by Lainey Fox
He couldn't put his finger on when, exactly, they had gotten off track. While he came home tired and ready to put up his feet, Tara seemed to thrive on her work. The more demands and stress she had, the stronger her appetite in bed. He couldn't seem to give her what she needed, or what she wanted. He felt ashamed whenever they made love, knowing that she was far from satisfied. Tara wasn't the type of woman to simply take it in stride, one tiny issue in an otherwise perfect marriage. For her, their problems in the bedroom colored their whole relationship.
He poured the last of the coffee into his travel cup, trying to erase the image of her face over the kitchen table. He'd send flowers to her office later. That would help ease some of the guilt he was feeling.
Chapter 2
Tara had one of her favorite kind of days. The morning started with a staff meeting about a new moisturizer they would release that winter, as well as the holiday gift packages that they'd feature in the October catalog. She'd been pleased with everything, constantly in meetings or on the phone. She'd rushed out of the office at ten after five, stopping by her favorite deli for a cute cheese tray and mini cupcakes to take to the barbecue that night. She laughed at herself for the gesture, but Southern manners always prevailed, even now. You didn't go to dinner at someone else's home without bringing something.
She had pulled in the driveway at precisely six, so she had run a bath with her company's sweet lilac bath foam to help her relax. She felt charged and knew she needed to unwind just a little before getting ready. She lolled in the warm, sweet smelling water for twenty minutes before toweling off and rubbing lilac lotion all over and turning back to her closet.
She had debated just throwing on shorts for the barbecue, but in the end she settled on a strappy summer dress that framed her cleavage without being too suggestive. The corn flower blue matched her eyes, and all the little straps crossing her back made her feel sexy, even if her hair would hide most of her back. She checked out her toenails, pleased that the pearly pink polish was perfect, and stepped into two inch cork wedges that took her from five eight to a towering five ten. She freshened her lipstick and spritzed some perfume on her neck and her chest. Lastly she threw a few makeup samples and catalogs in her bag, thinking that maybe the new partner's wife would be interested in making an order, and headed down the stairs to meet Sam.
Sam felt the familiar stirring when Tara walked in. Her hair was a wavy, seductive mane that made a man long to run his hands through it and the hem of her skirt stopped mid thigh, showing off those long, long legs to perfection. He breathed in her scent, light and floral with just a hint of spice. He almost suggested they stay in, but he knew he needed to put in an appearance tonight. He also felt that familiar stirring that no matter how much he wanted her, he could never satisfy her. She was the ultimate siren, and he was a mere mortal.
"You look stunning," he said, so sincerely that she looked into his face, china doll eyes wide with surprise and pleasure.
"Thank you," she smiled. "You're looking pretty snazzy yourself, sir." She winked and tossed him her keys.
"Let's take mine. It's a nice night to ride around with the top down."
The partner’s house was in a newer neighborhood, a two story brick that was both traditional and modern, with big windows and carefully manicured landscaping.
"Nice place," Sam commented, helping Tara from the car.
He took her arm in an exaggerated, gentlemanly fashion that made her giggle.
"This way, m'lady," he drawled, in a terrible British accent that had her cringing and laughing as they made their way over the stone walk way to the door.
He rang the bell, keeping his arm linked with hers.Tara managed not to show her shock when the door was opened, not by an aging, plumb middle aged lawyer, but roughly six feet, six inches of muscled, chiseled, pure masculine perfection.
He greeted them with a grin, shaking Sam's hand and a warm, sincere, "Glad you could make it, man. Everybody's out back," before turning to Tara. He took the cheese and sweets from her, brown eyes twinkling. "You're even prettier than your pictures," he said. "And my man here has wallpapered his office with your pictures. I'm Daniel Rookwood."
Tara laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded a little forced. She couldn't make the image in her head reconcile with the one in front of her.
To her horror, she heard herself blurt out, "You aren't what I was expecting."
Daniel laughed out loud, a deep, mellow sound. "Because I'm black?" he asked, fixing his deep, dark gaze to her blue one.
Surprised at the sudden bolt of sexual energy running through her, she snapped. "I was expecting another fat, balding bore." Sam sputtered at her sudden outburst, but Daniel laughed even harder.
"Well, I'm bald," he replied, rubbing his clean shaven head. "But I know what you mean. There are several of them in my back yard. Shall we?"
He raked his eyes over her one more time, then offered her his arm, leading her through the sparsely furnished house to a beautiful deck overlooking the back yard. He dropped the deli boxes on a table already laden with bakery boxes and deli trays, as well as three blue casserole dishes that made Tara groan inwardly, even as she kept the smile firmly on her face.
"I see the Pyles made it," she commented, looking at the blue dishes before glancing around the area for the twins.
"Oh, yes," he deadpanned. "I believe they have four year old twins that were born after a three year battle with infertility." He wiggled his eyebrows but otherwise kept his perfect, sculptured face expressionless.
Tara answered, equally serene, "Yes, I'd heard a rumor to that effect."
Sam snorted, unsuccessfully trying to disguise it as a cough. All eyes rested on Isabelle Pyle, who routinely tormented everyone with the story of her in vitro procedure and the birth of her twins, the two most monstrous children Tara had ever met. Isabelle spotted Tara and waved.
"God help, I've got to go be polite," she murmured to the men. "Excuse me, gentlemen."
She strolled down the deck steps and across the patio to where Isabelle sat on a wooden deck chair, clutching a drink to her chest with the air of someone about to enter a foreign country where vodka was in short supply.
"Tara, you look so pretty. The twins are with the nanny. I'm sharing her with Greta McIntire. Her girls are in nursery school with Jemma and Jackson. Of course the nanny is a wonderful girl, I checked her references personally, you know." Isabelle took a deep drink of her vodka and grapefruit juice and went on, "I'm so glad you could come. I know how busy you career women are. I was just meant to be a mommy, haha." She tucked a dark blonde strand of her chin length hair behind her ear. She worked her diamond tennis bracelet nervously around her wrist.
She glanced over at Tara, her face betraying a sense of envy as she added, "Of course, I suppose that you feel your business is like a child."
"Not at all," Tara replied. "I can sell the business."
From the deck, Sam watched as Tara spoke to Isabelle, sighing a little as Daniel handed him a beer.
"I take it they aren't best friends," Daniel remarked, cracking the top on his own drink, looking over at the women.
Sam chuckled mirthlessly. "Isabelle doesn't have good friends. Even her husband takes every opportunity to stay late or travel for work. That woman made getting pregnant a crusade, then became a monster mom."
"Monster mom? Isn't there a movie on Lifetime about that?"
Sam laughed, sipped his beer. "She means well, but she drives most people crazy. You know, she's just really over involved and bores the life out of me. Even people with kids get fed up with her."
Daniel considered that for a minute. "Well, your wife looks like she can handle herself. She's a real classy lady, Sam. I'm jealous."
Sam heard the sincerity in the compliment and felt the familiar burst of pride.
"Oh, Tara's great. She's my rock," Sam declared, realizing as he said it that it was true. He'd be lost without her, and even with another man openly admiring her, he
didn't feel jealous, but proud. She was his wife, that beautiful creature sipping her cocktail and circulating among the wives, making small talk and looking stunning as she did so.
"I bet," Daniel said, allowing himself one more admiring look before turning to the big, stainless steel grill. "Let's burn some meat, buddy."
They were all sitting around the fire pit, tongues loosened by the alcohol. Tara felt at a slight disadvantage, as she'd stuck to water after the first cocktail. Daniel's eyes kept catching hers over the dancing flames, causing a shimmering reaction of nerves.
She couldn't keep track of the conversation she was so focused on their host. She could feel the tension building in her body every time he brushed her eyes with his. He had brushed up against her earlier, a knowing look on his face. It was as though he were fully aware of her thoughts.
"You should see what Tara did with our place," Sam slurred. "It looks amazing, like something out of a magazine."
Oh, they were talking about decorating, and Daniel's new house. She could handle that, as long as she didn't think about the bedroom.
"Yessh," Isabelle chimed in. "Tara got it going on." She began to giggle uncontrollably. "I have twins," Isabelle added. Tara gently eased a cup of ice water into Isabelle's hands.
Daniel looked thoughtfully at Tara. "C'mon, then," he invited, standing up. "I'll give you the grand tour. You can admire everything I haven't done to the place."
She smiled. "You haven't been here very long. I'm sure you'll add some personal touches."
Daniel laughed. "I'm a dude," he told her. "I don't know the first thing about paint swatches or switches or whatever you call it."
"Hmm," she replied, avoiding his gaze.
"Come on," he said, again, his dark gaze commanding.
Tara was about to decline, but she found herself following him into the house. She turned back and looked at the people around the fire pit, to see if anyone else was coming. Sam was saying something to Anthony about a case, Isabelle was talking loudly, to no one in particular, about her cesarean.
She turned back to the house, surprised to see Daniel watching her, waiting just inside the kitchen. She stepped inside, unable to figure out why she felt a nervous thrill running up her spine.
"The kitchen," he said, gesturing widely.
"Paint it a soft green and keep those counter tops," she advised, laughing.
"Maybe I like it white," he argued. "The whole house is white. Like a hospital, all crisp and clean. Except the master bath. You will hate it. I know I do."
"What's wrong with it?" she asked. "Is it beige?"
He laughed and took her hand and led her up the stairs. She was vaguely aware of being in his bedroom when he flipped on the light and waved her into the bathroom. She stared for a full thirty seconds before she burst out laughing.
"It's pink!" she squealed, taking in the flamingo color. "No personality in the whole house until you step in here."
Daniel let out a sound between a laugh and a snort, then placed his hand on her back to turn her to see the hideous green tub and toilet. She tried to focus on something other than his hand, but her mind was clouding.
"You're pretty," he commented, removing his hand only to run it down the length of her hair.
She locked her eyes to his, trying to speak but failing. He moved until he was directly in front of her, still petting her hair with smooth, soothing strokes.
"I've wanted to do this all night," he murmured. "If I'm out of line, tell me… okay?"
He pulled her closer, bending a little to find her lips with his. She whimpered as his mouth made soft, whispery contact with her own.
She rose on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck, pushed her mouth more firmly to his, but he pulled back, keeping his own kisses maddeningly soft.
"Not out of line, then?" he whispered, then smiled as she shook her head.
"Kiss me," Tara demanded.
His arms came around her waist, setting her on the tall counter before he gave her the full power of his mouth, covering her lips with hard, biting kisses. His tongue pressed against her lower lip. She immediately opened her mouth, giving him access. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands exploring the hard contours of his shoulders.
"More," he told her, pulling her hair so that her throat was exposed to his greedy, seeking mouth.
She moaned as his tongue skimmed the tops of her breasts, arching into him as he took his hands from her hair and lightly skimmed her arms. She didn't protest as he slipped the straps from her shoulders, tugging her dress down to expose her.
"No bra," he smiled, his dark hands cupping her soft, pale flesh. He looked at the tight, lightly colored nipples before moving his thumbs over the erect points.
"So beautiful," Daniel murmured, grinning as she moaned and arched her back. Then ran her hands under his shirt, and felt the strong muscles of his back.
"More," she breathed.
"More, pretty girl? Like this?" He ducked his head and claimed her nipple with his mouth.
"Yes!" she moaned and then gasped as his fingers pushed her panties to the side. With a slow but deliberate push he slipped one thick finger inside of her.
"So wet," he said, running his tongue over her nipple. "Wet, and hot. You still want more?"
Tara was breathing too hard to answer. She opened her legs wider and felt herself stretching as he pushed in a second finger and rubbed her inside. He was gentle at first, then harder as he sucked and nibbled on her breasts.
She moved her hands to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. He eased back and leveled his gaze to hers, but made no move to help her with his belt. He only stood there as she undid his shorts. Her hands fumbled as she freed him. When his cock was exposed, she stared at the sheer size of him. Long, and so thick her hand wouldn't circle it.
"You think you can handle me, baby?" Daniel raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirked up in half a grin as she kept running her fingers up and down the length of him.
She couldn't answer, so she slid from the counter, still touching him. She bent and kissed the smooth, tight head. He groaned as her lips moved over him. She opened her mouth wide, tried to take him in her mouth.
"On the counter," he ordered, his own breath coming faster.
He turned her to face the mirror, then rubbed his hands over her butt, giving her a light smack before he positioned himself between her thighs.
"Keep your eyes open," Daniel commanded. "I want you to watch me fuck you."
She watched him as he plunged into her, her eyes opened wide as his cock filled her, stretched her. She moaned as he thrust harder, driving into her, his hands clamped on her hips. He rocked her back into his hardness, each thrust harder and deeper. Tara felt her insides melting, heat building from the inside. She wanted to scream, but bit her bottom lip. She watched him as he reached around and clamped his hands to her breasts.
"Gonna cum for me?" he breathed in her ear. He pinched her nipples as he plunged himself into her.
Her body exploded. She trembled and whimpered as the pleasure flowed through her entire body. He didn't slow down, instead he picked up the pace. She felt the second orgasm building even as the first had barely begun to fade. He was almost relentless in his movements, driving deeper as he thrust, sending her body into ecstasy.
Chapter 3
Sam wasn't sure what had brought about the change in Tara. She seemed more alive, more vibrant. The cold silences he had resigned himself to were a thing of the past. She laughed more. He appreciated her new attitude. With all the new stress at work, he couldn't have handled any more stress at home. He wasn't sure he could have handled the stress at all, but Tara had been so wonderful. He smiled as he heard her singing through her morning routine.
“Good grief, she is tune deaf”, he thought, chuckling to himself as he started the coffee pot. He pushed the button on the toaster, set some fruit on the table.
"Wow. You're making breakfast?" Tara asked, minutes later when she breezed into t
he kitchen.
"Coffee and toast," he shrugged.
"No eggs? No bacon?" she teased, planting a kiss on his cheek as she moved to get her mug.
"If you wanted a real breakfast, you should have told me you wanted to go out," he quipped. He smiled at her easy laughter.
He admired the blue shirt dress and heels, amused at the way she adjusted the belt every few minutes.
"Why do women wear stuff they have to fiddle with all day?" Sam asked.
"Because it looks good," Tara told him. "I love this dress."
Sam took another look, pretending to size up the outfit. "Yes, yes, good lines."
Tara laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Big day planned?" Tara asked, sitting at the table.
