Misguided:Short Erotic Romantic Suspense (Adult Erotica for Women) (4 page)

As I drove
away I glanced back to see Ethan on the door-step, yelling for me to return. He
looked pretty incensed by now. How could I have not seen it before? The day’s
events had just confirmed my biggest fear; he was having an affair, he hadn’t
even denied it outright. It was all there, his lethargic moods, his noticeable
absences from home and most telling of all, his sporadic snubs of affection.
Then it suddenly dawned on me, the surprise gifts, of course, a classic token
of his guilty feelings! Yes, signs so standard that they could have been
extracted straight from an agony aunt page.

My thoughts were consumed with
anger while an agony besieged my heart. I sat staring out the window; the pools
in my eyes were forcing themselves down my cheeks as my world crumbled around
me. With all the smiles that Ethan had bought me, I never thought he would
cause me so many tears. The taxi driver very kindly asked if I was ok and I bit
my lip, forced a smile and nodded my head strenuously. I pondered over asking
the taxi-driver to just carry on driving, to take me as far away as possible,
preferably near a cliff-top. I felt pathetic for being so fragile, but if
anything, this episode would just make me stronger. Easy. Now all I had to do
was convince my heart to follow suit. Easier said than done.

My new composure floundered as I reached
Suzy’s house and hear my mobile-phone ringing incessantly with Ethan’s calls. I
switched it off in defiance and as Suzy opened the door I began to sob and
collapsed into her arms.

My friends
knew that I had been tee-total for many years and so, later that evening, they
tried to limit my cocktail intake to an absolute minimum. I mistook their
concern for party-pooping and began to find fun and solace in my escalating
drunkenness. Why had I deprived myself of this amazing buzz for so long? Little
did I know that by the morning, I would ironically answer my own question.

So, there
you have it; the events that led to me being in this appalling situation, in
bed with a stranger.

I feel him
growing bigger and pressing into my lower back.
No, this can’t be happening.
My new best friend, Ms Rebel, assures me that due to Ethan’s dubious
behaviour, I would be fully exonerated for any misconduct. My conscience on the
other hand, condemns my weakness.

He sweeps
over the margin of my hips and waist and reaches the cheeks of my behind,
stroking and grasping at my flesh. Then his hands slide around to my stomach to
circle my belly-button and my skin rises up in goose-bumps, tingling with a
cold shiver. When his fingers brush down to my panties, gently running under
the rim, I agonise over whether I should allow him access to an area that had,
until now, been exclusive to Ethan. I shift my position slightly, sliding my
legs over one another in arousal, and an indistinct murmur leaves my lips. It’s
enough to alert him that I am semi-awake.

Maybe I’m
having a brief encounter rather than a sordid one night stand? Yes, that sounds
much more poetic.

My thoughts
momentarily lead me back to the honeymoon days of heated hankerings with Ethan,
exhilarating days, excitable nights, and the unconquerable urgency to tear each
other’s clothes off. No effort, no imagination, was ever needed in the
beginning. Unabashed lust alone was the impetus that propelled our attraction
for one another. Back then we always felt that neither of us could breathe
without the other. I guess the passage of time and the onset of familiarity has
changed all that, and nowadays, what seems like spontaneous sex would take a
lot more planning than I’d imagined.

The stranger
dips his hand inside the front of my panties, his hot breath wafting down my
neck in short bursts. He glides his fingers over my mound and between my
thighs, their clamminess affirming my arousal, whetting his appetite further.
It was enlightening to finally discover the appeal of one-off illicit sex. It’s
the thrilling touch of foreign hands sweeping over your flesh, the naughtiness
of allowing your libido to overpower your morals with it’s carnal demands and
the sense of empowerment in playing out a fantasy of unadulterated erotica for
one perfect night.

He tugs down
at my underwear, my only protection, eager to continue his intrusion. I
re-position myself to make his job easier and my co-operation disturbs and
thrills me at the same time as his touch begins to feel more and more like
erotic agony. He yanks them off sharply at my ankles, discarding them to the
floor. I begin to palpitate; the muggy air is stifling me but it’s difficult to
say whether I’m having a panic attack or just feeling a surge of delirium. I find
that despite my distress I still long for his embrace, to feel womanly again,
to feel desired. What I find more frightening is that in reality, I want him to
exploit me.

As soon as my panties touch the
floor, he is descending under the sheets. He begins to softly pat his lips
against my stomach, trailing down the centre of my belly-button. He traces his
tongue around my pubic bone, clothing it in sweet moisture, each lick singeing
my skin and I moan with a randy affliction.

His velvety
kisses encircle my pelvis, and he tentatively draws apart my legs. His mouth
reaches down to my inner thighs, lingering on their damp flesh and then
nuzzling his head in tight between them, inhaling deeply. His slight stubble
grazes lightly against my skin; each prickle kindles the fire blazing though my
body and I wonder if I’m experiencing the start of spontaneous combustion.

My recent Hollywood wax has
stripped my mound to reveal a silky smoothness and as he explores my pounding
groin, his hums of contentment announce his appreciation at my intimate
grooming. My back arcs involuntarily and my hands grasp fiercely at the sheets
beneath me, gathering them up in my fists. The enjoyment continues longer than
I have experienced before.
‘This man must be breathing through his ears,’
I
scream in my head
, ‘How long can he stay down there?’

My hips
begin to flex as I hanker for more and more of this heavenly sensation. I’m
feeling on the brink but preferring to prolong my body’s craving for satiation,
(self-discipline learnt from Ethan) I tug at my lover’s cropped hair,
signalling for him to rise up.

Instead, he
moves further down the bed pulling harshly at my legs and I disappear under the
sheets. I feel claustrophobic and a little anxious. W
hat the hell is he
doing?
He drags me down until my legs are hanging over the edge of the bed.
Suddenly, he flips me forcibly onto my stomach and then throws the sheets to
the side. He pushes his hands between the middle of my thighs to spread my legs
wide open and my heart jumps in excitable panic. It feels like I’m about to be
frisked, arrested for my duplicitous behaviour.

He manoeuvres himself gingerly as
if he is gauging my submission, and then he rests forward to divert my
attention, nuzzling into my nape and smothering me with kisses. I have no wish
to challenge his intentions, and with clear signs of my consent, he grabs me
firmly at the hips and eases into me with a tantalising expectancy.
Oh man,
he is blessed, well-blessed,
and I silently thank him for his generosity.

He stays
inside me, motionless, smoothing his hands over my behind, taunting me as I
wait patiently, aching for his foray. Soon enough, his hands clasp tightly onto
my hips again, and he lunges in deep, making me squeal out in surprise. Then he
reverts back to tease mode, sinking in slowly. I’m hooked on the sensation, the
rhythmic rebounding of fullness as he ambushes me from behind, over and over
again.

This is
so, so
wrong
. My darling, unsuspecting Ethan, unaware of my errant side.
Even I am unfamiliar with it! Has the ‘smoke and mirrors’ brought out the
floozy in me?

He lets out
a rasping groan of immense pleasure as he tugs forcefully at my hips to charge
through my body. I feel gluttonous, even though I’m physically unable to
accommodate any more of his ample length. I find myself drowning in the organic
touch of his invasive hands, the woody smell of his aftershave and the sensual
sound of his raw breaths; perhaps my other senses have been magically amplified
with my lack of sight.

He locks his left hand onto my
hip to anchor himself as his speed begins to mount, his manic thrusts jerking
me back and forth. My fingers are clawing at the sheets as if I’m trying to
escape.
However
,
this is the furthest thing from my mind.
I bask
in the sound of his groin pounding against me, each thrust escalating his
longing for relief.
Oh Jeez, how I’ve missed this.

His hands
release their grip and edge up towards my breasts jiggling up and down like two
playful puppies. He cradles them, trying to restrain their bounce, and then he
squeezes my nipples firmly between his fingers as I wallow in my pain.

Within
seconds, my pain is overshadowed by the advent of rapture. My forearms shift
back and forth rapidly on the soft sheets as he throbs with a frenzied
intensity. The head-board slams against the wall like a freight train, echoing
his racing tempo.
I hope the neighbours are heavy sleepers, thank goodness I
won’t be seeing them over breakfast.
I feel like ‘Sleeping Beauty’; one
kiss from my Prince has awakened my slumbering sensuality, refreshing my
spirit. Although I have to say that being humped from behind makes me more of a
Jezebel than a vestal Princess.

Then his
head reaches forward to my face and without warning he sinks into my neck,
sucking passionately as if releasing a pent-up tension.
Crap! He’s going to
leave a stamp of my sins for the world to see.
The magnitude of my
predicament hits me like a thunder-bolt. I want to run back into Ethan’s arms,
I
love him, I miss my beautiful boy
. I need to bring an immediate end to this
sleazy liaison. However, whereas my conscience had always been so heedful of
me, I’m concerned that Ms Rebel is exploiting her overnight release privileges.
She’s going on tag in future.

My whimpers of ecstasy begin to
get louder and my eyes roll back. As the ripples of bliss electrify my body, I
succumb to sublime relief. My body shudders as ripples re-form into waves
crashing down to my toes. The sweat oozes from our pores as we both pant
uncontrollably, and the intoxicating aroma of Italian cologne fills the room,
evaporating with the heat from our bodies.

He gathers
me up tightly at my waist, his hips juddering as he joins me in relief. He
pushes forward hard, aching to get deeper, and I feel him for one last time, in
his wondrous, throbbing entirety, just before the all-consuming mania begins to
subside.

Eventually,
when the energy has been zapped from every cell in his body, the stranger
collapses in a heap beside me, with one final exhalation of satisfaction.
Bird-song begins to filter through the open window, almost like a symbolic
finale of our climax. I become intrigued when my enigmatic lover leans over to
give me a sensual yet affectionate kiss on my cheek.

“Morning
Pru-Bear,” the voice whispers softly.

I stare hard
in the dim light as his silhouette becomes familiar. There was only one person
who ever called me that.

“Ethan
?
Your hair…?” I pause mid-way to change my intonation from shocked to
breezy, “… you’ve had it cropped, it looks gorgeous. Wow, you took your ‘Top
Gun’ role seriously last night,” I tease, brushing my hand back and forth over
it. The short bristles were such a lovely sensation and I don’t want to stop
touching him.

The only way
I can describe my reaction to this bizarre event is one of having the breath
knocked out of me. I realise it would seem rather suspicious to continue my
confrontation with Ethan at this late stage so I try to maintain a nonchalance.
Anyway, I’m in no position to throw accusations at him, considering what I
thought I was doing five minutes ago!

He helps me up to the pillows at
the top of the bed and drags the sheet over us. Then his hand joins mine to rub
over the strange prickly feel. “I think I took my frustration out on my poor
hair after you stormed out. I freaked out as soon as I heard the buzz of the
clippers; so I’m glad you like it.”

“And what’s with the stubble? You
went to the stag-night without having a shave?” Ethan generally had two looks;
raw and rugged for everyday and urbane and groomed for special occasions. I
would find either of them scrumptious depending on what mood I was in, but
admittedly I was always in the mood for him.

“I know, it’s a bit slack isn’t
it? I was going to get the barber to do it but I figure a cut-throat shave
isn’t a smart move when you’re feeling uptight. I’ll do it when we get home.”

“Don’t rush on my account. You
look damn fine either way…but I do love the scrape against my thighs.”

He smiles
and pulls me in close, reassuring me that I haven’t yet been rumbled and
indicating that he likes my forthright language. “That was a quite a
performance this morning, you should have more hangovers,” he teases.

I change the
subject in an attempt to curb any accidental revelations. “So what happened at
the stag-do?”

“We were in
Libertines
and
then I left early because I wanted to be at home when you got in. I don’t think
Jonah even noticed I’d gone; he was too busy offering all the guys a lap-dance.
Then half-hour after arriving back, Suzy rang sounding concerned and said you kept
asking for me. So I grabbed an overnight bag, picked you up in a taxi and
booked us into here.”

It upsets me to think I cannot
recall most of the night. “The last thing I remember is passing out on the back
seat.”

“So you don’t remember anything
after the taxi?” enquires Ethan.

I think
carefully before I answer. “Not really, it’s just all a blur.”

He begins to
chuckle as I watch him picturing a comical scene in his mind and he gestures
with his hand to signal that he wants to poke fun at my seldom seen ineptness.

“You
disappeared into the bathroom to brush your teeth and I found you holding the
showerhead to your ear, looking very puzzled. Then you asked me why you
couldn’t call room service on it, and passed out again.”

He lets
loose a charming, infectious laugh and hugs me tighter than I can ever
remember. He has this wonderful knack of seeing the funny side of any absurd
moment and quite soon you forget what the conversation was and just end up
laughing at his laughter.

I gaze up at
him, wondering if he can sense how much I worship the bones of him. I reach
over to switch on the side-lamp, and as I do the sheet suddenly slips away from
his chest, leaving my mouth to drop open in shock at the raging, but otherwise
attractively colour co-ordinating, bluey-purple bruise.

“What the hell is that?!” I
impulsively press it, shocked by its severity and Ethan winces.

“Sorry”, I say sincerely, my
heart feeling both sympathy for his pain, and then anger at whoever did this to
my baby.

“So you haven’t listened to my
voicemail then? I explained everything on there.”

“No, it was turned off all night.
Why? Tell me what’s happened, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry Pru, I have a
confession. For the past nine months I’ve been back on the boxing circuit.”

“Oh my God!
How could you?! You even said yourself it was barbaric. If you weren’t so
bruised I’d punch you myself!”

I suddenly
recall the times when Ethan had arrived home with bruises to his arms, cuts and
grazes to his hands and eyes but he had blamed it on the perils of his job. I
pull away from him to turn over and huff loudly in aggravation. However, when
it occurs to me that maybe this could explain his perplexing behaviour, a small
amount of relief begins to lighten the load on my heart.

“So you’ve been doing it on the
side as well as working?”

“Of course, it was just a
temporary thing, my last fight was two days ago.”

“So you
being out the house so often, was that for training?”

Before he
answers, I think of other details that need clarification, quite a few details
actually, so I open my mouth to speak again.

“Yeh, some
training and some business, but Pru, just be quiet and listen,” he instructs me
sternly. I always paid attention when Ethan spoke in an austere tone as I knew
he only used it when absolutely necessary. “You’re going to be 30 in four
months. I did want to surprise you with these closer to your birthday but when
you accused me of an affair I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He reaches
out to the bedside table to pick up his wallet. I watch and wait as my mind
sprints ahead to figure out what the hell is going on, but I arrive at a
dead-end. He produces two tickets and hands them to me. I scour over it
hurriedly and although I can see what they are, I still need Ethan to confirm
it, just to make sure it’s not one big wind-up. “They’re tickets to Australia.
I’ve used the prize money from the fights to pay for it, a three week stay in
spa resorts around Sydney, Ayers Rock and The Barrier Reef and we fly first
class both ways. My last winnings will be our spending money.”

I look up from the tickets, my
mouth agape. Then I screech out loud like I haven’t done since I was a child
when my dad brought home a pet puppy. I kick my legs up and down on the
mattress and beat my fists on the sheets, unable to hold in my jubilance. As
the enormity of it all sinks in, I realise how I’d mistaken a foolish
insecurity for ‘instinct, ’when I should have just trusted in my heart. I
become subdued and my voice muted. “This must have cost the earth, oh my God, I
can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I’ve hated the secrecy; it
killed me, and I only pushed you away sometimes so that you wouldn’t see my
injuries.” Then he becomes museful. “It seems I’m not as light on my feet as I
used to be.”

After a
second’s pause, I burst into laughter at his pitiful face and then I lovingly
wiggle the tip of his nose between my fingers. “Mr Cassidy,
you
are an
absolute peach….but I never thought you’d bruise like one.”

Ethan begins
to snigger but flinches immediately, holding his chest in a sequence of
amusement and pain. The cycle continues, as the farce we find ourselves in
slowly dawns on us. “It’s your fault, you’ve turned me soft. I’m still champion
though so that’s something to smile about,” then he clutches at his chest
again, “and I mean smile, not laugh, whatever you do,
don’t
laugh.”

“Then in that case, it’s the most
awesome, most romantic and the most dumbass thing anyone has ever done for me. Oh
wow, I can’t believe that
I’m actually
going to Australia;
and
with my favourite person in the world.”

He stares at me, stony-faced.
“Hey, I thought I’d warned that bastard to keep away from you.”

I lie down
beside him and smother his face in kisses. “I mean
you
, you silly fool,
thank-you, thank-you, thank-you. I’m sorry for being such a cow yesterday, I
don’t deserve you.”

I pray he
cannot hear the perplexing guilt etched in my words. A look of concern appears
on his face.

“You’ve no
need to apologise,” he stresses, tucking my tangled hair behind my ear. “I
promise from now on that whatever doesn’t make you happy, I will fix.” His
voice is quiet and heart-rending, and he kisses me tenderly.

My joy is
interrupted by the guilt of my imagined indiscretion, compounded by the fact
that Ethan is so bloody perfect. I’m not even sure how to articulate what has
just occurred.

If one
falsely believes they have been unfaithful, is it still classed as infidelity?

However, as I contemplate whether
I should reveal my secret to anyone, I recall a friend once advising another:

‘Confession may be good for
the soul, but it's often bad for the reputation.’

So I
promptly dismiss the conundrum. That’s one for the philosophers, rather like
Descartes’s ‘if a tree falls down in a forest…’enigma.

My shock dissipates and I feel
revived, like a phoenix from the flames. I realise our passion had never really
disappeared, just mislaid in the humdrum. His impassioned eyes give me the
comfort I’ve needed for so long, and I realise that we are just like any other
couple, bumbling through love’s ups and downs and sometimes being lucky enough
to meet in the middle.

I leap up with a newly-found
vitality and straddle his abs. I notice a pair of jeans airing over the trouser
press, a familiar pair of jeans…aha, it’s the red chino’s making their second
appearance. “Why on earth are they damp?”

“Uh…when your head was on my lap
in the taxi last night…”

“Yes.”

“Well, you
kinda threw up so I had to rinse them out.” Then in anticipation of my horror, he
quickly adds, “I never liked them anyway.”

I bury my
head in my hands. I may, one day, be able to recall this night and smile
nostalgically. Although, not right now. Luckily for me, material
things hold no value for Ethan, especially
when that material is covered in regurgitated cocktails
.

“Pru, you were very entertaining,
it was like watching a sexy Bambi learning to walk. Now come out from behind
there. I’m missing that beautiful face.”

He always knows how to make me
feel wonderful, no matter what I do or say.

“You know
for a moment earlier on, you seemed surprised to see me,” Ethan comments
casually, rubbing non-existent grit out of his eye; a displacement gesture I
believe it’s called in ‘body language’ terms.

Oh God,
Oh God, he knows....For Christ’s sake Pru, speak…say anything!
I can’t
understand why I can’t just lie to him. It’s like I’m a child all over again
with my kindly father drawing out the truth from me. I could never lie to him
either when he looked me in the face so sweetly. The second’s pause seems to
last for hours as Ethan waits for reassurance, his baby blue’s yearning for me
to erase his doubt. When he recognises that I’m struggling, he jumps in to
rescue me, reminding me of my big brother heroically taking the blame when I
crayoned over the walls as a mischievous 4 year old.

“But then I
realised how ridiculous that was because you called out my name this morning to
wake me up.” He smiles at me, looking more than satisfied with his own explanation
for my actions, but I know he suspects something. He knows I know too.

I battle to
suppress a sigh of relief. Ethan’s swift settlement of what could have been a
very awkward exchange just endears me to him more, if that was possible. His
hands reach out to fondle my pliant breasts and he simply stares up at me, as
if trying to uncover the secrets in my mind. Then he pulls me forward to lie
upon on his chest. My nipples tingle in arousal as they are squeezed hard
against the warm skin of his defined torso.

He presses
his mouth against my left ear and inhales deeply. “You do know I live for you
don’t you? You’re the breath in my lungs, the beat in my heart and the blood in
my veins,” he whispers as he caress’s my back. His words wash over me like a
warm ocean wave and I’m revelling in the renewed attention, so I respond with
light-hearted impudence.

“Well that’s nice dear…but have
you declared your lust for me yet?” I didn’t intend to sound quite like
Scarlett
O’Hara
though.

“Well, if I told you that just
the mention of your name makes me hard and want to be inside you, would that
satisfy madam?”

“
Pru
,” I murmur
provokingly, in a wish to test his theory.

“Damn it!
You’ve asked for it now Pru,” he growls, sitting up and pushing me backwards
across the bed. “Oh Jeez, now I’ve done it too.”

I begin to belly-laugh as Ethan
switches into his sorely-missed comedic side. He grabs hold of his stiffening
manhood and writhes around, handling it like a wild animal. “You’ve unleashed
the beast Pru…and he wants your scent,” he warns with an ardent stare and I
find it the most delicious turn-on.

He nestles himself on top of me
and allows the beast to playfully torment my nagging groin, taking my breath
away. “How about some role-play later? I still have the uniform back at home.
We could be two strangers having a one night stand… a pilot and stewardess
perhaps?”

My reply is
made with a slight unease as I recognise the irony of my words. “Yeh,
strangers, let’s pretend.” I have a feeling that my vibrating toys won’t be
getting a look-in for a while. My new toy is the real deal, all man and no
batteries required.

He suddenly becomes contemplative
as his eyes scan my entire face. “I’m taking you home now to bang you
senseless.” Then he kisses me brutishly, nipping hard at my lips, almost to the
point of leaving teeth marks. Is he subconsciously chastising me I wonder?

“Aren’t we going to make love?” I
ask, purely just to hear him command me again.

“No. You’re getting laid. End of.
And if you promise to stay in bed, I’ll even serve you Sunday breakfast.”

I wriggle free from his body
weight and disappear under the sheets. “There’s no rush, it’s Sunday all day
sweetie.”