Chapter 21

 

She furtively watched him from the dining room table, her laptop open, sorting through pictures she stared at but didn’t see, her mind still replaying what had happened twenty-four hours earlier.

He was in nothing but a ratty gray T-shirt and a pair of warm-ups that appeared to be at least ten years old. He’d never looked more gorgeous than he did slaving away in the kitchen. The place was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of chicken, already simmering. Troy had a homemade chicken soup recipe so good, she was certain she’d be prepared to offer just about anything to him — including her own ass — just to get him to make it. Fortunately, such extreme measures weren’t needed.

Her wince as she shifted position on her pillow reminded her that he’d already cashed in on her ass yesterday. Literally.

Now and then, he’d glance at her from the kitchen, chopping vegetables, the big muscles at his shoulders and upper back bunching in that incredibly appealing way that made her want to bite into them.

You’d think after yesterday your jets would’ve cooled down by now. Slut.

A delicious shiver coursed down her spine as she remembered the way he’d marched her to the guest house, her mind still spinning — and her ass still throbbing — from the humiliating, and yet deeply arousing punishment he’d meted out to her in front of three other people.

The memory was seared into her mind, the way she’d cried out as he’d thrown her onto the bed like a rag doll, her bottom protesting at even the rasp of soft cotton against her scorched skin.

Her clit tingled at the image of his blazing eyes. How they’d gazed down at her, pinning her in place as surely as any steel manacles, as he’d held her down, one hand clamped to her tit, the other around her throat, her legs bent so far back she wasn’t sure they weren’t behind her ears.

She closed her eyes, licking her lips as the sensation flooded through her again, her still-sore sex growing slippery at recalling how he’d taken her like a ravening beast. Each thrust had seemed more brutal than the last, the filthy language pouring from his gorgeous red lips only fanning her twisted desire further. Relentlessly, he’d pounded her, only letting go of her throat now and then to slap her face, or pull her hair as he thrust his tongue deep into her gasping mouth, making tears well in her eyes as he nipped her lips. He’d told her to squeeze her cunt tighter, to take his cock, to be his good girl or she’d get her ass fucked next.

Please God.

It made her smile, even as the thought caused her to shake her head, trying to ignore how turned on she was from simply reminiscing about how right it had felt having her brains fucked out yesterday. He’d made her dress in front of him afterward, his cock rising again as his seed leaked from her tingling, burning cunt. He’d left her walking funny, her pussy as sore as it was already craving more of him, no matter how brutally he wanted to take her.

She was ready for all of it — and more.

Even the long six-hour drive home proved too much for his self-control, one detour taking them up a deserted logging road where he’d dragged her from the car by her hair, and forced her to her knees, the slap of his hard cock against her lips accompanied by his growled, “Open that mouth, bitch.”

Finally home, long after dark, he’d taken her twice more, deep in the night in the sanctuary of their marriage bed, the second time slipping into her while she was near delirious with exhaustion. She’d lifted her bottom to him as his hands clasped brutally tight to her hips, the broad head of his cock sounding the depths of her sorely used pussy until they’d both collapsed, utterly spent in both body and mind.

“You know what I’m going to ask you, don’t you?” He leaned a hip against the end of the granite island, wiping his huge hands with a white dish towel.

“Yes, my pussy hurts. No, I don’t regret it.”

Troy threw his head back as his laughter boomed through the kitchen and dining room. She loved the way he laughed, his big Adam’s apple bobbing in that thick, muscled neck.

“I’d be lying if I said I was sorry to hear about your sore kitty.” His grin was ear-to-ear.

“Meanie.”

“Nothing to say about what happened?”

“Which part?”

“What did you think…about everything?”

She didn’t understand why she was suddenly so reticent to talk about it.

“Overwhelming was the understatement of the century.”

“And?” His dark eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

Her pussy tightened at the sight, reawakening the tenderness in her tissues.

The eyebrow raise was one of his “tells.” It meant either he was keenly interested, or she was about to be fucked. Or get her ass blistered. Maybe all of the above.

Please?

But she suspected something else.

“You really do want to move, don’t you? You were serious.”

“We’re talking about what you want, Lace. What you think.”

“That’s not an answer.” She knew she was running risks, but she couldn’t help herself.

His voice dropped an octave. “I want to hear it. Honestly, tell me.”

“I was scared to… in front of someone.”

“Your cunt was running like a river.”

Her blush bloomed hot at her cheeks, both of them knowing what her body’s reaction meant. It should have terrified her, but as she’d stripped in front of them, it had felt… accepted. Expected.

Was it possible the seductive ethos of the entire place had already sunk its claws into her? Maybe she was more of a slut than she admitted to herself? The fact was, not only was it a twisted, illicit turn-on to be watched, she’d wanted her husband to do even more than spank her, more than show her off like a prized pet.

She’d wanted him to take her right then and there, no matter who was present to witness it. At that moment, she’d rationalized it, told herself it was just lust, endorphins, a crazy, one-time thing.

But recalling it even now had her nipples hard as stone, her mouth dry, her panties already growing sticky and wet. She had to ignore it now though. This was about more than the fact she apparently had latent — but deep-seated — exhibitionist tendencies.

Or is it that you liked being forced to be an exhibitionist?

“If you want me to tell you that I loved it there? Yes, I did. Could I see us living there? Yes, okay?”

“Being punished in front of them. That obviously wasn’t too much either. Quite the opposite, if I know my wife.”

“No.” She rubbed a hand across her mouth, her face blushing hot. “No, it wasn’t.”

His grin was a million watts now. “So, what’s the problem then?”

“I… there isn’t one.” She touched her lips, then closed the laptop, unsure how to navigate this. Somehow, even talking about the possibility was filling her with a growing excited, panicky feeling that she couldn’t explain.

Yes, you can. So, fucking say it.

“You’re really going to tell me there’s nothing wrong?” Troy’s smile faded, and he strode over to her, his fingers whispering against her cheek. “Tell me, girl.”

“There’s… unfinished business.”

“What kind? Your job?” Troy sighed, then slid into the seat next to her. “You don’t need to work anymore if I take this job. In fact, I wouldn’t want you to.”

“The sex kitten curled up on her couch waiting for her man to get home?”

“I was thinking more like chained up naked at the foot of my bed, but it’s a start.”

She shook her head, looking away before he saw in her eyes how much that image had her heart racing, the heat already rising between her thighs.

“It’s not as easy as just leaving.”

“Yes, it is. But something’s holding you back, keeping you here.” He reclined in his chair, crossing his arms. “Or someone.”

Her gaze snapped to his. Her heart was in her throat, but part of her was glad he’d already guessed.

“It’s a… big deal. He’s part of our lives, Troy. He’s your best friend.”

“We going to play twenty questions here, or get to the point of this?”

“Sara isn’t right for him. Even you see that now.”

“Just because I see that doesn’t mean there’s a thing I — or you — can do about what’s going on with them, Lacey. We can’t rescue him. And even if we could, we shouldn’t. He’s a big boy.”

“I know that. I know.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to find the words, needing to tell him now more than anything. Yet, she was terrified, knowing how big of a step it was even saying what she knew deep down to be the truth.

“Not only is she not right for him…” She took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly, staring at the tabletop. “There’s only one woman who is.”

Troy’s eyes went so wide she could see the whites. But she had to keep going.

“How can I leave, no matter how much I might want to, when part of me — part of us — would be left behind? How do I uproot myself and plunge my life into something I don’t even fully understand yet… when someone we care so much about is still here?”

He watched her for a long moment, his lips pursed, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly. “We’re talking about moving across the mountains, not across the galaxy.”

She was so stunned, she wasn’t sure what to say for a minute. That he hadn’t exploded at her spoke volumes. It spoke… everything. Was it possible? Could she dare think he’d even consider such a thing?

You’re crazy. He’s crazy.

“He needs us, Troy. He’s hurting. I know it. You know it.”

His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out, once, twice, a third time, glancing at her, then looking away again. He glared out the dining room window as he said it. “Here’s what I know. I know that I should be pissed, or threatened, or something. This whole idea is batshit crazy. He is my best friend. Whether or not he’s hurting, or needs us, well… what the fuck do I know?”

Oh no.

Her heart froze at the cool veil that had dropped over his gaze. She rarely saw it with him anymore. He was shocked. Or enraged. Probably both. And why wouldn’t he be?

You basically just floated the idea that you had feelings for someone you’re both friends with. How do you expect him to be, you selfish twit?

She knew it in her bones that she’d fucked up. Badly.

He stood and she reached for him, taking his hand. He didn’t pull it away, as she feared — but he didn’t clasp it either.

“Troy, where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” He let go of her and walked out to the kitchen, turning the oven burner off. He stood there for a moment, shaking his head slowly, one hand splayed atop the counter. “I need some… time to think.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, the hot, silent tears already streaming down her cheeks.