Masked Definitions (12 page)

He rips my mask off my face, his icy grey eyes intense and angry. “That’s who I’m speaking to. Olivia, the wife of my estranged brother.”

“No.” I snatch the mask back from his hand, my other hand struggling to keep the gown against my body. “You’re not. Not here.” We stare at each other for the longest moment. I want to cry; my fear at the reality of this is too much.

“You’re a bit done up for a box packing factory.” He states, his tone flat.

I tense, my trembling hands holding the gown tightly to me.

“Does Max know?”

Holy fuck. My mouth goes dry.

“Of course he doesn’t. He’s way too possessive.”

I don’t turn around to face him; I daren’t. “Are you going to tell Max?”

He doesn’t respond. His hand reaches up as if to touch my cheek but drops seconds later. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’m sorry, Elijah.” I admit and take his wrist in a delicate grip. “I am so sorry.”

“Me too.” He rubs his hands over his face and sighs gravely. “I should go.”

“We should talk about this.”

His eyes trail up and down my body which, though covered in the gown, isn’t hidden from view. “Not like this. Not while the urge to fuck you against this pole is so prominent in my mind and body.” My breath catches at his words, spoken on such a deep, intense note that I feel it immediately between my thighs. “You have no idea how…” Cutting off, he clears his throat and steps back into the darkness. “I should go.”

I hear him swallow the rest of his drink. I wish I had something strong now too.

“I wish I had been wrong,” he mutters when he reaches the door. “You have no idea how badly I wish that I had been wrong.”

“Me too,” I breathe after the door closes behind him. “Me too.”

I leave immediately after he does, cancelling with my client. I don’t even bother to speak to Rick. I just know that I can’t be here for a second longer.

I should have asked him what it was that forced him to discover me. Why didn’t I force him to stay and talk it out? Can I convince him to keep it quiet? Doesn’t he also have a lot to lose? He is married too.

Though something tells me that his marriage is already over. I think they’re probably now only married for appearances. I don’t know either of them well enough to determine that for sure.

I mentally kick myself once more that I didn’t force him to stay.

What if he has already told Max?

Sleep evades me when I do finally make it home. I wait for Max, wondering and tormenting myself with the thought that he already knows. Elijah must have told him. Maybe that’s where he is right now.

This will hurt Max so badly. He’ll never forgive me. I don’t have Elijah’s number to call him and I daren’t contact Penelope at this hour. It’ll open up the opportunity for questions that my brain doesn’t have the power to create lies for right now.

I should never have agreed to dance for him when I discovered his identity. I knew he’d find out. He’s a smart man. There was no way he wouldn’t.

I just hoped that it wouldn’t be this soon.

I should hand in my resignation but part of me doesn’t want to until I have to.

The door opens and closes and my heart stops. I hear Max’s footsteps ascend the stairs. They don’t sound different to any other night.

He pads through the area, brushes his teeth, drops his clothes onto the floor and then climbs into bed with me. It takes him all of two seconds to then curl into my body and fall asleep.

I feel even tenser than before. Part of me wanted him to know now, purely so I wouldn’t have to sit and wait for him to find out. The suspense is killing me. Maybe I should tell him myself.

Before I can put more thought into it, Max’s warmth helps me to drift into slumber. We sleep the morning away together.

The week drifts by slowly and every single day is more intense than the last. I miss my MP3 player that the Duke decided to commandeer during our fishing trip and never returned to me. It’s times like this that I really need my music.

Max remains blissfully unaware of anything but my love for him. I hate that I’m deceiving him but I can’t help myself. It’s the only way I can be free.

Thankfully he hasn’t noticed that I haven’t been to work again for a while and thankfully Rick has allowed me this break without giving me headaches.

I’ve spent this time avoiding everyone and everything, which is silly because Max demands my attention and he’s only getting sore about the fact that he isn’t getting it. Sore Max equals a grumpy Max, which equals definite headaches for me.

Sigh.

He hasn’t seen Elijah this week either and I think that’s getting to him. When Max connects with somebody, he holds tight. I fear for his mental stability if Elijah were ever to leave him.

“Let’s go to the park,” Max suggests. He likes his walks around the Lake. He likes walking, period.

I shake my head. “I need to take all of this laundry to the laundrette. You’ve got no clean work clothes.”

“I hate doing the laundry.”

“Me too, but it’s gotta be done.”

He groans and buries his face in his arms on the counter. “Fine, you do that. I’ll go to the shops and grab us something for tea.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” I’m actually surprised that he’s taking the initiative. “I love you.”

He grins at me over his shoulder. “I love you too.” Turning, he pulls me quickly into his arms and presses his lips to mine. “You don’t tell me enough.”

“I tell you every day.” I laugh, crinkling my brows together.

“Only when I tell you. On the rare occasion that you say it first, it makes me want to ask you to marry me all over again.”

I wink and lean back so as to view his handsome face a bit better. “And that’s precisely why I only say it first very rarely, because it means more to you.”

He kisses me again and pulls me towards the stairs. We descend them, stupidly still kissing, before he pulls open the door and exits, his wallet poking out of his back pocket. I reach and push it in properly before waving him off and closing the door behind him.

“Please don’t tell him, Elijah,” I whisper to no one, feeling an overwhelming draft of sadness hit me.

As I’m packing up all of our dirty clothing, there’s a knock at the door. It can’t be Max; I know he took his key. I hope he hasn’t lost it again.

I pad down the stairs to the door and look through the peephole.

“Fuck,” I hiss and swiftly open the door. Before he can register what I’m doing, I grab him by the collar and pull him inside. “Look,” I begin, pointing in his face. “I know that what I did was really bad, but I’d like to know just how shitty my life is going to become as a result.”

He quirks a brow and smooths down his shirt and tie. “You mean you haven’t told Max?”

“No,” I admit and keep my face carefully blank. Is that what he was doing by not replying to my messages or calling? Was he giving me a chance to tell Max myself? “I didn’t realise I was supposed to.”

He blinks. “Do you feel any remorse?”

“If I felt remorse I wouldn’t be doing it at all.”

“But you haven’t this week.” He points out. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve taken a break.”

He leans back against the walls and rests one foot on the bottom stair. “Are you saying that even if Max found out you’d continue dancing?”

“No.” Biting my lip, I mimic his stance. “Max wouldn’t let me.”

“He’d leave you.”

“Perhaps,” I mutter and close my eyes. “This is messed up.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Fuck you.” I glare at him, projecting my anger onto him. “You’re no better. You’re married too.”

“My marriage is all but over and has been for a long time.”

Eye roll. “And that’s why there are so many secrets between you?”

He frowns in response but remains silent.

“That’s why you’re paying for the services of other women.”

“It’s more discreet.”

I snort. “Please, with your cash flow you could make anything discreet.” I walk my fingers up his tie. “You don’t want to cheat on your wife but you can’t fight the urges to explore other opportunities.” My hand wraps around his tie and holds it tight. “Am I right, my Lord Duke?”

His narrowed, wild, angry eyes rest on mine but his lips remain tightly sealed. I know that I have hit the nail on the head.

“And…” I try to continue, but I’m cut off by the sensation of soft, warm lips on mine. The suddenness of it surprises me but the second it registers, I find myself inhaling through my nose and hooking my arm around his neck to bring him closer.

He groans and lifts my leg over his hip easily as his tongue explores the depths of my mouth. Our lips work together as if they were made for each other. Our tongues tangle as if they’ve danced before.

This fucked up situation feels so right, so good. I want more.

The ache I’ve been feeling since the first time we met in that dark and sinister little slut room returns with a vengeance and the urge to be filled by him is too much.

“God,” he murmurs against my lips as his throbbing length is crushed between us. He lifts me higher so as to angle the curves between my thighs better.

I shudder and moan, my fingers wrapping around the coat hooks above my head. I hold on tight as he drags my trousers to my knees and drops to his before me. My eyes widen when I feel his mouth there. Oral is something I don’t receive often and fuck me if he isn’t good at it and he has yet to remove the barrier of my thong.

“Duke,” I cry out when he bites the fabric over my mound and pulls it down with the help of his fingertips. My jeans leave my legs entirely and his hands explore every inch before gripping the softness of my arse. He stands, still holding me, his lips glistening, inviting me to kiss them. I do so, squeezing my eyes shut tight so I can lie to myself that this isn’t wrong, this thing we’re doing that feels so good.

How can it be wrong?

He lifts me, hooking one knee over his elbow.

Then I feel him, right there, poised at my entrance and ready to stretch me so fully that I fall into oblivion in a million tiny fragments of pleasure.

“Enna,” he whispers against my neck and the burning tingle begins as he enters me so wonderfully.

I feel it tingle from my navel to my feet. The burning makes my legs twitch.

I want him deeper. I beg him to fuck me wildly, without abandon. I want to unleash the animalistic side of him. I want to unleash the animal within him.

He thrusts into me, not slowly, not quickly, but powerfully. His desperation to bring himself to release is as strong as the desperation I have felt since that first night in the room.

A loud cry escapes me when he pushes himself into the hilt and holds himself there. I wonder why he’s stopped until I feel the length of him swell and begin to pulse. His forehead comes to mine. I daren’t open my eyes and I know that he probably feels the same.

The burning spreads and stretches through my body, bouncing from cell to cell. I’ve never felt more alive. I’ve never felt so good.

It makes my eyes water as I fight for control and lose myself.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his breath against my lips. “You feel even better than I could have imagined. You’re fucking perfect.”

I tip over the precipice and cry my release. My hands that held the hooks fall to his shoulders as I buck against him, desperate for him to move.

Then he joins me, his grunts and moans as loud as my own, if not more so. His hips slam against mine and he rolls us together, pressing me harder into the wall. I can’t catch a breath. My chest is tight; the burning won’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

“Don’t stop,” I plead as the tingles begin to dissipate. “Please…”

His body stills against mine. I feel my leg drop when he removes his arm to cage me in as his chest heaves with each breath. Our foreheads remain connected as he pulls up and buckles the belt on his trousers. They were pushed down just enough to allow us both access to his cock.

He’s still solid and I want more. Why won’t he give me more?

Sinking to one knee, he helps me step back into my trousers, such a tender act after such a wild fuck. He buttons them when they reach my hips and leans forward to press his lips to mine after standing again.

“Thank you,” he says softly and so quietly I hardly hear him. My mouth forms no words; I don’t know what to say. We have yet to even look at each other.

It’s not until he is out of the flat and closing the door behind him that the weight of what just transpired between us sinks in with an effect so brutal, it almost pulls me to my knees.

I just cheated on my husband.

Properly.

With his brother.

I just fucked his brother against the wall of our home and I loved every second of it so much that I didn’t think of my husband for a moment until I was done.

I am a horrible person.

What feels like only moments later but is in fact fifteen minutes, the door opens.

“Hey, haven’t you gone yet?” Max asks, stepping into the narrow hall that leads to the stairs.

I turn and head back up to our flat. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know what might make you feel better.” He chuckles and grips my hips from behind.

“No!” I cry frantically and pull his hands from me. I didn’t mean to react such a way. It was an involuntary response.

“Chill.” He raises his hands defensively.

“I’m going to have a bath.” I murmur and move to the tub.

“Elijah texted me while I was out.”

I want to cry.

I peel my clothes from my body, hoping there’s no evidence of my unprotected fuck in my underwear. Dumping them in the laundry bag, I step into the tub, which is only slightly full of water.

“He did?”

“Yep. He said, and I quote,” he clears his throat. “You have a budget of one hundred and fifty thousand. Buy a house and get your poor wife out of that little hovel.” His head peeks around the curtain after I pull it closed. “Isn’t that fucking amazing? We can start looking now. I can have a room for my shit.”

“You don’t have any shit.”

“A games room, we can fill it with shit.”

Eye roll. “Typical.” I tug the curtain over his face and bring my knees to my chest. “Is that why you’re home so soon?”

“No, I was already almost here. Fajitas for tea?”

I hate fajitas. He should know by now that I hate fajitas. “Fine.”

It’s well deserved karma for fucking his brother.

“What’s wrong with you anyway?”

I relax back and blow out a breath. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Have a nap then. I hate it when you’re moody.”

I sigh and dip my head under the water now that it has risen enough for me to do so.

“Thank you,”
Elijah’s parting words weigh heavily in my mind. What did he mean by thank you? Thank you for fucking him or thank you for…? I don’t know. I don’t understand.

“I’ll take the laundry. I need my work shit cleaned by tonight.”

“Kay,” I say softly, relieved for the break from him.

I scrub myself from head to toe, worried that the water will leave behind some kind of evidence that would instantly reveal my darkest secret.

I know it sounds ridiculous.

I need to get past this. I’m certain now that Elijah won’t say anything. When I danced for him, that was on me. He was unaware of who I was, so to implicate me wouldn’t have implicated himself. But now… it’s a whole other ball game. This time he’s in on it too. To out me would be to out himself.

Fuck.

I’m an awful person.

Rather than worrying about how my husband will be affected by all of this, rather than being concerned about how I love him and how I’m being so fucking evil, I’m only worried that I’ll be caught.