The Other Man (The Other Man Series Book 1)

All rights reserved. This book is licensed for personal use only. This book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed in any form without the written consent of the publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions of which it was purchased, or as permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised use of this text may be deemed as a direct infringement of the author’s rights and therefore, those responsible may be liable in a court of law.

Published February 2016.

Please note:

‘The Other Man’ is a work of fiction. Any and all names, characters, places and/or events described in this book are works of fiction. Any similarity between this and real persons, living or dead, events, establishments or location are purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content included as it is fiction.

This book also identifies product/object names and services known to be registered trademarks or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademark status in this work of fiction but the publication of said trademarks is not authorised, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Copyright ©2016 Danielle Breeze.

All rights reserved.

Well, it’s done.

This book has been in the works for over a year but I couldn’t find the right words to finish it. Obviously, this is just book one and there is so much more to come but the content and storyline were difficult for me. I pushed myself so far out of my comfort zone with this.

For any of you who have read my previous books, you should know that I usually try and combine a clear love story with smut and touch of humour.

This book is different.

The emotions, the angst…the sexual frustration, that I felt when I was writing Blake’s story was off the charts!

My guy makes mistakes and I’m sure he’ll make a few of you angry but please forgive him because I promise you he’s not a bad guy. I like to think that his story is truly unique and that you won’t be able to prevent yourself from being sucked into his life.

I didn’t want to write a warning with the synopsis. I think it should speak for itself. I think my personality in general usually makes people blush, but this pushes those boundaries even further.

However, you’ve bought it now, so there’s no turning back! *Evil laugh*

My books are like my babies and the unwritten rules state that I can’t choose a favourite. I’ve never been a fan of rules and I broke that one when I’d written the first chapter of The Other Man.

The characters and the storyline, they both hold a special place in my heart. I have never been so excited, or nervous, to hit publish.

Prepare to be annoyed, frustrated, angry…and turned on beyond all measures ;-)

I hope you enjoy reading this book half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I, Blake James Thomas, take you, Carlie Marie Locke, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward.

Until death do us part.

Traditional wedding vows.

When you’re head over heels in love with someone, you truly believe every vow you make is forever. You promise to spend your entire life with that person. Make them happy every day, make them smile, laugh. Be the person they can rely on, the person who is always there for them.

The person they can
trust
.

As much as it pains me to admit it, that’s just not always the case.

Considering the divorce rate in the UK is more than thirty-nine percent, I guess other people would have to agree with me.

A marriage doesn’t have to mean forever anymore, as sad as that is, it’s true. It takes work, effort, compromise...and even then, it just might not be enough.

Want to know why I think that is?

Soulmates.

Ok, so you might disagree with me, but just for a second, put yourself in this situation. Whether you’ve been married for three weeks or thirty years, you could be blissfully happy, have children, holiday homes and a beautiful life.

Then you meet your soulmate.

He’s the guy working behind the bar, or the new postman, or your boss. As ‘in love’ as you are, there’s just something about him. He makes your heart race, your stomach flutter and your mind starts to drift. What would it feel like to kiss him? To hold him?

I know what you’re thinking, you don’t have to act on it. You love your husband and you’d never cheat on him. Ok, so say you didn’t cheat, the thoughts are still there. You’ll start to doubt things that you’d never even thought about before. That adorable way your husband scowls at the TV, the way he sighs when you won’t let him get a word in edgeways, the way he clicks his nails together when he’s getting impatient. Tiny little actions will start to annoy you, you’ll snap at him more, he’ll get frustrated.

You’ll argue.

The doubts will get worse.

It wasn’t always like this, was it?

Do I still love him? Was I ever
really
in love with him?

It’s an endless cycle and it can kill a marriage easily.

Wait, wait, I’m not saying this happens to everyone, because it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who actually married their soulmate, or maybe you’ll never meet yours.

...Maybe I’m just judgemental and cynical. Who knows?

But life happens.

And life happened to me in a
huge
way.

I’ve made mistakes,
monumental
mistakes. I’ve hurt myself, hurt others. I’ve been lost and confused, angry and devastated.

But I don’t regret a single thing.

Life can be tough sometimes and not everything works out the way you expect, or even the way you wanted it to.

Weather the storm. Fight it, brand it, and make life
your
bitch.

Because it’s worth it in the end.

...and here’s my story.

I warn you, it’s not pretty and you’ll probably dislike me
a lot
. So be it. I’m ok with that because everything happens for a reason.

Even if that
reason
, is a person.

February 2005 - Ten years before

Have you ever had one of those moments in your life where you stop and think, ‘life really doesn’t get much better than this?’

I was in that moment.

I gazed down at Carlie. Her long, blonde hair pulled high, curled, styled and beautiful. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it, in it, and let it hang down around her shoulders. The way she usually wore it, the way I liked it.

In her tight, fitted but flowing, pristine white dress, she looked every inch the princess that she was. Flawless figure, flawless face, flawless hair. She looked incredible.

Perfectly put-together.

My
Carlie did not let herself look any less than perfect, that much was true. This, however, just made me want to throw her down on the nearest surface, tear her dress and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Granted, any time she was near me, I wanted to do that. I just wanted to mess her up a bit and make her look like she belonged to me.

Regardless, she actually
was
mine. Officially.

As of a few minutes before, the vicar had declared us husband and wife.

Carlie. Mine.

For every minute, of every day, for the rest of our lives.

Six months. She’d had six months to plan our wedding down to the very last detail. And when I say every detail, I meant it. The flower petals that ran along the aisle matched the shade of the decorations, matched the shade of the bridesmaids dresses, which matched the ribbons on the wedding cars, my tie, the ushers handkerchiefs...the list went on and on.

She wanted her perfect wedding, and considering her dad was covering the entire cost, who was I to argue?

It was done, she was mine, and we were about to fly off for two weeks in the sun for our honeymoon. The trip was the one thing I put my foot down on. Her dad was
not
paying for it, even though I had to scrimp and save for months. I knew it would be worth it.

After sparing a few minutes so she could change out of her wedding dress, Carlie was ready and as the plane sped along the runway, I reached over and took her fingers between mine, admiring our rings side-by-side.

A single day, a ring of metal, a few spoken words in front of a church full of people and I was a married man. It seemed so simple, almost too easy, to sign my commitment to one person for the rest of my life.

Where were the classes?

Where was the training?

Surely we, as mere human beings, needed some kind of guidance when we’re making promises to each other that are supposed to last forever.

My palms started to sweat as the plane’s front wheels lifted from the tarmac and I had that momentary feeling of weightlessness, Carlie’s eyes were on me.

“You’re nervous,” she noted incorrectly.

I was not nervous, I was in full blown panic mode.

And my panic was neither to do with the take-off of the plane, or the flight that was commencing. No, my panic was born from the fact that I was getting a severe case of cold-feet...
after
I was already married. Where were my doubts beforehand?

Carlie’s fingers squeezed around mine, anchoring me to the present.

“Don’t be nervous, baby. I’ve got you.”

She did. She had me. My lungs filled and I breathed easier. My Carlie. My beautiful wife. She had me and she always would.

The flight dragged on and nine hours later, we landed, exiting into the blistering heat of the sun beating down on Havana International Airport. I’d chosen Cuba for our honeymoon for one reason only. That reason being that when I’d seen the pictures of the villa online and the private pool it boasted, I could already picture Carlie’s naked skin as she worked on her tan. I could picture her lying on her front, arms crossed above her head, legs slightly apart, pert, round ass on display.

And there wasn’t another villa within walking distance.

Total, complete seclusion.

I could fuck her out there. I could oil her up, slide my fingers inside her pussy, bring her to the brink and then slam home. Make her moan my name, make her scream and no one was close enough to hear a thing. It was a fantasy I’d had more than once since I’d booked and paid for the holiday and I was about forty minutes away from making that fantasy my reality.

My timeline didn’t quite work out the way I wanted it to.

Getting through passport control, customs and retrieving our cases seemed easy compared to my attempts at getting the keys for our rental car. The extremely polite, extremely helpful older lady at the desk...spoke Spanish.

Only
Spanish.

This would have been just fine, providing either me or Carlie could speak a word of the language and we couldn’t. In hindsight, yes, it would have been a great idea to learn the basic of the main language for the country we were staying in. In my defence, I had been told that the majority of residents and
all
of the people who worked with tourists in any capacity, spoke English. It didn’t bode well for us that the third person we’d come into contact with, didn’t.

We spent almost an hour going back and forth with the woman, trying to explain that we just needed the keys to our rental, and directions to where to pick it up. We were annoyed, she was annoyed, and it didn’t bode well.

I held up my keys from home and wiggled them.

“Keys,” I said slowly. Then pointed to a taxi parked outside. “Car? We need keys to our car.”

“Lo siento, no puedo entenderte,” she replied, sounding apologetic. “Mi colega habla inglés, él regresará pronto. Sí?”*

She may as well have been speaking gorgon for all I could understand. Growling in frustration, I looked around for anyone that might be able to help us out. Then Carlie, who had been furiously fingering the pages of the translation dictionary she’d rushed over to buy from the airport store, squeaked.

“I think I did it!” She shoved a scrap of paper towards the woman. “Gracias, Entiendes?”**

My jaw dropped and I made a decision that the second we got home from the holiday, she needed to take Spanish lessons. The way those two single words rolled of her tongue, the sound of her voice, I wanted more of it. She spoke again, still in Spanish.

“Mi nombre es Carlie, ¿y tú?”***

The woman behind the desk closed her eyes in relief, then they opened again and she spoke rapidly, “Oh gracias a Dios! Mi nombre es Catrina. Te ruego que me diga lo que usted necesita. Si ya tienes un coche reservado, necesito tu nombre, el depósito y la prueba de identificación.”****

Carlie’s went wide. Too much, too fast.

In a flurry, a tall, skinny guy came bustling through the backdoor of the little wooden shack and he immediately began speaking. In English. Thank fuck.

“Sorry, so sorry! Traffic, you know?”

I blinked, “No, I don’t know because I don’t have a fucking car yet!”

“Blake,” Carlie scolded, hooking her hold into the crook of my elbow. She spoke to the new guy. “Sorry about him, it’s been a long couple of days and we’re exhausted. We just need to pick up the keys to our rental and get directions to where we have to go and collect it.”

In exactly three minutes, we had the keys, the paperwork, a map, and I was climbing into the driver’s seat of the 4x4 we’d rented for the fortnight.

I looked at Carlie, she looked over at me and grinned, “No puedo esperar para hacer el amor con mi esposo.”*****

“I have no idea what you said but whatever it was, makes me want to stick my dick in you!”

She giggled and pulled her knees up to her chest, “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.”

The rest of the journey to the villa flew by with no issues. I noticed our little honeymoon hideaway before she did and it looked every bit as perfect as the pictures. Pure luxury. I indicated and turned the car into the driveway.

I knew exactly when Carlie had realised that we had arrived because she gasped in shock, “Tell me that’s not ours.”

“For two weeks, darling, this is ours,” I confirmed.

She squealed, “Oh my god, Blake! This is amazing!”

She was right, it really was amazing. Clean, gleaming white tiles glistened in the sunlight, illuminating the walls of the villa, giving it the image of an ethereal vision.

“It looks like a palace,” Carlie whispered, voice tinged with wonder.

“It’s small, but it’s perfect for us. I wanted this holiday to be perfect for
you
, darling.”

She dived out of the vehicle as soon as I pulled the handbrake and she ran towards the pool, “Look at it, Blake! I can’t even, I don’t know how to,” She paused and looked back at me. “Thank you. I love you, honey, so much. Can you grab one of the cameras from my bag for me? I want to make sure I take tons of photos to show everyone back home what you did for me!”

I grabbed one of the cameras and threw it over to her, leaning against the car to watch her. Her excitement radiated from her and seeped into my skin. If my mission was to make her happy, and it was, then I was already succeeding.

I figured that the whole ‘husband’ thing couldn’t be that difficult, I’d just learn along the way.

That job was made a little more difficult due to the fact that Carlie was a daddy’s girl. Spoilt, bratty, demanding. But sweet, generous and cute too so it didn’t faze me. I was her protector, her husband and it was my job to give her the world and everything in it.

“Honey, do you mind if I jump straight in the pool? I can’t wait! Will you be ok bringing our things in by yourself?”

Rolling my eyes, I told her I’d be fine and to go ahead. I dragged our two cases (I only had half of one) into the villa, and returned to the car to bring in all the extra pieces. With everything thrown around the lounge and dining area, I put my hands in the pockets of my shorts, took a good fifteen minutes to survey the inside of our little temporary home and my lips tipped up. Yeah, I’d done well.

I paused.

Carlie went in the pool.

Our luggage was inside, meaning Carlie didn’t have anything to wear in the pool.

I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a bottle of suntan oil and jogged to the patio doors, opening them wide and stepping outside. I struggled to breathe.

Carlie lay stretched out on her front, on a lounger. Her arms crossed above her head, her legs slightly parted and her pert, round ass was calling to me.

But it was better.

Because she’d been in the pool.

Little rivers of water dripped from the ends of her hair and ran down her back to the top of her ass. Beads of it dotted around her skin made her glisten in the sunlight and my cock sprang to life behind my shorts. I put my hands into my waistband and slid the shorts down, careful not to make a sound. My bare feet were silent as I creeped across the patio until I stood, my shins to her feet, blocking the sun from Carlie’s body.

She attempted to turn over but I put my palm in between her shoulders and pushed her back down.

“Blake, honey, you’re blocking my sun.”

My voice thick with passion, I watched her body tense as it rumbled through her.

“Don’t move,” I held the bottle of oil upside down over her back and let streams of liquid fall onto her skin. “Would be a waste if all this flawless skin got burned on the first day, don’t you think?”

I put oil into one hand and rubbed both together. Starting at her ankles, I smoothed my palms along the silkiness of her calves, squeezing and moulding her flesh, massaging the oil into her skin. I reached the apex of her thighs and they quivered in anticipation, so I moved and started again at the base of her back.

She moaned in frustration and I bit my lip to hide my grin.

Inching higher, I moved to her spine, her shoulders and her neck. Her skin shone, she was writhing and whimpering. I still hadn’t even touched her where she really wanted me to.

“Blake…” she begged.

I slapped her ass. She yelped, “What was that for?”