebel Podcast: Episode 35
“Hey ladies, I know we’re still taking a victory lap after Dr. Zimmerman’s downfall, so you’ll have to forgive me for being a Debbie Downer. But my life has come a little too full circle recently. You all have heard my story; you know what happened to me in that house. But what you don’t know is that I’m a total hypocrite. It took me almost twenty years to tell my mother. I’ve never told my brothers or any of the friends I made, before or since. Not because I’m ashamed of what those men did to me, but because I know that it was my fault. My best friends lived a nightmare because I thought I was untouchable and led them straight into a trap I should have seen coming. When I had the chance to help one of the women who was there with us, I turned my back on her. All because I wanted to pretend it never happened. I used to be afraid of my own shadow. Then, I met this man – and guys, he’s amazing. My dream man. I love him. Things weren’t going to work out… because...well, the why doesn’t matter now.
My first thought when he left...was, “Thank God, I won’t have to tell him about those three days of hell.” And I was relieved. I saw that as a silver lining to losing the only man I’ve ever loved. Can you believe that? I’m a prisoner in a cage I’ve built around myself.
And I had to ask myself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
How can I sit on here and preach about shunning shame and ask you all to overcome your fear so that I can tell you
r stories? How? When I can’t do the same. I’ve been so mad at my family for the secrets they’ve kept from me…and here I am keeping a whopper of one from them, myself. How can I expect them to trust me, when I don’t trust them? How can I help my daughter be brave and speak out if, God forbid, anything like happens to her, when I haven’t been willing to myself? I watch tv. I’ve seen what happens to women who speak out. From Anita Hill to Christine Brasley - Ford, it’s always the women who lose. I was afraid of the scrutiny, and I let that fear keep me in a marriage I should have never entered. It’s precluded me from knowing real intimacy with anyone, and now, it’s become the silver lining for my heartbreak.
I’m struggling, ladies. I’ve been telling your stories, setting the record straight for everyone, but I don’t know how to do it for myself.
I don’t have any answers or a happy note to end this on. I just don’t know who else would understand. Thank you for listening. Next week, I’ll be back with more stories about women we won’t allow the world to forget. This is The Jezebel, signing off.”
Chapter 49
Venus Rising
Stone
“Thank you so much for coming, I know it was a lot to ask,” Regan greets me with an outstretched hand and I just stare at it in disbelief.
“It’s flu season. Unnecessary touching isn’t recommended,” I say and climb out of my truck.
“Right,” she says, and stuffs her hands in the pockets of her skirt.
It’s fucking petty, but three months after that night at her house, the weight of resentment still sits in my gut like a boulder.
“I’m here. So cut the cloak and dagger. What do you need?” I ask, and cross my arms impatiently.
“It’s an emergency or I wouldn’t have called,” she says urgently.
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m aware that you avoid me at all costs.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
She swallows audibly, and her eyes narrow as if she’s in pain for a second. “There’s a woman here, she didn’t have anywhere else to go. And she’s in labor. I think. She’s been having contractions all day.”
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