The Mistress
Authors: Lexie Ray
Tags: #Short Stories, #Romantic Erotica, #Drama, #Series
Part One
L E X I E R A Y
Copyright © 2015
Published by: Rascal Hearts
All Rights Reserved
. 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. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
R
ed lipstick. High heels. Black lace. Those were always the images that ran through her mind whenever she heard the word.
Mistress
. She cringed at the harshness of the title. Domineering by nature, mistresses were bad seeds. Stereotypically holding an ever-encompassing sex appeal, they were the focus of desire for men everywhere. The women you see showcasing at a gentleman’s club – those are
mistresses
. Not Haley. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Their passionate groans echoed in her head as her mind drifted to the night before. Haley’s senses were on fire all of a sudden, and she rapidly started remembering the images in such detail that it frightened – as well as excited – her. The moment he pushed her full-figured body against the wall with lustful force was the moment she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. In fact, she had pinpointed that to be the moment of no return. She had never felt that wanted, and the high that it brought was intoxicating – addicting, even.
The dim light of the room came from one singular lamp tucked away in the corner of the office atop his dark mahogany desk. Its tiny glowing presence did little to rid the room of darkness, but it did ignite just enough for Haley to gaze upon Preston’s face. His complexion was clear, jaw strong, with a face of intimidating fierceness. His eyes, which usually glimmered with a slight – but ever present and unexplainable – innocence, then only held a raw and intense sexual desire. The innocence, which had always softened the masculinity of his face, was gone. Those immaculate blue orbs were glazed over – his inhibitions were lost. He was running on pure instinct. He was pure man in that moment; prehistoric man – primitive in his sexual desire with no regard to consequence. Her body quivered. He was the hunter, and she was his prey.
She became lost in a sea of blue seduction as she peered into his dominating eyes. He smirked, and she remembered being angry for a moment as she looked down and realized that he had ripped away at her shirt. He must have sensed the negative emotion, because only a moment later his lips found hers and his tongue forced its way in. The kiss caused her to shudder as it sent electric currents throughout her entire body. She moaned into him, grinding her sex into his rock-hard member, swearing that she felt it pulse against her.
She gripped at her sheets, just as she did last night, groaning and aching to be touched the same way she had been touched just hours before.
Mistress.
The word forced itself back into the forefront of her mind. She was a
mistress
.
His
mistress.
The feel of his flesh beneath her fingernails as she clawed at his back; the taste of his sweat as she sank her teeth into his shoulder; the intensity of his groans – full of lust and passion – as he thrust deeper and deeper into her core – those were the freshest of memories. The recollection of her senses was dangerous. She wanted more, needed more. The very thought of the previous night made her wet with desire and longing, longing for what she had only just last night.
Her imagination continued to spiral and swim farther from the present and into last night’s world of pure infatuation. It was only the vibration of her phone that pulled her mind away from the glorious distractions. In that instance – the moment in which her body and mind finally synced with the present – Haley panicked.
Catapulting out of bed and away from her thoughts, she scurried across every inch of her bedroom, gathering clothes and throwing them on haphazardly. She was late. Perhaps she did it subconsciously so that she wouldn’t have to see him just yet, but consciously? That was a different story. Haley hated being late. Always having been the punctual woman that she was, she was even more disappointed with herself than she had been just a moment before.
She was recalling the events of a night never meant to exist. It was a mistake, she tried to reiterate into her mind. But that wasn’t an easy task; it didn’t feel like a mistake, and that fact made it all the more difficult.
In the course of two days she had felt she lost herself completely.
Who is this person?
Haley was never so careless, and there she was – just this very morning – reveling in the careless mistakes that she had committed, which in turn created another bout of carelessness. She was late. She was late. She was fucking late. She couldn’t help but laugh at her mind transfixing on an imaginary rabbit with a pocket watch as she scurried out the front door.
The ride to work wasn’t as lighthearted as her departure, however. In fact, it was quite the opposite: a truly excruciating endeavor. She was late, and she knew what that meant, but moreover, she couldn’t stop replaying last night’s instances in her head. The constant battle between her conscience and her twitching sex caused time to stand still.
It seemed like she had driven a hundred miles before she pulled into the suburban neighborhood – which in reality was only a few miles north of her apartment – and looped her car into a parked position at the cul-de-sac drive. There it was. The house she had worked in for twelve years.
Standing two stories tall, the house was so welcoming with its white brick siding and blue shutters and trim. Before last night, she truly had felt at home for the last twelve years. “Haley!” a familiar, high-pitched voice called out from inside the house. She smiled. She knew that voice all too well. Its angelic sound bellowed out to her; the very epitome of innocence, it touched her heart and soul and put her instantly in a mood of pure happiness.
Before she knew it the extravagant white front door blocking her from the full extent of her guilt flung open and a small ten-year old girl appeared and ran down the steps. “I’m going to be late for school!” the little blonde girl yelled before grabbing Haley’s hand and leading her to a silver van. “Where’s your brother?” Haley asked hurriedly as the small-bodied girl dragged her behind.
“I’m here,” a deeper male voice muttered from behind them. She turned around to see the tall, slender twelve-year-old slumping down the sidewalk towards the vehicle. Shrugging past the two females, he grabbed for the van’s sliding-door handle. He still hadn’t looked at Haley. He seemed upset. Angry, even. Did he know what happened last night? It was then that the almost-teenage boy looked over his shoulder and muttered, “Dad wanted to talk to you.” Her throat caught and she gasped slightly.
She had to forcibly remind herself not to get caught up into the imaginative thoughts that were reeling through her mind. Did he know what happened? That incredible, sensual happening. Several moments of intense unmistakable pleasure all combined to create one magical night. One mistaken night, she tried to remind herself again, feeling guilty for even entertaining the thoughts as positive ones.
“What about?” she asked, feigning an innocence she couldn't believe actually sounded sincere. After all, she had always been a horrific liar. “I have no idea, Haley. Maybe because you were late?” he snapped sarcastically, his voice cracking slightly. She restrained herself from giggling at the boy’s pubescent showings. The important thing was that he didn’t know. He was just being Lucas; angry at the world. She had to admit, the teenage demeanor he was displaying was amusing. He continued to speak in an exasperated tone as he flung open the van’s sliding door. “The first time in our lives that you’re late, and it has to be when he has all this crap going on at work. He’s been a real dick lately–”
“Language,” Haley interrupted, calmly yet forcibly, as she watched him jump onto the van’s ledge and sit in his seat.
Even if it was amusing, she didn’t allow them to use foul language. The word ‘dick’ was definitely in her list of swear jar words.
Dick. Dick. His dick. His hard, throbbing dick. Pull yourself together!
her conscience screamed at her. What was going on with her? She hadn’t the slightest clue. He was messing with her, changing her.
“Pardon me, madam. I meant to suggest that
Father
was being a real pain in the derrière, a real drag if you will,” he emphasized sarcastically, acting out his best British accent. Lucas’s antics definitely were enough to get her to snap out of her sex-crazed stupor. “Get in, worm,” he finished, looking to his wide-eyed little sister, before throwing his head back and putting in his ear buds.
“Give me a break, Lucas. I had stuff going on,” Haley remarked, lifting the little girl into her arms. Her blonde hair flowed across Haley’s face, and an aroma of vanilla and lavender filled her nostrils. Where did the baby smell go? It was then that Haley felt the weight of the girl. She was very thin, but still much heavier than Haley remembered. Why were these children suddenly almost as tall as her? She smiled, a touch of sadness hidden beneath as she sat the young – and becoming strikingly beautiful – girl into the backseat beside her brother.
“Do you still love us?” the girl asked sweetly.
“I do. Very much, Sophie,” Haley replied, her eyes beginning to gleam. She did. This unconditional love had been twelve years in the making. At only thirty-four, she had spent a large part of her adulthood with these children. Caring for them, nurturing them, she had watched them grow into the double digit pre-teens that they were.
What was she doing?
She was messing with Lucas and Sophie’s
family
.
A
fter dropping the kids off at their respective schools, she allowed the guilt to fully rush over her. How could she have been so selfish? Driving back to the house to fulfill the rest of her daily duties, she realized what her actions last night truly meant. She would be walking into a house in which she was no longer truly welcome. She had disrupted the binds of family and the sanctity of marriage by allowing her desire to take over.
Pulling into the cul-de-sac drive for the second time that day, a wave of regret crashed into her harder than it had before. It felt as if she had been involved in some sort of water boarding torture; her entire body felt as if it was drowning, suffocating and begging for oxygen. Foolishly, she thought that it had taken large amounts of courage the first time she pulled in, but the second time was almost unbearable. Feeling triumphant and surprised at her ability to move forward, she continued to pull closer and closer to the two-story home.
The rumble of the pavement beneath the van’s tires had never been so loud. It was as if the vehicle were heavier, as if it were burdened literally with the metaphorical boulder resting on her back. Her brims burned with fiery heat as tear droplets formed and fell, trailing down her pale cheeks. Looking at the house, she sobbed, knowing that as soon as she got inside, images of the prior evening would flood in.
Guilt. Regret. Nausea. She felt it all. Though, she felt it for not only the act itself, but for hoping more than anything that he was inside the house still so that he could comfort her, take her into his arms and soothe her. She sighed and dried her tears as she looked on the house before her. Turning off the ignition, she took a deep breath and made her way out of the van.
As her feet slammed against the pavement, she made note to
lightly
shut the driver’s door. She didn’t want him to know she was there. Not quite yet. She didn’t want to face the truth. She wanted to breathe in the fresh cinnamon aroma of the home, and feel like she had every other day for twelve years – welcomed. If only for just a moment, she wanted to feel that overwhelmingly soothing feeling once again, even – or perhaps, especially – if it was the last time.
The walk across the sidewalk leading to the door was unusually long. Her stomach fluttered, and nausea set in. She wasn’t sure if it was the guilt this time, or if it was nerves from the possibility of seeing his face after what had transpired between the two of them. She reached the door, slowly turned the large, extravagant brass knob, and entered the home.
The cinnamon scent rushed over her, and she breathed it in like she always did. This time, though it
did
still tickle her nose pleasantly, it did
not
welcome her. She couldn’t pretend. Not even for one moment could she act like she belonged. Not anymore. She felt like an intruder.
