ROMANCE: Mr. Mystery: (New Adult Bad Boy Romance) (Contemporary Mystery Short Stories)

by Viva Fox

  And suddenly, I found myself pressed up against the wall of the building, much of my own will, I assure you, with his body pressed up against mine and pinning me there quite pleasantly.

  His lips were on mine.

  The two of us kissed, for a long, mind-blowing moment, his flavor sweet and dirty and almost exactly like it recalled it from so many years ago, except now, perhaps, having aged a bit, matured, and gotten even sweeter for the fact of it.

  There was this brief, insubstantial moment when it occurred to me what a colossal mistake I was making, what an unforgivable betrayal this was. I thought of Mark, of all he'd done for me, and of what a shocking blow this would be for him, if he ever, ever found out.

  And then Justin's tongue came creeping into my gullet, penetrating me, and any thoughts I might have had of Mark or guilt or betrayal or anything at all came draining away on the spot.

  My entire body heated up for him, sensitizing and growing taut with arousal, my desire for his flesh quickly becoming an insatiable need, and my reservations about the affair proceeding to all but drain away from me entirely.

  And then, at last, the two of us pulled away from one another, gasping, our chests heaving, his eyes boring into me and mine staring back up, astonished, into his own.

  “Oh God... I... I... I don't know what to say, exactly...”

  “I don't either,” he wheezed, but I could feel his arousal pressing up against me through the fabric of his clothes, and it got me so turned on in that moment that I felt ready to do it right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Are... Are you sure this is a good idea?” I pressed, as though clinging stupidly for that last, minuscule scrap of decency to be found somewhere, anywhere, even as I knew it was unlikely that I would come up anything but empty-handed. And of course, Justin himself had no reason to suspect that this could be a bad idea in any way, because I'd lied to him about the very existence of my very real boyfriend.

  “No, or... Well, I'm not sure, no... But why wouldn't it be?” And he said it with just the right dash of charm, the right sort of look in his eyes, so that I as good as melted in his hands right there on the spot.

  And the next thing I knew, I was in bed with him...

  I didn't know what the hell had come over me... Even when I was actively dating and not in a supposedly committed relationship, I had never been this impulsive when it came to jumping into bed with a guy, and particularly not on the first date.

  But, it could be argued, this was not Justin and I's first date, and it was more like an extended hiatus had taken place between our most recent meeting and the present. And, in the meantime, our loins had had ample opportunity to become very, very, very hot and bothered over one another...

  The entire afternoon of our love was like a dream in retrospect, flashing from one glorious act to the other in my head, and everything tumbling along in what seemed to be some hot, sticky slow motion of carnal desire.

  He peeled me out of my clothes, his hands dancing along my burning body and causing me to burn with sensation, my breasts on fire for this man, and my head spinning, and my femininity actually angry at how long it seemed to be taking for the two of us to cut to the chase with things.

  As he removed me from my bra, I had to actually giggle at how adept he was with his hands this time around, unhooking the damn thing with none of his past clumsiness, and sliding the cups from my tits with complete and total ease.

  He then leaned in, and proceeded to suckle on my breasts like a newborn, rolling his tongue around my nipples and sinking his teeth into me, causing them to grow hard, erect, sensitized with arousal even as he glazed them with his spit. I moaned passionately, my head spinning, the beauty of the scene seeming almost hypnotic in its nature...

  And then there was his own body... Oh, Christ almighty, what a physique... He had, in no way, lost the physical assets to which he had laid claim so many years ago, and in fact, in many ways, his features were even more sculpted, more refined, more absolutely mind-blowing than they had been before.

  His engorged muscles heaved with sweat as he encased me in his anatomy, from the broad swaths of his heaving pectoral muscles, to the agonizing rungs of his six pack abdominals, and the deeply cut v-lines of his Adonis muscles, which pointed like an arrow to the most wonderful treasure of them all.

  His long, hot, veiny erection felt absolutely wonderful as it slid up against my skin, smoldering against my thigh as the two of us continued to make out, to ravish one another with kisses, causing me to shiver with pleasure as the moments slipped by, every ounce of my body completely committed to him in that beautiful moment, and my desire to please him, and to be pleased in return, far too intense for words.

  He slid his hands down, down, down along the sides of my body, every shock of his touch causing me to reel as he ducked down along me, his hot, wet kisses dipping lower and lower, and my constitution braced as I waited for my whole, complete, and oh so sweet destruction.

  And suddenly, my eyes sprang very, very wide, then fluttered gently, softly closed once again.

  His lips, Lord help me, were melting into those of my hot, wet, throbbing pussy, bleeding into my body and sloshing into my anatomy like wild. He kissed, and licked, and lapped up my vagina as though it were the most delectable thing he had ever tasted, his passion and enthusiasm an utterly shocking thing, but hardly an unwanted one.

  He had never, in the few months we'd once dated, went down on me like this, despite the fact that I had sucked his cock for him on numerous occasions. I was therefore largely bowled over by how skilled, how nearly professional his oral skill set seemed to truly be, and his expertise now absolutely rocked me to my core.

  He worked his tongue into every hot, wet nook of my body, soaking up the sin of my vagina with splendid timing, hitting me in all the right places in all of the right moments. I began to moan wildly at the coursing of his tongue up into me, my breasts beating heavily, my nostrils flaring, my spine arching, and my buttocks clenching together as I struggled to contain myself.

  For some time, I watched his beautiful, bobbing head as it ducked in and out from between my thighs, and at last, after such an agonizing degree of stimulation, I found myself beginning to plummet over the edge.

  “Oh God... Oh God... Oh... Oh... Oh...”

  Sensations were beginning to ripple through me wildly, coursing through my actual bones and tearing me to shreds, my head seeming to lighten and drift up toward the ceiling with pleasure, and tears actually beginning to flow down around my cheeks.

  My knees began to close in around the poor bastard's pristine skull, nearly crushing him as my body twitched and convulsed with orgasm, my screams, at this point, so loud that they just about pierced my own eardrums.

  And finally, I began to sink back down, my body unclenching and my head slowly beginning to stop its spinning, just barely coming to a stop in time for him to clamber his way up on top of me, and for the real, splendid torment to begin.

  He seized hold of my legs, pushing them upward, pinning my ankles up around my ears in a manner that made it erotically difficult for me to breathe.

  Then, he lifted that glorious body of his up on top of me, mounting me, sliding his pelvis up into mine, and penetrating me. My mind went blank and my eyes squinted tightly shut as I felt himself forcing his way inside up the tight, pink channel of my pussy, stretching me out in the precise manner I could recall him having done so all those many, many years ago.

  Inch by inch by inch of his immensity came hooking up into me, hot and spicy and absolutely perfect, at last touching down deep, deep inside me, and leaving me absolutely quaking with delight.

  And he began to pump, to thrust, to hump and to fuck, grinding his pelvis around and up into me in a manner that was almost mechanical in nature. I savored it, the churning, rhythmic sliding of his erection through my pussy, stirring me up, pushing my insides around with a pleasant, agonizing squelching that was almost too sweet for words.

  I was
really moaning this time, my breasts jiggling and my breath becoming painful in my present position, as further and further and further he tormented me, his pace getting more and more vigorous as the intercourse wore on.

  Now, Lord help me, he was really beginning to tear into me, pounding my pussy with a vigor, a brutality, almost, that was far beyond what this had been when he'd first slid inside. His cock stuttered into me like a damn jackhammer with the force of his thrusts, smashing like mad into the hot meat of my pussy, pounding and pulsing and smacking like wild.

  “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moaned, tilting my head back and staring up at the ceiling as though praying to it to get me through this intact.

  Harder and harder and harder he came cracking down into my body, sensations mounting with each suctioned pulling in and out, in and out, in and out of me. Friction began to burn beautifully between my legs, and I almost felt like crying as this sweet, dreadful punishment of my body wore on.

  KLAP! KLAP! KLAP! KLAP! KLAP! echoed the sound of our smacking, wet genitals, his testicles slapping wildly into me as he stuttered like wild, my moans turning into screams, and the room seeming to grow brighter and brighter by the minute as he ripped me to damn shreds.

  And finally, with one last, brutal slam he hurled his body into me, holding himself in place, and sending us both flying over the edge like wild.

  He filled me up, coating my insides with a thick quantity of his hot, smoldering seed, pulse after pulse after pulse of the sticky, glorious stuff, so much that it began to drip back out of me, and I was set once more into the territory of the positively orgasmic.

  I screamed, and moaned, and swooned harder than ever for this absolute sexpot, my body reacting to sex as it had not done for years, or ever, perhaps, sensations crackling through me so sweetly that I could barely even stand it.

  And at last, as he pulled out of me, and wrapped me up in his arms, I began to feel complete. And even then, as the two of us kissed and caressed one another in the afterglow of our long dormant love, I wondered what the hell I was going to end up doing to myself in attempting such an absurd feat as this...

  3

  The next several weeks were, to put it very mildly, something of an almost dizzying balancing act for me. I was managing, somehow to keep separate my two lives, the one with Justin and the one with Mark, the possibility of them crossing at any moment robbing me of sleep fairly regularly, so that I really had no idea how long I could sustain this.

  There were so many things to worry about, and I didn't know which I feared worse- the possibility that Mark could leave me if he found out, or that Justin would leave me if he knew the truth about my life.

  Of course, there was also the potential that both men would ditch me like yesterday's news if their roles in my life ever happened to intersect, and it was this possibility that I kept hidden in my mind more than anything else. I didn't even want to fathom that at that point in time, and I therefore did my damnedest to keep it as buried deep within me as possible.

  The fact of the matter was, though, that I really didn't have any sort of preference as to which of the men I could more easily shed from my life if things ended up going south. And that was because, frankly, I didn't really think I could reasonably live without either of them.

  I mean, Mark, of course, was the one I should have been more worried about losing. Aside from being my only means of financial support, the two of us had built something very much resembling a life together, as well as an emotional connection that I wasn't at all ready to just throw out the window like it was nothing.

  Hell, for all I knew, this could all just be a phase, something to make my way through and then forget about, pretend that it never happened in the first place. Reasonably, then, in that case, Justin should be the one I quietly wrote out of my life, giving him the truth he deserved and regaining my normal, humdrum life in the process.

  But I felt as though I couldn't really shed myself of Justin, either, to be honest... Like, our connection may not have been as deep of one, but there was a certain intensity to it... A certain something, of a nature which I can't even really describe all the way, that made him almost crucial to my life in its present state.

  Justin was the meaning that I'd needed for some time now, and losing him seemed as devastating a prospect as losing Mark himself.

  Think poorly of me if you will, but I felt as though both of these men were now crucial to who I was, and I therefore took pristine care to avoid the two of them ever accidentally encountering one another in my presence.

  Mark, for his part, seemed not to suspect a thing throughout the course of the affair. By and large, he remained just about as busy as he'd ever been working at the office, at home seldom enough that he tended not to notice my absences, or the changes in my mood that tended to result from my, ahem, “meetings” with his cuckolder.

  Justin, though, was a bit more difficult to fool. He never directly accused me of anything, exactly, and never seemed to indicate on any overt level that he had any sort of suspicion.

  But, the fact remained that he would have had to have been about as dumb as a post not to have at least guessed something was amiss. I had had to invent a job for myself to explain away the source of my income, and I insisted, no matter what, that our rolls in the hay could only ever take place at his own place. I told him I had personal reasons for this, and he didn't object, but I think the fact that I could only ever meet him in the daytime truly got him suspicious, given that I was never able to spend the night or stick around past, say, 5:00 or so.

  And gradually, with the accumulation of all these factors, I began to lose track of my own lies layered up on top of one another, unable to keep them sorted, and routinely tripping over my tongue whenever I tried to excuse my erratic actions to one party or another.

  I knew, sooner, or later, that things would come crashing in around me...

  And yet, no matter how readily aware of this fact I may have been, I seemed completely unwilling to change my pattern of actions, given that I had no real earthly notion of what I could change, which wire I could cut in order for things to work out the way I needed them to.

  And of course, I was, in fact, found out in the end, although it was by no means in a manner I might have suspected...

  I had stepped into Mark and I's home one day, thinking I was completely alone, only to find myself alarmed by the sudden presence of Justin seated on the living room sofa.

  “Shit...” I said upon seeing him, stunned, and my mind reeling for what the hell I could possibly say to him at this juncture. “Look, I... I don't know what you think...”

  “I know everything,” he said calmly, without even the faintest trace of emotion in his voice. “I know about Mark, your lying to me, all of it...”

  “God, I... I don't know what to say... How- how did you...?”

  “Well, you were never really that convincing, in retrospect... I felt from the beginning that you had something you were concealing from me, but I wanted to respect your privacy, so I just decided not to dig into it any. That is, until I ran into your friend Clarissa on the street, and she happened to make mention of a person named Mark in your life...”

  “Oh God... God... God...”

  “And so I went and talked to this Mark today. I was careful about what I said at first, but then I felt like I just had to reveal the truth in the end. I was actually quite surprised with how he responded to the knowledge.”

  “I- I...” My head was spinning, and for the damn life of me I couldn't find the words to respond to the information being given to me, particularly as it was being delivered in so cool and dispassionate a fashion. “What did he say?” I managed to at last spit out.

  And then, my heart practically skipped a beat, as suddenly Mark himself stepped from behind a corner, staring at me with an almost tangible lust in his eyes, and a devastating, lascivious grin across his face.

  “I really don't mind you having a little bit of fun every now and then, y
ou know...” he said, sauntering up to me, and my entire body heating up and my anatomy beginning to quiver in frightened anticipation of what was about to happen, whatever the hell that may have been...

  “But,” he continued, shocking the hell out of me, “it would have been nice if you'd have thought to include me in it too, you know?”

  My jaw practically hit the floor at this...

  Was this... Was this...

  Was what I thought was happening really, truly, honest to God happening?

  And sure enough, I was suddenly being given a taste of my two men's secret, bisexual, polyamorous streak, their bodies closing in around me, and their lips plummeting down onto me like wild in a frenzy of activity.

  I couldn't believe it... I couldn't even begin to process it...

  The three of us, without warning, were beginning to make out, the early stages of a ménage a trois unfolding right there in the middle of my living room, completely unexpected, unprecedented, and now, more wonderful than anything I might ever have imagined.