Trophy Wife

by Bethany Lopez

  17

  Summer

  I wasn’t always the most outgoing person in the bedroom. In fact, Jared had often accused me of not being aggressive enough, but being with Noah felt different.

  He made me feel sexy and desirable, which gave me confidence and had me wondering what he would be like when he wasn’t being so polite. So poised and in control.

  The look on his face when he’d turned and seen me sitting on the edge of his bed had me feeling like I could take on the world, and I was planning to start in his bedroom. I found I was enjoying the sense of power; it was almost like I was a vixen.

  Or Margo.

  Noah fumbled around with the record player, and once the smooth jazz sounds filled the room, he started slowly toward the bed.

  I moved my hand so he could sit where I’d indicated and when he did, I stood and placed myself in front of him. When his eyes were on me, I placed my hands on the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, letting it drop to the floor next to me.

  His gaze immediately dropped to my breasts, which had me preening in delight.

  I loved my breasts. They were magnificent. Large, full, and perfectly rounded with sensitive rose-colored nipples, which were already straining against the lace fabric of my Fleur du Mal balconette bra.

  I didn’t know if Noah would ask me to stay, or if things would progress past the heavy petting and kissing stage, but I’d wanted to be prepared just in case. I’d put on my best lingerie and now I was so glad I had, because Noah’s eyes were transfixed, and his mouth had gone slightly slack as he took in my soft flesh spilling over the delicate cups.

  Loving his gaze on me, I peeled off my jeans and kicked them to the side, exposing the matching lavender lace thong. Then I placed my palms on my thighs and began to move them up.

  Noah’s eyes lowered and began tracking my movements. Up over my hips, pausing briefly, before crossing plains of my stomach to reach the underside of my breasts. I cupped them briefly, caressing the lace with my thumbs before moving to the straps.

  “No,” Noah choked out, seeming to come out of a trance when he realized I was about to take off the bra. “Please, let me.”

  He stood abruptly, which brought him so close our thighs touched, so I took a step back to give him room to move.

  I bit my lip as he raised his hand to touch, anticipation making my body heat before we’d even made contact. His knuckles against my stomach made me gasp, and when he reached around to unhook my bra, I could feel his hands quivering.

  It was the sweetest thing.

  The straps fell slowly from my shoulders and down my arms and Noah caught the lace before it could fall, turning to lay it reverently on the bed behind him, before turning back and taking in my naked breasts.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes darkened.

  “Touch me,” I begged, not caring if I sounded needy, because I so totally was. Feeling his hands on my skin seemed like the greatest gift I could ever receive, and I was moments away from it happening.

  A low sound, almost like a growl, emitted from his lips as Noah touched me for the first time.

  It felt wonderful. Erotic and sweet at the same time, and I let my head fall back as he simultaneously pinched one nipple and bent to put the other in his mouth.

  “Yes,” I whispered, bringing a hand up and into his hair, reveling in the softness of it as he teased my body.

  He caressed and licked and nibbled softly, his mouth on a delicious exploration that I could only enjoy. When the tugs on my nipples struck me straight down to my core, I began to feel itchy with the need for more.

  With my free hand, I reached between us until I could grasp one of his, then I urged it down to the scrap of material currently providing a barrier between my legs. Once I placed it where I wanted it, I surged my hips forward, letting him feel the wet heat waiting there, begging for attention, before doing my best to rid myself of the lace, freeing myself for his discovery.

  Noah did not disappoint. His fingers ran gently over my folds, and I widened my stance to give him greater access.

  The little grunts and groans he let out made me almost as crazy as the fingers he’d dipped into my body.

  “Ride them, Summer,” he demanded, causing my eyes to fly open with shock at the commanding tone.

  Oh my God, I thought, doing as he asked as I watched determination cross his face. He was unbelievably sexy as he worked so studiously at bringing me pleasure. I moved my hips as he thrust his fingers in and out and then moved his thumb to the bundle of nerves at my center, dying for his attention.

  My breath started coming out in little pants as the pleasure grew.

  “Noah,” I moaned, then I lost his eyes as he bent to bite down on my nipple as his thumb brought me to a screaming release.

  I came down slowly, smiling with satisfaction as he gathered me into his arms and held me close.

  “That was amazing,” I said when my breathing had evened out enough to speak.

  Noah shifted back so he could kiss me softly.

  “It was,” he agreed.

  “Now, I need you inside of me,” I told him matter of factly.” But first, I need you out of these clothes.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his lips across mine once more.

  “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  18

  Noah

  “Congratulations, Professor, on making tenure and your promotion to associate professor. There will be a ceremony and celebratory dinner, of course. I will send those details out shortly.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, before shaking her hand and leaving her office in a daze.

  I can’t believe it; I’ve actually made it.

  I’d known it was a possibility, of course, since I was the one who’d put in the application, but I was still delighted by the outcome.

  I moved quickly through the halls and out of the building so I could get to the English building before my next class. I had some time, but I liked to get there early and have all of my preparations out and ready for the start of class.

  When I reached the steps to the building, I may have been so thrilled I almost skipped up them, which normally I would never do, since it was undignified, especially of an associate professor. But my excitement level had reached epic proportions.

  When I reached for the door handle, the door swung open before I made contact and I glanced up to see Trent grinning at me.

  “You got it,” he stated.

  “I did,” I replied happily. “How did you know?”

  “Your Fred Astaire number up the stairs,” he quipped.

  I felt my cheeks heat but shook it off.

  “Associate professor with tenure,” I said, even though he already knew. It simply felt good to say it out loud.

  “Congratulations, brother, you deserve it,” Trent said, giving me a clap on the back.

  “Thanks. You’re next,” I told him as I fell into step beside him.

  “We shall see,” he replied, but I knew he was downplaying things. He’d be up to apply next year, and I knew he’d get it. Not only did he work hard, but he had a family to think of, and I knew he always put their welfare and security first. “You’ll have to let me know when the party is. I know Cam would kill for a night out, especially if it’s to celebrate you.”

  “I will,” I assured him, pausing before the door to my lecture hall. “Drinks tonight?”

  “You bet.”

  The rest of the day went smoothly. I was in such a great mood that nothing was going to bring me down, not even my students and their oftentimes strange goings on.

  “Mr. Mason, can you read that last passage again? I didn’t quite get it and I feel like everything sounds better when you read it,” Ms. Sinclair asked.

  “Jesus, Natalie, give it a rest,” Ms. Jordan, one of my brightest students, muttered. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Ladies,
” I warned, not wanting them to start bickering, which is what often happened when the two of them had outbursts in class. “Yes, Ms. Sinclair, I can read it again, but it was the assigned reading over the weekend, so if you didn’t understand it, you should have mentioned it at the beginning of class when I asked if anyone had issues with the material.”

  Ms. Sinclair gave a little huff and Ms. Jordan smirked, but I ignored them and continued on with class.

  Once I was in my office, I took the time to call my parents, and then Summer, to let them know the good news.

  My parents were thrilled, although they both said they knew it would happen. And Summer had squealed with delight. So loud that I’d had to hold the phone away from my ear for fear of a rupture.

  “I’m so proud of you!” she cried. “I remember you saying you were working toward tenure, but I didn’t realize you were already up for promotion. That’s wonderful. I’ll have to have you over this weekend for dinner. I’ll make you my specialty.”

  “I can’t wait,” I replied, interested in seeing her apartment and trying out her specialty. “I’ll call you later to set up the time.”

  “Okay. Congrats again.”

  I’d hung up with a smile, which remained on my face well past office hours and all the way to the bar.

  “There he is,” Trent called as I joined him at our usual spot. “A man who’s got everything going for him … a great job, a beautiful new girlfriend, and the best friend a man could have.”

  “There’s that modesty again,” I joked as I got up on the stool.

  “I try. And I noticed you didn’t contradict my girlfriend moniker.”

  “It is true that things between Summer and I have progressed, and I feel comfortable with her having that title,” I told him as I reached for the draft the bartender set in front of me.

  “I love it when you talk all formal…”

  I shook my head, ignoring him. Trent loved to rib. He often said he wanted his funeral to be a roast rather than a solemn affair.

  “Summer’s amazing,” I said, less formally. “I really enjoy spending time with her.”

  “Did you tell her about the promotion?”

  “I did.”

  “And will she be joining us at the celebration dinner?” he asked, holding his phone in his hand.

  “I haven’t asked her yet, but I will, and I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

  He started typing on his phone at my reply.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cam wanted to know if Summer would be there, so I’m letting her know. She’s dying to meet her. Says she has to meet the woman who makes the sexy professor tongue-tied.”

  “No one calls me that. And Summer doesn’t make me tongue-tied.”

  “Uh, yeah, she does … I’m pretty sure you almost swallowed your tongue when her friend Margo came over. And not only do your students call you the sexy professor, but Cam and I call you it all the time.”

  “Why?” I asked, honestly baffled.

  “Because it gets you flustered, which is totally hilarious,” he said, sounding as if I were obtuse.

  “But why would it be hilarious if I’m not there to get flustered?”

  “Because I can imagine your face in my head.” He shrugged. “Plus, it’s just a thing Cam and I do. It’s our nickname for you.”

  “Well, I don’t like it,” I grumbled.

  “I know,” Trent said with an annoying chortle.

  “Sycophant.”

  “Sexy professor.”

  Ugh.

  19

  Summer

  “Are you excited about your bridal shower next weekend?” I asked Whitney, wriggling in my seat with enough excitement for all of us.

  “Sure, I think it will be nice for all of us to get together, but Luca and I don’t really need anything. We have already combined two households, which left us with more than we can manage,” Whitney said, lifting her long brown hair off her neck as she pulled it up into a bun. “I tried to explain that to his mom and tell her I don’t need to have the shower, but she insisted and said everyone is looking forward to it.”

  “I know I am,” I gushed, reaching out to place my hand over hers on the table. “And don’t worry, you won’t end up with five blenders and a million dish towels. Promise.”

  Whitney looked over at me, her eyes full of suspicion.

  “Why? What do you know?”

  I pretended to lock my lips together and throw away the key, so she turned toward Margo.

  “I’m staying out of it,” was our friend’s reply.

  She was currently moving her potatoes around her plate aimlessly, which was unlike her. Margo ate like she did everything else in life, with gusto.

  “Everything okay?” Whitney asked.

  “Yeah, are you all right?” I added, concerned.

  Margo looked up at us and sighed. “I slept with Carson the other night.”

  “Your ex-husband, Carson?” Whitney prodded.

  My first instinct was to shout, “Why?”, but I didn’t want to upset Margo or make her think I was judging her, so I slid closer to her on the booth and put my arm around her shoulders.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Margo sighed and dropped her fork, letting it clatter across her plate, before picking up her wine and taking a sip.

  “Carson and I were coworkers before we were anything else. Eventually we worked so closely together we became good friends. Everyone at the office always joked around and called me his work wife, which I found extremely frustrating. I mean, seriously, just because a man and a woman work closely together, there has to be a label put on it. I found it demeaning. He and I were on the same level and calling me his wife seemed to indicate I was somehow less of an asset to the company than he was, like I had to defer to him. Honestly, it pissed me off.”

  “I bet,” Whitney said, which made Margo throw up her hand and say, “Right?”

  “Anyway, as the years went on, our friendship changed, and we started to hook up occasionally. We essentially worked all the time, so there wasn’t much time to go out and meet people, and we both had needs to be met, so we started a mutually beneficial relationship.”

  Margo had never opened up to Whitney and me and shared her story, so when she paused, I asked eagerly, “And then what happened?” because I was dying to find out.

  “It’s such a cliché, but we were on a business trip in Vegas and after a night of drinking and gambling, we got married. Oh, the guys at work had a field day over that one. Now I wasn’t only Carson’s work wife, but his actual wife. When we got home, I wanted to get an annulment, but Carson talked me into give us a shot, so we did.”

  “How long did it last?” Whit asked.

  Margo scoffed and said, “Until I got promoted above him. He couldn’t handle it, me making more money and having a higher position in the company. He started sleeping around. I divorced his ass as soon as I found out, but old habits die hard, and since the divorce we’ve had the occasional hookup.”

  “Okay,” I said, understanding even though I thought Carson deserved to have his balls set on fire. “So, what was different about this time? Why are you upset about it? Did something happen?”

  Margo collapsed back against the booth and laid her head back.

  “He’s getting married. He told me as he was putting his pants back on.”

  “What an asshat,” Whitney said in angry hushed tones. “Why didn’t he say something before you slept together?”

  “Because he knew I wouldn’t sleep with him if I knew. I’ve always been vocal about my no cheating policy.”

  “Dick,” I breathed.

  “Yeah, he is,” Margo agreed. “It’s not like I want him for myself or regret divorcing him. I slept with him because we had good chemistry. But for him to do me like that, well, it made me lose what little respect for him I had left.”

  “I’m so sorry, Margo.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I hate that he hurt you again.
”

  Margo sat up suddenly and shook her head.

  “Okay, enough of that shit. Pity party over. Let’s get another round of drinks and talk about something more pleasant. Like … Summer, have you and that adorably clueless professor had sex yet, or what?”

  I felt my cheeks warm, but I couldn’t stop myself from practically shouting, “Yes!”

  “Finally,” Margo said, as she signaled to the waiter another round. “I was getting blue balls waiting for you two to finally take the plunge.”

  “Yay,” Whitney cheered. “Tell us everything.”

  “Yeah, don’t leave anything out.”

  Giddy with excitement over Noah, I happily shared my experience with Noah, although I kept some of the more intimate details to myself. By the time we were done, Margo was looking more like herself and even got the waiter’s number before she left.

  20

  Noah

  As I pulled into the apartment complex, I had to double check the address to make sure I’d put it in the GPS correctly.

  The place was run down, which Summer had mentioned, and the area of town wasn’t the best.

  I parked in the guest parking spot, just as she’d told me, and grabbed the cake I’d bought from the passenger seat before I got out of my car and followed her instructions to take the stairs and turn left to her apartment.

  Once I got to the correct number, I shifted the cake to one hand and knocked, my head swiveling as I checked out my surroundings.

  Seconds later, the door opened, and Summer was standing before me, beaming up at me in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.

  “Hey, come on in,” she said happily, stepping to the side to let me in.

  I surveyed the room as she shut the door behind me and thought, Okay, this makes much more sense.

  The living space was bright and cheerful, with lots of yellows, pinks, and baby blues. The walls were adorned with canvas paintings. There were silhouettes of women walking the streets of Paris, Rome, and London, as well as prints of daisies, sunflowers, and seascapes.