High-Risk Fever (8 page)

Micaela’s hot, quick breaths heated the fabric of her skirt. He moaned, and the rumble resonated inside her. His groin hardened against her knees, the erection evident. With one strong hand on her butt, he moved underneath her skirt with the other and stroked up her inner thigh until meeting the wet panties.

Gasping again from the sharp rush of desire, she spread her legs like a cheap whore and allowed his fingers to explore her innermost secret and precious place. She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and followed each of Micaela’s teasing moves. His fingers not only crept inside her panties like thieves, but took possession of every sensitive part of her pussy. No doubting his experience. One by one, he parted her thick folds, explored the inner lips, and trailed the tingling skin approaching her clit.

She whimpered from sharp lust. Her breathing hitched, and her juices ran as she anticipated the bolt of lightning that would soon rush to her womb.

But instead of touching her tiny point of nerves, he went back with slow, precise movements and stopped at the entrance of her cunt, lingering. What a tease! She grunted impatience. The hard cock pressing against her knees left no question about the effort it took for him to wait.

Unwilling to cooperate, she pushed forward, pressing her cunt against his fingers. Two slid in, and she jerked her head back with a small cry of satisfaction as they grazed her inner walls. A new, intense wave of heat washed over her. Her muscles contracted around his hard fingers, demanded to be invaded, conquered, brought to another world.

He chuckled into her lap. “You so wet. So hot.”

Her eyes flew open. She’d forgotten other sounds existed in life than ragged breaths and moans.

With a rumble in his throat, he removed his warm hand from her panties and let her skirt fall. Cold air brushed the insides of her thighs, replacing moist heat as he backed off, though his other hand stayed curled on her butt cheek, each finger deep in her skin, as if he didn’t want to let go quite yet.

Why did he move away? She peeked down at the same time as he looked up.

His dark, mischievous eyes met hers, long locks hanging in his face. He grinned and shook his hair back before opening his mouth and placing glistening fingers on his pink tongue, holding her gaze with a gleam of naughtiness. God, he was such a tease, wrapping those sexy lips around his digits and sucking!

She prepared for a new round of seduction when he frowned, took his fingers out, and stared at them. Suspicion marring his features, he shot her a glance before sniffing his hand.

Her chest tightened. What was wrong, did she smell? Due to the power loss, she hadn’t been able to shower this morning, but she had washed with a cloth and soapy water. Surely that had to be good enough.

He looked up again, black eyes hardening. “Why you so wet?”

Wet? She was so engulfed in desire, it took a moment to comprehend his words.

Then it dawned on her.
Oh mon Dieu
. She was wet because Brian had come inside her in the cellar.

Before Anne could think of something to say, Micaela took his other hand away from her butt. The chair’s legs grazed the floorboards with a loud, scorching sound that seemed to accentuate his sudden anger and create distance between them.

“You been busy.” Glaring, he rose.

“No, wait.” She was taken aback. An inexplicable frustration built inside, squeezing her heart and making her head spin. “But, my husband….”

“So?”

“H-how can you be angry?”

“You have problem to see I like you?”

At a loss for words, she shook her head.

“Is obvious, no?”

“Y-yes, but—”

“Maybe I don’t want to
share
you, you know?”

“Share me?” She began to see the kind of person he was. A proud man, easily jealous, acting on his emotions without thinking. “But Micaela, I’m married! You’re not making sense.”

“Fuck.” His talking provoked a new series of coughs. Bending over, he went to the window. His torso jerked with each bark, and his long hair thrashed. Hands on his knees, he almost retched.

She glanced at the bottles on the desk, but the way things looked, he would probably refuse her help. Hurt rushed through her chest. One moment, they were intimate and connecting on the highest possible level, and the next, he rejected her, treated her like she had the plague. She stared and prayed for his coughing to stop.

He sank to the floor, face in his hands, and leaned against the wall. His body shook, naked torso glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his skin.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and flattened her skirt. She should ask Todd to take care of him instead.

A car engine started outside, and she looked out the rain-spotted window above Mica’s head. Dark clouds swept over the village roofs at frightening speed. She’d been so busy—
yes, with a second man, God forgive me
—she had ignored the raging storm and the violent gusts of wind threatening to blow every loose object into the air.

A knock sounded behind her, and she pivoted as the creaking door opened. Not caught in the act, at least. That was something. She’d had enough of bad surprises today.

Todd stepped in, his and Mica’s rucksacks in hand. His green eyes glanced at her before tightening with worry as he looked past her and saw his sick boyfriend. Without a word, he dumped the sacks on the floor and hurried to kneel next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

She bit her lip, fought back the sting of jealousy, and looked away. These two men being together was the order of things. Did she need to be reminded? Micaela slept with Todd, and she with Brian. And come to think of it, how the hell did she change so incredibly fast, after the disturbing events in the cellar? Metamorphosing from the hurting, humiliated wife to the selfish, adulterous mistress in a few minutes. What kind of person did that make her?

She took a deep breath. Now was not a good moment for introspection. She looked around the small, sparsely furnished room and tried to recall her purpose for coming here.

The sheets.

Todd whispered something to his lover, but she blocked the guys out and went to the unmade bed. Four persons had slept on these two mattresses. Not much space, but one couldn’t expect much more from a bed and breakfast. She removed the ruffled sheets and replaced them with the clean, fresh ones, smelling of apple-scented conditioner.

“Hey, Anne?” Todd called from the window.

Her heart leapt. What now? She turned, swallowing.

Arms wrapped around Micaela, Todd sent her a worried look. “Is there a doctor around here?”

“Um, yes. There’s a
bureau médical
in the village center.”

He nodded. “Your husband left a few minutes ago—I should have told you earlier, sorry—to help a neighbor secure his roof. He said tiles had blown down. But, if Micaela gets worse, do you think you can drive him?”

Her heartbeat accelerated. After what had happened between them, taking that hunk in her car had to be the stupidest idea ever. But there might be no choice. His cold could turn into pneumonia at any time. She nodded. She would do it, and whatever occurred during their drive, she would take the consequences later.

God, what a slut I am
. How could she handle her marital betrayal so easily, as if already accepting it?

“Okay, thanks.” The lines on Todd’s forehead smoothed. “Let’s just see how it goes, first. In this crazy weather”—he glanced out the window—“it wouldn’t be too smart to hit the road.”

“No.” She imagined her little Peugeot bounced around by storm winds or hit by flying objects. If Micaela’s state worsened, they would have to choose between two evils.

“I can’t believe this fucking shit.” He shook his blond hair. “Not exactly how we pictured our summer holidays.”

She wanted to say she was sorry, but didn’t. Sorry for what? Their ruined vacation? His boyfriend’s illness? Or because, only five minutes ago, she’d had his boyfriend’s fingers up her vagina?
Jesus
.

She sighed and pointed at the bottles. “In the meantime, there’s medicine for him.” Yeah, like saying something nice could ease her conscience. Well, at least she
did
have a guilty conscience. It had to count.

Todd nodded. “Thanks. That might be good, actually.” He stood, helped his lover to his feet, and walked him to the bed.

Micaela resembled the living dead, with feverish eyes in a pale face and a hunched posture. So unlike the cocky, oh-so-charming bicyclist who had knocked on her door before the storm. Avoiding her, he lay down on the clean sheets with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. His sweaty torso, with black chest hairs glued together above the dark nipples, heaved irregularly.

Todd sat beside him, leaned forward, and stroked his face with slow, careful movements. His evident love filled her with warmth.

She couldn’t help wondering why people abhorred attraction between two persons of the same sex. What difference did it make? If fear of the unknown—and hatred, ultimately—came down to the “dirtiness” of anal sex, let it be known that hetero couples enjoyed it, too. Surely what mattered in this debate had to be that lovers were happy together and fulfilled each other.

Irritation gnawing at her, she found candles in a drawer, lit them, and placed them on the bed tables and the desk. Shadows danced on the now-yellowish walls. It didn’t take much to make this room a little cozier.

“I wish I’d had time to clean.” She glanced at the bare floorboards. The low light revealed how much dust the previous tenants had left behind.

Todd turned, features drawn. “It’s not necessary. We only need a place to sleep.”

“At least I could’ve wiped the floor.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

She shrugged. “Okay. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

“Thanks. For everything.” His eyes smiled.

Hmm, if you knew what your lover did to me only minutes ago, you might reconsider
….

Head buzzing, she picked up the dirty sheets and the flashlight. When she left the room with a last glance at the guys, Todd had taken Micaela’s hand and brought it to his lips.

She entered the darkened hall, turned on the flashlight, closed the door, and stood outside, eavesdropping, chest tightening again.

No doubt she envied Todd. A lot. It had only taken the Italian hunk a little fondling for her to surrender and desire him, despite having
sworn
she wouldn’t let him come close again. At the same time, she was happy these two men had each other.

A new round of coughing came through the wall. She pictured the suffering Micaela and winced, trying to block out his painful barks. Her stomach knotted; she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

Todd’s voice rose, insistent but soothing, and after a while, the coughs subsided. He must have given him the mixture. It worked wonders.

She released the breath she’d held when a muffled moan reached her, and another. Not groans of sickness, this time, but more like long grunts of….

She blinked. They couldn’t possibly—

Turning off the flashlight, she strained her ears. A new moan issued from behind the door, and low words she couldn’t understand.

The hall was empty, and no other sound or light indicated other tenants might be walking up the stairs. And with Brian gone to help a neighbor, she had time to stay in front of the boys’ door. Unable to resist curiosity, she bent and peeked through the keyhole.

Candlelight reflecting in a glass pane momentarily blinded her, and she squinted. When her sight adjusted, the empty window gaped back. Nothing else. The bed was too low.

She was about to move away and swallow her disappointment when a male silhouette rose in front of a candle, causing the flame to flicker in the glass. A pale, naked torso and blond head appeared a few meters from her, light painting the contour of Todd’s profile.

After a moment of gazing down—probably at the bed—he said, voice low and warm, “I love you, Mica.”

A shiver ran up her spine, and she held her breath.

“I wish I could kiss you, but….” He lifted his brows with a grimace. “I guess I’ll just have to compensate.”

A chuckle replied.

With a grin, he bent forward and disappeared from sight. Blinding candlelight from the window hit her in the eye, and she stumbled back.

Heart beating faster, she turned on the flashlight and headed down the hall. It might not be possible to see anything through the keyhole, but there was another way. In her childhood days, she’d made spying on her parents’ guests a specialty.

At the end of the dark hall, the flashlight beam revealed a door in the panel, perpendicular to Anne’s bedroom. The silence in the house encouraged her to proceed. There was no knowing how long it would take Brian to help the neighbor fix his roof, but a half hour had to be a reasonable time to indulge in her little scheme before reappearing downstairs.

Jealousy so strong it choked her drove her to know what the guys were doing. She should be the one in Micaela’s embrace. Her pussy remembered the feel of his fingers inside, craved his manhood there instead, despite everything. Images from the previous night resurrected—him eagerly at work in his lover’s lap, semen spraying from Todd’s cock—and she couldn’t help letting curiosity take control of her impulses again.

She pressed the brass handle and eased open the door, centimeter by centimeter, careful to avoid treacherous creaks from the hinges. How many times had she done this in the past? Cool air drifted out, carrying the familiar sour smell of ancient wood and dust.

Pulse pounding, she shone her flashlight into a narrow staircase and closed the door. Safely behind the heavy wood, she no longer feared the creaking of each stair as she climbed. The guys were probably too busy to notice anyway, and the roaring wind and hammering rain on the tiles drowned every other noise.

She reached the top and swept an empty attic with the light. It was an impressive triangular structure of hardwood beams in the roof and floor, a thick coat of dust a silent testament to decades of abandonment. Since the floor wasn’t suitable for storage, the place had never been in use. Power cables spread like a maze, disappearing into holes in panel plates fixed underneath the thick floor beams.