Obsession (9 page)

“What did you do together?” I forged on. “Did she suck your cock?”

Andrew said nothing.

“Son of a bitch, answer the question.” But I could already see luscious lips locked around my husband’s hard shaft, and the image made my stomach turn.

Beautiful Isabel would have luscious lips.

“Yes, she did. Jesus, Sophie—”

“And you of course went down on her.”

Andrew groaned. Dragged a hand over his face.

Hot tears immediately filled my eyes, and a cry escaped my throat. I’d wanted to get through this talk being angry—anger was better than crying. But knowing my husband had done things with another woman that he hadn’t done with me was too much for me to handle.

“Sophie, please.” Andrew took my hand in his. “I told you no good would come of this.”

I jerked away from his touch. I wanted to scream every disgusting name at him I could think of. Instead, I managed a barely audible “Why?”

“Because I was stupid,” Andrew said. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do know.” My anger returned with a vengeance. “You know exactly why you put some other woman’s pussy in your mouth and not mine.” Andrew had always said he didn’t really care for oral sex—neither giving nor receiving. I hadn’t pushed the issue, as everything else about our lovemaking had been extremely satisfying. Yes, our lovemaking had become a bit routine, but we’d still pleased each other.

Or so I’d thought.

“What did she taste like?” I asked.

Andrew’s eyes bulged. He hadn’t expected that question. “Come on, Sophie. You already know I fucked up.”

I glowered at him. “Did you ever.”

“Okay, wrong choice of words. The point is, I don’t want her. You’re the one I love.”

“Did you like her pussy?”

Andrew looked dumbfounded.

“Is it pretty?” I enunciated my words. “The kind of pussy you couldn’t wait to put your fingers in and play with? The kind you couldn’t resist licking and sucking?”

“What has gotten into you? Since when do you talk like this?”

“What—I can’t talk like this because I’m your wife? Is that why you wanted to keep sex simple in the bedroom? Are you one of those guys who can’t completely let go with his wife, but if you’re with some whore, the sky’s the limit?”

Anger was flowing through my veins like electric energy, causing my hands to shake. I waited for Andrew to answer, but he wasn’t speaking.

I went on. “You say she came on to you, but you couldn’t wait to touch her, could you? You couldn’t wait to get her naked. You loved fucking her.” My voice was rising. “You loved the way your cock felt inside her. Didn’t you?
Didn’t you?
”

“Yes!” The word seemed to have escaped Andrew against his will, because his eyes widened, then he glanced down, uncomfortable. “It was sex, Sophie. Of course I enjoyed it. But like I said—”

“Good. Then you can go right on fucking her. At least that way, she won’t sue you.” I meant my words. I was sick of Andrew. I could no longer stand the sight of him.

I was about to turn, but he grabbed me by both my shoulders and forcefully pulled me to him. “I don’t want her. I know you won’t understand what I’m about to say, but having sex with her proved to me that you’re the only one I want. A person can get sex anywhere. But we make love, Sophie. There’s a difference. A huge one.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

Anger fueling my actions, I took Andrew’s hand and placed it on my breast. “You still want me?”

“Of course.”

I squeezed his hand over my breast, but I didn’t do it lovingly. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, really. Something else in me had taken control.

“Do you still like touching me?” I asked.

“Of course.” Andrew’s breathing changed, got heavier.

Hastily, I yanked my skirt up with my free hand, then dragged Andrew’s hand to my pussy. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Holding his hand over my vagina, I asked, “Do you want to make love to me right now, Andrew?”

He groaned softly. He was getting turned-on. Good. I had the bastard right where I wanted him.

“I do.” His breathing was ragged now, ripe with lust. “Oh, Sophie…”

I let him kiss my neck. Let him slip his fingers into my panties and stroke me. In a strange way, I was turned-on, but nothing about what I felt was loving. It was all fueled by my rage. Part of me hated my husband for what he’d done to me. And yet, another part of me wanted him to strip me naked and fuck me to prove not only that he still loved me, but that he still wanted me sexually.

That he found me as desirable as he’d found Isabel.

But knowing he’d touched another woman this intimately…that he’d sucked her pussy. There was no way I could go through with fucking him, not right now. Maybe not ever. I was about to bring him back down to earth, let him know that my desire for him hadn’t been genuine.

I kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “Is this how you touched Isabel?”

Andrew’s fingers stopped cold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice extra syrupy.

The vein in his jaw flinched as he took a step backward and I grinned, satisfied with his discomfort. But I wasn’t really satisfied, not in my soul.

“How many times did you screw her?” I asked. “One? Two?” I searched his eyes for an answer. “Twenty? Fifty?”

Andrew looked away.

As the seconds of silence ticked by, my stomach dropped.

“Oh, my God. She wasn’t just some fling. Your relationship was serious.” I gripped my stomach. Andrew had said that Isabel had wanted him to leave me for her, but I’d let myself believe that the woman had been delusional, that her feelings for Andrew had been one-sided. But maybe he’d had feelings for her, too, and I was the one deluding myself, wanting to believe that Andrew had only been physically attracted to someone else. What if his connection to Isabel was greater than that?

“No wonder she wants to sue you. Were you going to leave me for her?”

“No! Of course not.”

My head grew light. I turned away from my bastard of a husband, wondering if I would actually throw up. I drew in several deep breaths, tried to keep myself under control.

“Is she here now? Your Isabel? I’ve never met her, so she must be new. Where does she work—in guest services?” When Andrew didn’t respond, I moved to the door. “I guess I’ll just have to find out.”

Andrew grabbed me, forcefully this time. “Do not go out there and look for Isabel.”

“Why not? Because you want to protect her? Protect her from your wife?”

“That’s not why.”

“Tell me the truth, Andrew.” I’d been trying to maintain control, or at least hold on to my anger, but I could feel that control slipping through my fingers. “Were you going to leave me for her?”

When Andrew didn’t immediately answer, I finally lost control of my emotions. I began to cry. Huge, quavering sobs. This time, when Andrew wrapped me in his arms, I didn’t have the strength to pull away.

“I was never going to leave you,” he insisted. “Never. But she wanted me to.”

“Lucky for her, she might end up with you yet,” I managed.

Andrew kissed my temple. “I don’t want her.”

Several seconds passed, and my sobs faded into whimpers. “But what if I don’t want you anymore? What if I can’t ever forgive you for what you’ve done?”

Andrew sighed wearily and eased his head back to look at my face. “We’ve been together a long time, Sophie. And yeah, maybe I did get bored. Well, not so much bored as curious. I know it’s no excuse. I know nothing I say will make this any easier. But I am sorry, Sophie. I was weak.” Andrew paused. “But I mean it when I say that my…my affair…made me realize how much I love you and want the life I have with you.”

“Don’t you dare act like you did us a favor,” I quipped, my anger returning. I was riding an emotional roller coaster, and I wanted to get off. Escape the madness.

“I’m not. I’m not saying that. Look, I’m not stupid. I know it won’t be easy for you to forgive me. It’s why I said that maybe…maybe you ought to have your own affair. You know?”

I said nothing.

“Maybe other guys would say I’m nuts for suggesting that, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I do believe that if we’re going to go forward, one of us shouldn’t have something to hold over the other’s head. I’m not saying I like the idea of you being with another man, but if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together, then I deserve nothing less. One of my buddies told me his wife did that after he cheated, and they were able to get past everything.”

“Someone told you that?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?” I asked, skeptical.

“Seth.”

“Seth,” I repeated, disgusted. Were no men faithful anymore?

“He said it worked for his marriage,” Andrew said softly.

“What if I told you I already met someone?” I jutted my chin out, defiant.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed doubtfully. “When?”

“It doesn’t matter when.”

“Well.” I watched Andrew’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed. “I meant what I said. You do what you need to do—then come back to me.”

As simple as that. All I had to do was fuck someone else and that would solve all our problems.

“What if I told you that not only did I meet someone else,” I continued slowly, “but that I’m starting to fall for him?”

Something flickered in Andrew’s eyes—a quick flash of jealousy. “Is that true?”

“You don’t get to make the rules, Andrew. Be careful what you wish for—you just might get it.”

Then, knowing that Andrew had to be wondering if I was serious or messing with him, I headed out of the handicapped bathroom and didn’t glance backward.

Let the bastard get a taste of his own bitter medicine.

I was all set to head to Peter’s house that evening, all set to get my revenge. But I refrained. What he’d said had suddenly registered. If I fucked him, I didn’t want it to be about Andrew. Yes, Andrew would be the cause of my affair, but I didn’t want to fuck Peter purely out of spite for my husband. When I went to bed with Peter, it would be because I had made the decision that I wanted to have sex with
him.

Maybe I was simply stalling for time, but my argument made sense to me. I needed to sleep on my desire for a night or two, see if I still woke up thinking about bedding a new man.

I didn’t tell Marnie what had transpired with Andrew in the hotel bathroom. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to completely put the affair out of my mind, but the more I talked about it, the worse I felt.

For my sanity, I needed to think about something else.

Or
someone
else.

Someone like Peter, who, with just one look, had made me remember that I was a desirable woman.

On Saturday morning, I was still angry, sad and confused about Andrew, but I also hadn’t stopped thinking about the time I’d spent with Peter.

I was certain now. I wanted to see him again. Wanted to get naked with him and finish what we’d started earlier in the week.

Tonight, I was going to get what I wanted.

I didn’t think about whether or not Peter would even be home when I went to see him. Didn’t consider that he might be in bed with another woman. I drove across town to his apartment complex nonetheless, hoping for the best.

I wanted to look irresistible, so I put on a formfitting white top with a low V-neck and matching skirt that I’d bought while in the Bahamas with Marnie. Together, both items could pass as a dress. I’d originally planned to wear the outfit for Andrew, maybe surprise him at work with it on and hope it sparked his lust for me. Now, I would put the dress to good use with Peter.

I had no problem getting to his place. I remembered exactly where he lived. There was no security gate to enter the property, so once I was at the apartment complex, I was good to go.

“Building number nine,” I muttered softly, glancing around. There were at least ten buildings from what I could tell, and they all looked alike. I drove to the left, and when I saw the buildings with low numbers, I realized I had gone the wrong way. I doubled back, and within a couple minutes, I was pulling into a space outside of Peter’s apartment.

I saw a light on in his place, and I hoped that meant he was home.

Exiting my car, I headed upstairs. My high-heeled white sandals clicked against the concrete as I ascended the steps. They were the kind of shoes that screamed
fuck me!

That and the fact that it was after ten o’clock and I was wearing a skirt I’d had to shoehorn myself into.

I raised my hand to the door but didn’t knock. Instead, I rested my knuckles on the wood and gathered myself.

I wanted this. I was sure of that. It’s the reason I was here. Especially at this hour. But what if Peter wasn’t home? Or worse—inside with someone else?

If he was, so be it. Drawing in a deep breath, I eased my hand back, preparing to knock. But before I could, the door swung open and Peter appeared.

His dark eyes widened slightly. He was surprised. But was he happy, or disappointed?

He didn’t speak—just stared. I could smell the alluring scent of his musky cologne. Dressed in black jeans and a close-fitting black T-shirt, he looked as though he was heading out for a night on the town.

I cleared my throat. “Hi.”

“Hello.” His eyes moved over my face, then lower, to the cleavage I was so obviously showing off.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Peter said, the hint of his Italian accent sexy as hell.

“I, uh…I think my bracelet must have fallen off here the other night.”

“Yes, I found it on my sofa.” He paused. “Is that why you’re here—to collect your bracelet?”

I shifted my weight from one stiletto to the other. “Yes.”

“Then let me get it for you.”

Peter stepped backward, then turned.

“Wait.” I snagged his wrist before he was out of reach. “That’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“No?” One of his eyebrows rose as he faced me again.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m here because…because I want you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you made me leave that night.”

Peter’s lips spread in a slow grin.

“Unless, of course, you’re heading out.”

“I was, but now that you’re here…” His voice was ripe with implication. “Come in.”

He stepped backward and, as I was still holding his wrist, I moved with him.

“I bought something for just this occasion,” Peter announced as he led me to the living room and sat me on his sofa.

“But you didn’t know I was coming back.”

“I was hopeful.”

I curled a leg onto the sofa. “What did you buy?”

“A special Italian wine,” he told me. I was sitting, and he was standing, but still holding my hand. It was nice.

“Okay…”

“Actually, it’s an Italian sparkling wine, and it’s very nice. Prosecco. Have you ever tried it?”

“No.”

“It’s light and refreshing, a little sweet. Perfect for a hot day.” He trailed his finger along my palm. “Or a hot night.”

Peter raised my hand to his mouth and kissed the inside of my wrist, something I realized I liked very much. Then he released my hand and headed to the kitchen.

Licking my lips, I watched him go. The way his shoulder blades moved beneath his shirt gave the impression of power, much like a stealthy jaguar.

“Would you like to try the Prosecco?” he asked, opening a cupboard that housed wineglasses.

“I’d love to try it.” My stomach fluttered, and I took a moment to breathe in and out slowly. I was really here, really going to do this.

I was both nervous and excited.

About a minute later, Peter returned to the living room. He had two champagne flutes in his hands, one of which he held out to me.

“Thank you.” I took the flute and sipped the beverage. It had overtones of citrus and melon and was both delicious and refreshing. “Mmm, delicious.”

Peter took a sip as well, his eyes never leaving my face. He wasn’t afraid of intimacy, I realized. I liked that about him.

I liked him, period.

“Forgive me,” Peter said, sitting beside me. “I should have offered a toast. To…new experiences.”

“To new experiences,” I echoed, and we both drank to that. I didn’t stop drinking until I’d finished off what was in my glass. Not because I wanted to get drunk—I’d learned my lesson a few nights earlier—but because I was ready to get down to business.

The glass still in my hand, I quickly leaned forward and placed my mouth on Peter’s.

He stiffened slightly, indicating his surprise rather than reluctance. I moved my mouth over his, skimming his skin at first, then softly kissing him, urging his lips into submission.

With a groan, Peter parted his lips and began to kiss me back with total abandon. Curling his fingers around my head, he held me to him as his tongue delved into my mouth. It was hot and wet and had the flavor of Prosecco. It tasted better on his tongue than it had straight from my glass, and I opened my mouth further, needing more of him.

“Slow down,” Peter rasped, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I moved forward, forcing his body backward on the sofa. “Wait,” he said. “My drink.”

I stopped then, and let him place his champagne flute on the coffee table. He did the same with mine, and before he could fully turn back to me, I was already kissing his jawline and running my hands down his chest.

“Let me please you first,” Peter offered.

“You are pleasing me.” I reached for the button on his jeans and tried to work it loose. “I want you inside me. I
need
you inside me—right now. I’ve thought about nothing but getting you naked ever since that night.”

My lips found Peter’s again, and I kissed him. A deep, wet kiss that had both of us moaning in pleasure. Unable to get his jeans undone, I lowered my hand to his penis. I grinned as I felt the evidence of his desire for me straining against the fabric.

“So big, so hard,” I whispered in his ear. “I love it.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I was suddenly on my back. Peter had reversed our positions with ease and strength. He’d wrapped his arm around my waist, lifted me as he raised his body, then swiftly laid me on my back. Now, he was between my thighs, his powerful cock pressed against my pussy.

“You want it hard and fast?” he asked, pushing my blouse up. I was wearing no bra, and my breasts spilled free.

“God, yes.”

He covered both of my naked breasts with his hands and began to squeeze the full mounds. Not gently, but hungrily. In a way that said he understood I wanted it rough.

He pushed both of my breasts together, grazed his teeth over one nipple. My body shuddered as desire shot through me.

“And what about this?” Peter grazed my other nipple. “Do you want me to play with your breasts?”

Before I could answer, he drew one nipple deep into his mouth and suckled me. Hard. Hard enough that I felt prickles of pain.

“Yes.” I exhaled heavily. “Like that. Just like that.”

I wanted wild sex. I wanted nothing like what I’d shared with Andrew. Sex with my husband had been slow and tender.

Meaningful.

And he’d still fucked someone else.

I stopped thinking about Andrew as Peter sucked my other nipple with the same fervor he had the first. He ground his cock against me the entire time, causing the sweetest sensations to shoot through my pussy and spread to the rest of my body. Soon, I was digging my fingers into Peter’s hair and moaning shamelessly.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes—hell, yes. But I need this.” Slipping a hand between our bodies, I put my hand over his cock and squeezed. I wasn’t gentle either, letting him know that I was ready for him to be merciless with me.

Peter moved his lips from my nipple and sucked a fleshy part of my breast. He sucked, bit, pulled, sucked even harder. As though he was trying to brand me with his mark. I didn’t think I’d like the pain that stung my skin—it was so foreign to me—but not only did I like it, it turned me on.

Peter stood abruptly and made fast work of undoing his jeans. I bunched my skirt around my waist, slipped my panties off, then eased my butt back onto the sofa.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “Take everything off. I want you naked.”

My vagina pulsed at the brazen words. He wanted me naked.

Wanted me completely.

I understood now what Marnie had meant when she talked about the thrill of being with someone new. The living room was lit, and being completely naked in a lit room left a person much more vulnerable than being naked in a dark room. And yet instead of feeling nervous, I felt a delicious thrill.

Slowly, I stood. My eyes never left Peter’s as I pulled my blouse over my head and shimmied my skirt over my hips.

“Your turn,” I said, now fully naked.

Peter’s eyes drank in the sight of my naked pussy, a wicked grin curling on his mouth as he kicked his jeans free. He was wearing black briefs, and my gaze locked on the sight of his cock straining against the cotton fabric.

Finally, he lowered his briefs, and I actually gasped when his cock sprang free. It was large in every way. Nice girth, nice length. Larger than Andrew’s. The kind of cock that countless dildos had been designed to look just like.

Peter moved toward me slowly, like a cat getting ready to pounce on its prey. Unlike prey, I didn’t run.

Peter encircled me with his arms, pressing the palms of his hands to the small of my back. My nipples brushing against his hairless chest, and I stared up at him and he down at me. His cock was twitching around in my vaginal area, as though instinctively seeking entry to the place it craved the most.

Peter splayed his hands over my ass, pulling me close with a hard thrust. He dug his fingers into my flesh and pressed my pussy against his cock.

Easing up on my toes, I wrapped a hand around his penis and stroked the tip of it against my clit.

“That should be my tongue caressing you there,” Peter said. “Like this.” He lowered his face to mine and gently flicked his tongue over the top of my lip. Up and down. Left and right. Then a soft suckle.

My knees buckled, imagining just how sweet it would be to have him tease my clit the way he was describing.

“I love the way your body responds to mine,” Peter murmured. “It turns me on.”

“I am so turned-on right now….”

Easing his head back to stare at me, he dipped a finger into my folds, then raised it to his mouth and slowly tasted my essence.

The erotic sight made me shudder. My vagina pulsed wildly. “Oh, my God, I need you inside me,” I said, my voice raspy. “Did I tell you how much I’ve thought about this for the past few days?”