The Mistress

by Lexie Ray

  Just as her memory was flashing to that evening, she heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Yes?” she answered in a soft and barely audible gasp. She knew it was him, but all the while still hoped it wasn’t. “Let me in,” he demanded in a calm but direct tone.

  Fuck that.

  She wasn’t opening the door. Instead, she sank to the tile again and pulled her knees to her chest. “Go away, Preston,” she cried. She didn’t want to face it. Not yet. She heard a faint sigh from behind the door and footsteps sounded, decreasing in volume with every step. He was leaving. With a sigh of relief, she lifted herself off the floor, just in time for a click to sound at the door. The knob turned and the door swung open, and there he was, like a ghost in the night. She felt haunted.

  “Please...” he pleaded, reaching his arm out and extending his hand so that he could grasp hers. She couldn’t let him, though. She knocked it away reactively, as if to beg not to be touched. She shook her head in warning. In her mind, she did not need to be touched. No matter how much she wanted to feel him, she did not need it.

  A tear fell from the brim of her eye, as if it were a dew droplet falling from an immaculate rose petal. She wished more than anything that her eye could have acted like a vacuum and sucked it back up before he noticed it, but of course, that wasn’t so. It fell with a glistening presence to the tile below – and he definitely did notice. It may as well have weighed five hundred pounds and cracked the entire house’s foundation with a loud boisterous bang; it was that obvious.

  The sadness had begun to overtake her. It wasn’t just guilt. It was something much more devastating than that. It was loss. Before their night together, they were friends, and that was now lost forever. Her confidant was no more – and instead she had obtained an unwanted adulterated romance. “Look at me,” he whispered softly, reaching for her again, but this time not actually touching her. It was as if he were requesting permission this time.

  Finally regaining some composure, she did as he requested – she looked at him. His blonde hair was muddled just as hers had been all morning, but his wasn’t from not being able to ready himself. His was from working out. She wondered if he had felt guilty at all for what had transpired, and if he had even thought about the repercussions of their actions.

  He was clad in spandex, and sweat was glimmering from every sexy pore that he possessed. Her mind began to stray as she examined his muscular physique, and her eyes finally landed on the rise and fall of his largely defined chest, which jutted out beautifully from his frame. She was now so transfixed on his impeccable form that she couldn’t remember the trail of questions she had prepared mentally, nor the accusations she wanted to throw into his ever-listening ears.

  He exuded a god-like presence as far as she was concerned. Her eyes meandered over his sweaty body and down his entire length. He was broad-shouldered, demanding, and powerful – but his words were those of a begging man.

  “Please...” he repeated, “just talk to me.” Her lips curled into a self-assured sneer as he begged to touch her with his hands still outstretched. All inhibitions lost into an abyss of pure ego, she found her eyes scanning between his legs. Noticing his bulge, which was enhanced by the tight spandex shorts, she blushed and bit her lips in anticipation.

  God, how she wanted him to fuck her. Hard. Rough. Soft. Gentle. She didn’t care. She just wanted to be fucked by the sex outlined in those glorious garments. She tried to remember the kids and Marissa, but unfortunately failed – her rationale was lost and seemingly gone for good. She only remembered the moment and knew he was the only thing before her.

  Truthfully, it wasn’t merely desire of a sexual nature that irrevocably caused her mind and body to move back to him. Though admittedly, it was fact that she felt sexual desire intensely and without measure. There was also something else pulling her, like gravity, to him, something more meaningful that had lain dormant for far too long. Genuinely she believed that both of them had felt something deeper than either had ever experienced before, something truly significant.

  However, even though she wished she could, she couldn’t disregard his emotions for his wife. She knew how much he loved her. He had told her time and time again during their many conversations as friends. In fact, they had rehashed their entire story over the course of the years. Sharing intimate details of his marriage brought Haley to the realization that she had become his confidant as well.

  Although he did love his wife, and she knew that, Haley and Preston introduced a different kind of emotion for each other. They were drawn to one another, each of them craving the other’s company and support. As she looked into his eyes, she realized that the innocence hidden away last night was no longer hiding. His masculinity was softened. He needed her to talk to him, and in all honesty, Haley believed that was why her internal organs pounded relentlessly at that moment. She was aching. She needed him too – needed his support – needed his touch. She needed to hear what he had to say.

  Though their relationship had only transformed the previous night into something a bit more than friendship, it truly did feel that it was a long time coming. She would never say it; hell, she hated even thinking it, but it was the truth. The fateful Sunday four years ago marked the beginning of their friendship. That’s all it started out being, but as they talked and confided in one another, they grew closer. Every day, the fondness grew. Every day, their relationship became more intense – yet neither dared say why. Had they even known why?

  As far as Haley knew, neither of them could have foreseen it happening, nor could either pinpoint the exact time that it all changed; no one knew when that fateful shift in their dynamic took place. Perhaps it happened all at once, or maybe it was so slow, like the earth spinning on its axis, continually unnoticed by all, but still occurring. No one knew.

  All that was certain was last night. The fog had finally disappeared, and true clarity was experienced. What once had started out as innocent friendship had in an instant become an inappropriate rendezvous of the night. It was poor judgment and ultimately the most deceptive act two people could put into action. But oh, how she loved how he plowed her body into the wall and pressed his stone hard body firmly against her.

  Hopeful thinking was that it would be a one-time occurrence, something they could bury deep within the cores of their minds – never to be talked about again. But that’s all it was – hopeful thinking. She stepped into him, and receiving the awaited invitation, he pulled her closely. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly. A chill of contentment washed over her, and she buried her head into the crook of his neck.

  He held her, and she held him back. Haley breathed in his masculine aroma and melted against him, content. Extending her curvy form away from his own, he looked at her. She couldn’t imagine what she must have looked like at that moment.

  Her brown hair had been slept on, wept on, and pulled cruelly into a ponytail. She felt a few strands, loose from the hair tie, fall into her – probably – red, puffy eyes. As if on cue, he wiped them away and tucked them behind her ears.

  She felt him leaning in, and it happened. All over again. His mouth found hers, and the same electric current that conquered her before was conquering her now. What started out as a sweet kiss turned into one fully enveloped in passion as their tongues danced as if in synchronous melody with one another.

  She moaned into him, addicted to his lusciously ravenous form and his inherent physical desire. She felt wanted, excited, but moreover– she felt something even worse: a love stronger than any love she had ever experienced before.

  Chapter 3

  With fervent growls and hurried movement, Haley and Preston tussled together in a feverish attempt to shed one another’s every stitch of clothing. The house was like that of a railway, transporting them to one destination: the bedroom. Stripped to only their underwear, the two adulterers fell onto the feather pillow-top bed.

  Surrounded by a sea of soothing blissfulness, Haley couldn’t belie
ve the level of comfort this bed possessed. The feather mattress in conjunction with the silkiness of the comforter and the suppleness of the Egyptian cotton sheets created one immaculate experience.

  She had never been in this bed. Their bed. Normally she would feel utter repugnance at being in another woman’s bed, not to mention with said woman’s husband. Not this time, though. This time she just needed him and his comfort.

  Comfort for what, though? Feeling guilty about their indiscretions? Shouldn’t this sort of comfort be unwelcome due to its very nature? Logically, it made no sense – this very action was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Irony is a funny thing though, isn’t it? The one thing she needed comfort for was where that comfort would inevitably lead.

  Finally coming to the conclusion that she didn't care if it was a never-ending cycle or not, she decided that she was happy in this moment with him. She curled her finger in a “come hither” motion so that she could beckon his brawny figure towards her. Smirking, his knee found the edge of the bed, and he crawled towards her. She spread her legs slightly, allowing him the access to top her – but he didn’t. Instead, his face found her underwear-clad mound.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her breath caught slightly in her throat. He smiled. He knew she was nervous – he could sense it. She knew that. His ego seemingly fueled, he leaned to just above her clothed womanhood and kissed her lightly.

  His hands worked at her body, causing her skin to tingle over every inch of flesh that he touched. Kissing her again, he massaged her thighs, and slowly and gently moved upwards. Goosebumps rose over her skin, and she felt him finger at the fabric covering her sex.

  Hooking the index fingers of both hands, he began to pull at the white cotton, trying to rid himself of the barrier between him and what he truly wanted. She felt the chill of the air flicker over her for a moment as she became exposed to him. Only for a moment, though. The warmth of his mouth soon found her core. “Ah!” she groaned audibly.

  She felt his lips curl into a grin as his tongue swirled around her clit and his lips suckled at her folds. She gripped at his thick blonde hair – he moaned. The vibrations of his voice danced across her clit, exciting her more. She began to flow with arousal, which seemed only to entice him further. Devouring her juices as if famished and in need of sustenance, he became the hunter once more. His hunger fueled his movements. Gripping at her thighs roughly, he buried his face deeper into her wet center.

  Suddenly though, he abandoned his position and sat up. He began tearing at his black athletic briefs with feverish effort to be free. She noticed the beautiful outline of his hard cock in the elastic fabric of his under garments and took mental note of the heat it caused to spread over her. The head well defined, and the shaft fat with girth – she salivated over its delicious aesthetics. Pulling the fabric down, his member bounced – as if with joy – to its newfound freedom.

  He topped her, tracing kisses across her pale smooth skin as he moved to her face. Enveloping her lips, he kissed her intimately as he unclasped the front latch of her bra. It was in that moment that she realized how truly experienced he was. Where most men needed a directional map, Preston was able to accurately pinpoint the latch and undo it with one swift motion. She gasped, hotter than ever.

  Returning his kiss and deepening it, Haley pulled him closer and clawed at his plump ass cheeks. Reaching with one arm, she buried her hands in between them and grasped at his hardness. It throbbed under her touch. He hissed desperately. She smiled. This time, it was her ego that fueled her movements. She tightened her grip around his shaft and pumped slowly at first. “Oh, God...” he trailed, obviously heated.

  She felt it growing harder, his veins pulsing inside her grip. It was then that she leaned against his ear, suckling on his lobe and seductively whispered the words, “Fuck me.” She had intended on guiding him into her ready love nest, but he must have had different plans.

  Those words were all he seemed to need to hear before aggressively ripping her hand away from his shaft. She began to protest but soon ceased, surprised by him roughly grabbing both of her hands and pinning them down to the bed.

  Both of her small hands were easily bonded by just one of his much larger – god-like – hands. She felt his fingers slide across the slit of her sex as he nipped at her neck. She was soaking wet, flowing like a river roars. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him now. “Now!” she screamed as she finished the thought. It was then that his hands guided his erection between her legs.

  In one thrust, he sank into her. Engulfing him, she felt him stretch and fill her to the hilt. He was large – much larger than she was used to, but it felt so damn good to feel his warmth slide against her walls as they formed around the flesh of his shaft. His movements were slow and precise, stimulating her sensitive spots as he simultaneously rubbed his pubis against her exposed clit.

  “Faster, Preston. Move fucking faster,” she begged, not believing the language coming from her, nor the comfort she felt with him by telling him what she wanted. She rocked her body and sped up her pace so that he would accept the hint with her support. Obliging her, he thrust more quickly, and fucked her with greater intensity. Still holding her hands down, he moved his free one to her breasts, massaging them within his grip. He teased and worked her nipples, pinching and licking at them until they became hardened with arousal.

  “YES!” she couldn’t help but scream. His ministrations were heavenly, and she felt pleasure greater than any she had ever experienced before. He seemed to be the center of great experiences, she thought with robust emotion. Suddenly, as if gaining a momentous boost in self-esteem, he felt frisky and daring. Abandoning her breasts, he moved his hands down the length of her sensitive body, creating chills and electricity as he went. He grabbed her right leg and, with great intent, stretched it upwards so that it would rest atop his shoulder.

  Burying himself deeper with every plunge, his moans increased in volume. As her walls clenched around his pulsating erection, she knew that they were both close to climax. The sensations began to overwhelm them, and this level of heated intimacy was something that they knew would have to be short-lived. But they didn’t care. Not at this moment. At this moment all that mattered was this and them.

  Rocking her hips to meet his forceful contact was enough to make her orgasm right then, but she couldn’t allow it to happen just yet. She wanted to feel him cum; she wanted the satisfaction of knowing that it was her that made him feel that pleasure. She also didn’t want this moment to end, because she knew what waited for them after.

  “I’m close,” he grunted. “I have to pull out.” She heard the sadness in his voice, and the desperation, but instead of letting him back away from this – and them – she freed herself from his grip and pulled him against her with distinct purpose. “It’s fine,” she nodded, assuring him. “Cum for me!” she pleaded.

  Nodding in concurrence, he thrust faster and more deliberately, hitting her g-spot. A wave washed over her, and she could feel her body losing control. She felt herself tightening around him before she felt a hot liquid fill her from within. Breathless, they untangled themselves from one another. They knew that their existences were changing from around them; their worlds could never be the same again. The question was, what were they going to do about it? More importantly, who were they going to hurt in the process?

  Chapter 4

  It was windy in the city that day. The pink and white striped fabric of the store’s canopy blew with the gusts, and beneath that decorative cover hung a cutesy wooden sign. Matching pink writing was perfectly etched into it, and it read, “Made with Love by Marissa”. The chilling winds fell against the window panes of the downtown shop, and the sunlight beamed inside and shone over a thin and youthful looking blonde woman wiping countertops.

  Marissa was feverishly working hard cleaning up after the breakfast rush. Letting out a sigh of relief and exhaustion, she looked outside to the streets. Traffic
had died down, and she knew that everyone was going about their day by now. The sun was hidden behind a gloomy blanket of clouds, darkening the city to an almost dusk-like appearance.

  Trash littered the streets and lifted into the air with intensity. She shivered. It was spring, but the chill of the wind could still sometimes cut through you like frozen knives. Just thinking of it was enough to cause a chill to run down her spine. She finished wiping down the tables and looked at the clock: 10:23 a.m. – lunch would be soon. She had to admit, she loved the business she had been getting lately.

  Her bakery hadn’t always had a breakfast or lunch rush. She fondly remembered the early days of her marriage, the newly wed stage. They barely had two pennies to rub together back then. But they were happy. God, were they.

  They had met in college, the dawn of the age where dreams are abundant but those dreams rarely provide success. She smiled. They were just kids, with the world ahead of them, but too silly to realize that they didn’t have it all figured out. All he wanted was to be CEO of a business – but not only any business. He wanted to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Still smiling, she recalled how they had always joked that the only reason he wanted to be Chief Executive was because he wanted to wear the suits and be in a position of power.

  He was that type of man. Preston was strong, silent, but very intimidating to those who didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him personally. It was all cliché, really – the intimidating businessman – but it was true. God, was it true. Another truth though, was that he loved business, the thrill of the sale, the politics – he loved it all. She admired that about him. He set his bar so high from the beginning and yet still achieved greatness. His company had been on the top of the list for several consecutive years. She was proud of him.

  Marissa on the other hand had other dreams in college. She majored in biology and wanted to work with the environment. She had always had a passion for conservation and maintaining the earth’s ecosystems. As fate would have it though, graduating in the top quarter of her class still did nothing to aid in a job search. The fact remained that she could not find anything in her field. As the story goes, she had to settle into a job that she hated.