"I'd keep an eye on that one," she'd warned me a week before our wedding but I just thought everyone was jealous. What would a beautiful woman like Paige want with some boring sucker like me? As it turned out, she didn't want me at all.
Slumping in my chair, I lay my forehead down on my desk and thought about what to do. For a fleeting second, the idea of killing her came into my mind again but it was just the anger making my mind run away with itself. I didn't really want to do that, did I?
I switched on the computer and slurped another brandy as I waited for it to load up. It had started to go to my head. I felt my thoughts loosening up, my mind beginning to unravel. I strained my ears to hear what Paige was up to and heard her footsteps stomping across the landing to the bedroom. She'd no doubt be sulking in the bedroom for the rest of night, curled up around that box beneath the bed she thinks she hides so well.
As the brandy worked its magic, the anger began to subside and a more carnal feeling began to swell inside my pants. Loading up the internet, I knew exactly where I was going. I'd had a membership to the site for almost six months and indulged in it on the weekends when Paige often disappeared out shopping with her girlfriends. Don't get me wrong, I knew it wasn’t honest but it's not actually cheating, is it? The internet isn't the real world. It's just data in the ether.
As I logged into candycutiesoncamera.com, my favorite webcamming site, I searched through the avatars looking for my favorite, but she was nowhere to be seen. There were hundreds of people, mostly young girls, all of them willing to do whatever you told them to for the promise of a few bucks. After a few fruitless minutes, a message popped up in my chat box.
"Hey, ArtyBoy 69, wanna chat?"
"Sure... I'm having a rough day."
"You want it to be a little rougher?"
The lump in my pants grew harder.
"What have you got in mind?"
"Turn your camera on."
I clicked it on and was aware that I was now broadcasting myself to someone I couldn't see.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I like what I see," they responded without answering my question.
"But can you show yourself?"
For a few seconds, they remained ominously silent.
"Hey, show yourself," I typed back drunkenly feeling as though I was trying to coax a poltergeist out through the webcam.
A second later, the screen was filled with the image of a young boy, naked and reclining back on the bed.
"Oh! Wait! I'm not gay!" I panicked.
"It's okay..." he said, his juvenile voice coming through the tinny, computer speakers, "I won't tell anyone."
Part of me wanted to slam the computer closed, the other part of me wanted to thrust my hand down into my pants and jerk of furiously.
"Are you hard?" he asked.
I gulped and nodded.
"I shouldn’t be doing this. It's weird. How old are you anyway?"
"Twenty-one he replied."
"You're skinny," I said.
"You don't like it?" he asked with a pout.
"No... I mean, yeah I do like it."
I took another mouthful of brandy and unzipped my pants. He touched a hand to his cock and began stroking it gently, his purple head growing moist and slick.
"You have to tip if you wanna see more," he said and pointed his finger down to the box in the corner of the screen that reminded me to pay up. Without thinking, I sent fifty dollars and he looked as though he was about to cry.
"Really?" he asked. "Is that all I'm worth?"
I sent another hundred and instantly regretted it.
"Thank you," he said and blew me a kiss. "You're the best."
Stroking myself as we made synthetic eye contact through the screen, we both began to moan.
"What did you say?"
"I said you're the best."
Just hearing those words made me feel more alive than I had in years.
"You really think I'm the best?" I gasped as I reached orgasm.
"You're the best and you're gorgeous," he said. "The most gorgeous man I've seen on here."
I ejaculated hard across the keyboard and he shrieked with joy, opening his mouth wide as though imagining he was catching it. Then I leaned back in the chair and gazed up at the ceiling as the sweat dripped down my forehead. It had been the most peculiar day.
"Do I get a tip for being such a good boy?" his voice asked.
As I glanced back to the screen I saw he was pretending to suck his thumb. Now, in the cold hard reality of the aftermath, I wondered what the hell I was doing.
"I've given you enough already," I snapped and slammed the laptop shut.
Chapter Three
Sean
"Sweetheart?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay with braised duck for dinner?"
"Sure whatever."
Lauren was in the kitchen while I sat in the dining room looking over patients' files. When I first began my studies in psychology I had dreams of been a pioneering influence in the field of psychodynamics, but now I was just a standard issue therapist who sat back and listened to middle aged women cry over their divorces. Not that it was a hard job, these poor women paid me a hundred dollars an hour but it's not exactly how I wanted to be remembered.
Meanwhile, Lauren was bashing pots and bans around the kitchen, making her usual spectacle of cooking dinner as though it was some sort of Avant Garde art performance. I looked up at her and saw her measuring out a drizzle of peanut oil with such precision that a blood vessel in the side of her head visibly throbbed with the concentration.
"Do you need a hand, honey?" I asked.
"No, I got this," she answered without moving.
I sighed and looked back to the files.
"What have you got there?" she asked as she tossed the oil in a wok.
"Ah, nothing it's just I was hoping to conduct some research at some point in the social psychoanalytic approach and well-"
"Uhuh... that sounds great, honey."
"Did you even just hear what I said?"
"The social approach or something." she replied with her back turned to me.
There was a sizzle as the duck breasts hit the pan and the smell wafted out the kitchen making my stomach growl with hunger. It was then that I realized I hadn't eaten since meeting Paige at The Pacifica. Fuck, I miss her already. I'd gone eight years without seeing her and now it almost felt as though I could barely go eight seconds. She was always on my mind; the way she smelled, the sound of her voice as she came, the memory of her sun kissed skin as a teenager when we'd dash through the lawn sprinklers in our swim suits.
I snapped back to reality when I heard Lauren's high heels click across the dining room floor. Setting my plate down, she crunched some salt and pepper over the top with a dramatic flick of her wrist. If only she could twist and grind like that on something else, I thought.
"Bon apetit," she smiled and sat down. "I hope you like it. I used Himalayan salt instead of sea salt this time. I think you'll find the essence of the flavors to be more delicate."
The essence of the flavors... does she practice this shit? I guess she has nothing else to do in here all day. It's not like she works. Nope, girls like her want nothing more than to be spoiled by a guy who works his ass off just for the opportunity to get a little pussy from time to time.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Why?" I replied as I chewed on the duck.
I had to admit that it was pretty damn good.
"You look strange."
"Thanks," I replied with my eyes rolling with sarcasm.
"No, I mean, I don’t know, you have a weird faraway look in your eye."
"Sorry, just, thinking about work I guess."
"Were you at work today?" she asked without missing a beat.
"Of course I was! Why... why would you ask such a thing?"
She licked her lips and angrily tugged at a loose strand of hair before tucking it back up into her braided
bun.
"It's just that I dropped in earlier to see if we could go to that sushi place for lunch and Sandra said you hadn't gone in yet."
My stomach lurched.
Shit.
"That Sandra doesn't know her ass from her elbow sometimes. I swear to God one of these days she's going to find herself fired. If you must know, I was in early and left late. Was in the office all day."
I didn't like the way lying came too easily to me and looked down at my plate hoping it would be the end of the conversation.
"Yeah, well that bitch needs her roots dyed anyway," Lauren replied with one of her usual catty remarks. "I mean, hello? Have you never heard of a touch up? Geez..."
Her childish voice cut through me. When we met at college she was as enthusiastic about psychology as I was and it only seemed natural that we move in and get engaged. What I didn't know was that she was an airhead with rich parents who secured her place at the college. She knew nothing about psychology and didn't want to. All she wanted was a husband and thought getting a place at a good university would be like some up market version of Tinder, a place where she could use her good looks to secure her future when the rest of us were studying for it. Nowadays, it felt more like I was trying to entertain a petulant teenager.
"This is really good," I said, trying to change the subject as I pointed my fork at my plate.
"You really think so?" she beamed. "I saw the recipe on this mommy blog called I'm going in for the bills, and I thought, oh my God that looks scrumptious."
Beneath the table, her leg pressed up against mine. There was the sound of one of her heels hitting the floor then the gentle pressure of her foot pressing into my groin.
"Wanna come upstairs?"
~
Her lips were spread wide across her face. Her legs were even wider. She lay back on the bed with her fingers teasing around the edges of her lace stockings. I'd given them to her as a Valentine's present but she'd never worn them before. I wondered what the special occasion was.
"Are you not going to come and join me?" she asked as she arched her back and cupped her breasts.
There were so many reasons I didn't want to. I could still taste Paige on my lips, could still hear her moans ringing in my ears. I couldn't bear the thought of being with two women in the same day, two women who loved me. I felt like a bastard.
What kind of a guy cheats on his fiancée?
A man who can't forget the past, I tried to reason. A man who's still desperately in love with his step-sister.
"Come on Sean. What's the matter?"
There was something about the way she spoke and flicked back her blonde hair. For a fleeting moment, she resembled Paige and something stirred within me.
"Do that again?" I asked as I continued to linger awkwardly at the end of the bed.
"What? This?" she flicked her hair again and laughed.
"Yeah, that and like... your voice... I like it when it's playful and high."
She managed to both frown and laugh in disbelief at the same time.
"What? Talk like a schoolgirl?" she said with a newly affected tone.
"Yeah, like that. You sound just like..."
I'd said too much.
"Just like who?" she quizzed.
"Just like a naughty girl," I replied, hoping I'd recovered myself.
She grinned cheekily and pulled down her bra straps.
"You haven't touched me in so long," she said. "You've been so busy."
I closed my eyes and tried to hear Paige in every word she said.
"I'm right here now, baby. I'm right here."
Moving onto all fours, she crawled up toward me, her hands latching onto my belt and her mouth ready and waiting. I was hard as she unzipped my pants with my eyes firmly shut. It's Paige's hands on you right now, I thought. Just think of her.
She stroked me fast, eager to turn me on.
"Slow down," I uttered beneath my breath. "Slow down."
"You coming already?" she asked with her voice still high and girlish.
My mind was still wandering back to earlier. I’d held Paige tight on my lap and smelled the raspberry scented shampoo in her hair and the way she began to sweat ever so slightly as she writhed against me.
"Fuck," I whispered. "That's so good."
Lauren giggled and licked her lips to moisten them before attaching them to the head of my penis. For a moment, she hesitated as though something had caught her attention, then she continued, her tentative tongue coiling itself around me as she moaned.
"Slower," I whispered but she didn't hear me. "Slow down."
I could still feel Paige's warmth around me, hear the way she breathed my name as she curled around my body.
Suddenly, Lauren pulled away and turned away from me, her face pressed up against the bed and her ass in the air. She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes.
"Come on," she said. "When was the last time you fucked me like this?"
"Look away," I replied while leaning over to grab the back of her head. "Keep your face in the pillow."
She squealed with excitement and bounced her ass up and down.
"You're not usually so rough," she laughed, her voice muffled.
With just her body facing me, I closed my eyes again and imagined I was entering Paige, letting out a sigh as I thrust deep inside her.
"Fuck...."
She grew wetter as I began to ease in and out, her hands reaching around to stroke me and her hips rocking up and down. I grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her. She screamed a guttural, animalistic noise.
"Fuck yeah!" she cried out as she got into her new subservient role.
"Shhh..." I tried to quieten down her voice.
She grew even wetter with a thick stream of moisture clinging our bodies together like a divine tidal wave of ecstasy.
"I'm coming," I grunted and she screamed a little louder as she slammed herself onto me. "I'm coming!"
Her thighs began to shake as her voice reached a crescendo. I couldn't control myself any longer and gripped her wrists tighter.
"Fuck... Oh my God! Oh, Paige!" I cried as I climaxed hard, stumbling forward as my legs gave way.
Landing on Lauren's back and feeling her body stiffening beneath me, I wondered why she had suddenly gone quiet. Then I remembered.
"Get off me!" she yelled and wriggled free.
Jumping off the bed, she hurried into her bathrobe and wiped her smeared mascara from her face.
"What the fuck did you just say!"
It sounded like more of a threat than a question.
"I-I... I didn't say anything at all!" I pleaded.
"You said Paige..."
My mouth dropped open but no sound came out. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling hoping she'd stop talking and walk away.
"Sean! Are you listening to me?"
I turned my head to see her in the doorway to the bathroom, arms folded, tears in her eyes.
"Paige... you definitely said Paige."
"No, I didn't," I protested.
She sniffed and rubbed her fingers over her forehead.
"Don't lie to me."
There was nothing I could possibly say to calm her down. I'd committed the most basic of errors, made the greatest Freudian Slip.
"Just tell me one thing," she continued. "Were you thinking about your sister?"
I rolled over to face away from her, my face in my hands as my cheeks burned.
"She's my step-sister," I explained. "We're not actually related."
A peculiar sound escaped her mouth, a sob mixed with a battle cry.
"Pack your shit," she cried. "I want you outta here by the morning.
Chapter Four
Paige
Arthur was staring at the television with his eyes glossed over. He had the same look on his face as when he did his tax returns.
"Art? Have you seen my handbag?"
He flinched and looked over into the hallway.
"
It's over the banister like it always is," he answered.
I followed his gaze.
"Oh, weird. It's usually at the other end."
I was sure I hadn't left it there, it was normally further up with the strap draped over to the right. I'd been taking it off at the same time in the same place for months. As I opened it and looked in, I saw my phone was in the wrong pocket.
"Arthur, have you been in here?"
"Wh-what?" he stammered. "Why would I be in your purse?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
As I delved deeper I saw some other things were misplaced and something else caught my eye. Evangeline's address was folded the wrong way so the writing now faced outward.
"Arthur! I know you were in here!"
His eyes remained fixed on the television. He was watching a true crime show, one of the ones he always regarded with derision,
"Modern day Penny Dreadfuls," he called them. "Nothing more than violent pulp fiction for the brain dead."
Now he was watching enthralled as though his life depended on it.
"Hey!"
I waved a hand in front of his face.
"Are you listening to me?"
Slowly, he swiveled his eyes in his sockets and looked up.
"I haven't been in your bag," he said.
"But the twitch below his left eye told me he was lying.
Beside us, a voice spoke from the television telling the story of a man so obsessed with his wife he bugged her phone and car before killing her.
"Why are you watching this crap?" I asked. "Aren't you usually tuned into PBS?"
He pressed a finger to his lips and turned back to the screen.
"Shhh..."
With the conversation officially over, I grabbed my coat and headed out to the car. He was up to something or rather he knew I was. He'd been through my bag, I knew it and the thought of him stumbling across Evangeline's address made me nauseous. What did he think of it? Had he noted it down? And he was definitely looking through my phone, was he reading my messages?
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
I slammed my hands against the steering wheel before pressing my forehead against it. What a mess. I should never have found Sean, should never have made things painful and complicated again but.... if I hadn't then I would never have discovered where my daughter was, and would never have felt the sweet feeling of being in her father's arms again.
Jewels And Panties: (Book 1-15) Billionaire Romance Series Page 81
