Forbidden - A Story of Love, BDSM and Infidelity

Forbidden –
A Story of Love, BDSM and Infidelity
Copyright © 2015 by Andi
Madden

All rights reserved. Smashwords
Edition. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations
in a book review.

Prologue

Jules

I am not that kind of woman. I am married,
loved, cared for. I love my husband. I have no right to want more,
no right to desire something else,
someone
else. A desire
like that should be forbidden, should not be lived out.

But he, Tom, knew. He
knew
what I
wanted, what I craved. He knew what we both wanted from one
another. He can give me the pleasure I crave. The kind of pleasure
my husband can’t give me because he loves me too much.

So I submit to the forbidden.

Chapter One

Tom

I brushed my hand through my hair and
adjusted my tie, admitting to myself that I was nervous. I was on
time to pick up my date for dinner at the Miller’s.

For dinner with Jules.

Finally, a chance to meet her face to face,
a chance to shake her hand, hear her talk, listen to her thoughts
and opinions.

Maybe once I meet her, my odd obsession with
the town’s veterinarian’s wife would be gone.

Ever since I’d first seen her, running
around town doing her grocery shopping, I couldn’t get her pointed
face and the shape of her body out of my mind. How she’d quietly
talked to a friend on the street, her starched blouse tugged in,
the sensible skirt hugging her hips. How her breasts had moved
beneath her blouse. That ass. Her demure body language.

How she kept her gaze to the ground.

Why I couldn’t shake the absolute certainty
that she was a submissive.

I was crazy.

If she knew my thoughts, she would be beyond
creeped out. But I wasn’t going to act on my strange feelings,
wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable. I’d never touched a woman
who wasn’t a willing participant. But I would take a good, long,
hard look at her.

How she reacted to me.

Her husband was a nice guy, so I’d heard.
Well respected, well off. And I had no intentions whatsoever to
take his place.

I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, wife or a
random fuck with a hot, married woman who walked, talked, dressed
like she hadn’t been fucked well and good in forever.

No, I was looking for someone
special
.

I was looking for someone to teach, dominate
and control. Someone who begged for pain, cruelty and punishment at
my hands. Someone who begged for my hard cock down her throat,
hands tied, leashed.

I was looking for a willing, eager
submissive.

And tonight, I’d find out if that someone
was Jules.

Chapter Two

Jules

Tom. Such a simple, short name for a man so
intriguing, I thought, and closed the door behind our dinner
guests. I felt hot, flushed for some reason.

I turned around to my husband, said, “That
was an interesting night, wasn’t it? That Tom guy…what do you think
of him?”

“
Well, pleasant enough,
very polite,” Christopher replied as he cleared up their guest’s
wine glasses off the dining table. “Is Susan dating him
seriously?”

“
It’s more casual she
said.”

I watched my husband, as I love to do. His
quiet, steady demeanor, the laugh lines around his eyes that never
quite smoothed out.

My husband wasn’t an intriguing man. I
didn’t think anyone had ever thought that about him. He was a solid
man, with capable hands and a warm heart who was a vet during the
day and cooked dinner for his friends and his wife at night.

I loved him to death.

I wondered if it would be weird bringing up
Tom again.

“
He gave me his card, you
know,” I said. “Before he left with Susan. Said he was considering
selling his house. He lives up on Alder Lane, beautiful property,
Susan told me.”

“
Susan would now, gossip
queen that she is,” Christopher said with a quick glance. “I saw
you two whispering in the kitchen. What was that about?”

I waved my hand. “Just girl talk.” I
laughed, but uneasiness crept up my spine. “She told me that she’s
trying to get him more interested in her, but that he’s very
guarded. She heard that he’s into really kinky stuff so she was
curious about dating him.”

I laughed to cover up how nervous I was.
“She told me that she is trying to get him into bed and he resists
her attempts. Isn’t that funny?”

Christopher paused, catching my gaze. “Kinky
stuff?”

“
You know, bondage, rough
sex. She said he’s a dominant, whatever that means.” I knew exactly
what it meant, and my heart beat in my throat.

“
I see,” my husband said
slowly. “And you were fascinated by that?”

“
Not really,” I lied. My
words hung in the air between us, and suddenly I felt cold and hot
at the same time.

“
And he gave you his
card?”

I nodded. I couldn’t shake the words that
Susan had whispered in my ear, what she’d said about Tom, about
his…sexual pasttimes. “I might give him a call tomorrow to arrange
a viewing of the house.”

My husband nodded, then made his way
upstairs to the bedroom. “I’m beat, honey. You coming too?”

“
In a minute, yes,” I
replied.

I grabbed my wine glass, drained the
remainder.

Alone, I gave myself permission to look at
Tom’s card with his address.

“
Call me,” he’d said. “Or
text. Let’s have coffee to discuss if it’s a good time to sell.”
His gaze had lingered, dark, stern, the corners on his mouth
slightly upturned, until I couldn’t meet his gaze
anymore.

He wasn’t a tall man, but still taller than
me, and he was built like a bull with wide shoulders and a barrel
chest. His handshake had been firm, warm, a moment too long.

My face had turned hot. No idea why. He was
just a guy looking for a real estate agent, shouldn’t feel awkward.
Selling houses was my job.

I crumbled up the card in my hand, tossed it
aside, and then followed my husband to the bedroom.

Christopher was in bed already, lights were
out. I quickly brushed my teeth, undressed and slipped into bed
with him. He drew me into his arms and I tried to relax against his
chest.

I stared into the dark, my heart beating in
my throat. Christopher knew what went on in my head, what I
couldn’t stop thinking about. But we didn’t talk about it, avoiding
to address what sometimes hung between us like the cloud that it
was.

For our love was sweet and kind and gentle.
We didn’t fuck, we truly made love. My husband was a selfless
lover, skillful with his fingers, his tongue. And I loved
everything about him. But after three years of being blissfully
married, he knew, he
knew
that there was a dark side to me,
sexually.

He knew that I loved it rough, but that he
did not. He knew that I’d once ask him to choke me, just a little
bit, but that he simply could not do that to me. That I’d once
asked him, after a drunken night out, if he’d tie me up, rough me
up. He’d done it, but I had sensed his discomfort and he’d been
unable to climax.

The next morning had been tense and awkward
and neither him nor me had ever spoken about it again.

“
I love you,” my husband
said and pressed a kiss against my neck. “And I always will, no
matter what.”

“
No matter what?” I
repeated, closing my eyes, a feeling in the pit of my stomach as if
the floor had given away beneath me.

“
Always.”

Chapter Three

Tom

Three days.

Three days until she had texted me, asking
for a quick chat over coffee, if I was I still interesting in
selling my house.

No, I wasn’t.

But fuck, I was interested in her.

But it had taken her three days to text him,
damn. I had hoped she wouldn’t be able to resist. It had been no
accident that her friend Susan had given her some saucy information
about me.

I had counted on it.

And after seeing her in her own house, I was
even more convinced that she was the girl for me. My new pet to
handle, to teach, while giving her exactly what she wanted—a mutual
agreement of dominance and submission.

And I wanted her to fully know what I liked,
what I was. Not your normal lover, not the man who will cuddle
after I come down your throat.

I was the man who will tell her that she’s a
good girl and then give her what she wanted most. A man who will
dominate her, push her, control her, tell her what to do, fuck her
hard.

Her master.

Chapter Four

Jules

I took a seat in the coffee shop where Tom
had agreed to meet me.

Just real estate talk, I told myself. Just
about his house. I couldn’t afford the chance to pocket a
commission that big.

At least that’s what I told myself.

In truth, I had been unable to get Susan’s
words out of my head. Unable to get his rugged face out of my mind.
The dark hair that was cut short and neat. His square hands with
long fingers. The way he had almost said nothing at the dinner
table but had still felt so present, so domineering of the
conversation.

How the other guests had sought out his
thoughts. How his voice had sounded—dark and quiet and
authoritative.

How he’d looked at me across the table, his
eyes seeking mine. A dark gaze I was unable to hold for longer than
a second.

How I had the feeling that all of his
attention had been on me the whole time until I had all but
vibrated with inner tension.

“
Hi, Jules,” Tom said,
sliding on the chair across from me. “I see you brought me
brochures?”

“
Yes,” I said, blood
rushing to my face, glad that he was oblivious to my thoughts. “To
give you an idea of the current market.”

I clutched my marketing material to my chest
as if it could protect me from the nervousness that had exploded
inside of me after seeing him.

He took it out of my hands, his fingers
brushing over my breasts.

“
Thanks,” he said, seeking
my gaze. “But that’s not why I came.”

I lowered my gaze to escape the intensity of
his face and played with the sugar packets in front of me. that I’d
made a mistake in meeting him, then registered what he’d said.

I looked up again. “Not why you came? So
you’ve decided against selling you home?”

“
You know why I am
here.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I think there’s
been a—“

“
If I’d ask you if you
prefer the touch of a riding crop or a whip between your legs, what
would you say?”

All air went out of me. Did he really just
ask me that? I stared at him, noting how incredibly relaxed he
seemed. I curled my hands around the edges of the table to ground
myself, and rose slowly to my feet.

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, to go
fuck himself but all I could was shake my head, my heart beating in
my throat.

He rose to his feet, leaned toward my face
and whispered in my ear, “You know,” he said quietly. “You know
what we both want from one another.”

“
What?” I replied, knowing
what he meant but not ready to admit it.

He gave me a stroke across the cheek. “I
will give you the pleasure you crave,” he said. “The kind of
pleasure your husband can’t give you because he loves you too
much.”

“
No, I can’t do this,” I
whispered, but my eyes closed shut at the feeling of his hands
closing hard around my wrists.

“
But if you decide that you
can,” he said, “you’ll show up on my doorstep Thursday night. And
I’ll play with you
exactly
like you want it.”