by Bebe Wilde
In about five minutes, he reappeared barefoot and wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt that made his pec muscles look divine. He was so hot, even dressed like that. He noticed I was still in the hall next to the front door. “What the hell are you doing, Lara?” he asked.
I stared up at him and blurted, “I made out with a guy. At a bar. We didn’t have sex. We just made out.” As soon as I saw the look in his eyes, I stopped talking and didn’t tell him anything else. Oh God, how could I have done this? Just seeing the look of slight devastation and disbelief made me wish I had followed Jill’s advice. She had been right. I instantly regretted telling him. His mouth dropped and he stared at me long and hard, as if I had spoken some foreign language he didn’t quite understand.
He took a deep breath, furrowed his brow then said, “Say what?”
“I won’t repeat it,” I said and waved my hands at him. “I guess I cheated but we just kissed. And I’m sorry. I know I fucked up but I was a little drunk and… Well, it happened.”
He shook his head and I waited for the inevitable explosion. But then he just turned on his heel and went into the living room without a word. I stared after him and wondered what to do next. So I just stood there, in the same spot and waited for something to change. I waited for him to yell or to demand that I “come in there” or something like that. But he didn’t. After a few minutes, I went into the living room and found him sitting on our sofa, leaning forward with his hands under his chin, like he was thinking about a perplexing situation but didn’t quite know what to do about it. Which, I guess, he was.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked quietly.
He stared up at me, his blue eyes flashing a little and said, “What do you want me to say?”
I shrugged then burst into tears. “I don’t know, Eric! I don’t know! I never cheated on anyone before and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You don’t do it in the first place,” he said. “That’s what you do about it. Do you think I don’t have women coming onto me all the time? Well, I do. I had several while I was out of town and I managed to avoid every single one of them, telling them I was in love with the prettiest, best girl in the world! I guess I should have been like you and just did whatever!”
I jerked a little at his harsh words. I knew he was telling the truth about the women. Since we’d been together, females did, quite literally, throw themselves at him. He was handsome. He had a great sense of humor and was a great conversationalist. But he never gave them the time of day. He was always polite and managed to turn down their advances with grace and humility, so they never ended up feeling bad. He was a great guy. And now I had screwed things up and he was probably going to leave me.
He shook his head and sighed loudly. “Listen, I just don’t even want to deal with this shit right now. I’m tired and I just want to go to bed.”
That was it? Was he serious? I had just told him what I’d done and he just wanted to go to bed? I appreciated his honesty but at the same time, I expected a bit more… Well, I expected him to be more responsive. Maybe he just wanted to sleep on it, get some perspective. I guess that was okay. But then I saw the look in his eyes. He was very angry, and hurt, too. Shivers went up and down my spine. I had misread him. He wasn’t ready to go to bed. He wasn’t that tired. He had been trying to calm down but he wasn’t going to allow himself to do that. However, regardless of what I had done, I didn’t want that side of him to come out. I did not want us to do down that road again. But what could I do about it? I had gotten myself into this situation. I braced myself for what was to come next.
“By the way, who is he?” he asked, barely concealing the anger in his voice.
“No,” I said, shaking my head and standing my ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault entirely.” I would not, under any circumstances, tell him who it was.
He glared at me. “Lara, tell me who he is.”
“No,” I said.
“Fuck!” he hissed and picked up a large book I had on the coffee table and threw it across the room. It landed on its spine, then fell over, still closed.
I stared at the book, mentally kicking myself for not listening to Jill. She had been right. I had done more harm than good. But I hadn’t listened to her. No, I had confessed. Now I was here, with him, and I would have to deal with the consequences.
“I think I know why you did this,” he said. “You think I should have already asked you to marry me. But what you don’t realize is that I was waiting until I found the perfect ring, for the right moment, all that crap. I wanted to ask you to marry me the first night we met but I thought that might make me seem a little needy.”
I felt overwhelmed by his words, by all that. What do you say to something like that? I didn’t know, so I looked away and wanted to leave the room. But I couldn’t. I had to stay here and get through this.
“Is that it?” he said finally. “Are you pissed I haven’t asked you to marry me?”
“No, that’s not it.” I paused and thought about it, then said honestly, “I don’t know.”
He stared at me. I stared back. We didn’t say anything for a few minutes and I thought about what he’d said. Maybe that was it. Maybe I was insecure and felt that he was never going to ask me to marry him. But I didn’t think that was it. I loved him and if he had asked, I would have definitely said yes to a marriage proposal. I was confused about the motivation to my own actions.
“You don’t know,” he muttered and shook his head a little. “Of course you don’t.”
I sighed and said, “Listen, we don’t have to get married. I understand if you don’t want to. I know it will be hard for you to trust me again.”
He shook his head. “That’s the thing, I don’t think it will. You have to know, Lara, that other men want you. They are always going to hit on you. This is what they do. I know this. That guy you made out with, he just managed to break down your barriers, something that took me a long time to do.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said. “And you broke them down because I love you. He didn’t do anything other than just show up in the right setting and after I had had too much tequila. I won’t make excuses like I was missing you or anything, though I did but that wasn’t the reason why. It just happened, Eric, and I will do my damndest to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
He turned to stare at me. “That’s all well and good but here’s the thing. You’re human. It might happen again.”
“It won’t,” I said.
“Are you sure you weren’t just getting back at me for not asking you to marry me?” he asked.
Why was he on this jag? I didn’t think so. I didn’t know the motivation other than the fact that I was attracted to Jack. That’s all. I wanted to see… Well, I wanted to see what he’d be like, plain and simple. And I’d found out. It had been nice being with him. He had been quite sweet. But I didn’t say that, of course.
“Well?” Eric said.
I knew that wasn’t the reason, not exactly. The more I thought about it, I realized the real reason and the real reason was because I was curious about other men. That’s all it was. I knew when I went to that bar Jack would try to hit on me and I knew something might happen. I just went to see how a new man would feel, that’s all. And I knew that if Eric did ask me to marry him, I would never allow myself that freedom. Once I had a ring, I would keep my vow.
“Are you going to speak?” Eric said, getting more irritated.
I measured my words and said, “I think I did it because I knew if you did ask me to marry you, I’d never get the opportunity to do it again,” I said. “Maybe I was just looking for something.”
“For what?”
“Eric, you know yourself I am not that sexually experienced. I didn’t have lots of lovers before we got together and maybe I thought I was missing out on something. Maybe I thought if we did get engaged, that part of my life would be over.”
“So you’re sa
ying if I gave you a ring, you would have been less likely to do it?”
I nodded. “Yes but this isn’t manipulation to get a ring, you know? It’s just that big of a commitment means committing. I guess I saw a tiny window of opportunity and I took it. That’s all. It’s all on me.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. My answer hadn’t set well with him. I guess I shouldn’t have been so honest.
“I love you,” I said. “And I’m sorry. Please, Eric, you don’t have to forgive me but if you could just… I don’t know…understand, I guess, I would appreciate it.”
“Who was he?” he asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s unimportant.”
“Fine,” he said and stood, then walked over to me. “I’ll find out myself.”
I stared up into his eyes. “You won’t. He’s already left. He doesn’t live here. He’s gone and will probably never come back.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was probably another reason I made had out with Jack. I knew he was leaving and wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in my life. He was an experiment, that’s all. A fling. I felt a little ashamed of myself for using him in that way, but we’d both had a really good time. But in a way, he’d used me too. I guess that’s how it works, little trysts like that. Things had been perfectly aligned for it to happen, too—Eric was out of town, I liked Jack, I was a little drunk. It had just been one of those things that happen. Something that happens and then it’s over and then you move on from it.
That’s when I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. Jill had been right. Telling Eric had done no one any good whatsoever. It was my guilt that forced me to confess and, possibly ruin our relationship. But was it right to do something like that and not confess? I didn’t know. But I did know now I’d probably never, ever do it again. I was paying heavily for that little bit of fun Jack and I had shared and did not wish to go through this again.
“So, it’s just this random guy?” he said, getting angry. “Just some dude you picked up at a bar?”
“That’s pretty much it,” I said and it was true, in a way.
He shook his head and started off, then came back to me, pointing his finger in my face. “Let me tell you one thing, I will find out who this prick is.”
I grabbed his arm and shoved it away from me. It did no good. He came back at me again and I shoved at his arm again, this time, keeping hold of it. “Eric, please, don’t. Just don’t. Let it go.”
He threw my arm off then pointed his finger in my face again. “No. I will find him and I will fuck him up.”
I shook my head. “No, you won’t, Eric. It’s over. It’s done. He’s gone.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said and waved his finger in my face again.
“Stop it,” I said and slapped at his hand. “And get your fucking finger out of my face!”
Even though I was the one who had messed up, I was becoming so angry at him I couldn’t stand it. Yes, I knew he was upset and I knew he would act in a way that I didn’t like because of this. That was fine. But there was one thing I couldn’t stand and that was somebody waving a finger in my face. It was my biggest pet peeve. And to have him do it? Well, I wanted to slap him. And I did just that. Before I knew what I was doing, I had slapped him, right cross the face. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. But he did drop his hand.
“Fuck you,” I hissed. “Don’t you ever do that to me!”
“Fuck me?” he asked. “You cheated on me and now you’re on a high horse?”
“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “I wish I hadn’t told you!”
“I wish you hadn’t either!” he yelled back. “Do you think that it was going to be alright? I’m fucking in love with you! The thought of some sleazeball sticking his tongue down your throat is enough to make me want to explode!”
“He wasn’t a sleazeball!” I yelled, getting so pissed off at him I could not stand it.
“Oh, I bet he was a real prince,” he hissed, shaking his head at me. “A perfect gentleman!”
“Shut up!” I yelled. “Just shut up!”
“No, you shut up!” he yelled back.
I couldn’t take it. I wanted to slap him again. Instead, I pushed at him, at his chest. But he didn’t move, not one inch. He was a strong son of a bitch, that’s for sure, and a lot bigger than me. I swatted at him again then he suddenly grabbed my arms and held me so I couldn’t move, so I couldn’t hit him. I yelled at him to stop acting like an asshole and to let me go. But he wasn’t having it. He was bigger, he was stronger and he was showing me just that.
“Eric!” I screamed. “Please stop!”
“Stop what?” he asked and pressed his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes. “You started this!”
“Let me go!” I hissed and pressed back, trying to get out of his grip. He wasn’t letting me go, at all. Not easily and not anytime soon. I was stuck right there with him and we were, almost quite literally, locking horns. Neither of us was budging. And we were too deep into it to do anything rational.
I began to twist and turn, trying to get out of his grip but, of course, he continued to hold me tight. I moved this way and that, pressing against him then pulling back. Pressing against him and then pulling back. And again and again until it almost became a rhythm and then slowly the situation began to change. He began to move with me, against me, then pull back. I kept at it and he kept at it, so we began to move together, grinding up against one another and forgetting, at least partially, what had brought us to this situation in the first place. I could feel his cock getting hard and I could feel myself going wet. I began to want it, want what he was going to give me. I knew he wanted to give it to me, too. His large erection told me as much.
And then, he wasn’t holding me anymore; he was hugging me, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and then his lips were on mine. I was still angry, just a little, and even though I wanted to, I couldn’t allow myself to give in immediately. I was still angry at how he was acting. I didn’t soften and I didn’t open my mouth to receive his kiss. He pressed harder, trying to get me to submit, trying to get me to release myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to do so. No, I couldn’t give in, not just yet. Then he began to soften, to kiss more softly, to tease my mouth open. He was sucking at my mouth with his lips, and they were so soft and so nice and so lustful. There was so much passion in what he was doing that my anger began to fade and my resistance began to lower and I began to melt and want to give in. I held on just a few seconds more, just to see where this was going to go. Where would this lead? I didn’t have a clue but it was so passionate, so forceful, so utterly all encompassing, I began to lose myself in it. Before I could help myself, I let go of the grudge and began to kiss him back.
However, it wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a hard kiss, a kiss letting him know that, yes, I did want it, but, no, I wasn’t that easy. I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. I don’t think he wanted me to make it easy on him, either. But we were too into now, too into this; the intensity was too much to back down from, too much to stop, too much to waver even slightly from where we were headed. And then… then…. Then we were suddenly going at it. We were suddenly heading into having hot, crazy, angry sex. That’s where we were going. Sex that was a little vicious and very raw.
We pressed closer to each other, still kissing that hard, delicious kiss, that kiss I didn’t quite want to let go of, not just yet. Our bodies were grinding against each other’s and I wanted to be naked, to have him naked, too, to just press myself up against him and feel his manliness.
Eric pulled back and began to take off my clothes. I helped him, pulling my t-shirt over my head and then allowing him to pull my sweats down. He came back to me, kissing me again, licking me, eating at my mouth as his hand grabbed the cup of my bra and pulled it down. But that wasn’t good enough, so he took the back of it with both hands and, instead of unhooking it, ripped it apart. The bra fell off me and my breasts were there, in his hands, he was devouring them, e
ating at them, licking them and squeezing them with his hands. I threw my head back and felt that pure ecstasy this sort of sexuality brought to me, this freedom, this liberty. I shuddered with it, I wriggled with it and I wanted more, more and then some more.
It was all him then. He was doing it all. He was taking me, making me want him. He was in control, totally in control. And I loved it. I loved how he had just taken over and did what he wanted, which was also what I wanted. He was a man and he was acting just like one. A man on a mission, a man who knew what he wanted from his woman and a man who knew how to get it. He didn’t care to pause and think about what he was going to do. He just did it. It was such a turn-on. He didn’t pause when he pulled my panties down. He didn’t hesitate to push my legs open and then get between them. He didn’t waver in his desire to perform oral sex on me and he got right to it. Not a second was wasted as his mouth found my pussy and began to eat it, lick it, and quite literally consume it. He used his hands, too, sliding his fingers inside of me, then giving my clit this oh, so nice touch, this hard touch, this touch that made me start to move against it. A touch that forced the orgasm right out of me, a touch that made me throw my head back and have, for the first time ever, a screaming orgasm. And I screamed with it, screamed until my throat hurt and then he was back up to my mouth, kissing me again, this time a little softer, but with no less intensity.
He then turned me around and bent me over the couch. I went with it and spread my legs apart. He ran his hand down my back, between my buttocks and touched me there, lightly, then he settled between my legs, his hard cock slipping into me, into my vagina, filling it up so much that I gasped a little, then moaned with sheer delight as we made that contact.
He began to ride me and I hung on, loving getting fucked like this. I loved it. I loved, loved, loved it! And then he did something different, something I really liked, something he hadn’t done in a while, at least not while we were having sex. He stopped and gave my ass a good, hard slap, like he was giving me a little punishment for being a bad girl, for making out with another man, for hurting him like that. I have to say, it struck a chord with me. I shuddered with it, with the ensuing sting, then I moaned. That felt good. It was even better when he delivered yet another one and then another one. It was too much. But I wanted more.
