Breaking Perfect (3 page)

He
nuzzled his rough chin into her shoulder. Chills chased up her spine as he
kissed the flesh that peaked out from beneath the collar of her blouse.

A
sense of urgency to get off the phone distracted her from the conversation with
the unknown caller. Swallowing, she rasped, “He isn’t expected back until late
tonight. Who shall I say was calling?” She needed to take advantage of this
suddenly affectionate side of her husband before it faded.

“Please
tell him Sean O’Malley called.”

She
quickly jotted down the name and number the man gave then hung up the phone and
turned in her husband’s arms.

“Dinner
was wonderful, Lib. Thank you. You take such good care of me.”

Her
lips parted as she blinked up at him, savoring the sudden ache in her breasts. So
unbelievably turned on as fantasy after fantasy sprang into her sex-starved
mind she could barely form words. “It’s my job to take care of you. I’m happy
to do it,” she whispered.

He
smiled and kissed her nose and just that quickly, like a blanket being stripped
off of her body in the midst of a dreamy slumber, he emotionally disengaged
from whatever had been about to happen and stepped away.

I’m
not glass
she wanted to scream! She wanted to rip off her clothing and
demand he fuck her right on the imported countertops until her ass felt
bruised. Maybe she should take off her clothes right there in the kitchen. Panic
choked her. She didn’t want him to stop, but internally sobbed, recognizing
that he already had.

“What
kind of movie do you feel like?” he asked as he stretched.

She
didn’t feel like watching a movie anymore. She felt like fucking her husband.
What if she dropped to her knees and began to suck his cock deep in her mouth
until it grew so hard it touched the back of her throat? Would he be repulsed?
Why was she such a pervert all of a sudden?

Guilt
and shame crept over her like the feathery feet of spiders. Stepping back, she folded
her hands, and set her ankles side by side. Her physical control helped her
settle her frantic mind. “You pick. It’s your birthday. Why don’t you go get it
set up and I’ll meet you up there just as soon as I tidy the kitchen?”

“Okay,
don’t take too long.”

The
kitchen was spotless in a matter of minutes, but took an extra five to simply
stand with her cheek pressed to the chilled glass of the poolroom door so that
she would cool off. She was twenty-eight. According to her understanding she
was still years away from hitting her prime. Why then, was she thinking like
such a whore? It was a horrible feeling, wanting her husband to fuck and grope
her like an animal. Her mind was suddenly hosting fantasies she shouldn’t
recognize. Yet they seemed perfectly at home in her head.

She’d
been masturbating in secret every day for weeks now. Sometimes two or three times
a day. And still her panties would need to be changed because one thought would
have her soaking wet again. Why? Why was this happening to her? She didn’t want
to want the things her body was craving. Such fantasies could never exist with
Mason. If this kept up she would only find herself resenting a perfectly lovely
marriage.

Liberty
grabbed hold of the soft skin under her arm and pinched until tears prickled
her eyes. The action had a grounding result. The sharp bite of pain centered
her being in a way that didn’t require too much time, as it was time she didn’t
want to spare at the moment.

She
held her tender flesh clamped between her fingers, knowing she was developing a
bruise, and waited until the pain became too much that she could no longer feel
it. The moment that the pain stopped, a part of her tension broke away. Her
mind cleared for a brief moment, much like it did in the eye of an orgasm, and
she let out a slow breath. That’s better.

When
she released her stiff fingers and pulled her face away from the cool glass
door she was calmer. She swallowed, squared her shoulders, and headed up to the
entertainment room to find Mason.

They
watched
The Time Traveler’s Wife
and in the end Liberty cried.
 
Mason’s hand rubbed over her back as he
passed her tissues she bashfully accepted.

Mason
locked up the house while she changed into a white satin nightgown that flowed
to the floor. Folding the linens back on Mason’s side of the bed, she lowered
the lights to the dim/off setting. Within ten minutes the room would be
completely black, the way they both preferred to sleep. Mason entered the room
just as she climbed into bed.

“That
was a good movie, don’t you think?”

“Yes.
I liked it.”

“You
always like the sad ones,” he teased.

“That’s
not true! My favorite movie is
Braveheart
. It’s brutal and totally a man
flick!”

“Lib,
he dies a martyr for his widow.”

“He
wasn’t a martyr. The English caught him. Otherwise he would have kept on
fighting. He fought for his widow.”

“Same
difference.
 
It may have war, but it’s
still a sad love story.”

She
sat up on one elbow and shook her head at him. “Well, don’t act like you only
watch macho stuff. You loved
The Notebook.”

“Now
that,” he said, leaning over to kiss her lips, “is a great movie.” He settled
into his side of the bed and adjusted the covers. “Love you, Lib. Thanks for a
fantastic birthday.”

“We
didn’t do anything.”

“It
was perfect. You made it perfect.” Her heart swelled at his compliment. For
her, there really was no higher praise.

The
room grew dimmer and Liberty waited for Mason to touch her. It was Friday
night. They always made love on Friday night. Not to mention that it was his
birthday.

Darker
and darker the open space became and Liberty began hyperventilating from the
anticipation. Anxiety closed in and she fought to force it back.
Patience.

What
if he just went to sleep? What if they didn’t make love? It was Friday! Why
wasn’t he touching her? Her heart began to race as she fought the urge to cry.
She couldn’t initiate their lovemaking. It just wasn’t in her to do so. He
needed to start things. He always started things.

When
the room submerged into complete blackness and she could hear nothing but her
heart pounding in her ears and her mind screaming
Noooo!
Mason was
completely silent. And then he touched her. She sighed. A thousand bits of
tension scattered away by that single touch of his fingers along her shoulder
and down her arm. He didn’t forget. Everything would be fine.

His
fingers sought out hers. They linked hands and he drew her palm to his mouth
and placed a soft kiss there. “Come here, Lib.”

Scooting
over on the bed, the gentle touch of his right hand coasted over her thighs,
gathering and pulling the silk of her gown. A quiet but intentional moan
slipped past her lips so he understood she was enjoying herself. Mason was
usually very good about preparing her with long moments of caresses and tender
petting, but Liberty was already drenched between her thighs, almost
embarrassingly so. She sort of wanted him to get to it, but would never suggest
such a thing.

Mason
easily pulled her thighs apart and rolled to his side in the dark. As his mouth
began to kiss her shoulder and neck his fingers worked their way to her pussy. He
paused for the briefest second as his fingers discovered the wet mark
saturating the satin of her panties. He tried to hide his surprise, but Liberty
knew him too well. That second after touching her drenched folds as he stilled,
processing his discovery, drawing comparisons, was spiked with a moment’s
shame. She was grateful the darkness hid her shameful expression.

He
worked her panties down her narrow hips and Libby did her best to shimmy out of
them the rest of the way and kick them aside. The thin satin straps of her gown
slipped over her shoulders and she arched as Mason’s hand found her breast. Strong
palms cupped her flesh. She was only a B cup, but he never complained. However,
sometimes Liberty wondered if she had larger breasts if he would play with them
more, perhaps pinch and tug at the tips and softly bite the tender parts.

It
wasn’t long before he was on top of her and fitting his cock into her sex. Shame
for how eager she secretly was twisted low in her stomach. A desire to rush
warred with her struggle to stay in control of her emotions. Finally, he slid
into her.

They
fit together nicely. Mason had a large cock, not abnormally so, according to
what she learned about the male anatomy in magazines, but it was wide and
Liberty loved the way it stretched her. As always he took measured strokes,
never going unnecessarily fast and never pressing in too deep. It was pleasant.
It was always pleasant—but as always, Liberty never came and Mason never
pressed the issue.

A
rumble of satisfaction purred from deep within Mason’s chest. Warmth spread
within her channel and Liberty sighed. Just like always, Mason finished with an
affectionate kiss. “I love you.”

Like
hunger, her need was sated, but not to the degree an exquisite banquet could
satisfy her. Pasta with wine was nice, but champagne, filet mignon, and lobster
was better.

“I
love you, too.”

A
few moments later, Mason was already falling asleep as Liberty returned from
the bathroom. Her panties were on the floor and she tossed them into the
laundry chute then slipped a clean pair on. Climbing into bed, she refused to
mourn her lack of release, because Mason was her everything, and her love was
enough to sustain her. Softly sighing, she shut her eyes.

Chapter Two

Mason awoke to the delicious scent
of bacon and had no doubt that Liberty had already been up for hours. Climbing
out of bed, he stretched his tall, lean body and yawned until his jaw popped.
His fingers adjusted his cock as it bobbed proudly before him as he moved into
the bathroom and started the shower. As if she had the hearing of a bat, music
filled the house not two minutes after he began to move around. This morning’s
choice of music—Coldplay. Lovely.

Steam from Libby’s shower lingered
in the large ultra-feminine bathroom as Mason brushed his teeth. It didn’t
bother him that his master bath was filled with decadent female frills and
luxuries. Liberty was an incredible wife and she deserved to be pampered much
more than she ever allowed him to do for her.
 
She took pride in doing for herself and others, so he knew, when he was
having their home designed, that the only way to ensure she treated herself to
some regular pampering was to make it available to her around the clock.

The best hotels of New York and
Paris couldn’t claim a bath as luxurious as the one he’d created for his wife.
The circular design was one of a kind. The upholstered sitting chair beside the
tub was large enough to fit five grown men. It was custom made, as was the
vanity seat. The fabrics came from India and the tile from Italy. All of the
wide trim work was custom made by a local carpenter who retired years ago, but
Mason found his price and tempted him out of retirement.

He rarely wasted money, but when it
came to their home and items that would be used well past their prime, he had
no qualms about spending it. He made an extremely good living, but he was never
a prick about owning or being able to afford luxuries.
 
Every year, he asked Libby to call community
centers across the country and learn about those in need. Come Christmas, she
would have ten families selected and Mason made it her project to make sure
every mother, father, son, and daughter got what they wanted and needed. He
loved being able to make a difference and it was something Liberty really
benefited from, something she never was permitted to do as a child.

As the hot water sloshed over his
body and suds swirled into the drain, Mason worked a lather over his needy
cock. His mind went somewhere else for a moment, but he quickly chased it back
to where it needed to be. Tugging hard and fast at his slippery flesh, he
gritted his teeth.

His balls drew up tight and his ass
clenched as his body came alive. Mason widened his stance and braced his upper
body so that his forehead could rest on the forearm fixed across the tiled
wall. His tight calf muscles flexed as his spine began to tingle. Panting
through his teeth he grunted. Almost there. Tightly, he squeezed his aching
cock, needing to experience that heady pain of resistance that only came with
certain kinds of raw fucking, the kind he gave up long ago.

Opening his eyes, a pearl of pre
cum slid over his finger and that was all it took. A kaleidoscope of images
filled his mind, Libby’s sweet pink mouth, her perfect little cunt, that round
apple shaped ass. Oh, God, what it would feel like to grab hold of that thick
blonde hair and slowly feed her every inch of his cock.

And then it happened. No matter how
hard he fought it a little glimpse always slipped past his guard, that little
snippet frozen in time, one moment locked in his memory, a moment that was only
one of many, unspectacular and ordinary, but meaningful because it was gone.
His mind zeroed in on that forbidden glimpse of his past like a starved vulture
over a long dead corpse. Greedily he mindfucked the image filling his head and
cum was suddenly busting out of his cock with the force of a bullet.

Mason panted and caught his breath.
His eyes squeezed shut as if that would make him forget what he saw in his mind.
“Fuck.”

Blinking, he shook his head,
clearing away the memories of his past. Like a phantom, they would haunt him
for the remainder of the day. His past was not welcome here any more than
Liberty’s was. The difference, however, was that he knew all about his wife’s
tainted past. His mental relapse was an indiscretion, a reminder that, in light
of his wife’s innocent continence, he still kept secrets from her.