Authors: Marian Tee
Her legs shook at the effort it took to keep them still, and it became even harder when Staffan slid a second, then a third finger inside her. When he lifted his mouth, her head fell back against his chest, Saffi’s concentration focused on keeping herself from making any noise. But it was so hard. So, so hard, with the way he so skillfully moved his fingers, as if he knew exactly where and when to push deep to drive her out of her mind.
Both of them tried to make it last forever even though they knew it was impossible. Her body had always been his to enslave, and her love for him made it even easier for her to come.
Soon, her body was stiffening, her pussy throbbing painfully, and she knew she was very close.
Staffan knew it, too, and to push her past the edge, he told her, “I want you to come as hard as you can, baby.” He bit her ear right after, his fingers withdrawing then pushing in deep.
A second later, and his wife was doing exactly what he commanded, coming so hard Staffan was pretty sure it would leave a wet dark spot on their seat.
When it was over, he took out his hanky from his pocket, using the silky piece of cloth to clean and dry her flesh.
Saffi twisted on his lap to face him. “Staffan, I want to make you come, too.”
The words had his balls aching, his cock pulsing. But he forced himself to shake his head. If he let her touch his cock for more than a second – it would be all over. All his sacrifices, his determination to do everything right – it would be over.
“I’m all right.” Frustration made his voice brusque, and again Staffan caught a stricken look on his wife’s face. Goddammit. He didn’t want to keep hurting her like this. But he would end up doing that, he realized painfully, if they stayed too long in each other’s company.
Gently but firmly disentangling himself from her, Staffan stood up and, not looking at his wife, he muttered, “Excuse me for a moment. I need to get a drink.”
~ Three ~
Saffi was left staring at her husband’s back. Confusion and hurt had her inhaling deeply. What had happened? What could she have done to make him want to put as much distance between them?
Because that was what he had been doing for days now – something she had tried so hard to deny. Accepting interviews left and right, making appearances at every party he was invited to, and even agreeing to participate in a European concert tour—all of it was because Staffan wanted to be far from her.
And she just didn’t understand why.
When they were together, he wouldn’t look at her in the eye, wouldn’t tell her ‘I love you’ when he used to say it a thousand times each day –
Why?
What had made him change?
But if he didn’t love her, why would she sometimes catch him looking at her with so much longing? If he didn’t love her, surely he wouldn’t even remember the date of the first time they met?
Shifting on her seat, Saffi caught sight of the woman seated on the adjacent cushion looking at her.
Vampiric viperfish.
Saffi swallowed. The expression on the other passenger’s face told her that the woman knew
exactly
what she and Staffan had been doing minutes ago.
She stammered, “We’re, ah, married.” She showed the woman her wedding ring.
The woman said tightly, “I know.” And then she showed Saffi her wrist, and that was when she saw the baller ID that the woman wore. It was a limited-edition design, one only given to those who had VIP membership in the Official Staffan Aehrenthal Fan Club.
The woman also continued, “I also know you’re being too greedy and controlling.”
Saffi stiffened.
“From one fangirl to another – I think you’ve let the fact that you’re his wife go through your head.”
“
Excuse me?”
Saffi couldn’t help but glare at the woman, but deep inside she also couldn’t help but notice that her anger was born out of guilt. Maybe…maybe this woman was right? Maybe she was asking too much? So Staffan hadn’t made love to her in days. They were just
days.
She had heard about couples not making love for weeks. Months even. And they were still happy, still in love with each other. Oh my God, what if this woman was right? What if love had turned her into a selfish, controlling nymphomaniac?
“I think you’ve forgotten what it is that makes you a real fangirl.”
Perhaps to another person, the words would have sounded ridiculous. But to Saffi, every word made sense because she was a fangirl, too. Or at least she had been. She had sought solace in Staffan’s music and being his fangirl to escape the stress of her life, of being the perfect senator’s daughter. His music had been her salvation, and as a fangirl, she had always—
“A real fangirl would always have Staffan’s best interests at heart.”
That.
She used to think that was the most important.
When
, Saffi thought miserably,
had she stopped thinking about what was best for Staffan and had started thinking that only what was best for her mattered?
“I heard you insisting for sex,” the woman hissed, “like Staffan Aehrenthal’s some kind of…some kind of…
gigolo.
”
Saffi flinched.
“Surely you knew how hectic his tour in Europe was? Did you know that after each concert, he stayed for hours in each venue, taking photos with his fans, signing autographs?”
No. She hadn’t.
But she should have
, Saffi thought guiltily,
because she was his wife.
The woman burst to her feet. “You should really be ashamed of yourself.” She turned around to leave but bumped into someone instead.
“My apologies.”
Saffi’s head jerked up at the sound, and her every panicky suspicion was confirmed when she saw that it was indeed Staffan the woman had bumped into.
****
Staffan was aghast to see a huge dark stain spread on the woman’s blouse, the result of him accidentally spilling most of his wine on her.
Thankful that he had gotten himself a spare hanky from the cabin, he took it out and handed it to the woman. “Would you—”
She raised her hands. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have this injury that prevents me from moving my fingers properly. Could you, umm…?”
Saffi gaped at the bald-faced lie.
Really? Really? Really?
Staffan didn’t dare look at his wife. “Err…” He moved, intending to place the hanky in the woman’s hands and put an end to the farce.
Saffi’s eyes widened. Surely Staffan wouldn’t—
Unable to bear it, she jumped to her feet. “Don’t be an idiot!” The words were out before she could stop it.
Staffan stiffened.
She clapped her hands over her mouth.
Of all the things to say!
Staffan was very proud, and she just knew he wouldn’t take her words so lightly.
Her husband looked at her coldly. “And
you
shouldn’t be unreasonable.” Stiffly, he turned to the other woman. “My apologies again—”
The woman flashed him a pretty smile. “Janine.”
Jealousy stung her heart when Saffi saw Staffan return the smile with a dazzling one of his own. It had every woman in the observation car hyperventilating.
When he put his hanky back in his pocket, Saffi thought it was safe to let herself start breathing again. All was forgiven—
“Since my wife is being overly emotional, perhaps you would allow me to escort you to your cabin instead while you change?”
~ Four ~
Rathe Wellesley, the 5
th
Duke of Flanders, was in his London office when he received a call that had him raising one aristocratic brow. The duke, with his chestnut-brown hair and blue eyes, was known as England’s #1 Heartthrob. He was also one of the Three Pussketeers, a term coined by social media to describe Rathe and his two other fellow European billionaire friends.
If it had been any other married woman calling him, the reason for it was obvious. She wanted an assignation from him. However, this was Sapphire March, a charming girl who was even more charmingly besotted with his close friend Staffan.
What could she possibly need to call him for?
Leaning back against his chair, he answered the call. “Hello, Saffi.”
Saffi cleared her throat. “Hi, Rathe. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?”
His eyes narrowed. She was trying to hide the fact that she had been crying, but it was obvious, with her tear-thickened voice. “Not at all.” Being the polite British aristocrat he was, he patiently engaged her with small talk, giving Staffan’s wife enough time to compose herself.
After, he asked gently, “If you let me know what’s wrong, I will do my best to help you of course.”
She blurted out, “Have you noticed anything strange about Staffan lately?”
He frowned. “I had dinner with him last night. Other than looking tired, he seemed like the usual. Actually, he appeared excited, like there was something he was keeping a secret.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I see.” There was the proof then. With Rathe, Staffan was
normal.
Excited even. But with her?
“Maybe you should tell me what you find so strange about him,” Rathe suggested.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure if Staffan would think it’s okay—”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Saffi mumbled the truth.
Rathe’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Had he heard her correctly? But then, this
was
the wife of Staffan Aehrenthal, possibly the wildest rock star the world would ever know.
“If I, err, heard you correctly, did you just say you’re worried that Staffan hasn’t made love to you in
eight
days?”
She said in a small voice, “Yes.”
“Three of those would be the nights he was here in London and you were still in Miami, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So technically, it’s five days.”
“Yes.” She added hurriedly, “And I know it sounds crazy that I should even worry, but Rathe, this is
Staffan
.”
She had a point there, Rathe thought. “I do believe that is odd, but perhaps he really is tired and he doesn’t want to risk…disappointing you in bed?” Even to his ears, the words sounded lame.
Saffi said loyally, “Staffan could never disappoint me that way.”
The duke smiled. “Naturally.”
“Maybe…I was thinking…if he’s hiding something from me, maybe it’s to surprise me?” Saffi tightened her grip on her phone. “If that’s what this is, and you know what’s going on, please tell me. Forget about the surprise. I’m just…” She choked back a sob. “I know I sound insane, but I just know…” She beat her chest. “Here, in my heart, I can feel that he’s hiding something from me. So please, if you guys are all planning a surprise for me…”
Rathe was grim by the time Saffi’s voice trailed off.
Damn you, Aehrenthal, what game are you playing with your wife?
He said quietly, “I’m sorry, Saffi, but as far as I know – he’s not planning anything like that.”
****
Staffan knew the exact moment Saffi came to follow him. She had thought he was joking when he told her he would always know where to find her, but he wadn’t. When her heart beat, the sound and feel of it resounded all the way to his own.
Even knowing she was there, he pretended to be unaware, never once faltering in his conversation with Janine, who was taking her bloody time changing. The fact that theirs was the most boring conversation didn’t help, and it was all he could do not to yawn.
Hiding at the end of the hallway, just outside the observation car, Saffi did her best not to make any noise as her husband talked to Janine.
“I’m really sorry I caused trouble for you and your wife.”
“It’s nothing,” Staffan dismissed.
Did this idiot really think she had him fooled?
If he hadn’t so badly needed to stay far away from his own wife, he would have told the woman exactly what he thought of her lame-ass attempt to get him alone with her.