Wicked Game

by Michelle Betham

  The room we’re in is fairly small, considering the size of the cabin, but it has huge floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over what I can only imagine to be stunning views of the fjord. It’s too dark outside to tell right now.

  There’s a large bed in the corner of the room, with a door that leads off to what I’m assuming is a bathroom, and then I realise I’m preoccupying myself with the layout of the room because I’m still a little unsure. And if I’m unsure, in any way, should I really be doing this?

  Noah squeezes my hand and I turn to look at him.

  “You okay?” he whispers.

  This won’t change anything …

  “Yeah. I’m good.” I smile, just to reassure him.

  To reassure myself?

  “And you’re sure? Because if you’re not, it isn’t too late …”

  I shut him up with a kiss, and he pulls me against him, our bodies pressed close together, it’s what I needed to feel – him, this close to me. My husband.

  He loves me, no matter what.

  This won’t change anything …

  “I’m sure.”

  He smiles that smile, the one that makes me melt inside. The one I fell in love with that night on Vågen harbour. The one that calms me.

  I feel his fingers curl around mine as he pulls me even closer, and I cling onto him as he kisses me again; drops a hand to my bottom, and that’s all I need. I’m not scared anymore. The nerves, the doubts, they’re slowly disappearing, I’m losing myself in this dark and twisted fantasy now.

  Because that’s all it is.

  Just a fantasy …

  Noah’s fingers dig into my flesh as the kiss deepens, and then I feel it, another body behind me – Joe’s hands on my thighs, his breath on my neck, I’m being thrust into something so beautiful and wrong and I want to live out every second because it will never happen again, despite what he told me downstairs. This will never happen again.

  Joe slowly unzips my dress, his breath warming my skin as the dress drops to the floor, pools around my ankles, and I kick it away. I feel utterly free, completely uninhibited, standing almost naked between my husband, and another man.

  Noah drops his head, sucks on my nipples as he cups my breasts, and I am so wet, so fucking excited, because I’ve cast reality aside now. It’s gone, temporarily put to rest while I live out whatever the hell this is, I don’t know, I don’t think I even care anymore.

  I feel Joe’s fingertips run lightly down my spine and I shudder; bury my fingers in Noah’s hair, close my eyes as I throw my head back, I can’t stop the low moan from escaping. And Joe, he tugs at my underwear, but that’s all he does before he steps back from me, and I take that second to breathe. To look at Noah, to know that he’s still okay with this. He is. I am, too. Now. I’m so fucking okay it scares me.

  “Don’t look at me, when you do this,” Noah whispers, and I frown. “I don’t want you to look at me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Maybe it’s just his way of dealing with it. Part of his own way of playing this out, I don’t know, but I’m stopped from dwelling on it any further as Joe takes my hand; pulls me away from Noah, draws me towards him, so quickly I’m thrust roughly against him, the force with which my body hits his breathtaking. And when I look up into his deep, dark-blue eyes I see something, I just don’t know what. He’s an expert at detachment, I’m guessing. I’m just something he gets to play with. One of many he’s played with before? I don’t know, but tonight, he’s with me. With us. Whatever I want him to do, he’ll do it, no questions, and yet, I want him to take control.

  I don’t know where Noah is now. Is he watching? There’s a part of me that wants to check, to see where my husband is, but he told me not to look at him, for whatever reason. And that still niggles away at me, but as Joe winds his fingers in my hair, pulls my head back slightly, I gasp quietly as I’m thrust back into this surreal world we’ve become a part of.

  My eyelids flutter shut as his lips graze the base of my throat, his beard bristling against my skin. He presses a hand to my breast, and I wonder if he can feel how hard my heart is beating, hammering against my ribs so violently I’m scared it might break through. And then he slowly drops his hand to my thigh, his eyes locking on mine as he pushes my underwear down. It’s like all the air has been sucked from my body, breath catches in my throat, my stomach tightens, all I’m aware of is music playing quietly in the background and the manic beating of my heart.

  I want him to kiss me, is that wrong?

  Is that wrong?

  He has a beautiful mouth, and I physically ache to feel it touch mine, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he turns me around, pulls me back against him, and I desperately want to look at Noah, but instead I close my eyes. I do what Noah wants me to do. I reach behind me and stretch an arm up around Joe’s neck, I’m naked, in a strange man’s arms, and my husband is watching, I know he is, even though I can’t see him. I’m naked, and this man is going to fuck me, before my husband takes me back.

  I’m all in now as Joe slides a hand between my legs, his lips once more grazing my shoulders and I cry out quietly as he touches me in places no stranger should ever touch me. Unless I allow them to. And this man, he knows exactly what to do, he’s playing me like an expert, taking me to the brink before he pulls his hand away, leaving me gasping for breath. And for a fleeting second reality swamps me, I feel sick, I try to break free from Joe’s grip, but when he whispers in my ear that I have nothing to be scared of, I believe him. I stop struggling. But I also open my eyes, for just the briefest of seconds, but long enough to see the glance that passes between Noah and the man behind me. The man whose arm is keeping me pressed against him, the feel of his fingers stroking my skin is calming, almost too calming, and I can’t stop my eyes from closing again. But as soon as they do Joe lets go of me, and I feel Noah pull me back into his arms, take my face in his hands; he kisses me. And I fall against him, the safety and familiarity of him a welcome respite from the surreal situation surrounding us.

  He’s whispering to me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying, my heart’s beating so loud it’s drowning out all other noise. All I’m aware of is his mouth lightly touching mine, of him speaking so quietly he’s almost breathing the words into me, I just can’t make out what he’s telling me. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t need to. I think he’s telling me it’s going to be okay, that’s all. And I believe him. I still believe him …

  He pulls me closer against him, and for another of those brief moments I forget that someone else is here, with us, but the second I feel Joe’s hand rest on the base of my spine; feel him pull me back against him, Noah lets me go. He’s giving me to this man, and I’m so swept up in the moment now I’m struggling to see how something so exciting, so dangerous – how could this ever be wrong?

  My body slams back against Joe’s, and I realise he’s naked now, too, his skin warm against mine, his body taut. Hard. His erection presses against me and that knot of nerves in my stomach tangles and tightens until my breath once more catches in my throat, I try to breathe but it’s painful. Difficult. It’s only when he presses his hand lightly against my neck that my breath finally loosens, his fingers coaxing it out of me as he whispers in my ear; instructs me to close my eyes.

  He drops a hand to my hip bone, slides it around onto my stomach, and I bite down on my lip as he lowers it further, runs his fingertips over my labia, my stance widening automatically. I want him to touch me again, to explore, to play with me, I want his hands all over me because this will never happen again. I want it all, every sordid, fucked-up minute of this fantasy, I’m taking it. Which is why the feeling of frustration that washes over me when he pulls his hand away is utterly real, it comes from the very depths of my knotted stomach. But when he turns me around to face him; when his eyes lock on mine the frustration is once more replaced by calm. He’s slowly calming me, again, and it’s strangely disturbing, this instant power he seems to hold over me. Or am I j
ust seeing it that way? Am I not just playing along? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing, after all? We’re playing a game …

  My hand fans out over his chest, it’s a reflex action I can’t stop from happening, the need to touch this man is both confusing and overwhelming and I look down, at my hand against his skin. At the wedding band on my third finger. And I want to look at Noah now, I need to see him, before I do this, but Joe’s hand cups my cheek, he stops me from turning my head. He makes me look at him. And again, I’m filled with a darkly comforting feeling of peace, it’s okay. Noah’s still here, he’s with me, keeping me safe, I know he is. He promised.

  “I can stop,” Joe whispers, his eyes boring so deep into mine it causes a shiver to race up my spine. “If you want me to.”

  A beat or two passes, and then I shake my head, I don’t want him to stop, that’s the last thing I want. It’s too late anyway, we’ve already crossed a line, or I’m just kidding myself that we have. To assuage any guilt this night is going to kick up? To help me deal with the consequences?

  He leans in closer to me, gently brushing my hair away from my shoulder in a way that makes my skin burn and my stomach dip, that knot of nerves is unravelling now. “Lie down,” he murmurs, his lips lightly touching the side of my neck, the words vibrating against my skin and I gasp quietly as he cups my bottom, pushing me against him. I’m in so deep now I’m barely able to recognise what’s real and what’s fantasy. My head’s a mess, my body aches for this man. For my husband. For both of them. Together …?

  I lie down and stretch out as he lowers his body over me, as he leans into me again, his mouth resting against my ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispers. “Keep them closed, until I tell you to open them.”

  He’s controlling this situation; he’s controlling me, but I’m okay with that. It only adds to the excitement. The danger. I do as he says, I close my eyes and I feel him pull away from me, which briefly makes me want to open them again, until I feel his hand on my knee; feel him gently push my leg up.

  “Eyes closed, Kari,” he says, and his voice is a little louder now. There’s an almost stern edge to it, something that makes me heed his instruction. And then I hear him, talking to Noah, a brief exchange of words and I can make out none of them, but I think that was their intention. And I should want to know what they’re saying, right? Are they talking about me? About what’s going to happen? I should know what they’re saying, but I’m too wound up, I’m like a coiled spring just waiting to go off, I can’t concentrate on anything other than the heat between my thighs and the painful anticipation flooding my body. The need to touch myself is becoming harder to control, but the second I drop my hand fingers grasp my wrist. My hand’s yanked away, thrown up above my head, and I know it’s him. Joe. He’s back in control, and I’m fine with that.

  He keeps tight hold of my wrist as he parts my legs with his knee, my breath hitching as he rests his other hand against me, and I’m so totally drawn into this fucked-up mess it both shocks and excites me. Is Noah still here? I can’t do this, if Noah isn’t here …

  “Noah’s still here. Okay?” Joe murmurs. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  It’s like he read my mind. Like he knows what I’m thinking. And as I stare into his eyes – yes, they’re striking, but they’re also strangely empty, and yet, there’s something there behind them. Something I can’t work out, and then I remember that, to some extent, he’s acting here. He doesn’t really want to have sex with me, this is what he does to escape whatever he needs time away from in his real life. He fucks women for fun, and he doesn’t care who watches. Does he sleep with men, too? I don’t know. But that thought sends another wave of excitement on its way to mess with my gut.

  His grip on my wrist loosens, his fingers sliding upwards until they intertwine with mine, and he smiles, the smallest of smiles, his mouth barely twists up but it’s there. For the briefest of moments. And I swear, I have never felt so dirty, so broken, so messed-up and fragile, but the feeling is one I’m embracing with every beat of my twisted heart.

  He pulls his hand from between my legs, rests it against my hip and I take a deep breath as our eyes lock; as he reaches down again, and he touches me. His touch is firmer this time, a little more insistent, and I arch my back, spread my legs a little wider, and as he opens me up with his fingers; as he pushes inside me I cry out in relief. In the space of the craziest few minutes I have ever – will ever – live, he’s become the medicine I need. A fix I can’t walk away from. A beautiful interlude from reality, but that’s all it is; all he is. An interlude.

  Another man is fucking me. It’s happening, and I want him there, I want him inside me, he feels different. He isn’t Noah, that’s obvious, and that’s good. I don’t want him to feel like my husband, this needs to be different. It’s beautiful because it isn’t real, and this fantasy, it’s becoming so intense, so surreal, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s real.

  His fingers tighten around mine as he pulls out of me, slowly, before thrusting back into me, just as slowly, every movement is measured. Careful. And I don’t care that this is something he may well have done a hundred times over, right now he’s fucking me. And then I feel him move, feel him rise up onto his knees, his arm sliding around my waist as he pulls me up with him, his body still deep within mine as I wrap my legs around him, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me up. He continues to thrust into me, and I throw back my head, every fibre of my being is fighting the urge to open my eyes and look at Noah but I know that if I did that, now – now I’m not sure what that would do to me. I’ll deal with that once this is over, I can’t deal with it now, while another man is inside me. So I keep my eyes closed, bury my fingers in Joe’s hair as I ride him; grind against him. And just as I feel the rush begin, he lays me back down, pulls out of me, and once more that frustration swamps me. The ache is almost unbearable now, and for a second I hate myself, for wanting this. For enjoying this. I hate myself …

  Raising my hips up slightly, he pushes a pillow under them, places both hands on my knees and spreads my legs wide, and I wait for the breath to catch in my throat again, because it will. I know what’s coming. And when it does – when his mouth touches me, tastes me, I cry out, grasp the pillow behind my head as my hips buck upwards. Pressing his hands against my inner thighs he keeps my legs apart as his tongue explores me, pushes me to the very edge of this dangerous precipice, and I feel nothing but an intense pleasure sweep through me in waves, flooding my veins, consuming me. And when he pulls away I’m once more left feeling frustrated and empty, but I know this isn’t over yet.

  The weight of his body bears down on me as he lies over me, his breath burning my neck as his cock pushes back inside me and this time – this time we’re heading towards that inevitable endgame. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire as he thrusts deeper, angles my body slightly so he falls into me deeper still, and I cry out as a rush of white-hot pain cascades over me. Through me. It’s the most incredible feeling, and I don’t know whether it’s because this man has one very special talent, or whether he’s just made me believe that he has, all I know is that what I’m feeling right now – it’s something I’ve never felt before. I may never feel it again, I can’t know that yet. But right now, I’m taking it. Every fucked-up second, I’m taking them all.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he instructs me again, cupping my cheek as his lips travel down over my neck, my collarbone; as his fingers trail lightly across my skin, I don’t even know … did he come, too? I was so consumed by my own climax I don’t remember if he came, too …

  I stretch out as his mouth travels further down my body, as his tongue flicks over my nipples. His hands grasp my hips, pulling me over onto my side, and I want to open my eyes now, but I don’t. I keep them closed. And then I feel another hand on my hip; another mouth brush the back of my neck. A familiar touch. Noah …

  “I’m here, baby,” he whispers, and I keep my eyes closed, I don’t w
ant to open them now. I want to live in this fantasy for as long as I can. “I’m here …”

  I want this stranger. Again.

  I want my husband. Now.

  I want them both.

  Together …

  Joe continues to suck on my nipples, his fingers touching me, bringing that excitement back to the surface, this is so far from over. And Noah – he remains behind me, his hand on my thigh as he kisses my shoulder. They’re both touching me. Together …

  I reach for Noah’s hand, feel his fingers curl around mine and I push back, feel his body mould against me, and when he pushes inside me I cry out, because the second he did that, Joe touched me. He knew exactly what to do; what it would do to me, I can barely breathe. Every gasp is shallow and ragged, and I cling onto Noah’s hand as he thrusts into me; as Joe continues to touch me, until I explode in their arms, both of them holding me as I come, it’s something I can’t even begin to describe. Hands all over me; lips brushing my skin, the familiar and the new. I want both.

  But the second I start to come down, I just want Noah. I want my husband, and I squeeze his hand, I let him know I need him now. Alone. I turn around to face him, and he cups my cheek, he smiles at me.

  “It’s okay,” he whispers.

  Is it?

  His voice; the feel of his hand against my cheek, it pulls me back to reality with an almost violent force, it tears the breath from my body as the realisation of what’s just happened hits me like a kick to the gut. And the slight smile he gives me, it reassures me a little, but I don’t know what I’m feeling now. I don’t …

  “Baby, it’s okay.”

  I cover his hand with mine, I close my eyes again as he kisses me. A slow, beautiful kiss, and I cling onto him; I hold his body against me, I want every inch of him touching me because I love him. So much. I love him.