Arranged(41)

I looked down between our bodies and for one fleeting moment I saw that he had pulled out mid-climax. Cum was still spurting out of his tip.

In a flash he rolled me over and up onto my hands and knees then started pumping into me again, hips slamming against my ass with each forceful plunge as he rubbed out every last twitch of his orgasm, rooting his cum out deep inside of my sensitive flesh.

“What the fuck?” he panted in a rough, agitated voice.

He held me up with a strong hand fanned out against my belly, and he kept me prone like that, buried deep while he emptied himself with drawn out spasms.

It went on for quite a while. He savored his climax to the very last drop. “Worth every penny,” he muttered into my ear at the end, like he hated it, but not nearly as much as he loved it.

My body was confused about what was happening to it. I was coming down from the high of my climax, a little mortified at my wanton response to him, a part of me had definitely gone a little numb, and in spite of all that I was still turned on.

When he was finally finished, he dragged himself out of me.

I sucked in a breath at the sensation of that slow, slick pull.

He finally tugged himself free. There was a wet little pop as my cunt reluctantly let go of his broad tip.

A second later his palm left my belly, and I felt his heavy form shift away and leave the bed.

I held my own weight for maybe three seconds before I collapsed. I was boneless. Used up. Spent. I didn’t think I had an ounce of energy left in my body.

I don’t know what he did after that. I fell asleep straight away.





CHAPTER





EIGHTEEN





CALDER


I woke up with a raging hangover and a relentless hard-on. What the hell?

I didn’t even know where I was.

Oh, wait. Yes, I did.

In my wife’s bed. I’d caved in and gone to her the night before.

So many excuses had led me here. I’d lasted exactly two hours from the time I dropped her off to when I broke. Refusal turned to denial which led quickly into empty justifications.

The fact was that I’d wanted her more than I cared about my reasons for hating her. I’d needed to fuck her. Needed it.

So I’d changed my mind. Twisted all of my rationalizations. This might be a travesty of a marriage, but there was no reason I couldn’t make the best of it. I’d use her body however I pleased and keep hating her, I told myself. Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d fall in love with me so I could break her money-loving heart.

Even I knew it was an empty excuse. I used it anyway. Anything to bury myself inside her for a few hours. And if that wasn’t bad enough I’d actually allowed myself to stay the night. My father would be unbearably smug when he heard.

It was untenable but I should’ve been used to the feeling. Lately my whole life was untenable.

Two years ago I was on top of the world. I was independently wealthy. I was happy. I was a romantic. I thought love conquered all. I thought love existed.

And then everything had changed. A few unfortunate happenings caused it, but all that mattered were the results—I lost everything of value in my life.

My business went belly up. My father disinherited me. The love of my life married another man. In that order.

The result? I’d become hardhearted. A cynic. And there was nothing I hated more than a fortune-hunting female.

Except perhaps my father for leveraging me into marrying one.

And now I was sleeping with her without any coercion whatsoever. And this wouldn’t be the last time. I knew it in my gut. I hadn’t had enough of her. Not even close.

Still, I tried to rally. I swore to myself I’d leave right away.

Right away after some aspirin, coffee, and one more quick orgasm.

Reluctantly I turned my head, taking in my first sight of my wife in the morning light.

It wasn’t a smart thing to do. I should have just walked away without looking back.

It was very early, but she’d left the blinds open completely and the morning sun was just peeking in with streaks of sunrise.

She was lying on her stomach, nude from when I’d undressed her the night before. Her hair was a silky tangle of tawny blonde waves that covered most of her shoulders and half of her face. That face was turned to me, innocent in slumber and flawless in the dawn light. I’d never seen her without makeup on before. Her skin was smooth and perfect and pore-less as a babe. She looked like the crossover child of a Victoria’s Secret model and a Disney princess. It was an intriguing, unsettling, stirring combination, to say the least.

So clean and so dirty. So innocent and so tremendously, immeasurably fuckable.

Moreover, I’d never seen her face relaxed, without artifice or guile. It was shocking. It was fascinating. I wanted to brush all the hair away and study her at my leisure. Every inch of her, inside and out. I wanted to ferret out all of her secrets. I wanted to know what made her tick.

It made no sense. I knew all I needed to already. She was a gold digger. The most predictable creature on earth. She shouldn’t have interested me in the least.

But I’d be damned if I wasn’t absolutely fascinated. Fascinated and disgusted. Disgusted enough that even when she looked this innocent I wanted to lash out at her.

I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to fuck her silly. I knew I’d do both, but for the life of me I couldn’t manage to do it in that order.