Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell
Page 9
Johnny looked up, startled, then rolled down his window. “Hey, Ms. Kane,” he said.
“For the last time,” she said. “It’s Molly.”
“Sorry Molly,” Johnny looked down.
“Are we still on for tonight?” she said, pouting. “You promised.”
XXX
Rick Sinclair: The Dirty Girl Beneath the Fabric
Rick wiped the damp cloth across the bar, lost in a thick of tangled thought, his normal morning regret running deeper than usual.
The morning was awkward, like it had been for a while, but it seemed worse since Rick had been genuinely trying.
Celeste was cheating.
And sure, that was sad, but no sadder than the approximately 20% of women who admit to cheating on their spouses. What was sadder was that Rick had known for years, at least in the back of his head, probably since before they were married.
Betrayal gave a military grade beating to your life’s bliss, and was difficult to admit, which was probably why it had taken Rick so long to look it in the eye.
Celeste’s infidelity was tolerable because it was convenient, giving Rick the excuses he needed to simplify his life. It was easier to stuff secrets into your daily bread when they were baking from every oven.
Rick had suspected Celeste’s cheating for years, but did everything he could to steer clear of details and tangible proof. If he actually knew what he thought he did, indisputable truth would tear them to pieces. And while they each had their secrets, Rick loved Celeste, knew she loved him, and wasn’t willing to see their marriage collapse.
Rick wanted children. More than that, he wanted to have children with Celeste. She may have had a bottomless appetite for coitus that his cock alone would never curb, but she was smart, funny, gorgeous, and one of his two best friends in the entire world.
Rick was certain, even if Celeste wasn’t: she would be an amazing mother.
But things had changed, and had recently drifted to near intolerable; the lies, the deceit, the glacier’s worth of uncertainty. Their marriage had a flat tire, stalled at a crossroads. Celeste’s behavior was getting increasingly risky, and it seemed obvious to Rick that part of her was looking to get caught. It was time to move forward, even if that meant going back.
Secrets didn’t have to destroy them, as long as they were smart enough to work as a couple to make themselves stronger. Rick would do just about anything to keep Celeste happy, as long as he knew what to do.
If he wasn’t dealing with his own list of lies, he would probably know already.
For all Celeste’s swagger, she was actually quite tender. At least once you peeled a couple of layers down, which few people ever had. She was likely festering inside, fat with guilt for doing all the wrong things that might help her feel the feelings she knew were right for her.
Celeste hated that she couldn't make Rick crave her the way she longed to be craved, no matter what she did. It wasn’t her fault. How could she know what he liked if he wasn’t honest with her. Yet, how could he be honest with her if he wasn’t even willing to get honest with himself.
“Jesse!” Rick called for his new morning guy. This was it. Game over. It ended today.
He’d had the exact same thought for the last 47 mornings. And this morning Rick had almost managed to open Pandora’s Box and get shit out in the open before leaving the house. But he had bitched out, just like always.
But no more. The next time Rick saw Celeste, their life together would either be ending, or finally beginning.
“Hey, Rick, what’s up?” The stock room door swung open and Jesse appeared from the other side. “We’re low on a few things. I started a list, but it’s not finished,” he said. “Definitely gonna need urinal cakes. We’re totally out of those.”
“That’s fine,” Rick said. “Take your time. I need to run out on a quick errand. I’ll be back in in hour, maybe longer. You’ve got the morning, no problem. I should be back before we open anyway, but if I’m not, you know what to do.”
“Everything okay?” Jesse looked concerned, though Rick wasn’t sure if he was worried about Rick, or having to open the bar for the first time by himself.
Rick assured Jesse once more that he’d be fine, whether he had to open the bar alone or not, then headed out the bar’s back door and into the parking lot, then into his silver Infinity.
Rick felt like slamming his fist into the Infinity, but kept his cool. It was hard not to be angry with himself for handling things so poorly, and for so long. Any issues he and Celeste had would have been solved ages ago, if he had not been such a coward.
Once upon a time, sex with Celeste was good, great, the best ever. Before the lies.
Rick pulled onto the highway and thought back to the first truly amazing night he’d had with Celeste, outside the hallway of his dirt cheap one-bedroom, eight blocks from the college. They were drunker than fuck, completely ripped to the tits, though not hammered enough to vanish the memory.
Celeste’s tits had been even more amazing back then, if that was even possible considering they were pinup brilliant now. That night they had looked almost swollen, pushing against the thin gauze of her ivory white blouse. White was one of Celeste’s favorite colors to wear. Years later and Rick was still clueless as to how she managed to keep the snowy part of her wardrobe looking so crisp and clean, though he thought he finally understood the draw of the colorless color: Celeste probably loved the stark contrast between the unsullied whites and the dirty girl beneath the fabric.
It was the dirty girl who flicked her tongue inside Rick’s ear and whispered, “What are you going to do to me when we get to your apartment and you have me behind closed doors?” She flicked her tongue a second time before adding, “Do you think it’s going to hurt?” They had been in the elevator, waiting for the long crawl from the ancient lift that would take them to the fourth floor, and Celeste was rubbing her ass against his crotch the entire ride. When the doors dinged and they stepped into the long hallway leading to his apartment, Celeste leaned over and gave Rick her double barreled whisper, which totally set him off.
He grabbed her by the wrists and pushed Celeste hard against the beige wall with peeling paint, right in the middle of the hallway. She gave a small, sexy whimper. His face was all over her and so were his hands. His sizable cock was rubbing hard against Celeste through the thin denim of his worn jeans.
Celeste pinched the sides of his steel hard dick, which made Rick ram himself hard against her with three almost violent thrusts. Celeste tried to pull Rick down to the floor right there, she didn’t mind the carpet of grime, and may have even liked its filth to mar the purity of her whites. But Rick dragged Celeste to the end of the hallway instead, then into his apartment as if the building was on fire and his one bedroom was under water.
He kicked the door closed behind him, then picked Celeste up with a single sweeping motion. Her legs were wrapped around him, and her blouse was unbuttoned at the top, though Rick wasn’t sure which one of them had done it. He was the one who tore the rest of the buttons, spilling her perfect tits into the air before Celeste pulled him by the hair and buried his face between them.
Rick sucked on her nipples, hard, while Celeste unzipped his pants and started stroking his cock. “Use your teeth,” she growled.
“What?” Rick said, panting and unsure.
“On my nipples,” she moaned, “Use your teeth.”
Rick bit gently, then hard, as Celeste’s breath rose and fell in rapid response.
Celeste pulled her body away from Rick, then fell to her knees, with the most craven look he had ever seen; a look he’d seen a thousand times since, and one that now flooded him with guilt whenever it entered his mind.
Celeste had sucked him off before, several times, but that night she practically ate him alive. Slapping her face with his dick, spitting on it, using no hands while hers were occupied in her holes. When Rick felt himself getting ready to blow, and couldn't stand the sight of Celeste writ
hing on the floor without his cock inside her any longer, he pulled himself from her mouth, dropped to his knees, then pushed her ass into the air.
Rick was licking Celeste’s clit from behind, and Celeste was screaming, “OHMY FUCKINGLORD, Rick, I’m CUMMING.”
She kept screaming the same thing on repeat, with rising volume as he buried his face deeper in her ass and his fingers further into her beautiful bulls-eye.
Once Celeste ceased her screaming, Rick stopped tongue fucking her, then rose to a standing position and pulled a heaving Celeste up by her waist. He slid his cock into her sopping wet vent without a condom, which was a big deal back then, grabbed her tits, and fucked her harder than he’d fucked anything in his life.
Their bodies shuddered as they came together just seconds later. Their mutual orgasm might have lasted a minute. When Rick pulled out, it looked like a full cup’s worth of cock water spilling from her cunt.
Something passed between the two of them that night that cemented them forever in Rick’s mind, and he was sure Celeste’s, too. Sure, the sex had been out of this world, as it was every other minute of the three-day fuckfest that followed that Friday evening, and went all the way into missed classes for both of them Monday morning. But it wasn’t just the sex, it was the conversation, too; the dreaming, the shared goals and the possibility of a perfectly coalescing life.
It was the weekend they first traded, “I love you,” with both of them meaning all three words.
Unfortunately, while that had been the peak of Rick’s appetite with Celeste, it was only the beginning for her. He’d done everything she had ever asked, but it was obvious to Celeste that Rick wasn’t really there.
Doing something and craving it were two different things, and that was the problem. He could do anything she wanted: eat her ass, fuck it raw, and slap it red while he was doing it; lick her clit, suck the watery wedge, and swallow anything which dripped. But wanting to was something else entirely.
You could kneel at the alter all you wanted, but prayer was only an empty whisper when you didn’t believe in God.
It was his fault. All of it.
He should have been honest with Celeste from the beginning. Certainly before the I do’s. And after years of silence, the guilt was crushing – a 40-ton tower atop him. The lies had been hard at first, but then they grew easy. Probably a lot like Celeste’s. Now they were an acid in his life, eating the seams inside him. Half the time he wanted to vomit, the other half he wanted to spill his guts and tell Celeste everything. There was always conflict inside him, and of course, it was always worse when Celeste wanted to fuck.
Celeste always wanted to fuck.
Even without the guilt, Rick would have had an impossible time keeping pace with Celeste. He was good for one crazy good fuck per day, with a few days off each month. Celeste would have considered that an excellent start. Guilt made him want to avoid sex with Celeste entirely, and had him muscling through it when evasion wasn’t possible.
It was no wonder Celeste was cheating, and probably with several men.
Celeste was too smart to leave evidence, though judging by her recent behavior, Rick figured he could probably find some if he was willing to look. He wasn’t just sure she was cheating, Rick figured it was likely with multiple guys since Celeste would want to keep her feelings separate. That was how she thought: if she kept her bed in heavy rotation, then it was only the mechanics. Like using a dildo with a heartbeat and the ability to take direct orders.
That made it less of an assault on Rick, who Celeste truly did love. He figured it was mostly his fault since he couldn't be honest with her. And as he told himself several times a day, he couldn't be honest with Celeste until he was honest with himself.
Rick parked his Infinity a block behind their house, then killed the engine and crossed the street, wondering what he was about to discover. He was sure he’d find another man, but Rick had no idea how depraved it would be, or how he would feel once he actually saw it. He walked to the rear of the house and slipped inside the back, closing the door so quietly behind him, it was like dropping a sheet of paper.
He probably could have slammed it.
Celeste’s moaning was so loud, it drowned out the sound of everything else. Rick couldn't even hear the other guy. He crept closer.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!”
Then a long pause, cut sharply by a second wave.
“AH, AH, AH, AH, AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Celeste’s screams dimmed to a pant, but they were still so roaring it was all Rick could hear, even though he was at the end of the hallway and just a few feet from the open bedroom door.
“Uhhhhhhhhhh.......AAAaaaaaaa......MMmmmMMMMmmmm......UUUhhhhUhh...”
Rick’s cock was rifle barrel ready, the deafening sounds of his wife’s moaning inviting images of her soaking wet pussy, along with the memory of how she moved it; the way she twisted her body and clenched her lips to take all of his cock while pushing every one of her buttons.
If Rick got any closer, she’d see him for sure. At least that was the lie he told himself as he slipped inside the closet. But he had come home to catch her in the act, and that’s exactly what was happening a few feet away. If Rick had slipped in the closet to keep himself from getting caught, then he probably wouldn’t have had his dick in his hand a second after he closed the closet door.
Rick was nursing his hard on, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft for comfort, unmoving. Part of him was too uncomfortable with the thought of buffing the banana while his wife was taking it in the box one door over. But then again, that was the part of him that had a hard time enjoying sex with Celeste simply because he had a secret. And it wasn’t easy with her draping the late morning in a trauma ward’s worth of moaning.
“Uhhhhhhhhhh.......AAAaaaaaaa......MMmmmMMMMmmmm......UUUhhhhUhh...”
Once he started stroking, he could barely contain his excitement. Rick was afraid he might get a friction burn from the blur of his hand, but he was way too juiced to move slower. He was normally a dry jacker, but there was nothing in the closet to soften the chuff and he probably wouldn't have stopped even if there had been.
He was seconds from shooting when Rick realized he had no ending for his impromptu plan. He looked up at the row of jackets and grabbed the first empty sleeve he could find with his left hand, then guided his cock inside with the right.
Fuck! It was Celeste’s favorite blazer from The Loft, the one that feels like a sweater.
Oh well, in a few minutes, the two of them were going to have bigger problems than a cumshot in the sleeve of her favorite jacket.
Someone was driving Celeste to an uncontrollable climax, though it still sounded like she was having 100% of the fun. A final “FUCK ME!!!” drove Rick over the edge as he imagined her squirting shots from her pussy like she sometimes did.
Four spurts of Rick’s man milk shot into the sleeve, bleeding an embarrassingly wide splotch onto the other side.
There was silence in the bedroom as Celeste’s moans were replaced by the rise and fall of her relaxing breath, barely audible through the thin crack in the closet. The other guy was still playing Silent Bob. Rick cleaned his cock in the blazer’s sleeve, then tucked his dick back inside his jeans and listened.
Nothing. Not a word.
Rick could practically hear Celeste ordering her man toy from the room so she could be alone, but that was only in his head. There was still no sound in the house other than her breathing, growing quieter by the second.
Rick crept from the closet and then toward the bedroom door, exactly as ajar as it had been a few minutes before. The room was empty, except for Celeste laying splayed on the bed, her left hand between her legs, her right hand on top of her breast, both hands unmoving and eyes closed. Beside her on the bed was a massive dildo, the largest Rick had ever seen, and one he didn’t even know she had. Rick registered the shock of its size an instant before he realized what it meant.
But he still had to tell her about Rachel. Even more than before.
But not today. Today he needed to think.
Rick backed away from the door, about to turn around, when Celeste’s eyes shot open. “Honey!” she said. “You’re home!”
XXX
Rick Sinclair: Secrets Spilled, A Novel Idea, & Maybe Just One More Secret
Rick rolled over and wrapped his arm around a still sleeping Celeste. He brushed her hair behind her ear, grazed his knuckle across her face, and imagined a better life; richer, fuller, and altogether more rewarding than the last few years of pickled lies and daily deceit.
Lies were cancer to life, and once they wormed their way into the deepest corners of a relationship, they turned black, then swallowed every surrounding speck of white. The best thing about Rick and Celeste, once upon a long ago, had been their ability to discuss just about anything. Conversation used to be easy. Once that went, everything else started to wither, like barren trees in winter with no sun above and only frozen soil below.
But as of today, they were finally finished with the lies.
Rick slipped his other arm beneath Celeste, then met his hands and pulled her body closer. She murmured in her dreams. He said, “ssshhh,” and pet her hair until she started lightly snoring again, then closed his eyes and re-imagined their morning.
He had left for the bar angry, with himself for the years of silence and crushing guilt that had painted his insides black, and her for giving him the brush. Like a cock, lies started hard, but grew softer when massaged. Swallowing secrets had become too easy for both of them. It wasn’t just habit, it was the house they lived in, built brick by brick and lie by lie. Rick had raced from the bar to catch Celeste in the act, positive she’d have a man in bed, maybe two. And by the sounds coming from the room, she did.