Bittersweet
Deceit
ALSO BY BLAKELY BENNETT
Bound by Your Love Series
Stuck in Between
My Body Trilogy
My Body-His
My Body-His (Marcello)
My Body-Mine
Co-Authored
The Demarcation of Jack
Bittersweet
Deceit
Blakely Bennett
Bittersweet Deceit
Copyright © 2014 by Blakely Bennett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Clarissa Yeo
Logo design by Olivia E. Bennett
Edited by Read Owl Publishing
ISBN: 978-0-69226-201-6 (Trade Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-63315-007-2 (eBook)
Bittersweet Deceit is dedicated to NC Simmons, a woman who stormed into my life with lots of love and passion. We initially connected over our erotic writing, and then found a friendship that defies the short time we have known each other. With all my heart, I wish you well and thank you for all your support.
Warmest hugs,
Blakely
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is the second installment in the Bound by Your Love series, which centers on the romantic lives of a close-knit group of friends. It’s not necessary to read the stories in order, but Stuck in Between is the first.
As you will see, each chapter is headed with a song title. The melody, title, and/or lyrics inspired me to choose each song for its corresponding chapters. If you’re into music, like I am, I hope you enjoy the accompaniment.
Warning: This novel contains a marital affair, light BDSM (including, but not limited to, role-playing, bondage, spanking, and paddling), video watching of fisting, anal sex, and more.
You can’t say I didn’t warn you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So much goes into creating a novel. I have amassed the most amazing team of people who help me with editing, cover art, beta/test reading, and moral support.
Much appreciation goes to April Duffy, my editor extraordinaire from Read Owl, Clarissa Yeo who continues to amaze me with her cover art talents, and Serena K., Ann P., Tami C., Kim L., Sara S., and Julie C. my wonderful beta/test readers.
The value of my moral support team can never be overstated. My family, friends, and fans keep me motivated to push forward and keep creating. A special acknowledgment goes out to my “street team”. They show me love and support daily, and I feel incredibly blessed to be able to call each one my friend. I love you, babes!
Anyone who knows me at all knows I’m one of the lucky ones when it comes to love. Dana Bennett, fellow author (highly talented), husband, lover (very talented here as well), and best friend, continues to be my biggest fan, cheerleader, first reader, idea sounding board, and the best cuddlier the world has ever known. Thank you, my love, for the last nineteen years together and for being my strongest support in life and in writing.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER ONE
Undertow
by Joni Mitchell
“Mason, get up,” I said, jostling him. Underneath the gray sheet, his chest rose and fell slowly. It was a rare treat for him to spend the night.
“Hmm, Lainie come back to bed.” He reached out from under the cover to pull me to him.
“Come on, I’m serious. It’s already nine thirty and Jacqs will be here soon. Isn’t Victoria expecting you home?”
“I told her my plane doesn’t arrive until this afternoon.” Mason looked up at me and pierced me with his ravishing, clear, blue eyes. “Can I come back after your brunch? I don’t know when I’ll be able to get away again.” He scooted up against the headboard, which caused the sheet to fall to his waist.
The smattering of hair on his chest and taut lower abs made me groan.
“Come here, love. We still have a few minutes.” He moved down on the mattress and held his arms out to me.
I climbed in and covered his body with mine. “We don’t have much time.”
“I love you, baby,” he said just before his lips touched mine.
I wouldn’t say I love you back, I couldn’t. It was not that I didn’t love him, I loved him so much it devastated me if I thought too far ahead, knowing that he would never truly be mine. I kissed him back hard, breathing him in, wanting to fuse our bodies together. My extra twenty-five pounds no longer deterred me with Mason; my full hips and soft belly seemed to inspire lust in him.
He flipped me over onto my back, spreading my long, smooth legs wide as he plunged in. “You’re so ready, it won’t take us long.” He groaned once he gained full penetration and held himself still. Peering down into my eyes, he said, “I want to play the game again when I come back later.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head no.
He shifted his weight to his right side and gripped my chin with his left hand so I was forced to look straight into his eyes. “You know you want to. I’m not sure why…” He said as he pulled his cock back slowly and rammed back into me, causing me to writhe. “you want to…” Then he leisurely stroked in and out of me. In his husky, deep voice he said, “pretend like you—ahhh yes I can feel you getting closer—pretend you don’t love the game.” He paused, but still held me in his gaze. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel your pussy grab onto my dick like only you can.” He resumed his deep, frantic pace as I equally met his incursions. “Don’t forget to breathe. Oh yeah, there you go, come for me.”
“Please!” A squeak escaped from me followed by a low groan. I quickly gulped in air, spinning as my release erupted.
“I’m coming with you,” Mason called out. He jerked rapidly and then held himself tightly against me.
The feel of his cock pulsing inside me almost got me off again. He rolled to the side, his chest rising and falling.
I nuzzled against his neck, breathing in his spicy aftershave and warm skin, a smell I would never forget. I glanced up at the clock and said, “Unless you want to meet Jacqs, we need to get the fuck up and get dressed.”
He drew me close. “I love when you talk dirty, baby.”
I tried to keep from laughing. “I’m serious.”
“Are you aware you say that a lot?”
He tickled me until I pushed away from his chest and said, “Get dressed and skedaddle. I’m hoppi
ng in the shower.”
“Text me when you’re free. Should I pick the game or would you like to?”
“Out with you. Now! I need to take a really quick shower because she’ll be here any minute.” I threw him his pale-blue, dress shirt and turned before he could distract me again with his sexy good looks. He had this way of knocking me senseless with his steely smile and stellar physique. “What am I going to do with you?” I mumbled on my way out of the room.
I heard bang, bang, bang as I stepped out of the shower.
My robe hung from the hook on the back of the door so I quickly covered myself and stepped out of the bathroom. “I’m coming,” I shouted.
I opened the door and Jacqueline blurred passed me in short, red shorts and a bright-orange top. She spun around to face me. Although short and petite, her personality gave the illusion of an Amazon. Her dark waves flowed to the middle of her back. Spring, or “flip-flop weather”, was finally upon us in South Florida and the heat index had us wearing as little as possible. She kicked her shoes off by the door.
“Have you seen the new guy who lives in your building? I saw him strolling through the parking lot. His walk is almost feline but totally masculine,” Jacqs said, placing her multicolored backpack on the table by the door. “I swear he looks like a tall Paul Newman—those light-blue eyes and gray hair at his temples. Swoon worthy.” She glanced up at me and then squinted her blue-green eyes.
I folded my arms over my robe.
“Have you met him already?”
“Let me get changed,” I said, turning away.
Jacqs followed me into the bedroom. “That’s not your mystery man is it?”
I peered over my shoulder at her and then slipped into a beige T-shirt and navy shorts.
“Oh my god, it is! He is so—so—damn good looking.” She stood there with her hands on her hips, staring as if to reassess me. Her mouth hung partially open.
“Don’t you think you already have your hands full with Red and Bond?”
“Well, I don’t mean for me. Damn, woman, I figured I must know him since you’ve been hiding him from me, but I don’t recognize him. Should I?”
“No, you’ve never met him before. Should we go out or would you like to cook?”
“Let’s stay in. You know I love cooking and this way you don’t have any excuses not to answer my questions. You promised you would finally tell me everything.”
I rolled my eyes, but Jacqs didn’t see. She was too busy walking to the kitchen and checking out the contents of my refrigerator.
“So how old is he? I’m guessing mid-forties.” She pulled out eggs, cheese, broccoli, a package of mixed, dark-green lettuces, and basil.
“Lettuce in eggs?”
“Have you ever not liked my cooking?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “You’re just stalling.”
“Fine, he’s forty-five,” I said, sitting on the stool that faced her across the wide granite countertop.
“Fifteen years older then. Kids?” She cracked an egg against the side of a bowl.
“Two: seven and ten.”
After turning on the stovetop and pouring the oil into the pan, she cut up the broccoli like a veteran sous-chef. “So three kids? Wow.”
“No, I meant two kids.” I lowered my forehead into my palm, not wanting to have the conversation. Talking to Jacqs made it more real and took away my ability to rationalize the situation.
“Oh, okay.” After spreading the oil around, she tossed in the broccoli and some basil leaves. “So how did you meet, and when did you find out he was married?”
“Do you remember the guy I sort of mentioned that I had two dates with?”
“Yes and you wouldn’t tell me his name. Did you meet him online?” Stretching up to the cabinets behind her, she tried to reach the spices on the second shelf.
“Let me do that,” I said, walking around to the other side of the island.
“Garlic salt and red pepper please.”
After handing her the spices, I returned to my stool and continued, “I met him by accident.”
The spatula paused in the pan. “What are you talking about, girl? Did you have a date or not?”
“Do you know GG’s Waterfront Bar and Grill? It’s much more upscale than it sounds.”
“I don’t think so. Anyway…” She resumed stirring the eggs.
“I was supposed to meet up at the bar with someone from one of my dating sites and he never showed.”
Jacqs threw in a fistful of greens and stirred them into the broccoli. “And Paul Newman’s doppelgänger did?”
As I shared how we met, I became lost in the crystal clear memory:
I felt hopeful as I got out of my silver, two-seater, convertible Saturn Sky. I smoothed down my black fitted skirt and made sure my sheer blouse hung just right. I’d worn my three-inch heels, foregoing my favorite five-inch pumps so I wouldn’t tower over my date.
I paused for a moment and watched Jacqs pour the eggs into the pan and sprinkle in cheese.
“According to my date’s online profile,” I said, “he also owned his own business, which you know is important to me.”
“So you really thought he had potential. Go on.”
I sat down at the bar, laying my small clutch in front of me.
“What would you like?” The bartender asked, tossing a square napkin on the bar. His crisp, white shirt and black vest suited the dark wood décor of the restaurant and bar.
“A Riesling and a glass of water would be nice.”
“You got it.”
Every time the door opened, I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see the guy from online. I lingered over my glass of wine, and once I had taken the last sip it was quickly replaced with another.
“I didn’t order this,” I said.
“Compliments of the gentleman,” he said, pointing down the bar.
I bent forward, searching to my right and gasped when I saw him. Doing my best to recover quickly, I took a sip of water and waved. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” his deep, resonating voice answered. He lifted his drink and stalked toward me like a predator—confident and strong.
I would willingly let him catch and eat me for dinner. I shook the thought away.
Moving as though it took him little effort to command his body, he settled himself in the stool next to me. “You’re waiting for someone.” He said it as a statement, not a question.
His proximity unnerved me. I had always thought of myself as someone above being controlled by chemistry and attraction.
“You mean controlled by hormones like me,” Jacqs said, holding out a plate with the omelet. “There’s coffee too.”
“Well, yes, if I’m being completely honest. It happens to be a first for me and part of the reason it’s been so hard to talk about, notwithstanding the promise I made to him. I had been in judgment of your crazy libido. Something I thought you should have control over.”
Jacqs burst out laughing and said, “Welcome to my world.”
We sat down at the round, dinner table and I took a couple bites of the eggs. “Oh, this is delicious. The lettuce gives it an earthy taste, almost like spinach.”
She gave me her I-told-you-so look and chewed a mouthful. She swallowed and said, “Well don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Okay…”
“Well, yes, I was waiting for someone,” I said, adjusting my blouse and trying to hide the tremble in my hands. “However, if he’d planned to show, he would’ve been here by now.”
“His loss is most definitely my gain.” His eyebrows raised and his wicked smile sent heat over the surface of my skin.
He reached across the distance between us and caressed my shoulder. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” His touch unleashed a frisson of excitement that caused me to shutter.
I stared at his fingers and then back into his eyes, not knowing what to make of the conversation or my body’s outlandish response.
Seconds, minutes, h
ours, ticked by, or so it seemed as the silence enveloped us. I could no longer hear the clicking of glasses or silverware. The flare of his pupils and the red heat that crawled up his neck let me know I wasn’t alone.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, dropping his hand and pulling out his wallet.
“What? Wait! No,” I said, swallowing hard to get my heartbeat to slow.
He chuckled slightly and said, “I just meant, let’s go for a walk along the water. It’s beautiful out.”
“Oh, I...” I fumbled around for something plausible to say. I rested my hand on my upper chest, willing my pulse to settle down.
He smiled again and it devastated me.
In a daze, I watched him pay the bartender and leave a healthy tip. He took my hand in his and I let him lead me away from the bar and out of the restaurant. I kept a step behind him, my eyes trailing down to his small, round butt straining against his black slacks and then back up to the collar of his purple dress shirt that just skimmed the bottom of his salt-and-pepper hair. His strides were casual but strength infused each step.
“What’s your name?” he asked once we reached the dock that ran along the back of the restaurant.
“Lainie, and yours?”
“Mason.”
“Is that a family name?”
He stopped and casually leaned against the railing, looking out at the water with my hand still firmly in his. Lights refracted over the surface of the dark current of the Intracoastal.
“Like you can’t imagine.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you my name was Mason Mason?”
I laughed thinking he must be joking, but he didn’t smile. “Not really? Oh my god, do your parents have an odd sense of humor?”
“It was my great, great grandfather who put it into motion, and the males in my family have carried it on.”
“What does that make you?” I thought for a few seconds and said, “Mason Mason IV?”
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