by Trent Evans
Derek.
She tried not to think more about him, tried not to squeeze it too hard. That wanting, that needing more. He'd been more than she'd ever hoped for — and she didn't know what the hell she was going to do about that fact. She knew now what it meant when she'd read poly couples online counseling against jumping into things. How incredibly powerful all that emotion was. It could warp your judgment, cast things in a deceptively favorable light, and keep one from seeing the unvarnished truth of things. The fact was, her feelings for Derek had scrambled up her emotions so badly, she hadn't known up from down. So she'd concentrated on just obeying, and not thinking. There wasn't time to think.
Now, though, back in her real world, all she had was time to think. And the more she thought about it, the more she knew she needed to talk to her husband about what came next. Hoping, yearning. To feel out what that next step might be, even as she steeled her heart for the possibility that what she’d dreamed of might stay just that. A dream; a dark, alluring fantasy better left in the safe realm of imagination.
Next week, they'd go back — and this time it would be the real deal. Many owners, many slaves — even a few ponygirls like herself. But was she sure that's what she'd be? What if they hadn't really decided anything by then? Did her status need to be decided? She was theirs — that should be all that mattered to her now. Was she just a lust-addled idiot to be thinking of all of this? To let her mind wander down the honeyed halls of sweet daydreams, of hopes she only had the courage to whisper in her mind.
For some reason, Kurt hadn't spoken of it in the two days since they'd been back. The first morning, upon waking, he'd made her pull down her panties and lay over the foot of the bed. She'd been excited at that murmured command, thinking she might be getting another spanking, even as her rational mind — the one not centered in her clit — told her it would not only be stupid, it might be dangerous.
Rather than a spanking though, his hands had caressed her buttocks, those hard fingers gentle, following the stark lines, the bursts of color the crop had left in her flesh. She'd never had one used on her before, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted one used on her again.
That's not up to you anymore, is it?
It wasn't. And though the thought made her mouth dry and the butterflies flutter in her belly, she knew it to be true, knew that lack of choice to be right for her. Maybe it had been something she'd always wanted?
Her pen twirled in her fingers as she stared out at the still green surface of Puget Sound. One of the water taxis was just pulling away from its dock, headed for the hidden jewel that was West Seattle, just across the bay.
She'd walked Alki Point with Kurt when they were first married, the cold wind chilling them to the bone. The determined joggers hadn't been fazed though, and the roadside bars that lined the road following the arc of the point were hopping, as usual. The city certainly didn't have a reputation as a crazy place. She knew otherwise, though.
Seattle never really stopped the party.
She still remembered the way Kurt's thick thighs shivered as she'd worked his shorts down, his hands playing with the frazzled mess the wind had made of her long hair. His cock had seemed so cool to her hot lips as she'd knelt in the car afterward, wind gusts buffeting the vehicle as she’d sucked him—
A knock on her door startled her back to the now. Tina cracked the door, her brown curls and uncertain smile peeking in.
"Got something for you here."
"Huh? Okay, come on in." Breanna stood, taking one last look at the water. One of the huge white painted ferries was coming back in — probably from Bainbridge or Mercer. She loved the ferries, the way their massive size deceived the eye as to just how fast they were moving across the water, the way the engine vibration felt under her feet as they stood outside smelling that salt breeze, wrapped in each others arms, Kurt's soft lips tickling her ear as he whispered the latest depraved thing he'd planned to do to her when they got home.
"The courier was a haw-tee," Tina said, waggling her sculpted brows, laying the yellow manila envelope on Breanna's desk. "I would've called you to scope him out, but he was in a hurry, I guess."
Oh, if only you knew what I really did with my spare time.
Breanna smiled at her assistant. "Thanks, Tina."
"Sure. Let me know if you need anything." The door snicked closed behind her.
Things had been different, there was no getting around it. Sure, they were a decade older. She'd thought maybe that was it at first — closing in on forty, she felt those sands of time, keenly. Then Kurt had dropped his bombshell.
He wanted to start over. He'd told her he wasn't being the real him, the man he'd always been inside — and as of that day, that moment, that was over with.
She’d never forget the way her heart had pounded as she’d sat there on the edge of the coffee table, listening to him, watching him pace. She’d been certain that it meant he'd found someone else, that this was it. The terrifying chasm had loomed ahead. Divorce. Heartbreak. Loneliness.
Then he'd said the last thing she'd ever have expected him to say, the last thing she’d have expected any man to say.
"I'm going to spank you."
Five words to change their marriage, to change their lives. And it opened up an entire new world, a renewed connection, an ever deepening, and strengthening bond of lust and love and pleasure. And not a little pain, too.
At his gruff order to go into their bedroom and take off her clothes, she'd obeyed, dazed, wondering as she'd walked down the hall if it had all been real.
It had. Thank God.
Dropping back into her chair, she kicked off her shoes under the desk. These new ones were killing her feet, but both she and Kurt loved them, the way they accentuated her legs, the heels calling bold attention to her height. Plus, she was fairly certain the pain — which she'd dutifully reported to her husband — probably added something even more to the allure of the shoes for him. That she'd wear something so beautiful, even though it hurt, just to please her husband. Truth be told, it pleased her too, for she'd adored the flash of his eyes when he'd looked her up and down.
She knew she'd never get tired of inspiring lust in her beloved Kurt.
The envelope wasn't marked, and she used her pen to pry open the flap. She smiled at the menu — her favorite place, right on the water near Ballard. Along with the menu was a note, and she unfolded it. She pursed her lips as she read it:
Don't laugh at this. I'm sick of e-mails and texts all the time. Isn't this better, somehow?
"Yes, it is," she said aloud to no one at all, still reading.
I want you to meet me for early dinner. 4:00. We have some things to talk about.
Kurt
She set the note down, gazing out the huge windows again, squinting at the afternoon sun. Clouds were building to the west, already shrouding the Olympics. She hoped they'd hold off until sunset. Until she could take the man she loved back home to show him how a good wife treats a good husband.
Deciding to leave her car in the garage for the night, she'd called for a taxi. Tina got her a town car instead, making a face at the mention of getting a cab, citing the potential issues with mixing skeevy cabbies and a hot woman in short skirts.
Tipping the driver half again her entire fare — the man knew how to drive — she smoothed her skirt as she walked down the weathered wood of the outdoor deck. The ocean smell of the Sound was sharp, but where others found it off-putting, she breathed it in. It was life, and she'd learned to savor it, in all its forms and environments. One of the unexpected benefits of a woman deep in lust, exploring the limits of her desire — a new found appreciation for the simple, yet profound things in life we pass by every day, yet never really experience.
Now, she looked forward to seeing her Kurt, her Master, his hooded eyes, the line of his jaw, the bulge of genitals as his cock hardened at the mere sight of his wife, his slave. Maybe it would be dinner, whispered threats and promises in her ear, then who knew wh
at else the night would hold while ensconced safely in her husband's strong arms? She’d been sure to make herself a few minutes late, just enough to get her into a little trouble — if Kurt was so inclined.
And he almost always was.
But her thoughts took her in a different direction. It was a fleeting memory from the farm. Watching her two men talk while she stood mute, sweating, the hot sun beating down upon her heaving chest. As she watched them talk, it had first come to her then. Wondering if ...
Perhaps you could tell him now? Might be time, you think?
Yes, now was the time. And as she turned the corner to the side of the deck that faced the Sound, the breeze washing over her face, she resolved to do just that. There was no reason to be afraid. It was time to be honest.
Then she spotted the table that was their favorite … and stopped in her tracks.
It wasn’t her husband sitting at their table.
* * *
He didn't know how he'd missed this place. The low-slung, weathered wood of the restaurant’s facade jutted right out onto the water, tucked between a marina teeming with boats worth more money than his life, and the huge gray hulk of an industrial building. A couple miles across the water was a beautiful view of the sparkling, sun-drenched gap between two of Puget Sound’s innumerable small islands, huge evergreens crowding down to the very water's edge on either side of the passage.
It was happy hour, so he had plenty of company at the restaurant. Somehow, that felt better, though. Not being alone here. Being alone would mean he'd have to examine his thoughts, to face the truth. His return from the farm was a return to reality — and the likelihood that this probably wasn't going to work.
It didn't matter that he'd dreamed of her each night since he'd been back — facts were facts. She was his friend's wife. Maybe what happened on the farm was just a one time thing, a transient, precious, singular event that wouldn't, couldn't, be allowed to happen again? He knew he was almost mourning that, feeling the sinking wistfulness that comes when one realizes a special event may never occur again.
Then he'd received the call from Kurt. He'd wanted to meet, said he needed to talk about what happened next. He asked Derek to be at the restaurant at four. So he'd left work early, stopping by Kurt's cube to see if he was there. Nothing. Probably already down there. Better not to have this kind of conversation at work anyway.
“You're not Kurt, though you're almost as good looking."
Derek looked up, startled to hear the soft, feminine voice. She was dressed in a cream suit with a tight, mid length skirt. Her breasts were held close by the snug suit coat, the top two buttons open, just giving a glimpse of the deep cleavage. Her hair was up, the tasteful style of business. There was so much of it, yet she managed to keep it compact while still emphasizing her femininity, the volume of that hair calling to his fingers to brush through it. She towered in thin, strappy heels that left most of her feet bare to his gaze. He loved that she wasn't afraid of her height, that she owned it. Somehow, her stature lent even more allure to her — especially when she knelt at his feet.
Holy shit. Slow down, moron.
"Breanna?" He stood, waving her over. He reached for her hand, but she hesitated. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Her scent washed over him, a loose lock of that gorgeous blonde hair tickling his cheek.
“I take it Kurt is … ?” She took a chair, laying her phone and black tablet on the tabletop.
“Was hoping you knew the answer to that.” Derek sat down, trying not to let his gaze drop to the swells of her breasts.
Her long, slender fingers played with the browning pages of the drink menu, a lock of her hair catching in the breeze. “Well, this is … interesting.” She inhaled, looking up at him. “How have you been? Jesus, did I just say that?”
Derek laughed, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen just the slightest bit. It made zero sense for him to be this nervous … yet he was.
You’re not on a blind date, dude. Relax.
The last time he’d seen her she’d been bundled into Kurt’s truck. Her clothes had been returned to her, but her husband had made her take the ride home with her hands cuffed in front of her. He’d watched as Kurt leaned in to say something to her then closed the door, Derek making some crack about what might happen should the state patrol pull over a truck with a cuffed woman inside.
Before heading out, he’d taken one last long look at her, peering out at him from the passenger seat of Kurt’s truck, lust still clouding the bright, blue depths of her hooded gaze.
“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and assume Kurt’s not planning on showing up.” Derek flipped open a menu, not hungry in the least. “What’s good in this dive, anyway?”
“Everything.” Her mouth curled in a half-smile. “Never been here before?”
“I didn’t know this was even here.” He glanced over at the slips crowded with sail boats, runabouts, and big cabin cruisers. “Driven by here plenty of times, but had no clue. I don’t really—”
Her phone buzzed, coasting over the nicked wood of the tabletop as it vibrated. She picked it up for a moment, her thumb moving over the screen. She pursed her lips, laying down the phone again. He could see the tremble in her fingers.
“If he said he’s caught in traffic, I’m gonna punch him in the mouth.”
She met his gaze. “Can we … talk?”
“What are we doing here?” He felt like an idiot just blurting it out, but he went with it anyway. “I mean — how are we supposed to do this? Little weird, isn’t it?”
“It’s a lot weird.”
“So then — maybe this is just something we need to . . . forget?” She glanced away, a pinched look on her face. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes, highlighted by the fading sun, only enhanced her beauty. He felt his groin tighten.
You need to just break this off right here. Right now. Do it before it’s too late, Derek.
He could see how uncomfortable this was for her. In a way that made this easier though. She had to know this wasn’t going to work either. This had all just been a dream, no matter how sweet.
“You and Kurt have probably talked by now, right? I’m sure he’s told you the same thing. What the hell are we doing, Breanna?”
Her blue eyes leveled with his, her mouth a tight line. Only her flared nostrils betrayed what she might be thinking.
“I think—” he stood up, running fingers through his hair “—we had a good time. An incredible time. Fuck, I’m never going to forget it. I mean how can a man ever—”
“Do you think you could ever do what you did — again?”
What?
Her steady azure gaze bored into him, and one gorgeous eyebrow lifted.
He sat down, his back ramrod straight, his heart suddenly at full gallop. “I don’t … understand. You mean, what we did back there?”
She nodded, her long fingers swiping a loose lock of blonde hair from her eyes.
“How am I supposed to answer that, Breanna? We had you pulling us in a fucking cart, for God’s sake.”
“I liked that,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You — you did?”
“Yes. And I want to do it again.” She swallowed, the slim line of her throat working. “I — I think about it all the time.”
“I don’t …”
“You thought I just did that because of Kurt?”
“I guess. Yeah.”
In the back of his mind, he’d always suspected that. A woman doing the bidding of the husband she adored. Sacrificing her pleasure for his. But this … was something else.
She gave him a little nervous laugh. “And here I was worried you’d think I was some slut. You apparently think I’m a martyr instead.”
“Shit, that’s not what I think.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “I don’t know what the fuck I think anymore.”
The server arrived and took their drink orders, Breanna’s eyes darting to Derek several times as she ord
ered her drink.
Derek gave the food menus to the server, giving him a little shake of the head. “Not today, it looks like.”
The server nodded, heading back inside with the lift of an eyebrow.
Blowing out a breath, Derek scrubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t suppose that was from Kurt, was it?” He lifted his chin toward the phone.
“It was.”
“We doing twenty questions now?”
“What would you like to do instead, Derek?”
He laughed, shaking his head. Looking at her beautiful face, at those full lips, was deadly right this minute. One look and he’d imagine her before him once more, her mouth worshiping his cock, the dirt of the day mixing with the sweat on her skin, the heavy weight of her sodden hair twisted into his clenched fist.
Stop. This.
“I can’t do this, Breanna.” He gazed out at the water, the sun so low the surface of the Sound was a shimmering, molten yellow. “Tell him I … I can’t risk it.”
“What are you risking, Derek? Happiness?”
He met her gaze then. “Risking fucking up your marriage, for one. That’s not all either.” He looked away again. “I don’t want to deal with this. Too soon. I’m probably just not cut out for a relationship anyway.”
“There are other … arrangements.” She drew in a deep breath. “Could just play things by ear, see where it leads.”
“How exactly would we do that?”
“You’re in charge, Derek. You tell me.”
She was goading him now — and it was working. It was time to nip this shit in the bud. Show her he wasn’t playing here.
“I’m not in charge, Breanna. You’re fucking married. To Kurt. I’m not into swinging, or wife swapping, or whatever the fuck you two want to call this.” He rubbed his chin. “I need more than that. And it’s more than you two — or me, for that matter — can give. This is crazy, and stupid. And it’s got to stop.”
