by Anthology
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss cascaded through me. I knew to the center of my being that this was the end, that neither of us would be forgiven our immoral transgressions, but right now, when it was just the two of us, I didn’t feel the slightest hint of regret or shame. Unpleasant emotions didn’t exist when I was with him. Now, it was only sun-warmed light and love.
We parted our lips, our tongues touching with a jolt of heat. I sighed, pressing closer to him, letting myself fall into the strength of his body. He edged his hands under my hem and slid my skirt up my thighs.
I scooted forward on the sofa to give him better access. His palms stroked over my thighs, reaching the edge of my thigh-high stockings and garter belt.
“Fuck,” he whispered, twisting his finger around the strap. “When did you start wearing these?”
“Sometimes I just like to,” I admitted, parting my legs wider. “Want to see?”
“Hell, yeah.” He moved back to sit on the coffee table, his eyes hot with anticipation as I stood and unzipped my skirt. I let it fall in a puddle to the floor and stepped out of it, displaying my sheer stockings and the emerald-green and black lace garter belt with matching panties.
“Fuck.” Ben shifted and squeezed his crotch with a wince. “I’m about to come already just from looking at you.”
I smiled. An upwelling of power rose in me as I slipped out of my suit jacket and unbuttoned my silk blouse to reveal the green-and-black lace bra hugging my breasts. Ben looked at me with such hunger, like he wanted to devour me, his eyes raking me from head to toe.
“Turn around and kneel on the sofa,” he ordered.
My heart skipped a beat. I climbed onto the sofa, resting my hands on the back. My hips jutted toward Ben, the material of my panties stretching across my upturned ass. Arousal quickened in my blood.
Ben growled a curse and got to his feet, rubbing his big hands all over my satin-covered bottom and down between my thighs.
“You’re a fucking goddess, Maddie,” he said. “A gorgeous witch. You’ve had me under your spell since the second I first saw you. You always will.”
With a sigh, I lowered my head to my arms. I didn’t want to think of both of us separated by miles and pining away for each other. I wanted to believe somehow, we would always be caught together in the same, delicious spell.
“Oh!” I gasped as Ben slipped his finger underneath the edge of my panties to touch my pussy.
“Wet already, pretty lady.” He chuckled, rubbing his finger up and down my folds. “I love how quickly you get hot. Do you ever touch yourself in the middle of the day?”
“Sometimes, but only when I’m thinking about you.”
I twisted to look at him over my shoulder. A flush crested his cheekbones, and growing lust edged his expression. I wiggled my ass against his hand.
“Take your clothes off,” I breathed. “I want to see you.”
One last time.
Ben took a step back and shed his clothes. My pulse raced at the sight of his gorgeous, muscular body, his corded arms and the planes of his chest sloping down to his ridged abdomen. He shoved his shorts and boxer briefs off, and my mouth almost watered at the sight of his cock, the tip glossy with moisture, projecting straight out from his groin. I licked my lips.
Ben gave a hoarse laugh. “Do that again, lady, and I’ll see those lips wrapped around my dick.”
Oh yes, please.
I met his gaze and licked my lips again. Ben’s eyes darkened with heat. He fisted his hand around the length of my hair and turned me gently around so I was seated on the sofa again. He moved closer, nudging his cock against my lips.
With a moan, I opened my mouth and let him push inside. The tangy taste of him flooded my tongue. My heart hammered inside my head as I took him in, inch by delicious inch, and sucked. His breath escaped in a hard rush, his fingers tightening against my scalp.
“Ah, shit, Maddie, that’s good…”
I brought my hands up to cup my breasts, pinching my nipples through the fabric of my bra. I pulled back and pushed forward again, fucking Ben’s erection with my mouth.
“Take this off,” he ordered, plucking at the strap of my bra.
I quickly unfastened it and tossed it to the floor. My heavy breasts popped out, topped with nipples hard as pebbles. Ben gave a groan of appreciation, reaching down to fondle my breasts and pinch my nipples. Electric sparks jolted to my core. I squirmed, squeezing my thighs together.
I slid my mouth over his veined shaft and pressed a kiss to the tight, damp head. I curled my hand around the base and looked up at him.
“Fuck me,” I said breathlessly. “Please.”
“Turn around and hold on tight.”
A tremble shook me. I turned again, kneeling on the sofa and grasping the cushions. Behind me, Ben tugged my panties over my hips, unclipped my stockings and rolled them off, his fingertips brushing my skin. He nudged my thighs apart. A rush of cooler air brushed against my spread sex. I shivered, my muscles tensing with both excitement and anticipation.
He pressed his cock into me, the thick shaft penetrating my slit with slow, deliberate possession. I gasped, tightening my body around him.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, pushing forward. “Nice and tight… spread your legs wider now…”
I did, letting my eyes drift shut as he entered me, his cock pulsing against my inner walls and firing my blood with desire. Then his flat stomach hit my ass, and he stilled. He gripped my hips, holding me against him. Our breath came fast, the rhythm of our exhales and inhales exactly the same. The air stretched like a tight, thin wire.
So big. So fucking good. I shifted, pulling forward and pushing back.
“No,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you.”
I paused, my pulse racing. I gripped the sofa cushions harder as he started to thrust. Slick and hard, he drove in and out of me with increasing force. I moaned, unable to stop myself from pumping my hips backward to match his pace. Pleasure unwound inside me like the spin of fireworks, raw words spilling unbidden from my throat.
“Oh, fuck me, Mr. Hunter,” I gasped, tossing my head back with a groan. “Fuck me as hard as you can. I feel you so deep inside me… oh, yes…”
He braced one foot on the sofa and pumped harder, punctuating each thrust with a low grunt. Through the haze of lust, I dimly thought I could stay there forever, letting him drive in and out of me. Then he grabbed my waist and brought us both to the floor in one movement.
I fell onto my back, winding my arms and legs around him, loving the solid weight of his body as he came over me like an ocean wave. His eyes burned a hot indigo, his mouth crashing down on mine at the same time he thrust into me again.
A wild, endless frenzy overcame us both. He fucked me like a man possessed, penetrating me so deeply that an edge of pain mingled with the intense pleasure. I dug my fingernails into his back. My aching nipples chafed against his hard, sweaty chest. Our broken groans filled the air.
“Ben,” I whispered against his neck. “Ben.”
Tears stung my eyes and overflowed, spilling down my cheeks in salty rivers. Ben shifted to kiss the tears away, his tongue flicking against my skin. He put his hands on either side of my head and lifted himself to look down at me. Our eyes clashed, a shimmering flood of emotion passing between us.
“I love you so goddamned much,” he whispered, pressing kisses over my face—my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, my lips. “I always will. No one can ever take that away from me.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I held him tightly and wrapped my legs around his thighs. He eased the rhythm of his thrusts, stimulating my arousal by increasingly slow degrees until the pressure broke inside me. I came with a cry, shuddering around his cock the second before he plunged deep and filled me with his seed.
Ben collapsed on top of me, his breath rasping against my hair. Our bodies heaved together, hot and sticky. He slipped out of me and rolled to the floor, pulling me against his side
.
I memorized everything about that moment—the scent of him, the press of his body against mine, the tautness of his muscles. A second and an eternity seemed to pass. After imprinting everything about us in my mind, I forced myself to reach for my bra.
Ben untangled himself from me and tugged on his boxer briefs. We both got to our feet and finished dressing. He picked up my green-and-black lace panties and tucked them into his pocket.
I grabbed my bag, my throat tight with tears as I tried to muster the resolve to walk away from him again. My chest ached. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to him. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t.
I walked to the door, feeling him behind me. I stopped, my hand on the doorknob and my heart thumping with slow, heavy dread. Then, because I knew this was the last time I would ever be able to look at my ocean boy, I turned to face him.
His hair messy, his eyes so blue, Ben looked at me with such warm tenderness that the ache inside me eased.
Our time together had been a gift, overflowing with a love and passion that some people never experience in an entire lifetime. No matter what happened in subsequent years, this young man would always remain in a secret, treasured part of my soul. I was so lucky, so blessed, to have known him and been loved by him.
“I know you won’t change your mind,” Ben said, sliding his hand around to the back of my neck. “And I’m still leaving tomorrow. But I want to hear you say it.”
My chest constricted. “Ben…”
“Once.” He brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “Say it once, Maddie.”
I put my hand on his cheek, my soul brimming with all the emotions that made me feel so incredibly alive. I looked into his eyes and gave him my heart.
“Ben Hunter,” I said. “I love you so much.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Summer fell over me with a sense of unreality, as if I were walking, transformed by a tangled, beautiful story, out of a dark movie theater into bright sunlight. It was an effort to shake the dream-like haze clinging to my thoughts and emotions.
I spent my days with Noah and Emma, lazing around the house in the mornings before heading out to the park or a program at the library. We took day trips out of Sweetwater to visit the San Francisco Zoo, the San Jose Children’s Museum, and an amusement park.
In the evenings, I let them watch cartoons while I prepared gourmet dinners, which were almost ready by the time Richard came home from work. I had a glass of scotch waiting for him, which he drank while watching the news, and then we sat down for a tensely polite family dinner.
Richard and I didn’t speak much, but he made a point to move out of the guest room and back into our bedroom. As if staking ownership, he started wanting sex shortly after we heard that Ben had moved away from Sweetwater.
I let Richard do it. I didn’t care. I was an ice queen through and through. He could grunt and sweat on top of me all he wanted, and I felt nothing.
I didn’t return to work at the museum, so without that or the PTO and school schedules, I focused on my children. That alone reinforced my belief that I’d done the right thing in staying with Richard—Noah and Emma were happy and healthy. That was all that mattered to me.
They heard, of course, about the fight and that something had happened between Mr. Hunter and me.
“Elliott said you were the reason he left,” Noah told me one day, when we were skipping stones at a local pond.
I was ready for this because I’d known it was only a matter of time before one of the children asked me about the whole ugly situation.
“I made a mistake,” I admitted. “I did something wrong, and so did Mr. Hunter. So did your father. But we apologized and tried to make things right.”
“What did you do that was wrong?” Emma asked.
Fell in love. It still made no sense to my heart that falling in love could ever be wrong.
“It was a grown-up situation,” I said. “It’s over now. It caused problems for your father and me, but we’ve worked things out. The important thing for you both to know is that we love you very much and want you to be happy.”
Noah picked up a smooth, shiny stone and tossed it into the water. “I liked Mr. Hunter.”
“He was a great principal.” I watched the ripples left in the wake of the stone.
“Where did he go?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Richard said you loved him,” Noah said matter-of-factly.
My heart stuttered. “I said that, yes. That was part of the mistake.”
“How is love a mistake?” Emma asked.
Good question, I thought.
“If you love the wrong person, it’s a mistake,” I said. “But it’s all over now.”
“Do you love Dad?” Emma persisted.
I looked at my brown-eyed daughter and silently prayed she would know a marriage that was filled with genuine love and affection.
“I love Dad because he’s your father,” I replied as honestly as I could. “Without him, I wouldn’t have had both of you.”
“Does he love you?”
“For the same reason, yes.”
I saw Emma’s sharp mind working as she processed what I’d told her.
“Then why is he sometimes mean to you?” she asked.
I blinked. Dread flickered in my gut.
“What… what are you talking about?” I said. “Dad isn’t mean to me.”
“He was.” She crouched down to dig a stick into the sand. “I saw it.”
All the breath escaped my lungs in one, horrified rush. I closed my eyes, willing myself to maintain my composure. I went down on my knees in front of Emma and reached out to touch her hair.
“What did you see?” I whispered.
She continued digging industriously. Noah approached, his dirty hands filled with stones, and dumped them into the hole.
“Emma?”
“Dad hit you,” Noah said, in his usual stoic way. His hair fell over his forehead as he grabbed another stick and started helping Emma widen the hole. “Emma told me.”
God in heaven. I put my hand on the ground, feeling the world start to tilt horribly off-balance.
“You’re not supposed to hit.” Emma gave me a faintly accusing look.
“No.” The edges of my vision darkened. “No, you’re not.”
“So why did Dad?” Noah asked.
“We were fighting.” I struggled to maintain an even tone. “He lost his temper and… did something very wrong.”
“Did he apologize?”
“In a way.”
I looked at Emma. A shadow fell over her face. Her eyes were downcast, her thick lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“Emma?” My heart began a slow, agonizing descent. “Did you see anything else?”
She shrugged. A heavy silence fell, broken by the sound of birds, the noisy quacking of ducks, the distant sound of laughter.
Blackness began to spill across my soul, like a puddle of thick, impenetrable oil. If Emma had seen—
Bile, acrid and burning, rose in my throat. I gripped Emma’s arms.
“Emma?” My voice cracked with despair.
“You’re not supposed to hurt people,” my daughter finally said. “I don’t want Dad to hurt you again.”
“No.” I pulled her toward me. We were both trembling. “Neither do I.”
***
“It could get ugly,” I told Richard later that night. My insides rolled between ice-cold fear and hot, burning rage.
He frowned. “I’ve got a damn good lawyer.”
“I don’t give a shit.” I was shaking so hard my bones rattled, but my spine was as strong as steel. “If you make this difficult, I will sue you for alimony and court costs. They’ll ask Emma what she saw. Do you want her to be forced to relive it?”
Richard swore and slumped onto the sofa. He put his head in his hands, his fingers gripping his scalp.
“I’ve contacted a counselor for the children,” I continued. “No
matter what, you and I will both own up to what we’ve done. We will do whatever it takes to ensure our children come out of this as unscathed as possible. I still don’t know what Emma saw, but it was clearly far too much. Now it’s time for you and me to stop being so fucking selfish and make things right for our children.”
Richard’s mouth twisted. “Now you’re getting all self-righteous on me?”
“Now I’m trying to repair the damage you and I have both done,” I said. “I don’t want anything from you, except your cooperation. I don’t want the house, the cars, or even alimony. All I want is child support exclusively for Noah and Emma. Not a penny for me.”
“But you want them.”
“I will have them,” I said, clenching my hand around the back of a chair. “If keeping my children means dragging this whole fuck-up through the courts, then that’s what we’ll do. Every single ugly detail will come out—our sexless marriage, my affair, your penchant for violent porn, your countless mistresses and one-night stands, your hitting me… do you really want to put any of us through that?”
“You bitch.” Richard lifted his head to glare at me, his features contorted and ugly. “None of this would have happened if you’d kept your legs closed.”
“None of this would have happened if we’d had a real marriage,” I retorted.
Richard pushed to his feet and stalked to the window, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“Goddammit, Madeline,” he muttered. “What the fuck happened?”
“We broke.”
He stared out the window, his jaw clenched. The air thickened with tension and bitterness. I took a breath and dug for courage.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” I said. “And I’m taking the children.”
He didn’t respond. Against the sunlit window, his profile was tired and worn. For the first time, he looked old.
Something tugged inside me. Almost twenty years of marriage wasn’t easily dismissed or tossed aside. In spite of everything, Richard and I had built a life. We had two incredible children and many memories. The problem was that somewhere along the line, we’d stopped doing all of that together. And so we’d planted the seeds of hostility and anger long ago.
