by Liv Bennett
Two servers bring our entrée plates and Stella, Gregorio, and Adam fall into a deep conversation about Adam’s mother. His eyes brighten and his features soften as he listens to stories about his mother’s youth. I wish she was alive, and I wish she could have the happiness of getting to know Adam’s babies. The babies he’ll have with me.
The night proceeds, so does my arousal. I cross and uncross my legs to cool off, but nothing helps.
At one point Stella excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and Gregorio’s phone rings, giving me the perfect opportunity to make my move. I drop my right hand on my knees under the table cloth and pull my skirt up until I can reach my panties. Then slowly, I slip my index finger between my legs and inside me. The touch, though from my own finger, sends shivers through my body. Which goes to show how desperately I need to have sex. I swirl the finger around the walls, enjoying every bit of pressure, then pull it out.
Gregorio is still busy on the phone and drops a piece of tomato in his mouth, sending a wink to my direction. I smile, taking a piece of my desert with my hand, and bring it to Adam’s mouth.
“This desert is mouthwatering. You have to try it,” I say casually. When Gregorio’s eyes go back to wandering around the restaurant, I run my index finger, which is wet with my juices, under Adam’s nose and immediately stick it into his mouth. Adam’s arched eyebrows and wide-opened eyes tell me he’s recognized my unique smell and taste; one that he hasn’t enjoyed for a while. I shove the piece of desert into Adam’s mouth as Gregorio finishes the phone call.
Looking down at my skirt, Adam chews the desert cautiously. I’ve got his attention, and I can tell by the look of intense focus on his face, he won’t be able to carry on a conversation with anyone.
Gregorio excuses us and leaves the table to make another phone call.
Under Adam’s curious eyes, I slide the same hand down the table again and slip my finger inside me. With my other hand, I shove the table cloth aside and roll my skirt up to give him a view of my little performance.
His beautiful hazel eyes, now dark with lust, scan the nearby tables for unwanted onlookers, then turns to where the action is. “Fuck, baby,” he hums.
I swallow hard at the needy tone in his voice and press the finger inside me on the sensitive spot that has been aching to be touched for too long. To get him heated, I sway my hips and move my legs, while I casually put my other hand on his thigh. He pulls the table cloth over my hand and presses my palm against his hard-on. He’s heated all right. I spot Stella talking to one of the waitresses and quickly work toward a climax.
“Don’t.” Adam’s hands grab mine, freezing me in my seat. “Don’t finish yourself off. I want to do it at home.”
My insides are coiling with desire, and I’m just a thrust away from a long-needed orgasm, but his offer sounds interesting enough to delay my gratification. I inhale deeply to compose myself, pull my hand, and let Adam lick the juices off my finger. Which he does a little too eagerly.
When both Stella and Gregorio are back at the table, Adam feigns a headache and promises to visit them in the upcoming weeks.
“The bun seems to be too eager to enter the oven,” Stella whispers to my ear as she hugs me, then winks at me knowingly.
Adam drives us home in record time and cups my face with both hands in the elevator and captures my lips with a passionate kiss. Had I known touching myself in public would turn him on like this, I’d have tried it much earlier. I roam my hands over his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his chest flex and shift, as his hands move down and grope my buttocks, pushing my hips against his erection. I moan at the sensation his lips are causing on my skin while they journey down to my throat. We practically run to our condo as soon as the elevator doors slide open.
Kicking the front door behind us, we smash our bodies together and start peeling our clothes from each other on the way to our bedroom. I jump, wrap my legs around his hips, and begin rubbing my already wet sex against his manhood. I can come like this, but I try to divert my thoughts to keep myself for the real pleasure of having him inside me.
At last.
He throws me to the bed, pins my hands above my head, and starts tying them with a ribbon he’s pulled out of the drawer. Not to be able to touch him will be torture, but as long as I have him inside me, I don’t care about the details.
“You’re so hot you’re burning me,” he whispers as he positions me toward the headboard and ties the ribbon to the irons of it.
“I’m hot only for you. Put out my fire with your cock.” I buck my hips toward him with the desperate need to be touched down there.
His hands move down, spread my legs apart, and tie each of them to the corner of the bed with another ribbon so I’m fully exposed and unable to move. With his eyes locked on my slit, he sits between my thighs. “I want you so badly, I can’t think of anything else. You’ve turned me into a sex fiend. I want to fuck the living life out of you.”
I moan at his words, shouting out his name. I know it drives him crazy. I want him crazy so he can just screw me senseless.
He runs a finger along my wet folds and lifts it to his lips to lick it. “You taste so good, I want to eat nothing but you until the sun goes up.” His other hand is now holding his cock and starts rubbing it.
Why is he taking so long to plunge it into me? “Baby, give it to me,” I beg.
“I want your breasts.” He crawls up to put his legs astride me, lays his cock between my breasts, and pushes them up with his hands so they’re hugging his cock tightly. Slowly he begins rocking his hips back and forth, breathing heavily above me.
The pleasure that hits me with the touch of his throbbing cock on my skin is so intense that it’s becoming painful. I have to keep calm and breathe to survive the next minutes.
“Baby, I need you down there. Hurry.” I move and try to squeeze my thighs together to satiate my need even for a little bit, but the ribbons are too tight to move my legs. I feel his cock pulsate between my breasts and soon, his dripping arousal starts lubricating my skin and I’m afraid he’s about to come.
Is he pulling the same trick on me? Fucking me without actually fucking me?
“Adam, hurry down,” I scream from the top of my lungs.
He slows down his pace and leans down to whisper, “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not screwing your pussy tonight.”
“No, no, no, no.” He can’t do this to me again. How could I fall for this game again?
I move around with all my strength to shove him off of me. If he’s not giving me what I need, I shouldn’t care about his needs, either. But his legs are so painfully firm around me that he won’t even budge. He keeps thrusting his cock hard and fast between my breasts, riding me like a horse. Very soon, his warm sperm shoots over my throat and face.
His chest heaving laboriously up and down, he smears the sticky liquid over my breasts and says, “Mine, mine, mine,” with each caress.
This would have been an unforgettably sexy moment if I’d reached orgasm with him. I love how he marks me with his sperm. But here I am, so horny with desire that even a stroke can finish me off and he, as always, only cares about his needs.
I hate every minute of it.
“I hate you,” I yell, when he lifts his legs off me and rolls next to me. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever known.”
“Hush, baby, or I may keep you tied up all night long and screw your breasts two more times just to show you how much more selfish I can be.” He slips a hand beneath my waist and hugs me.
So far, each move I’d made to get him to make love to me ended up with him getting all the pleasure, and leaving me just as high and dry, with more desire than ever. Perhaps, I should just drop this nonsense altogether and buy a dildo. I sure won’t be the first married woman who keeps a dildo close at hand.
***
Bored and tired of doing nothing for several days, I grab my iPad and settle on the couch. A good mystery book, possibly full of misery
and pain, might distract me from my own problems. A beep startles me, and I look up to see Adam’s phone on the coffee table. He normally takes it everywhere he goes, even jogging. Wondering why he didn’t take it this time, I lean forward to see who the message is from.
An unknown number that is not registered to the phone book. My curiosity peaks and I grab it to read the message.
The phone slips from my hand with shock when I read the message.
“I’ll meet you at the hotel. I can’t wait to have your hard arousal in my mouth and my pussy. Your wanton girl.”
I stay still, paralyzed for a moment, taking my time to digest the message. It must be a wrong number, even a joke. Adam would never cheat on me. He passed the hardest test that every other man on earth would fail. There’s no way this message is addressed to Adam.
I scroll down his inbox and scan through the messages. Nothing extraordinary and mostly work-related email exchanges. I should stop it right now and leave his phone alone. But I can’t. I’m a sucker for pain, obviously. So I run a search for the number and wait anxiously for the results. Around fifty messages pop up on the small screen of the phone, signaling the secret folder the messages are kept in.
I can’t describe the rush of the feelings coursing through my body, as I go through the messages one by one, reading each and every erotic line the girl wrote to Adam and Adam wrote to her. I’ve never felt such strong rage, despair, and pain fuming in me all at the same time, as I do right now.
All those promises he made about how he loved me and wanted me, and only me, were nothing but a big, fat lie. Every day and night, every time our eyes met in a special connection, he’d utter those empty promises and I believed them.
Every single one of them. I trusted him with all my heart. What a fool I’ve been. How could I not see through him? How could I believe he’d change for me and become a loyal husband? He dumped his girlfriend of four years, and ran after me to fuck the living hell out of me, just to move on to his next target.
My chest pounds with pain at thinking how I could give him my heart, which should have belonged to Jack only.
Oh, Jack, what kind of horrible man did you bring into my life?
Throwing the phone on the couch, I scream at the top of my lungs, despite the growing pain in my throat. I deserve that pain and more for allowing a man-whore into my life, willingly letting him own me.
What am I going to do now? I’m not only married to a liar and cheater, he owns a part of my company, too. Which means I’ll not be able to avoid him altogether even if I divorce him right away. To top that off, he can claim half of my assets during the divorce since we didn’t sign a prenup. I must find a way to coax him into divorcing me and selling me his part of the company without demanding anything else from me. But, how am I going to get him to do that?
I look at his phone on the couch. I may have a chance if I manage to catch him in action with his girlfriend, and snap a picture or record a video of them together. With a good attorney, I can even sue him for fraud and get our marriage annulled.
Grabbing the phone, I rush to the bedroom. The sight of the bed, on which I let Adam fuck me hundreds of times, sends my stomach curling into a heavy ball. I run to the bathroom to throw up whatever I ate during the day. I’m going to need a lot of puking and crying to get Adam out of my system.
After washing my mouth and face and quickly changing into jeans, I hurry out to the elevator and down to the parking lot. As I start the engine, I access our joint bank account by the phone to locate the hotel he’s staying in. I nearly jump in my seat when I find the credit-card payments made to a hotel only a few blocks away from our condo.
I arrive at the hotel in less than two minutes and check the sidewalk for Adam or for an attractive woman—slut actually— before leaving the car. When I make sure no one is around, I go directly to reception.
A middle-aged, Asian woman is sitting behind the front desk. “Welcome, Ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“My husband is staying at this hotel, but I forgot his room number, and he’s not answering the phone. Can you tell me which room he’s staying in? His name is Adam Garnett.”
“May I see a photo ID?”
I give her my driver’s license. She examines it carefully and hands it back to me. “He’s staying in room number one; right here, the first door in the corridor. But I’m gonna need to accompany you for safety reasons.”
She takes a key card and walks toward the rooms, and I follow suit. I’m so anxious and nervous that I’m about to pass out before reaching the door. She knocks on the door first, and when no one answers, she slides the card and opens the door. The room is dark and smells of shampoo. A second later, the bathroom door opens, and Adam appears behind it, his face blank with shock.
“Is she your wife?” the receptionist asks. As soon as Adam nods, she closes the door and leaves us alone.
Once I gather my composure, I storm to the bathroom. I’m sure the whore is hiding there, freshly fucked. A new surge of vomit is forcing its way out. I gulp down to stop the urge and push the shower curtains aside.
“Where is she?” I yell as I go back to the room. The bed is unmade. I check all around the room, the closet, and under the bed against the possibility of that bitch hiding.
“Who are you talking about?”
When I can’t locate her, I move toward Adam. I’ve never felt anger against someone so badly. I want to hurt him. I want to stab him in the heart so that he can feel how my own heart is aching.
“Where is the fucking whore? Where is the woman you’re cheating on me with?” I shout and throw a punch at his chest.
He stumbles back but doesn’t stop me from punching him further until I corner him at the table behind him. “There is no one here. I’m alone, and I’m definitely not cheating on you.” There’s terror in his face. Good.
“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re cheating. Why are you doing this to me? I loved you. I believed you. What did you want from me? You’re not even one tenth of the man Jack was. You may not love me, but don’t you even have respect for the man who gave your mother five more years of life? Are you such a monster?” My words are mixed with tears and sobs; my hands trembling with fury and the pain of hitting him.
“I swear I’m not cheating on you. How can you think that? I love you.”
“Save your lies for your whore. You even pulled a dumb game on me to keep all your fucks for your whore. Do you hate me that much?” I continue punching his chest, slapping his face, and kicking his legs until I can’t do anymore. Then, breathless and sweaty, I sink onto the bed.
“Tell me what is going on. Why do you think I’m cheating on you?” His voice is low, almost inaudible. He stands in place without moving. I’m glad he’s that scared of me. He’ll be terrified, once he sees what I’m capable of doing after we’re done with the divorce.
I find enough energy inside me to make me smirk, draw his phone from my purse, and throw it at his face.
“I read your whore’s messages. She said she’s meeting you here. She must be arriving here any moment. Don’t try to text her to stop her from coming.”
He takes cautious steps toward the bed and sits next to me, showing me the screen of the phone. “Look, I’m not writing any text to anyone. Now, which messages are you talking about?” His voice cracks through the end.
I don’t reply but watch him go through the messages. He clicks open the last one from his whore and turns to me, wide-eyed and all paled. “I swear on the grave of my mother, to the death of my sisters that I am not cheating on you. I have no idea who this text is from. I haven’t touched another woman since you came into my life. You’re the only one for me. Please, don’t ruin our marriage for some silly messages. It’s probably a spam or a terrible joke. I don’t know this person and I’m not seeing another woman. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Then, why the hell are you staying in a hotel?”
He turns his face down to the phone. “To have a s
hower and jerk off. You know, to keep myself under control when I’m around you.” He tries to end the sentence with a silly smile, which makes my stomach revolt.
I wait for the whore to arrive but no one shows. Adam and I sit on the bed for hours. He explains and begs, tears rolling endlessly on his cheeks. A part of me wants to believe him. But what if he’s really lying? Wouldn’t I be twice the fool I am if I believe his lies? But if it’s a joke from someone and he’s been honest with me, wouldn’t I be throwing away a beautiful marriage? I’m torn between kicking him in the groin and wrapping my arms around him.
When it turns to midnight, Adam puts on a pair of black shorts and a blue t-shirt and offers his hand to me. “Let’s go home.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“What can I do to make you believe me?” He sits and cautiously slips his arm around my waist. It feels so good.
I take a moment to think of a way for him to prove his trustworthiness. “Sell me your shares of the company.” After all, my first worry when I found out about the message was the company’s future.
“Why?” he asks.
“If you’re really lying to me, I want to make sure to keep Jack’s company intact no matter what happens between us.”
“Jack’s company?” He smirks, tired lines filling up the corners of his eyes. “Jack. Always Jack. You and I have been married longer than your marriage to him, and you still consider him first in every situation. Will I ever come before Jack? Even once?”
I see the hurt in his eyes. That was the hurt I wanted to see when I stormed into this room in the first place. But now, I feel guilty for wounding him. “I didn’t mean it that way.” I’ve always tried to watch my words about Jack in order not to hurt Adam. What if he’s not cheating on me and the person who sent the message had a malicious purpose? I was helping him reach his goal.
