by Liz Crowe
“I’m gonna go. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Uh, sure. Okay.” A sick sensation hit his gut. Had she been at the strip mall where Margot’s office was located? Today? She knew his therapy schedule better than he did. “Did you—” But for the second time inside an hour, a woman he cared about hung up on him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, preparing to toss the damn phone onto the counter and take a cold shower. It buzzed again. Aiden this time. That strange, alarm-bell sound hit his brain, accompanied by a tingling all up and down his spine. “What?” he yelled into the thing as he walked down the hall, already figuring out ways to get out of the conversation.
“Hey, um…” The other man hesitated, pissing Antony off.
“What the hell is it? I just got off the phone with Rosie and she’s pullin’ some kinda PMS emotional crap on me and AliceLynn is being a pill. I’m not in the mood right now, Leonardo.”
“Sure. Right. Sorry.”
There was a strange, overly long silence between them. Antony set the phone on his dresser, putting it on speaker so he could strip out of his clothes. “So what is it?” The tingling had returned, making him antsy.
“Nothing. Just wondering…about…uh…”
“Christ in a sidecar, spit it out.” But something in him just knew at that moment what his subconscious had figured out a few weeks ago. He shoved it away, unwilling to acknowledge or confront how very bizarre his life had become, ever since his wandering bookworm of a baby brother had returned to town. He glared down at the phone, then up into the mirror, noting that his now-naked body had not crawled down off the horny ledge. “I gotta go. Bye.” He ended the call, unwilling to let the onrushing fury at what was right in front of him between his fiancée and Aiden take up residence in his brain.
He washed his hair and body, not giving into the urge to do something about the ever growing, gut-churning need to fuck something. He didn’t even allow himself an overly enthusiastic wash down there, lest he engage in a quick jack off. No. He wouldn’t. It was…he groaned and leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, realizing he’d been about to launch into one of Crystal’s favorite fantasies—where she made him go without sex for a solid week, forbidding him to even touch his penis for any reason other than to piss or clean it. Demanding to watch him while he washed and reaching out to pinch him hard if he got too enthusiastic with that activity.
The weekend sessions they’d get up to after those weeks were epic.
He turned and leaned back against the tiles, cranking the hot water over to cold, yelling when it slammed into his skin, not to mention his erection. Unfortunately, it only helped a little, so he got out, toweled off, and flopped onto the bed, reaching down to just take care of the damn thing and get some sleep. After a few minutes of effort he had to acknowledge that it was no use. He was into the space, as he used to think of it. That special, quiet corner of his own brain where he could retreat and let Crystal take over.
He rolled over onto his stomach with a groan and willed his brain quiet. He must have slept because when he woke with a grunt, the bedside clock glowed a green ‘1:15’. He put his feet on the floor, noting that he still had a half-woody and a raging headache. The storm had returned and lightning flickered nearly constantly as he made his way to the kitchen for water and aspirin. Something about the crack of thunder and the sharp sparkle of nearby strikes made him smile, even as it raised the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.
Feeling somewhat better, he turned around just as a thunderclap so loud it made his ears ring ripped the air. He saw her then, in the next white, electric flash, but just for a second. The air smelled hot and he wondered if something had been hit. Then he heard her strike a match and watched as she touched it to the single candle. His knees shook when he met her calm, blue gaze. She rose to her feet and walked up to him, bringing the candle with her. The sweet smells of leather, wax and lust filled every corner of his conscious mind.
“You…”
“Shh…” She put a finger to her lips, then to his. That finger slid down his cheek, neck, across his bare shoulder and down his arm until it found his hand. She took it and led him down the hall to his bedroom. “Sit.”
He did, relishing the cool sheets against his hot, completely bare skin. She put the blindfold on him and gave him a small push. He dropped onto his back and sighed with relief, willing to go with this, if for no other reason than to maybe get her out of his system. The first drop of wax hit his torso, making him hiss with pleasure. She stayed silent, and he sank deeper into his zone, dick rigid and aching, his body tensed and ready for her orders.
After a while, he had no idea how long—he’d been known to zone out for hours—he realized she’d left the room. “Margot,” he called out, his throat clogged from disuse.
“Yes,” she said from somewhere nearby.
“I need…” He stopped.
“I know what you need, Antony. You don’t have to tell me. The problem is, I can’t give it to you as much as I want to.” She took both his wrists and drew them up over his head, fastening them together with metal cuffs. He had to repress the urge to come without even being touched. But then she started touching, working her way up his legs, kneading, stroking, fondling, caressing with her fingers, her lips and her tongue. His hips moved, thrusting up, making him gasp and fight the restraints.
She ended by straddling him high up on his chest, making his mouth water with the smell of her. “Take these off,” he growled, rattling the metal against his wrists.
“No,” she said, putting her finger on his lips which he parted, so she could slip it between his teeth. “No talking.” She slid down then, bringing her warmth against his, settling there and moving slow and steady, making him groan.
“Please,” he whispered. “Oh my god, Margot. Please, let me…”
A whooshing sound filled his head, familiar, yet not, at the same time. His heart was pounding so hard it scared him. Something about her was so very much the same and yet different from Crystal. And this scene, while familiar, was also terrifying in its difference.
“I won’t let you come yet, Antony,” she said as she got up and disappeared, leaving him panting with his dick leaking onto his belly, his wrists raw from pulling against the metal. “Not until you tell me something.”
He smelled the match again and took a long breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me…how you like it.”
He paused and then smiled. “I like it however you like it.”
“Good answer. Now, tell me how I like it.”
Her voice was low and husky. He could still smell her—the richness of a woman so ready for him, so perfect for him it rolled off her in waves. It was something he’d gone without for so long he thought he’d forgotten its sweetness.
“You like it rough. You want to ride me, to come on me, and then you want me to…to…” He stopped, grasping how important this moment was on a very primal level.
“Yes, go on…” She was closer now. Antony licked his lips.
“You want me to fuck you from behind,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Is that it? Margot?” He heard her sigh and sensed the candle near his flesh again. “Yes. Please,” he begged. She obliged him, leaving more stinging drops of wax on his belly and thighs.
The soft, cool space enveloped him once more and for a second he was afraid he might have lost control of himself. But then she freed his hands and straddled him, taking him inside her so fast he gasped and gripped her hips, biting the inside of his cheek and mentally replaying baseball stats to keep from blowing in seconds.
Her nipples were huge, rich tasting and obviously a trigger for her because when he sucked one, she cried out his name, digging her fingers into his shoulders and came so hard it hurt. But he liked to hurt. He grinned and tugged off the blindfold, pushing her up and off even as she was still pulsing around him.
She stood and wobbled a bit, lit from t
he single candle and the still flashing lightning. He jumped up and grabbed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth as he gripped her ass. She wrapped her long, firm body around his and he felt himself sliding sideways, not caring that he was here, fucking a woman who was not the one he was engaged to, and loving every single sweaty minute of it. She tasted so damn good, he could kiss her all night.
She broke from him, her eyes shining in the dim room. “What was it you said I wanted?”
Even though he wanted to go on kissing her, as the realization that he was going bareback, with the distinct niggling sensation that it was probably a Bad Idea to do so, he flipped her around so she could grip the dresser and shoved into her. Holding on tight to her hips, he did as she commanded, fucking her hard, harder, grunting with the effort not to come.
She did that amazing orgasm thing, clutching his dick so tight he went up on his tiptoes and cried out with her, even though he didn’t come. He’d had some practice at this and discovered it was sort of a ‘bike riding, muscle memory’ thing. She calmed and he pulled her up so he could kiss her neck and lap up the sweat on her shoulders, even as their bodies stayed connected.
“Antony,” she whispered as her fingers twined in his hair. “Oh, god, Antony. I…I’m…”
“Shh,” he said, pulling out and turning her around so he could hold her close. She was so much taller than Crystal or Rosie, it was a completely new sensation but something about her fit him, body and soul. She was shaking, so he tilted her chin up and kissed her again, starting soft and slow, licking her lips and tasting every single corner of them and finally going deep, holding her so close he didn’t know where he ended and she began. “I need to be inside you, deep, deep inside you Margot. May I? Please?”
“Yes,” she hissed as he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. And then he was there, inside her glorious, warm and perfect body, even before they dropped onto the bed. She lifted her hips and he propped up on his hands, staring down at her as their bodies moved slowly, then faster, and then faster still. When he finally did come, it was perfect but not, at the same time. Something in his chest seemed to burst open as his hips kept moving and his breathing came in short, scary gasps. His throat closed, and his eyes burned.
Margot held him, wiping his face. It was odd, realizing that he was sobbing—something he’d not done even while staring at his wife’s ruined face or at the closed box of her casket. He cried so hard now, his entire body hurt with the effort. Margot held him and finally he slept, cradled against her chest.
A slamming door woke him and he cursed, realizing that AliceLynn must be home. The clock read nine a.m. and he remembered she had a lunch shift at the pub. He poked Margot’s leg. “Hey, um, we might have a problem.”
She struggled to sit up, the sheet clutched to her. At that moment, his bedroom door flew open so hard he’d have to repair the drywall divot the next day. AliceLynn stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him and at the obviously naked woman who was not his fiancée, lying next to him in bed.
Chapter Nine
The sound of the slamming front door forced Margot out of her stupor. Antony must have been similarly disabled but he finally launched himself out of bed and into the hall. She could hear him yelling, about the same time she heard the loud screech of tires that signaled AliceLynn had escaped.
She flopped back onto the pillow with a groan. When Antony reappeared in the doorway, naked and tempting, all she could manage was to frown and climb out from the warm nest of sheets and blankets and brush past him.
He moved aside without a word. She located the dress she’d been wearing when she’d snuck into his house in the middle of the night with nothing on underneath, knowing full well what she wanted and intended to do. Her head ached and her mouth was dry and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into the man’s bed and never leave. But this was a one-off and it was time to make sure he understood that.
A hand on her hip as she was leaning over to grab her shoes made her yelp and stumble, sending her shin into the coffee table. She tottered, before landing with a thud on her ass. Wincing, she pulled the metal cuffs out from under her butt and let them dangle from her fingers.
“Wow, walk much?” Antony’s grin made her furious. Why in the hell had she done this? She’d turned into the ‘other woman’, something she’d sworn she’d never do having been victim of one herself. He held out a hand. She glared at it, noting he’d put on jeans and nothing else.
“What are you smiling about?” She pushed herself up without his assistance, snagged her shoes and stomped into the kitchen. After drinking two glasses of water, she stood facing away from him, her knees shaking and her heart already breaking. When she turned, she saw him sitting, staring at her. “This was just…this once. All right? I’m moving back to Michigan just so you know. I’m in the process of handing my patients over to a colleague. I can’t be here, not anymore. So…” She held out both hands, at a loss for words in the face of his intense gaze.
He rose and took the few steps between them in one, gathering her close. She stayed still, unwilling to allow herself this moment. She didn’t deserve it. Once he figured out she wasn’t reciprocating, he let go but kept his hands on her shoulders. Tears spilled down her cheeks, pissing her off.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his low gruff voice soft and soothing.
She shook her head and wiped her face. “Not your fault. It’s mine. I let myself… I don’t know, connect with you or something. I don’t understand it even though I wrote an entire fucking doctoral dissertation on it.” She met his gaze again. He looked so at ease, calm in a way she’d never seen him before and she knew that on one level, she’d read him correctly. That left one, tiny problem. “What do we do about…Rosie?”
Antony blew out a breath and sat down, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll talk to her,” he declared, squaring his shoulders for a moment before slumping and looking defeated. “Thing is, I’m not a hundred percent sure that she’s not doing the same thing with my little brother.”
Margot blinked, combing her memory banks for any clue she might have caught and filed away. “Rosie and Aiden …” She bit her lip when his face clouded and his dark brows knit together.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure but something about the two of them…oh fuck who am I to talk?” He glared up at her. Her heart raced. “Why did you come here anyway if you’re just gonna…leave?” His briefest of hesitations gave her all sorts of ridiculous, impossible hope.
“Because we needed closure before I move away for good.” She heard the strength in her voice and wished she actually believed in it.
“Ah, well, so glad I could provide you with your goddamned closure.” He used the word in such a way that it sounded as stupid a she felt for saying it. “Thanks for the fuck, doll. See ya ‘round.” He got up and walked calmly out of the kitchen, leaving her with her mouth hanging open and too many unsaid words choking her throat. Her feet moved of their own accord and she found herself standing in his bedroom doorway, watching as he tugged on a T-shirt.
“You can’t throw that at me and then walk out of the room,” she said, using her best calm therapy voice.
“Really,” he said, facing her and leaving her breathless with her newfound knowledge of his incredible body. “This from the woman who broke into my house in the middle of the night, sat waiting for me in my kitchen and then took what she needed from me, only to inform me that she’s ‘moving back to Michigan’, conveniently enough, after my daughter caught me in bed with her.”
“I’m pretty sure I provided you with something you wanted.” Her face warmed as anger rose at his assumptions about what she’d done.
You did want him, you shameless bitch, her inner nag reminded her. She shook her head.
“Yeah, well, I’ll say it again: ‘thanks and see ya.’ I think you know where the door is, right?” He shoved past her, giving her a distinct whiff of seriously pissed off, yet turned on, male. She shivered an
d set her jaw against the urge that nearly blinded and deafened her to grab him and drag him into the bedroom so she could top the cocky asshole the way he really wanted her to.
But he was right. She should go. Taking a long, hopefully calming breath, she walked into the kitchen and nearly plowed right into him. “Shit, get out of my way already.” She shifted to one side. He mirrored her, making her scalp tingle but pissing her off at the same time. “What?” She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from yanking him close.
“I…” He stopped and put his hands on his hips.
“Spare me your compliments. I know I’m good. Now please excuse me.”
“Wait,” he said, holding out a hand. She moved out of his reach. “I don’t want to just…”
She sighed and closed her eyes for a split second then opened them. “Listen, Antony, you don’t have to apologize or explain or anything. I did this. I initiated it on purpose. But I’m leaving, for good, because we can’t … do this again.”
“I know.” He slumped in the kitchen doorway, looking so lost and miserable it killed her. “I asked Rosie to move the wedding up.”
She frowned. “When did you do that?”
“After that night at the hospital, remember?” He looked up at her, his face a mask of agonized panic.
She felt herself sag so she dropped into a chair. “Oh, right. Shit.” She watched as he pulled the milk jug out of the fridge and took a long drink from it. The intense, overpowering desire to be here, with him—truly with him in this house and this kitchen—made her almost double over in pain. “Nice,” she said mildly as he emptied the thing and tossed it into the sink.
“Whatever,” he muttered and leaned on the closed fridge door. “I do love her.”
“I know you do.” Margot leaned forward on her elbows, feeling all sorts of cheap, easy and stupid. “So, Aiden is…” She stopped, words drying up in her mouth.
“Fucking my fiancée? Very possibly.”
