I get really jealous of Darci’s body sometimes. She’s going to be a dancer someday, a really famous one. She’s all sleek and slender and when she moves she’s always super graceful. She spends at least an hour every day practicing her moves. When she was little she wanted to be a ballerina, but now she wants to do big stage shows in New York. I’ve promised her I’ll be in the front row of every single one for opening night.
*
That night I ordered in a deep-dish barbecue chicken pizza from Papa Julio’s. It’s the local pizza parlor—if you want to the best pizza in town, Papa Julio’s is the place to get it.
Mark had a job there delivering pizzas—his dad had told him he needed to learn the value of working for a dollar. It was this old Italian place (in case you couldn’t guess from the name). You know those restaurants with squeaky plastic lining on the tables? And black and white photos of Italian people from the 1920s or something, up on the wall? Dressed like they do in gangster movies?
The first time I went there to meet Mark the owner’s wife came bustling up. She was this Italian lady, Maria, who must have been at least sixty years old. She’s about five feet tall and five feet wide and always dressed in a black skirt and apron with white flour dusted all down her front.
“You must be Miss Lisa!” she said, and gave me this big hug so hard she nearly lifted me clean off the ground. I got flour all over me. She apologized as soon as she put me down, and tried to brush me off with her towel.
“Marky, he talks about you all the time!” she said. Then she gave me two free slices of cheese pizza—and she kept doing that every time I came in! I sent her a big bunch of yellow roses when I heard that her dad passed away over in Italy. I knew what it felt like, and she was always such a sweetheart to me.
I figured if no one else was going to be around while I was house-sitting, I could eat what I wanted. Even if it was summer. I had the cardboard pizza box open before the delivery boy was even all the way back down the driveway. The steam that wafted off it made my mouth water.
“Pizza,” I said, in my best Italian accent, “I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
*
My swim must have taken more out of me than I thought, because as soon as I’d eaten I could feel my eyelids getting heavy. There wasn’t anything good on TV so I cleaned my teeth and headed off to bed in Mark’s bedroom.
But as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was wide awake again.
The house was quiet except for Dino snoring in the lounge and I just couldn’t get to sleep. I tossed and turned and after a while I gave up and just lay there, feeling the night air come in and whisper over my skin. I love sleeping naked on summer nights.
Mark has this photo of his family on his bedside table. It was taken in the boardroom of his dad’s business; it was the one-year anniversary of the company or something. I usually make him lay it face down if we’re doing it because I feel creepy otherwise. But I was bored so I picked it up and looked at it. There was Ed and Mark and Michelle... and a couple of other people there, too.
And right in the corner, grinning like he knew a joke no one else did... Mr. Alex Locke himself.
Alex is really a good-looking guy. Maybe even a little better looking than Mark, if I’m being honest. Mark’s a hot guy—he always gets looks from other girls—but Alex is all that and more. He’s like, the handsome, mature version. That’s it—he’s a man, not a boy. He’s got these cheekbones like Johnny Depp, and a cute grin, and a strong jaw. He could have been a movie star, but one of those old-school movie stars from the movies my mom loves. He’s young, too—he’s only about twenty seven or so.
I suddenly had this urge to run my fingertips over my nipples. I looked down—they’d gone really hard without me even knowing it. When I touched them, gently, they were sensitive; it was almost like someone had kissed me. I squeezed my legs together and clenched the muscles in my thighs and I swear, this electric shock went through my groin.
I started thinking about Alex Locke brushing his palms softly over my breasts. Now my hands were sliding down my body, cupping my breasts, following the curves of them with my fingertips. I wanted to feel the tender softness of the skin and the way they felt nice and heavy in my hands. A breeze came in through the window and it was like little sparks washing all over my skin.
I knew I was getting wetter between my legs, and I couldn’t decide whether to slide my hands down there or to keep playing with my breasts, because they felt so good. A hungry ache started up in my pussy.
What if it was Alex’s Locke’s hand? Would he be gentle with me? Or hard? Where would he put his hand?
Dude! I thought. You’re fantasizing about someone else while you’re in your boyfriend’s bed! Quit it!
I sat straight up and put the photo face down and turned on the TV. I didn’t care what I watched, as long as it distracted me. I couldn’t concentrate the rest of the night and when I finally fell asleep, I didn’t sleep so well. Too many dreams, I guess.
CHAPTER FIVE
Whenever Mark was finishing a long day shift at Papa Julio’s he’d come and pick me up and drive me straight over to his place. I usually wanted to jump right in the sack with him but he used to say, in this dumb voice: “No, babe. I gotta work out first. If I wait till after I won’t feel like working out.” And he got this look on his face when he said it. I think he was trying to look like the old poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger that he had up on his wall. Arnold was too buff, if you ask me, but he was Mark’s hero.
The Moores had a home gym set up in a big room right next to the pool. Mark loved those weights more than he loved anything. Sometimes more than he loved me, I thought.
That stuff used to make me so mad. But then I realized I could sit by the pool and get some sun and watch him doing his chin ups and push-ups and lifting weights. And without fail, seeing that would get me in the mood. Sometimes I’d make him take his shirt off so I could see the muscles in his back move when he lifted. When lifting all those weights tired him out, he’d strain and sweat and that’s usually when I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to grab him and drag him into the bedroom.
But it was really Alex’s gym and he let Mark use it. Alex was an architect and he’d designed the whole place—including the little guesthouse he stayed in when he was in California, and the gym attached to it. So that’s how Mark could have a whole home gym set up with all that equipment.
I never said anything, but I noticed Mark always had to take weights off the bench after Alex had been working out. And one day Mark and I were sitting out by the pool and Alex came out, and wow.
Alex Locke was hot. He was tan from swimming and he was lean and tall, and he had this tight, tight ass inside his shorts.
He walked out as if he was an Olympic diver, straight-legged but with a cocky little bounce in his knees, almost a swagger. Like he was carrying something heavy and getting ready to throw it off his shoulders. And then he dove into the pool, this smooth, perfect dive, and I blushed watching him come back up and brush the water off his hair. I could almost count the droplets that slid off his pecs. Luckily I was wearing my sunglasses and Mark couldn’t see where I was looking.
Then Michelle came out and I had to look down at my trashy magazine real quick in case she caught me checking out her husband’s business partner. She was wearing a bright red bikini. I hope I look that good when I’m older. I used to think she was a trophy wife, or like a Real Housewife of LA or something. But it turned out she used to be a magazine editor and now she has her own publishing company. Mark told me she doesn’t need the money but she really loves her job.
So I just lay back and let the warm sun soak into my skin and daydreamed about Alex doing another great dive into the pool. The bricks under my banana lounge were all warm from the sunshine and I could feel them heating up my back and relaxing all my muscles.
Alex gave me a smile when he got out. We locked eyes for a second over my sunglasses. Something electric sizzled throu
gh me; something I’d never felt before. For a second I could have sworn he felt it too. But then he turned away and disappeared into the house.
I almost couldn’t breathe, watching him walk away. I’d never felt anything like it before. Excitement was pulsing through my body like I had a fever, in time with my suddenly crazy heartbeat. And I knew that in that moment, Alex could have taken me right there if he wanted to.
*
I woke up the next day after getting turned on by the photo of Alex feeling so weird and so strange that I had to go for a long swim straight away to clear my head. I got into my bikini and jumped in the pool and swam up and down for as long as I could, trying to sort out the feelings rolling over and over in my tummy. I got out and took another long shower, then threw on some underwear and a robe. I made myself a big smoothie with some of Mrs. Moore’s fruits, and then I went to check my email.
You know, I thought, I could go check my email on the computer in the guesthouse. And have a look, just a quick look, to see if there really are any videos on it.
I went bright red just thinking about it.
And then I bolted out to the guesthouse and Alex Locke’s study.
I normally didn’t spend much time in his study—any time at all, really. It was this big, open, airy room with a high ceiling. There was a large painting on the wall. It was this night-time scene of a town with all these lit-up houses up on the hills. It was really beautiful. I think it was an original, but I don’t know who did it. Not one of the really famous painters, like Picasso. But I know Mark never went near it, just in case he knocked it.
Part of me couldn’t believe what I was doing. If I got busted, I was going to be in so much shit.
Hey, there’s still time to go, I thought. I can just leave the room, shut the door, and no one will ever know.
But some inner demon was driving me. Part of it was because Darci had been bugging me about the time I saw the video camera. Part of it was because I’d had such a strong reaction the night before to seeing that photo of Alex.
And part of it was because I wanted to.
I was almost holding my breath when I snuck into the guesthouse and turned the computer on.
Quit being such an idiot, I said to myself. No one’s ever gonna know.
When I opened Google, I saw Alex had saved all the tabs from his last session and they were all still open. I noticed a little new file notification sitting in the DropBox tab... and when I looked, my stomach dropped. Because I saw a video file labeled Private Session 5.
The preview screen for the video was a woman’s face that looked . . . orgasmic. I knew I shouldn’t, but I clicked open.
It took a couple seconds for the video to load. My stomach was churning with a whirlpool mix of worry and anticipation the whole time. Maybe it’s just a video of a friend of Alex’s singing along to some dumb pop song, I thought, but in my heart, I knew it was something more than that.
The video was all dark until someone moved the camera. It looked like it was in a bedroom and the camera was propped up on a pillow. And there was the girl. She looked to be about twenty five. She was gorgeous, with long, flowing dark hair, and porcelain skin. She was wearing a dark green nightie and her tits, big and firm and with puffy round nipples, were falling out the front. She was on her bed, down on all fours with her hair tied back except for a few strands that hung over her face, stuck to her forehead with sweat.
My mouth fell open but my gasp caught in my throat. She was staring straight at the camera, and moaning. I stared at her mouth. There was something hypnotic about her lips about their redness, about their fullness, about the way she pressed them together when he moved out of her, and then opened them, slowly, to groan again, when he slid back in. I couldn’t look away.
“C’mon,” she gasped. “Fuck me. Yeah, fuck me.”
She had an English accent. She bit her lower lip as she moved back and forth. Then she reached out and moved the camera. Now I could see the guy behind her, driving into her—Alex Locke!
He was even more toned than I remembered. He must have really been hitting the weights. His chest was broad and long veins stood out all the way down his big biceps while he fucked the English girl.
“C’mon baby,” he whispered, and a deep, liquid shudder went through my body. It started in my stomach and rolled down into my crotch. I had to breathe out deeply, and I knew if I’d been standing up, I would have had to grab something to steady myself. My whole body had gone so weak. It was like moving through a dream. “Take that dick. You like that dick? God, I love feeling my cock in you.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I stuffed my hand straight down the front of my underwear and slipped two fingers inside myself. I groaned. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I just knew that I was excited, in a way I’d never been before. I was so fucking wet watching Alex fuck that girl, and hearing them talk so dirty to each other.
I spread my legs as wide as I could on the study chair so I could get better access to myself. I rubbed my thumb along my clit and a wave of warmth bloomed up inside me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Alex had leaned over closer to the girl and his hips were pumping out a rhythm that was making the veins stand out in her neck. She looked almost like she was trying to scream but couldn’t get it out. Jesus, he must have been deep inside her. I pressed my feet against the carpet below me. It was thick white pile and it felt good and scratchy against my skin.
Suddenly, I wanted to see what Alex’s dick looked like. I wanted to touch it with my hands, to feel the smooth skin, to suck it, to taste his cock.
“Jesus, Lisa,” Alex Locke breathed on the screen. I froze.
Alex put one hand carefully around her neck and started slamming into her even harder from behind. He bit into one of her earlobes and she groaned right out from the back of her throat.
“Take my cock in your little pussy, Lisa,” he whispered. “I’m gonna cum in your little pussy. You’re gonna feel my cum all up in your little bitch pussy.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. My legs were shaking like tree branches in a windstorm.
It was simultaneously the weirdest and the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I felt like I was breathing in knock-out gas. My whole body felt woozy and like it was just a second behind my brain. I jammed two fingers back into myself and grabbed the desk with my other hand so I could brace against it while I fucked myself. I was making little grunting sounds and straining to hear everything Alex was saying. My underwear got in the way of my movements. For a moment I fumbled at it, my hands shaking and desperate. It wouldn’t move, so I ripped it off and threw it under the desk. I put my fingers back in my pussy. On screen Alex’s face was starting to tense up—he looked like he was getting close to coming.
“Get ready for my fucking load, you little bitch!” he said. I could feel I was right on the verge of coming myself. My muscles were clenching, and waves of rippling pleasure were rolling through my body. My limbs felt like they were slipping out of my control.
“Go on,” I urged, desperate for that moment of release to hit me. “Go on, come in her. Come in her, Alex.”
And that’s when I heard the elevator up from the garage moving.
CHAPTER SIX
“Fuck! Fuck!” I stuttered, frantically trying to close my robe and suck my wet fingers and put my hair back in place and close down the computer. Every time I did something I got halfway through and then remembered something else and changed what I was doing... and then I heard the steel doors to the elevator open.
Somehow I got my robe closed. I ripped the cord out of the computer speakers and opened up my email to hide the video. I tried to calm my heavy breathing. It sounded like a hurricane in my ears. My heart was hammering in my chest like it was trying to bust out through my ribcage. The Moores must have forgotten something they needed for their trip.
OK, I thought, OK. Chill out. Breathe, for fuck’s sake! Control! Just get yourself under control. They might not ev
en come in here.
And if they did, I’d just ask them to give me a minute while I logged off and when they were out of the room I’d erase all the evidence of what I’d been doing.
And when the door to the study opened there he was. Alex Locke. Thank God I had a tan, because I must have blushed like a tomato when I saw him.
He looked like he’d stepped right off the cover of People magazine. He was tall and built like an Olympic swimmer. His jaw was strong and his chestnut hair was cut in a cool, stylish wave. His face was straight-featured and handsome, with clean, even features. His nose, his cheekbones, and his jaw all formed sharp, perfectly angular lines. There was a hint of stubble darkening his cheeks and his chin. He leaned in the doorway, looking a little surprised. There was an easy, effortless elegance and strength in the lines of his stance. His forest-green eyes had widened a little in surprise, but there was still a hint of cool humor behind them.
“Oh, hello,” I said, keeping my voice as light as I could. “Is everything OK with Mrs. Moore’s mom?”
“Hey Lisa,” Alex said, smiling. His voice was deep and smooth, like warm, dark honey dripping from a jar. And that smile. Jesus.
I never noticed he had dimples before! I thought.
Even during summer vacation he dressed like a boss. He was wearing this fitted white shirt that made him look like David Beckham or Roger Federer during a news conference. I was pretty sure he was wearing a Rolex.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said. “I’m not even working, technically. I’m here visiting my folks. But one of my big clients had a meltdown with their systems so I had to come back here and grab some of the new blueprints I’ve been working on. Silly me, I hadn’t uploaded them to the cloud yet.”
He paused and looked at me closely. My stomach did a backflip. Had he heard something?
Unfaithful: An Unlocked Novella Page 3
