Behind His Back (17 page)

When his fingertips touch the skin of my neck, all of the shock from my presence in his loft dissipates. He springs to life, clamping his fingers around me and holding me just tightly enough to let me know I’ve been a bad girl for invading his world. He smiles devilishly and then pushes me back toward a thick wooden support beam across from the window, and I let out a surprised gasp when I feel the bump of the smooth, worn wood against my spine. With my naked body caught between the beam and the muscular rod of a man who’s holding me there, I’m utterly powerless to do anything but obey his bidding.

Staring into my excited eyes, he reaches down with his other hand to stroke my pussy, and he inserts two fingers deep inside of me. I groan as I feel him move within me, and then he brings his wet fingers up toward my mouth to make me taste them. I suck them as enthusiastically as I just sucked his cock, wrapping my tongue around and between them.

Holding my throat even tighter, he reaches down again and forces my legs apart, making me quake with anticipation for the moment when he forces his cock into me. He presses against me, pushing my body against the wood behind me, but just when I think he’s going to fuck me, he dips down and gives my pussy a long, slow lick that culminates in a slight suckle on my clit. I push my hips toward his mouth for more, and he seizes my thighs, wrapping his arms beneath my hips and hoisting me up to his full height so that I’m sitting on his biceps with my back still against the beam. If he were anyone else—except maybe Chad—I’d be worried about falling, but with Hunter my only concern is that I might lose consciousness as he sucks on my pussy and stimulates my clit with rhythmic passes of his tongue. The beam meets an equally thick rafter at a right angle above me, and I reach up to wrap both arms around it for support as I round my back to bring my pussy deeper into his jaws.

His hands wrap around my thighs, and his fingertips spread me open farther to retract my hood and give his tongue full access. Gripping the rafter, I groan and writhe above him, and I quickly cum, stiffening violently and gushing down his neck and chest.

I catch my breath as he holds me high above him and gives my soaked pussy sweet licks, and I revel in the knowledge that we’ve put on another naughty show in front of the window.

“Good girl,” Hunter says softly, and then he helps me slide my slippery thighs down his body like he’s a fireman’s pole.

My feet are barely on the ground before he picks me up again, this time bending me at the waist and hoisting me over his shoulder like he’s rescuing me. I gasp as he lifts me high and carries me back to the bedroom, where he throws me down on his bed. Lying on my back and looking up at him as he towers over me, I spread my legs and rub my pussy, keeping it wet for him to slide in and fuck me senseless.

Silly me. I should have known that Hunter has no interest in missionary fucking. He takes my heel in one of his strong hands and gently strokes my foot. Then, with disorienting quickness, he flips me onto my belly before I can even tell what’s happening.

“You’re in big trouble now,” he says, and I play along, scrambling from my belly to my hands and knees and trying to scurry away from him across his bed.

I squeal when he catches my feet and pulls my knees swiftly out from beneath me, flattening me against the mattress. I cry out again, this time because I’m scared. The closer my pretend fear gets to actual fear, the better it feels, and the more excited I am for him to violate me with his perfect, giant cock.

I struggle to flip back over, but he’s instantly on me, straddling my ass and pushing my head into the mattress. I can feel his heavy cock on my back. Good God, it reaches nearly halfway up my spine.

“You’re not going anywhere. Do you understand?”

I muffle my acknowledgement into the mattress.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you,” he says. He grabs a fistful of my hair to lift my head off the mattress, letting me gasp for air.

“Yes, sir,” I say, whimpering with a potent mix of fear and exhilaration before he forces my face back down.

“You’ve been a bad girl, breaking into my home. Did you think sucking my cock would be enough to make it better?”

Again I muffle. And again he lifts me by my hair to answer him.

“No, sir,” I say.

The anticipation is killing me. At this moment, with my head pressed down into his mattress and the impressive length of his cock against my back, I’d do anything to feel him inside of me. I’d empty my bank account. I’d quit my job and panhandle on the street. I’d walk away from my perfect marriage and perfect town home and perfect walk-in closet. All I want is to be punished by this man’s brilliant cock.

He forces me back down. “No in-fucking-deed,” he says through clenched teeth. “Now here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to fuck you.
Hard
and
deep
. It’s going to hurt, and I don’t care. I don’t care how much you cry or carry on or struggle—I’m not going to stop until I’m ready. And when I’m ready, I’m going to release you, and you’re going to get on all fours and face me and suck down every last drop. Do you fucking understand?”

I wait for him to lift my head so I can acquiesce, but he’s not interested in my permission.

He shifts his hips back to position himself, and then I feel him against my wet, trembling lips. He forces himself inside, pushing deeper and deeper into me, filling me with every inch. He could fuck me with half his shaft and I’d still be satisfied, but he’s unrelenting. I start to struggle as I feel the pleasure bordering on pain, but he holds me down, driving deeper still. I’m ready to scream when I feel his pelvis push into my ass, and I’m relieved to have accommodated him. But my relief fades fast when he pulls back and then forces himself deep into me again, this time faster. Again he pulls back and thrusts into me, colliding into my ass with a shocking slap, and he begins pounding at a feverish clip, crashing into me again and again like Atlantic waves battering a helpless seawall. The initial pain and fear give way to pure, unremitting pleasure, and I can barely contain myself as I beg my body to breathe.

Just when I’m convinced I can’t take any more, his pace staggers and his breathing quickens, and he lifts his muscular body off of my hips, releasing me. I have just enough time to follow his orders, scrambling to get on all fours and then spinning around to ready my mouth for his cock. My ass, still sopping wet from the deluge in front of the window, is propped up high in the air, and I wish there were two of him so that he could fuck me from both ends.

He’s still gripping my ponytail, and my quick maneuvering has twisted it into his clenched fist, tightening his hold. He uses it to drag me over to his gigantic bedroom window. Only instead of putting me back on my knees, he bends me at my waist and presses the side of my face calmly but firmly into the clear, sunny glass. Then, embracing a second wind, he positions himself behind me and gives me another fierce pounding. The feeling of the cool glass against my face and his warm body colliding into me is bliss. I’ll be admiring the red skin of my behind in the mirror in my walk-in closet tonight.

Suddenly he groans, and I turn and drop to my knees so he can fuck my mouth for his last few strokes. The taste of my pussy mixed with his precum tastes sweeter than any breakfast I’ve ever had. He cums with a controlled roar, and it fills my mouth with such force that nearly half of his white hot load forces itself back out past the seal of my lips and drips down my chin. When he’s done, his colossal cock dangles in front of my face, and I kiss it lovingly while squeezing the final drops out of it.

In this moment, wet and sticky on my knees and holding his still-throbbing cock in my hand, I realize what I already knew: no matter what David’s waiting to tell me, there’s no way I can go back to a life that doesn’t give me this magical, helpless, perfect feeling.

A
fter showering at Hunter’s
, doing my best to rinse his sweet smell off of me without getting my hair wet, I put on my same clothes and walk back home to greet my husband after my supposed date with Cassie. The vigorous fucking I’ve just endured has left me famished, so I stop on the way for a smoothie at Pump Juice. Only instead of my usual açai-whey blend, I go for a peanut-butter-and-banana shake that’s so tasty it should be illegal. It has about fifteen hundred calories, but for all I know this could be my last-ever indulgence. This is the first time I’ve fucked another man without the safety net of David being on the other side of the country. Unless he’s found something to do with his Saturday, he’s waiting for me at home, and I’ll have to face him.

I slow my pace as I picture all the things that could go wrong when I walk through the door. Somehow, I convince myself that everything will be fine, and I decide to hunker down for a period of boring connubial bliss. I’ll go back to my gluten-free muffins and pastured bacon and lingerie ordering. But deep down I know that soon enough, David will leave again. And my urges will return.

When I step through the front door and kick off my flats, something feels different. I chalk it up to my nerves, but my mind can’t help playing a flickering reel of scenarios. Will all of his stuff be packed up and gone? Will there be a note? Will I walk into the kitchen and find a seasoned divorce lawyer smoking at our table in a wide-lapelled suit and a power tie?

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see David alone in the kitchen. He’s just as I left him, in a white T-shirt and a pair slim-fitting cotton sweatpants that I bought him during one of my online shopping benders. He’s standing at the counter with his back turned to me, washing strawberries and slicing away their stems with a paring knife. But as I watch him, a sense of unease creeps back over me. Even staring at the back of his head, I can tell that something’s off. But whatever it is, it’s also strangely alluring. I feel a familiar rush that has no place in my kitchen with my husband so close.

He senses me in the room and shuts off the tap. “You missed breakfast,” he says. “Come have a strawberry.” He’s deadpan and calm, and his voice seems to have plunged an octave. He still doesn’t look at me.

“I’m okay. I got a smoothie,” I say. I shake my cup to rattle the straw, and it thuds faintly against the soft plastic sides coated with peanut butter goodness.

“I didn’t ask,” he says.

David has never spoken to me this way. Who is this man? And why do I feel like I’m in trouble?

“Come over here and eat a fucking strawberry,” he says. Adrenaline surges through me, and I feel a tingling below.

He holds out a red, ripe berry that he’s just sliced, and I pad fearfully across the kitchen tiles to take it from him. I reach out, but he turns the strawberry away from me, showing me the back of his hand like he’s training a dog to accept a treat gently in her mouth. My arm drops, and he turns the glistening red berry back to me.

“Eat the fucking strawberry,” he says again. His voice is deep, almost sinister. I feel myself getting wet.

I step toward him to take it in my mouth, and he pulls it away to tease me. His smile is pure evil. I try again, this time extending my tongue and giving it a firm lick while it’s still secured between his fingers, and he pushes it forcefully into my open mouth.

I glance down, and I can see his cock swelling within the fitted cotton of his pants.

He pulls his red-tipped fingers out of my mouth and then traces them down my chin toward my throat, which he fixes in a firm grip. Then he slowly bends me over the kitchen island, guiding me by his hand around my neck. Through the thin fabric of my zip-up, I can feel the cool granite of the countertop against my tits. And behind me, pressing against my ass, I feel the hot, equally hard granite of my husband’s cock.

He leans over me, breathing warmly on my neck.

“I know you’ve been a bad girl, Faith,” he says.

I’m so frightened and turned on that I can’t move. Slowly, painfully, I begin to ask the only question that matters. “How do you—”

“How do I what? How do I know that you’ve been fucking another man? That you’ve had his cock inside of you? That you’ve sucked it with your slutty little mouth?”

His cock is still throbbing against my ass. But how can that be? How can my David be turned on by any of this? I’ve literally spent
thousands
on lingerie trying to make him this hard.

“Because it’s obvious, Faith. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel his sweat on your body. I can smell his cock on your breath. And because I followed you this morning.”

I don’t know what to say. I want to figure out how much he knows, but it doesn’t matter. Cheating is cheating, and I’ve been caught.

“So you like to fuck in front of windows, do you?” he says. “Do you like to be watched? Did you want me to watch you?”

“But where—”

“Shut up,” he says. “I followed you to his building. Nice place. Good taste, this other cock of yours. I knew enough at that point, but I had to see more. I needed to see it with my own eyes. The thought of you fucking someone else—I just had to see it. The doorman wasn’t much help. Until I told him what a dirty little whore you were. Seems he’s been admiring you too, and he told me which window would give me the best view.”

Jesus. The window. Deep down, some paranoid part of me always knew that would end badly. But maybe that was what made it so hot.

“I couldn’t see much from the sidewalk,” he says. “But a man in the building across the street was more than happy to buzz me up and let me borrow his binoculars. He had them right there on the ledge, and he already knew which window I wanted to peer into. Now why do you think that is?”

I still can’t speak. Everything about this scenario spells the end of my marriage. Except his throbbing cock, which is still pulsing against my ass.

He leans into me and sniffs my hair.

“Did you shower after you fucked him?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

“Then why are you still so fucking dirty?” he whispers in my ear. “Do you know what happens to dirty girls.”

“No.” I begin to tremble.

“They get punished.” He gives a fistful of my hair a quick tug for emphasis.

Still pressed against the countertop, I lose control and begin convulsing against his body, shifting to my tippy toes to rub my ass up and down along his cotton-constrained cock.

“Do you like fucking other men, Faith?” he says. “Do you like being watched while you do it? Because I have a secret too.” He leans in close and whispers, “
I liked watching you
.”

Oh God. The mental image of him watching me suck Hunter’s cock nearly sends me over the edge. I begin quivering. I suddenly need him. Maybe even more than I needed Hunter to fuck me this morning.

“So if you’re going to be a dirty little whore and fuck other men,” I want to know about it,” he says. “I want you to share every lucid detail, and I want to watch you get fucked. Is that clear.”

“Yes,” I say, still shivering with fear and sliding my ass against his cock.

“I’m going to watch you, and then I’m going to fuck you,” he says.

I’m desperate for him. I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

Slowly, his hand leaves my neck, and I feel him gripping the flimsy fabric of my gray stretch pants. The sound of the seam tearing as he rends the cloth to expose my ass is exquisite. The feeling of being naked and vulnerable and utterly under his control makes me drip with desire for this strange new man—a man whom I’ve shared my life with, but didn’t fully know until this perfect, exhilarating moment.

I feel the shaft of his pulsing cock slide along my wet pussy, and waves of relief wash over me.

“Now tell me about this new cock of yours,” he says while he fucks me slowly and deeply. “Tell me how much you enjoyed fucking another man.”

The thought of telling him about Hunter is hotter than I ever imagined, and I steady myself to share all of my secrets. But the only words I can force past my shaky lips are “I love you.”