by Clara James
I wrapped my legs tightly around him, inching them higher in a bid to feel him even deeper still. Again, he knew what I wanted and how best to achieve it. One hand swiftly left the bed and hooked under my left knee. He coaxed it higher and higher until I could rest it on his shoulder. By then, I felt certain he was as deep in me as was possible. I felt him bump my cervix, which was a delightful mixture of pleasure and pain. “Argh, God,” I whispered.
“You Okay?” he softly asked, his voice as soothing as a warm bath.
“Yes,” I panted, before turning my face to the right and biting his forearm. I didn’t sink my teeth in hard, but the urge to take hold of something was irresistible.
His response was another thrust, a little faster this time. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“Ohh,” I exhaled, the mixture of his pelvic bone grinding against my clit and the rubbing of my G-spot, made it impossible to have an awareness of anything else. “Again,” I panted.
I don’t think he needed my direction. However, he pulled back and returned to me with an enthusiasm that knocked the wind out of me. He was beginning to find a rhythm now; one that was working us both up into a sweaty, breathless frenzy. Over and over again, he plunged into my body, stoking the fire in my belly every time.
And then I came. Completely unexpectedly, from nowhere, the explosion came. A frenzy of sensation that was almost too much to bear. I opened my mouth, tried to cry out my pleasure, but no sound emerged. In fact, no breath was exhaled from my lungs; they’d ceased to function properly. As the waves continued to crash, my body convulsed beneath him, twitching and jerking as thousands of sparks of electricity rocked from my core to every extremity. Then, after what felt like an eternity in that moment, I was once again able to suck in a hurried breath.
I was panting even harder than before, and became aware of the fact that Preston had stopped his rhythmic thrust.
“You okay?” he asked, his cheeks flushed, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead and his eyes dark with desire.
“Yeah,” I weakly nodded. “Don’t stop,” I urged.
He kissed me deeply, before resuming the motion of his lower half. It didn’t take more than another three drives of his hips for his entire body to stiffen. “God,” he whispered. “Oh, yes!” he grunted, as his seed was rapidly expelled from his body. It wasn’t until that moment that I suddenly remembered neither of us had thought to stop for protection. His warmth was pulsing into me and, as it did, my own body responded with another orgasm that caused my sex to squeeze him tightly; coaxing yet more of his essence from him.
Chapter Five
Morning
As we lay still, most of his weight still taken on his arms, but a reassuring bulk keeping me pinned to the bed, we both listened as our combined breathing began to steady and slow. His head was nestled in the crook of my shoulder, his lips slowly kissing my neck.
My exhausted leg slipped off his shoulder and landed on the mattress, while my hands stroked over his damp, clammy back; moving in lazy patterns. “Wow,” I whispered toward the ceiling.
I felt him smile, as his mouth moved down my throat and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, eventually finding the strength to lift his head. “I should have....I meant to,” he stumbled, his brain still fogged. “I meant to put a condom on, but I guess I just got carried away and...”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “I got carried away, too.” Suddenly concerned about what conclusions he might draw, I quickly qualified that. “It’s never happened before. I’m always really careful.”
“It’s all right,” he chuckled, silencing me by pressing his lips to mine. A satisfied rumbling hum vibrated low in his chest, as he pulled away from the kiss. “You know,” he sighed gently settling onto his side and rolling us both until our positions were reversed and I was on top of him. Throughout the smooth motion, he remained within me, softening, but not quite completely flaccid. “I’ve never made love to a woman and not known her name.”
“Huh?” I asked, setting my knees on the mattress and placing my hands on his chest to push myself upright.
“It’s okay,” he smiled. “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand. But...” he breathed, his eyes wearily and blissfully moving over my face. “I really would love to know.”
“You do know my name,” I insisted quietly.
“Well,” he nodded as best as he could with the back of his head pressed into the pillow, “I know you sometimes call yourself Arianna.” As he spoke, the hands that were loosely splayed on my hips moved reverently up my torso, up to my shoulders where he pushed my hair back and eventually cradled both sides of my face. “But that’s not the real you, is it?”
“I...I...” I nervously babbled, feeling like a bug under a microscope. Why did I always feel like he was studying me; trying to penetrate the surface? Of course, I knew what he’d find beneath would disappoint him.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m not going to make you tell me.”
Trying to relax, I forced a smile that probably looked pained.
“There is one thing I do want to know, though,” he added. “Do you have to go?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’d like you to stay, if you can,” he explained, the fingers of his right hand tracing the shell of my ear, while the other moved down my neck and traced the dip between my collarbones. “If you don’t want to, or if you have somewhere you need to be-” he said, shrugging.
“No,” I interjected quickly. “No, I don’t have to leave.”
“Good,” he replied, grinning from ear to ear, as he pulled me down to him.
I didn’t have to fake my enthusiasm for staying with him. I’ve never been more glad of anything in my life than I was about the fact Paul wouldn’t be home to expect me back. And while Preston was more preoccupied with exploring my body than he was with getting to know the ‘real me’, being in his company was one of the best experiences I’d known.
Our second coupling, not that we ever disconnected from the first, was a much lazier affair. I remained on top of him, but didn’t have the strength to pump myself up and down his length. So I simply moved my hips back and forth. The climax was slow in the making, and when it came, it wasn’t with the explosive blinding power of its predecessors. But it was a sweet sensation, like the expanding ripples on an otherwise calm stretch of water. It caused my eyes to roll back in my head with delight.
After that, he continued to caress and kiss me until eventually, in a tangled mess of arms and legs, we fell into a deep and very contented slumber. And, for a few hours at least, I was truly happier than I’d been in a very long time.
But the morning brought with it a big dose of awkward. After showering, dressing and brushing my teeth with some toothpaste on my finger, I just wanted to get out of there. For one thing, I was expected to pick up the kids from the in-laws and for another, I felt incredibly vulnerable. Despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length, I realized that it had been a waste of time. I might not have told him my name or anything about myself, but I’d shown him the real me – I’d made love to him as myself. I hadn’t been Arianna, and I think we both knew it.
“You’re welcome to stay for breakfast,” he insisted, running a hand through his sleep-tussled hair, before fastening the belt of his robe. “I can whip something up or there’s some cereal,” he suggested hopefully.
“I really have to go,” I replied, slipping into my shoes and checking the floor to make sure I hadn’t left anything at the foot of his bed.
“Okay,” he nodded, trying to sound blasé, but failing miserably. “Well, I’ll just get my checkbook,” he said, already moving toward an antique, oak roll top desk.
“No,” I blurted, stopping his movements as he reached for a drawer on the left of the desk. “I...umm...I can’t accept that,” I mumbled.
“Why not?” he asked, confusion crinkling his brow. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the drawer open and grasped for something inside.
> “I mean it,” I urged. “I really can’t take that from you.”
It was his glasses he held between his finger and thumb. He unfolded the arms and slipped the frames onto his face, before continuing his line of questioning. “I don’t understand, I thought we had an agreement?”
“Yeah,” I responded, nodding halfheartedly. “But last night...” I began, stopping when I found the words sticking in my throat. Pushing a few damp strands of hair behind my ear, I took a deep breath, before forging ahead once more. “Last night was much more than an ‘agreement’, it was more than business, to me at least, and I can’t take that money from you.”
Finally understanding, he smiled. Moving away from the desk, he padded barefoot to the bed and sat on the edge of it, facing me. “It was much more than business to me,” he softly announced. “But I want to help you.”
Eyeing him warily, I was more than a little reticent about asking him to explain. “What do you mean?” I muttered.
He was just as pensive in his answer. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you are in,” he slowly said, keeping his eyes earnestly fixed on mine. “But you obviously need this money for something and whatever it is, I want to help.”
My defenses flying up, I scoffed almost derisively. “What makes you think I’m in trouble?”
Unflappable, Preston continued to watch me with a calm expression of openness. “I don’t think you’d be doing this unless you’d found yourself in a jam.”
“You know, for someone who doesn’t even know my name, you profess to know an awful lot about me,” I blurted. What had gotten under my skin more than his accurate words was the way he looked at me; those eyes that swept into my being without permission. They frightened me.
“I’m not trying to upset you,” he reasoned, his arms resting on his thighs and his hands loosely entwined between his slightly parted legs. “I just want to help, if I can.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Well, I don’t need you to rescue me. I’m going to be just fine.” With that, I quickly bolted to the door. I could hear him following me, but he made no attempt to stop me and said nothing as I practically ran down the hallway. I grabbed my purse from where I’d left it on the couch, and then lunged for the front door. However, when I got there, the damn thing wouldn’t open. I tugged, I twisted what looked like the lock, but I couldn’t get it to budge.
Calmly, Preston’s arm reached over my shoulder twisted the lock in the opposite direction and held it there while his other hand turned the handle. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he tugged the door open wide. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I peered at the clear doorway, then back at him not trying to prevent me from leaving, but offering his simple and heartfelt apology. Not that he needed to say it. “I know,” I mumbled. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for getting upset.”
“So, can we talk?” he suggested.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head firmly. “I really do have to go.”
“Okay,” he smiled, with an accepting nod. “Can I see you again?” he added.
Swallowing, I warred with the part of me that wanted to throw myself into his arms right then and there. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” I breathed, unsure whether any sound had actually come out of my mouth. I shook my head apologetically, opening my mouth to say something else. But unable to find my voice, I quickly turned to the door and hurried across the threshold. I didn’t look back as my feet rapidly moved down the corridor toward the elevator.
When I got to the lobby, I was glad to see that Hank’s shift was over and he’d been replaced by another security guard; a younger man, who acknowledged me with a nod.
It was after eight when I got home, and another moment of relief came when I learned that Paul wasn’t there yet. He must have made quite a night of it, too. However, the thought of what he might have been doing the same time I was with Preston was tainting my memory of the night before, so I quickly shook those musings from my brain. It didn’t matter; none of it mattered any more. I had enough money to get away from him, so the charade had to end.
I quickly chucked my clothes, putting on some jeans and a sweater before leaving the house once more and heading to Paul’s parents. His mother complained that I was thirty minutes late and pointed out that I wasn’t wearing any make-up and looked like I hadn’t got a wink of sleep. Apologizing for my tardiness and what was, apparently, an unacceptably disheveled appearance, I explained that I’d got back late from the gym and had trouble unwinding. I’m not sure if she believed me. The suspicious way she eyed my entire figure suggested she did not.
“Well, maybe you’re spending too much time at this gym,” she shrilly announced.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you should be spending more time with your family,” she continued. “I’m sure Paul’s not happy about all the evenings you spend out of the house.”
In my emotionally fragile state, it took all my willpower not to tell her that where I spent my time was Paul’s last concern. “Well, actually, I think Paul’s worried about me putting on weight,” I told her.
“Then just eat less,” she stated. And, with that, the discussion was closed.
When I get back to the house with the children, I could hear the shower running and decided not to rush upstairs and ask Paul where he’d been. Later, when the kids were in bed, we’d sit down and have a proper talk. I planned on telling him that I was leaving sometime during the conversation.
At least, that was the plan. Things didn’t quite turn out that way.
Chapter Six
Hell
It was after lunch; the kids had eaten and were all sitting on the living room floor watching a movie. Paul had drifted downstairs at some point while I was preparing the meal. He didn’t say much before disappearing into his office.
With the children occupied and the house calm and quiet, I decided it was a good time to address the elephant that had been parading around our house for the last few months. It was time to finally confront Paul with what I knew and tell him that I was planning to file for divorce.
I felt my heart beat in my tongue as I nervously approached his office and tapped lightly on the door. Listening, I heard nothing in response. Leaning closer, I knocked at the door again; a little louder this time. Still, I heard no reply and no movement from within the room. Wondering if he’d fallen asleep at his desk or on the small leather couch he kept in there, I gripped the doorknob and slowly twisted it.
“Paul,” I quietly called, sticking my head in the gap I’d created.
He wasn’t asleep. He was sitting at his desk, leaning far back in his chair and rubbing the fingers of one hand against his jaw. He didn’t bother to look up. Instead, his eyes focused on a point in the center of his desktop.
“Paul?” I repeated.
Lifting his gaze, he glowered at me. “I want to talk to you,” he stated.
Taking a step inside the room, I nodded. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you too,” I added.
“Shut the door,” he bluntly ordered.
Curiosity crinkling my eyebrows, I followed his instruction. “So, umm, you spent the whole night out, huh?” I couldn’t help but ask as I reached behind me and flicked the door closed with a nudge of my hand.
“Yeah,” he nodded unapologetically. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” I replied, my brow still knitting in question.
With a sudden lunge, he sat forward and viciously gripped a newspaper that sat folded on the desk. Tossing it toward me, he barked, “What the hell is this?”
Unaware of what he was talking about, my eyes drifted down to the page. I was looking at the paper upside down, but could see the black and white picture that he was obviously referring to. It was a shot of me and Preston at the charity ball. My memory quickly flashed back to that moment we’d walked off the dance floor, and I mentally kicked myself for not realizing that the photograph could come ba
ck to haunt me. Nonetheless, I didn’t feel guilty. No, I was still filled with righteous anger. In fact, there was even more of it now. How dare he question me after what he’d been doing?
“Well,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “What the hell is that?”
My focus leaving the paper, I met his eyes unflinchingly. “I went to a charity event,” I shrugged.
“One you didn’t see fit to tell me about?” he shouted, jumping out of his seat. His hand snapped forward and grasped the paper so tightly his knuckles turned white. “One in which you ‘the mystery beauty’ were on the arm of this...this,” he stuttered with anger. “Preston Varrill.”
“Verrill,” I corrected him. “And it was all perfectly innocent,” I added.
“Oh, really?” he scoffed.
“Yes,” I insisted. “He wanted a companion to the ball, I went with him.”
“Wh...Wh...” he stumbled, shaking his head. “What do you mean, ‘he wanted a companion’? What the fuck does that mean? He hired you to do this?” Paul’s face was turning a brilliant shade of red and he hadn’t appeared to breathe for several seconds.
I refused to answer him. Instead, I kept my eyes on his face, steady and with a calm I had never felt in the face of his anger before.
“This guy paid you to go to this dinner with him?” he demanded, putting the pieces together without any confirmation or denial from me. I wasn’t going to lie to him and knew he was intelligent enough to connect the dots alone. “And then what?” he yelled. “What, huh? He fucked you in the back of his limo?”
“No,” I replied, my voice and demeanor much more collected than his. “He asked his driver to take me home and he didn’t lay a hand on me.”
