Wicked Game

by Michelle Betham

  Dropping my head, I take another second to think about what I’m doing. And then I stop, because thinking too much – questioning, too much …

  “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

  My head shoots up, and he’s there, in the doorway, leaning against the doorpost, his hands in his pockets, handsome and arrogant and I want him so much I can’t take the pain.

  “You knew I’d come.”

  He just raises one eyebrow, very slightly, he doesn’t say anything else, and I walk towards him. The closer I get, the fiercer the attraction, and when he reaches out and slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against him, that fire inside of me burns away, it feels almost out of control.

  “Maybe,” he murmurs, his mouth moving closer to mine, his breath warm on my cheek. And as he kisses me, his fingers dig into my thigh through the thin material of my dress.

  He pulls me over the threshold, closes the door behind him, and I hold onto his hand as I follow him inside, into a huge, open-plan space that seems to encompass the entire ground floor. There’s a large kitchen at one end, a living room that opens out onto a decked area that leads down to the lake, the outside space lit up by lights in the trees and patio heaters so tall their flames shoot upwards, giving the sky around them a faint orange hue. It’s beautiful. Picturesque. This house is stunning, does it also belong to him? How many of these cabins does he own? Just how successful is Joe Millar?

  “Here.”

  His voice startles me slightly, and I look at him as I take the glass of wine he’s holding out for me. “Thank you.”

  I’m nervous. I’m scared. I shouldn’t be here, yet, I want to be. I don’t want to be alone with him because that’s dangerous, but here, amongst all these people, it’s like I have a safety net … given what these parties are, what goes on at them, I really think I’m safer being surrounded by people?

  “Is this place another one of yours?” I ask, taking a small sip of wine, grateful for the small but instant alcohol hit.

  “Yes. It’s another one of mine.”

  “You live here?”

  “Not permanently, no. I don’t really have a permanent base.”

  “Just a lot of extremely expensive luxury cabins dotted around Norway, huh?”

  He throws me a wry smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. “These places – these cabins – they’re my escape.”

  “You call this escaping?” I say, looking around me.

  His eyes lock on mine. “It’s my way. Maybe it can become yours, too.”

  I return his smile, but I say nothing.

  “This world, Kari … these parties – I organise them, I host them, I very rarely take part.”

  “But you do, take part, right? Sometimes?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Always women?”

  The corner of his mouth twists up into a slight smirk, and he digs his hands into his pockets, his eyes never leaving mine. “There are very few rules here, Kari.”

  I let a few beats pass before I speak again.

  “This – what’s happening here, between you and me – how many times has that happened before?”

  “Never.”

  “Not even once?”

  “I’m not in the habit of wrecking marriages.”

  “You wrecked mine.”

  He doesn’t respond to that. He just looks at me, his expression remaining stoic.

  “I still know nothing about you, do I?”

  “There’s not all that much to know.”

  “I think there is.”

  “You know enough, Kari. You know I would never hurt you. Never let anything happen to you, I care about you.”

  “Do you? Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  I still don’t know what to believe. I’ll never be able to trust this man, which is why I shouldn’t be here, he’s hiding something. He knows so much – too much – about me and yet, I know nothing about him, not really. From the very beginning he’s lied, failed to open up, tell me any kind of truth I can believe is real, I shouldn’t be here.

  I turn away from him and walk outside, out onto the decked area. It’s the middle of summer, but there’s still a very slight chill in the air, which is thankfully eradicated by the various patio heaters dotted around, and I stand close to one as I look out over the lake. The silence is a sharp contrast to the noise coming from inside, not many people have ventured out here, so it’s quieter, but I hear someone behind me, and I know it’s him.

  “I’m sorry. Interrogating you – that was never on the agenda.” I don’t look at him, I keep my eyes focused on the lake; on the moon reflected on its almost mirror-like surface.

  “You think we have an agenda?”

  I finally turn my head to look at him as he stands next to me, his hands still in his pockets, his eyes fixed on mine. “Yes. I do.”

  He laughs quietly and briefly drops his gaze. “Okay ...”

  “This was never going to be a relationship, Joe.”

  “I’m falling in love with you, Kari.”

  “No,” I shake my head, he’s lying. “You’re not, how can you be? You don’t know me. And that isn’t why I’m here, I don’t want you to love me. I just want you to sleep with me until I don’t need you anymore. I thought that was the plan.”

  He looks at me, his expression’s dark but there’s something there, something in his eyes I can’t quite make out. “It was.”

  “Then stop talking about love.” I head back inside, finishing the last of my wine as I walk, putting the empty glass down on a nearby table. “I love Noah …”

  I feel his fingers grasp my wrist, swinging me around as he pushes me back against the wall, his hand palm-up beside my head as he leans in to me. “And yet, you’re here. With me.”

  “We all make decisions we regret.”

  Do I regret what I’ve done? A part of me always has. Always will. A part of me questions if I really do still love Noah, the way I used to, because if I did, I know I wouldn’t be here. And that scares me more than anything.

  “I don’t regret a single second of what I’ve done,” he says quietly, and I think I believe him. But I’m not sure how much he has to lose, what this could cost him, my price is high. The risk I’m taking is huge.

  “Then you’re lucky. Because I do.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  I raise my hand, feel his fingers slide between mine, and I look at him. Right at him. But he’s so good at hiding his true emotions, I still don’t know what he’s thinking.

  “You really shouldn’t,” he whispers, and he kisses me, and I close my eyes and give in to everything I should be leaving alone. We’re in a room full of people, and yet, I don’t care. This is his world, and it’s where I need to be, until I’m done with him. Over him. Then I’ll walk away.

  He squeezes my hand, gently bites down on my lip as he kisses me harder, his fingers running lightly over my thigh; my hip. He tugs at my underwear and I pull away from him, just slightly. I nod. It’s okay, he can do this, I want it, too. Whatever it turns out to be. The second he touches me I already know he’s got me. He had me a long time ago, I can’t fight him.

  Am I really that weak?

  Yes.

  I’m that weak …

  He grasps the top of my thigh, and as he did that very first night, when we fucked for my husband, he gently runs his thumb over my labia, barely applying any pressure but I can feel him, touching me, and as he does that I keep my gaze fixed on his. The attraction is electric, sweeping over me with a speed that’s breathtaking, even though it’s always there, beneath the surface. But when it rises up, like this, it’s utterly shocking. Because it makes me realise why I’m here. Why I’m risking everything, to be with this man. A man I’m sure has secrets; a past he doesn’t want to talk about, and I don’t really want to know it. Nothing personal. Nothing that can make this anything more than I want it to be, I don’t need to know anything about him. Sex. Fucking. That’s all this is.
>
  I’m aware of the noise surrounding us; the people around us, we’re anything but alone. And then I remember just what these parties are, if others are watching that’s fine. I’m okay with that, it makes it all less personal, doesn’t it? Being alone with him scares me, but being here, amongst all these people, I’m all right. I’m good.

  Because it makes me feel less guilty?

  Am I seriously going to believe that?

  No. No, I’m not, but what he’s doing to me …

  “We can go somewhere quieter,” he murmurs, his mouth almost touching mine, but I shake my head. That isn’t what I want, I don’t want to be alone with him.

  “I don’t want to go anywhere else,” I whisper. “Let’s stay here.”

  “Okay …” His face breaks into a slow smile, and I take hold of his wrist and pull his hand away from me. I just want to look at him for a second. I want him to stare deep into my soul, make me understand why I’m doing this. Why I’m here.

  Who am I now?

  Who have I turned into …?

  He reaches out, places a hand on my hip and he pulls me against him. He kisses me, and I want to be in control so fucking much, but I’m not. He touches me, and he saps any power I did have left right out of me. He kisses me, and I lose everything. He makes me so weak I hate myself.

  Lifting me up onto the counter he pulls my underwear off, pushes my legs apart, he’s inside me before I can take another breath. He slides his hand up under my dress, presses his palm against my breast and I throw back my head and wrap my legs tight around him.

  “This can become addictive, remember?” he murmurs, his mouth catching mine in a kiss that sends a shot of electricity coursing through me, tearing up my spine, like I’ve just been given a dose of something beautiful yet toxic. And I know how exposed I am, almost naked in a room full of people; having sex, in a room full of people, and for the briefest of moments I wonder how I got here, to this place. And then I remember, what my husband did.

  He slept with another woman.

  I slept with another man.

  We killed us …

  I pull Joe’s hand from my breast, let my dress fall back down over my naked body, I want to at least try and stay in control of this, as much as I can. I take his hand, I hold it tight as he continues to fuck me, squeezing it hard as I feel my body start to react; crying out as I come. I bury my face in his shoulder, my fingers digging into him as he holds me; as he comes, too, I feel him, taking me over.

  My knees are weak, my heart’s racing so fast it hurts, every cliché in the fucking book is happening, and I hate it. It’s beautiful. It’s wrong. But I want it. I want him. He’s my escape, one I didn’t even know I needed, until now.

  As everything starts to slow down I squeeze his fingers tight, letting go of him only when I feel his body leave mine. I open my eyes and I look at him, I really do want this man so much it’s terrifying. Or is it this I want, not him?

  I wrap my legs back around him and he pulls me against him, we just hold each other, an oddly intimate gesture seeing as we’ve just fucked in a room full of people, but it’s also strangely comforting.

  “Stay here, tonight,” he murmurs into my hair as he kisses the top of my head. “Please.”

  Another oddly intimate gesture, given the circumstances, and I scrunch his shirt up between my fingers, my hands balling up into fists as I stay there in his arms, breathing him in. I shouldn’t feel safe here, but I do. And I think that’s a dangerous thing to feel, when I’m with Joe. Safe.

  “Okay,” I whisper. I don’t think I had any intention of going back to my rented home, not tonight. Despite everything I’d promised myself.

  No spending the night.

  No staying over.

  No getting too close …

  Too late …?

  He gently rests his hand against the side of my neck, tilting my head back slightly, and he looks at me. He kisses me. And I hate him and want him all over again, and I know it’s wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

  “But this party isn’t over yet. Right?” I smile, I’m trying to break the mood, the intensity isn’t something I can cope with for too long.

  “No.” He returns my smile. He gets it, I hope. “No, it isn’t.”

  Disentangling myself from his arms, I step away from him. I need a distraction, I need something other than him, just to lessen this crazy intensity. I need to put a lid on this insane attraction, for a little while, and I look around me. I watch people chatting. Dancing. People kissing, touching; having sex, while all around them the party goes on.

  “Kari …”

  “Can I be on my own, Joe? Please? Just for a bit?”

  I don’t wait for his answer, I walk away, further into the room. I find an empty couch near a hallway that I’m assuming leads to the bathroom – or one of them, anyway – and possibly bedrooms, too, I don’t know. I didn’t ask Joe for the guided tour. I sit down on the couch and take a second to breathe, to look out around me again, and I still can’t believe how much has changed – how much I’ve changed – since I found out about Noah’s betrayal. His betrayal … and what am I doing? I’m betraying him, too, because an eye for an eye is always the way to deal with this shit, right?

  “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  I feel someone sit down next to me and I turn to look at them. She’s exceptionally pretty, the woman who’s making herself comfortable beside me. Her blonde hair falls just below her bare shoulders, pushed back off her face to expose bright blue eyes, and when she smiles at me it’s a genuinely friendly smile.

  “My name’s Inger, by the way.”

  She throws me another, slightly wider smile, and I return it.

  “I’m Kari.”

  “Good to meet you, Kari.”

  I drop my gaze, watching as she slowly crosses her long legs, is she flirting with me? And then I remember where I am. What kind of party this is. And I feel a small rush of excitement kick up inside me, which is quickly battered down. I’m just reacting to a situation, but then again, haven’t I always fantasised about touching another woman?

  And look what happened last time I let a fantasy become reality.

  Look at the trouble it caused.

  Haven’t I fantasised about being touched by another woman?

  Never a man.

  Never, ever another man …

  “I saw you, just now. With Joe.”

  “Saw me…?” I frown.

  “People watch, Kari.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “Do you know him well? Joe?”

  “Do you?”

  I think that may have sounded just a little too defensive there, but I’m new to this.

  She laughs quietly, and I take a quick look around, try to find Joe, but I can’t see him anywhere.

  “I’ve known Joe for a while, yes. I started out as a hostess, mainly working his larger parties, the ones he usually holds at one of his bigger, more spacious homes. Parties like this one, they’re always a little more, well, intimate. I think people have less inhibitions here, probably because they’re usually surrounded by friends.”

  I want to know if she’s slept with him, and then I inwardly scold myself for even thinking that. I don’t care who he’s slept with, remember? It doesn’t matter.

  Doesn’t it?

  “I haven’t known him that long,” I say, holding her gaze, because the vibe she’s sending out … I don’t know. Am I reading her right? Do I want to? “I guess you could say we were thrown together, and we just took it from there.”

  She smiles again, and it still reaches her eyes. “It’s good to see him enjoying himself, after everything that happened.”

  Everything that happened?

  What happened, exactly …?

  I want to ask those questions, but I don’t. It’s none of my business.

  Sex only, remember?

  The less personal we get, the easier it’s going to be to walk away from this w
hen we’re done.

  I’ve got this all worked out, haven’t I?

  She lets a few beats pass before she speaks again. “Anyway, he’s moved on now. He’ll be fine, he always is. Joe doesn’t let shit get to him.”

  Moved on from what?

  “And that’s enough about Joe. What about you? I can tell from your accent that you’re not local.”

  I don’t want to talk about myself, I don’t want to tell anyone anything about myself. It’s nobody’s business, I’m here for a reason, even if that reason is becoming more and more blurred as each day passes.

  “I’m from the UK. I’m just here for a couple of weeks.”

  “On holiday, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  She senses I don’t want this conversation, and I’m guessing that’s because anonymity is probably a big thing around here. Something a lot of people possibly want to cling onto, even amongst friends.

  “Well, it was good to meet you, Kari. Maybe we can catch up again later?”

  “Yes. Maybe.”

  Inger throws me one final smile before she gets up and heads over to the kitchen, and I watch her walk away. Watch the way her hips sway slightly, the lime-coloured dress she’s wearing clinging to every curve, and I feel that surge of excitement rise up again. I want to touch myself, and think about her, not Joe. Thinking about Inger seems harmless, while thinking about Joe … And then she glances back over her shoulder, our eyes meet, and I think the message is pretty clear now.

  We’ll catch up again, later.

  Definitely.

  Who the hell am I …?

  I stand up and head down the hallway in search of the bathroom. I find it, close the door behind me, flick the lock, and as I lean back against the wall I slide a hand up under my dress and I touch myself. I lean over the counter and spread my legs, I’m so wet it’s crazy! And as I look up, into the mirror in front of me, I watch as I bring myself off, biting down on my lip as my body shudders to a beautiful, silent climax, but it’s Joe’s name that falls from my lips. Joe’s name. Nobody else’s …