Marital Affair
Jasmine Black
Marital Affair
Copyright © 2010 by Jasmine Black
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Jasmine Black
Published by Jasmine Black at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition 1.0, January 2010
Visit Jasmine Black at her blog
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATION: Thank you to all my wonderful friends at Heart who encourage me to keep going.
Chapter 1
“The test came back negative.” More bad news from Dr. Wendell.
Lucas Sinclair turned to his wife, Colleen, sitting in the plush leather chair next to him. The when-is-it-going-to-happen look was plastered all over her face; blank eyes, lips neither smiling nor frowning, and pale cheeks. He grabbed the tissues from the inside pocket of his suit coat and handed them to her. Her cold hands trembled.
“Why can’t I get pregnant?” Colleen turned her head away, wrapped her arms around her empty belly and rocked.
Lucas rubbed her back and she flinched, letting him know his touch was unwelcomed at this particular moment.
Dr. Wendell fumbled with the chart on his desk. “You’re a real estate agent, correct?”
When Colleen refused to answer, Lucas offered the information. “Yes, we both are.”
“How many hours do you work in a given week?” Dr. Wendell looked at him.
This was the part of the visit where Colleen clammed up and refused to participate.
“Fifty to sixty.”
“Uh hum.” He jotted a note down. “And the new house, are you settled in?”
“We still have some unpacking to do, but the worst part is over.”
Dr. Wendell turned to Colleen. “Mrs. Sinclair, are you eating healthy? Getting enough sleep?”
“Why does it matter? You’re acting like this is my fault, like I can just will myself to get pregnant. Well, I can’t. I’ve tried.” She stood and walked to the wall of windows overlooking the city. “Nothing I’ve done has worked.”
“Colleen, we’ve been through this, no one is blaming anyone. I’ve run the test on both of you. Twice. There is nothing physically wrong with either of you, so at this point we need to evaluate the stress of your lifestyle. That’s all.” Dr. Wendell pulled out a calendar. “You need to plan intercourse when you’re ovulating, eat healthy, exercise. Those sort of things for the both of you.”
“We’ve been doing that for two years. I don’t need another chart. They’re all over the house now.” Colleen grunted as she shredded the tissues in her hands.
Dr. Wendell set their file down and took off his glasses. “I know I’ve asked you before, but would you be willing to talk to my colleague? She’d be happy to help.”
Colleen spun around and glared at the doctor. “Colleague? You mean a sex therapist. Someone to tell me how to have sex. Please my man. What, I don’t eat right, sleep right, work right? Now I don’t fuck right?”
“Honey, please.” Lucas went to her and wrapped her in his arms. She stiffened at his touch, but he had to keep trying to get through to her. “No one is saying that. I’m not saying that.” He looked into her eyes. “Please, let’s just give it a try.”
“Fine,” she huffed as if she’d been worn down, but he could see the resignation in her eyes.
“Great. I’ll go get her.”
“Right now?” Colleen asked, but like speed lightning, the old doctor had already took flight and disappeared from the office.
Lucas led his wife back to the leather chair she’d abandoned. They’d been trying to have a baby for five years and it seemed like it would never happen. The months had dragged out to years and with each passing month, Colleen pushed him further and further away.
The door opened and a woman in her mid-forties with short red hair wearing too much jewelry came in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Downing.” She shook both of their hands, bracelets clanging. “Well now, Dr. Wendell tells me you’re a bit uneasy talking with me.” She rolled the tall leather chair from behind the desk closer to them.
“A little bit.” More like a whole lot, but if she could help them, he would willingly go through some embarrassment for the love of his life. Anything to make her smile and laugh again.
“There’s no need to be. Couples have trouble conceiving all the time. Sometimes the smallest things can change that.” She patted Colleen’s knee.
“I’ve changed my diet, sleep eight hours a night, plan sex . . . It’s just not working.”
The doctor shook her head and smiled. “I mean other things.”
Colleen sniffed. “Like what?”
Her fingers pressed into the leather armrest, but she turned to the doctor to listen.
Relief washed over him. Maybe this was a good idea after all.
“Like variety. How long have you been married?”
“Seven years,” he answered with pride, hoping Colleen would be impressed he knew.
“Okay, so you’re not newlyweds anymore and most likely you’ve fallen into a pattern. Today’s couple is overworked, tired, stressed out and always on the run. They drive home, grab supper on the way, and eat in front of some reality show. If they even have the energy for sex, God bless them for it. But most likely, they set the alarm before they do the deed in case they fall asleep during the act.”
He watched a smile form on Colleen’s beautiful face. Something he hadn’t seen enough of lately. It reminded him of happier times when they’d call in sick just to stay in bed all day. Even though they’d been married for years, he still saw her as if they’d just said their vows, making the rift between them that much harder to bear.
“So, what kind of variety do you mean?” Colleen leaned in, hanging on the doctor’s words.
“I want the two of you to have an affair. Have an affair with each other. Bring back the magic you experienced in the beginning.”
An Affair! With each other? “How do you do that?” He leaned in closer to the doctor as well, his interest piqued.
Dr. Downing smiled. “Sneak around, leave each other notes. Send her flowers. Live out your fantasies. Be a different person, any name, age or even from any era you want to be. Have sex outside of your home. I bet your bedroom is full of books on how to have sex the right way to get pregnant and every time the two of you have sex, it’s all about making a baby. You need to change that, make it about the love you share, enjoy each other, have fun. I bet once you start having fun again, you’ll conceive in no time.”
“Well, I do have one fantasy.” Colleen giggled.
His ears perked up. What? She’d never told him about her fantasies, but he couldn’t wait to discover them.
* * *
The smell of fresh roasted coffee awoke Lucas from his slumber. He stumbled into the kitchen, with only his boxer shorts on, to find Colleen dressed and ready to do whatever it was she did all day long. It’d been a few weeks since they’d talked to Dr. Downing and she’d been sneaking around behind his back ever since. Maybe she was having an affair. With someone else.
"Morning." She gave him the habitual morning peck on his cheek. "I'm off to run some errands. I won't be back until later this evening. Please try to have some clothes on when I get back."
He grunted and rubbed his eyes.
Wit
h that, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door, leaving him to his Saturday alone. Their problems hadn’t gotten any better. They still couldn't have a single conversation without her busting out in tears, except in passing or about mundane issues. Although, she had confessed her fantasy.
He drank his coffee and headed off to shower; knowing Colleen’s actions had been part of the game. She wasn’t having an affair with anyone else and he knew it. But in a few hours, they’d both be having one. With each other.
Chapter 2
He watched her from afar, perched on a sloping limb of an oak tree. Today, he was Sir Dagan, giver of grain and she was his fair maiden, Dileah, lover of the meadow.
Crouching behind the reddish-orange leaves hanging from the multitude of branches, he couldn't take his eyes off her. The sun beat down and gleamed off her darkened skin. Flaxen hair rustled in the cool breeze, mimicking the sway of the wheat stalks growing in the field.
She gathered her skirts and knelt down, picking white daisies that were wildly sprinkled over the earth. Bunnies dashed out from the wheat field and hopped off yonder into the woods. He looked back at Dileah in time to see her long flowing hair slip to one side, revealing the sensuous curve of her neck.
His breathing grew rapid at the sight and his throat became dry. He wanted to touch her neck, taste her skin, feel her frantic pulse beating under his lips. But he'd wait to make his move; watch her until he was sure she wanted to take a lover.
Rumors of the fair maiden who picked wild flowers and drank from the bubbling brook had circulated through his hunting lodge. Only a few chosen ones had been lucky enough to experience her seduction. He had to see her for himself, taking the chance that he might become one of her chosen.
Everything he'd heard about her, so far, was true.
She lived and breathed. Were the rest of the rumors true?
Her chest heaved as she inhaled the scent of a flower. Ample bosom threatened to spill over the top of her bodice, leaving his mind to roam the numerous possibilities. Were her nipples pale-pink against her dark skin or rosy-red in the center of white globes the sun had never kissed? Were they small pebbles or large buds? His blood warmed and traveled south, but still he waited for her to drink of the brook.
Yards and yards of blue cotton fabric composed her skirt, flowed down to the ground around her feet. Tiny toes poked out from under the veil of clothing and tested the water.
Not wanting to miss her sign, he inched to another tree limb to be closer and see better, yet staying hidden from her view.
Her delicate hand cupped and dipped into the brook. Pouting her lips, she sipped the fresh spring water. Sweat trickled down his temple as her succulent tongue licked drops of moisture from her sensuous lips. The sign had been given, the maiden lover desired to mate.
Slowly, he descended from his refuge so not to startle her. He clambered down, limb by limb, until his boots hit the ground, never taking his eyes off her. The air assaulted his senses with the smell of fresh perfume from the flowers mixed with the ripening grain.
His heart pounded at the base of his throat with each step towards her. The water rushed over pebbles and birds chirped out a soft melody. Above it all, his heartbeat roared in his ears. She slipped both hands in the spring then stood, ran them down her neck, over her bosom. Raised droplets of water on her skin made his mouth dry from his desire to lick them off.
Gathering her skirts once more, she giggled and twirled in circles. The innocent act of a child, but he knew her to be five years his senior and more experienced in the ways of love. Her high girlish voice sent shivers to his heart and desire arrowing to his cock.
He stood a mere five feet away, almost close enough to reach out and touch her, but he stopped. He knew the rules, had been told about them for years, ever since he'd been old enough to join the lodge at the tender age of eighteen. Now, seven years later, he waited. Dileah had to welcome him, invite him into her world, and accept him as a lover.
Her gaze traveled over his body from the top of his velveteen flat cap to the soles of his knee high suede boots and back again. Even fully clad in the layers of clothing; tunic, breeches, jerkin, and stockings, he felt naked under her scrutiny. The beat of his heart pounded in his ears as he awaited her approval.
With a slight tip of her narrow face and the curve of her lips, she turned her back to him and slowly walked away. Her hips swayed in a way only a woman could master. His breath caught in his throat, refused to expel the poison from his body until he knew her answer.
She stopped.
Good sign.
Gazed over her shoulder.
Better sign.
Eyelashes fluttered.
Lord have mercy.
Raised her arm.
Oh God, here it comes.
Crooked her finger and motioned for him to follow.
Dutifully falling under her wicked spell, he swallowed hard and followed her behind a grove of oak trees. A woolen blanket lay spread over the ground, beneath a canopy of branches. She sat and plucked a pear from a basket.
White teeth sank into the delicate flesh of the life-giving nourishment. Her neck arched backward and her eyelids closed as she made love to the fruit with her mouth. Juices ran down her chin and he knew it was her invitation to taste her, lick the sweet nectar from her skin.
His breathing rapid and heart pounding, he dropped to his knees and crawled to the meadow lover. Hazel eyes beckoned him closer, giving him permission to share her secret space, hidden away from the world. His fingers itched to touch her, but he had to wait for that privilege.
Knots gripped his stomach when he reached her, his hands placed on the blanket, cock-achingly close to her hips. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth, licked the nectar from her chin, careful not to touch her lips or stray to any other inch of her body.
A sweet moan started at the base of her alluring neck and escaped from her tantalizing lips. All restraint fled from his senses and he kissed the visible throb in her neck that matched the throb in his shaft. She sat still and let him kiss, rotated her neck until his lips worked on the curve he'd fantasized about mere minutes ago. Silky smooth skin covered her goddess body and tasted of fresh spring water.
He couldn't believe he was here, inhaling her scent of wild flowers and desire; feasting on her flesh that only increased his need to mate. Sliding his tongue as he went, he worked his way up her neck to her earlobe.
When he took her soft lobe between his teeth, she placed her hands on his chest. There was the signal he could touch. Heat scorched through the layers of his jerkin and tunic, burnt his skin from her contact. Hot tingles took over his body. Breathing became almost as hard as his cock.
He wanted to scream out her name.
Dileah, Dileah! Oh God, Dileah!
He wasn't even naked, let alone inside her, but he knew the rule, no words. He moaned and bit his lip, lest he slip and never get the chance to love her.
She loosened the strings of his jerkin, caressed his chest as she pushed the garment over his shoulders until it fell onto the blanket. Tender hands worked to free his tunic from his breeches. It was her wish to unclothe her lover and remove his boots while the chosen lover sat in silence. The pace was hers to set and if he interrupted it, she might eject him from her sanctuary. A chance he'd dare not take.
The air grew stifling as she slowly untied his boots and pulled them off. Then his stockings. She rose to her knees, taking the hem of his tunic in her delicate hands. Fire lapped at his sides in the wake of her fingers disrobing him; leaving only his breeches on. His cock strained at the lack of attention it'd received so far, but he knew the wait would be worth every aching second he endured.
She reached into her basket again. He sucked in his breath as he waited to smell which oil she'd produce; rose, cinnamon, or the coveted violet scent.
Men speculated that the rose oil was meant to heighten the experience. It was the least desired oil, indicating that she didn’t expect their encounter to
worthy of her best. The cinnamon oil meant she wanted to taste the pleasures about to come and was a compliment to his kisses. But the violet, the violet meant she'd spared nothing for their encounter. The extremely treasured scent came at a high price and was the greatest compliment as to his skill when using his mouth.
She uncorked the small pottery jar and poured a small amount of oil in the palm of her hand. After rubbing her hands together, she situated his feet in her lap and began to massage the soles. Her thumb kneaded his sore arches and he was assaulted by the smell of violets.
Oh, God of the heavens, have mercy on my soul.
How much more sweet torture could one earthly man stand before he'd break; strip her of her garments and thrust inside?
As if an answer to his prayer, the meadow lover took his hands in hers and guided them to her bodice. One small tug of the strings untied the bow. Slowly he loosened the laces, knowing those heaving mounds of flesh would be freed and he'd have permission to do as he liked with them.
He slipped her bodice off. Tentatively, he grazed the top of one breast with his finger tips. She rewarded him with a shudder and a moan. Sweet melody to his ears. Only a thin chemise lay between him and her breasts. Without delay, he lightly gripped the sides of her smooth neck, traced the curves down to her teasing bare shoulders. He pushed her chemise off, freeing her glorious round globes.
Large, darkened breasts with pink erect nipples called to him. He squeezed one, definitely more than a handful, even for his large hand. Taking his thumb and index finger, he tugged at her pert nipple, rolled it between his fingers.
Her eyelids closed and her mouth opened in pleasure. Warm breath expelled from her lungs and caressed his bare chest, sending spikes of sensation in every direction from its point of contact.
Liking her response, he tugged again, finding the small amount of power over the vixen intoxicating. So much so, he had to have a taste of her. He kissed her nipple and soared to new heights when she arched her back to push her breast closer to his face.
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