Be a Doll(66)

“Not if he knows what’s best for him.’’ She caught the eyes of our waiter to ask for the check before her attention went back to me. “He had already cost me my Sunday lunch with Mathis and you, and Megan said she probably won’t be there this weekend. I know she comes mostly to see Mathis. I will not let my family shatter more than it already has.’’

“Maybe you could come to the apartment for dinner sometimes. Megan would be welcome too. I’m sure Mathis would like that,’’ I offered with a smile, strangely feeling guilty over something I had no power over with and knowing full well that the issues between father and son had very little to do with me.

Sylvie’s eyes welled up again and she patted my hand before the waiter presented her with the check she quickly paid and left a fat tip. As we stood up, she came to me and linked her arm into mine as we walked through the restaurant back to the lobby where another member of the staff quickly went to snatch our coats.

“You’re a wonderful young woman, Lila. I hope my son sees it.’’

Oh, he had seen plenty of me the previous night and I was sure he was relieved to leave the apartment before I even woke up. That way he was able to avoid giving me the reminder speech stating that we were nothing more than a business arrangement, something I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. The tightness in my chest didn’t change that.

I knew where my place was, and with Oscar Grimes’ visit it only seared my mind more.

I was a trophy wife, supposed to be a perfect little doll to complement my husband and provide with an easy access to his next orgasm.

I might be living in luxury and my ass could be covered with the finest lace panties and the best designer pants on the market, but my life was sterile.

***





MATHIS


I didn’t remember a time when I wanted to come home for another reason but to be relieved of the constant control I had to exert at work or outside as a whole. In fact, since I married Lila I had wanted to come back home and see her to better toy with her and watch her resist and yet folding a little more every day.

After the previous night and the goddamn awful day at work, I wanted to grab her as soon as I got home and fuck her against the closest surface. Even a window would do.

That was the plan, the reason why I kept readjusting myself in the town car driven by Lucas, why I threw my keys on the console without looking as soon as I was in the apartment and why I stalked inside, coat on my arm and briefcase in hand, ready to throw them as soon as I located my wife.

I craved her skin under my fingers. I wanted to see how long I could tease without giving her what she needed. I wanted to see her ride me. I wanted to watch her ass as I fucked her from behind. Plans were forming in my mind as I scanned around the living room until finally, through the haze of lust I smelled someone was cooking.

“Mathis?’’

My cock deflated immediately when a voice saying my name wasn’t the one I expected to hear. “Mom?’’ The disgust in my voice was slightly veiled, but if she had known my plans to be buried deep in my wife before dinner, she wouldn’t be giving me a wounded look from over the kitchen counter. “Where’s Lila? What are you doing here?’’ My voice evened out then and I put down my briefcase next to the armchair and my coat on the back of it.

“I’m right here,’’ my wife answered for my mother as she reappeared. Apparently she was kneeling next to her to find a bottle of red wine.

My eyes drank her in quickly. I couldn’t let myself stay fixed on her for long with my mother here, but it was enough to make my blood run faster through my veins again. Her hair was swept up in some messy knot on top of her head and a few tendrils brushed her high cheekbones. Her makeup was light and classy, like always, but it was her mouth that distracted me for a moment. Her plush lips glistened, as if she had licked them. In a moment of weakness I let myself remember what they looked like all swollen and wet from my kisses.

When my cock started to stir again in my slacks, I walked to the kitchen bar and sat on one of the high stools. My mother was back to the oven to check whatever was inside. While her back was to us, I sent a questioning glare to Lila.

Her answering frown and tension in her shoulders didn’t bode well. It appeared she was still angry after our brief phone call that morning.

“I invited your mother for dinner since Sunday lunch is canceled,’’ she finally elaborated as she got ready to uncork the wine.

“Give me that,’’ I said and stopped her with a hand on top of hers holding the bottle of Merlot 2003. She passed me the bottle and the corkscrew as my mother came back toward us with a weak smile. I hated it when I saw the sadness in her. I knew that sadness was her close friend since that morning at the beach all those years ago, but it made me ache when I was the one hurting her again and again.

“Don’t blame your wife, mon gar?on,’' she said and gave Lila a smile full of warmth, the kind she only offered Megan and me, and used to give Max. It was worrisome how easily she welcomed Lila with open arms and her heart on her sleeve. “She offered a dinner one of these days so I could still see you without our usual Sunday lunch and I imposed myself tonight.’’

“You didn’t, Sylvie,’’ Lila countered immediately and once again I was taken aback how honest she sounded. She truly liked my mother and it shouldn’t please me quite as much as it did. “We’re happy to have you here tonight, aren’t we, Mathis?’’