"Come here." She undid her skirt and slipped out of it. Her black hose were held up by garters, her panties small and barely covering any of her. She looked over her shoulder as she unbuttoned her shirt and threw it to the other side of the room.
"Fuck..." He moved toward her, leaning over to pull his shoes and socks off after his slacks bunched up in his path. He tugged his underwear over his large erection and stroked himself once before reaching her. She left her back to him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Lisa hadn't been with a man in far too long. She had almost made it there, almost let them take her to a familiar place and then...
"No," she whispered to herself, sliding her arms across the bed and lifting her ass in the air. This one would be a go. She would just pretend it was Marc.
"No," she grumbled louder.
"No what, baby?" The handsome man behind her pressed his lips to the back of her thigh as he knelt below her. His fingers slipped inside her panties, rubbing the soft skin of her center as she groaned.
"No, don't stop." She pressed her face to the mattress, fighting the sensation that it wasn't right to sleep with someone else and desire another. Bastard mother fucker. She growled against the bed, knowing nothing would come of it with Marc. He was back in New York and several years younger than her. He was in college and she was a grown ass woman.
Her panties were being pulled off slowly, the stranger’s fingers slipping inside of her. She bent her knees slightly and pressed against his offering, her body was more than aware of how to handle such pleasure.
"Yeah, pretty girl. Let's take care of that wet little slit." He stood and pressed himself to her. Lisa pushed her hands against the bed, gripping the sheet as she groaned, his body filling hers. They were too far to go back. It was too good to want to. He sighed deep in his throat and began thrusting, the sound and smell perfect.
"So good," she whispered, losing herself in his movements. He knew what he was doing, his experience pulling her from her worries over what was right and what wasn't. Marc and her were nothing, nor would they ever be.
An image of the sexy rebel rushed across her vision, the visual heightening the sex. She moaned loudly and pressed backward, rolling her hips to give way for more pressure, more pleasure. The handsome billionaire became Marc in her head, her body giving way for something so far beyond right that she treasured it.
Tucking her head between her clasped hands she worked against him, taking pleasure from every movement. The sound of his deep grunts washed over her, the image of Marc stripped naked and taking her in so many ways flooding her senses. She groaned as she lifted quickly, her body exploding from the center out as she screamed.
"Marc, oh fuck baby. Harder."
Hands slid around to cup her breasts, squeezing softly before kneading them. She placed her hands over his, thrusting wildly into her as his teeth sank into her shoulder. Bowing her head she gave him access to her, to all of her. Whatever he wanted she would bow down below him and offer herself. No man before. No man after.
He rocked against her, his breathing so heavy. So hot. He groaned loudly, his body stiffening as he gave himself to her. She rocked back against him, her visual locked in place, her desire skyrocketing for the man she wanted more than her next breath.
Why had she denied herself when he was close? Why hadn't she forced them to explore what they could be? The thrusting stopped, the hands holding her sliding away. She leaned over and pressed her arms to the bed, reality ushering in coldness and shame.
"Damn, that was fantastic." His voice was thick, shattering the last bit of the fantasy.
Lisa steeled herself, standing up and turning, a wicked smile on her lips. "Good. The house is yours and you have my number. Don't be a stranger."
She walked to pick up her clothes, the good looking man popping her naked butt as she took her things and slipped into a small bathroom in the hall. She refused to look at herself in the mirror, knowing the minute she did, she would break down.
When had all of this fallen apart? Sex was her favorite pastime, her go-to workout, her most comforting activity. So what if she had more testosterone than a fifteen-year-old boy. She was in charge of herself and only had to answer to one person.
"Me." She glanced at the mirror, tugging at her hair and fixing her pearls. Lisa finished dressing quickly and walked out with her head held high. She wasn't ashamed of fucking a stranger or doing it for a quick sale on the house. She was mortified that she needed Marc in the middle of the activity to feel anything.
"Bastard," she grumbled and walked from the house, her signed contract in her bag and a bone to pick with the man that crept into her heart and never once touched her panties. "Complete bastard."
CHAPTER TWO
Lisa sat in her car for a few minutes in the darkness. The pretty white house they had rented from Jake turned out to be perfect for the three of them. Or rather four. Jake was there most of the time since he and Kari had started dating. It had been a few months and the two of them were already talking about moving in together. It wouldn’t be long before the marriage talk came up for sure.
Getting out of the car slowly, Lisa pushed back the need to let her emotions go. Crying wouldn't solve much, but it was on the list of things to do that evening. She would put on a good show for her friends and then excuse herself, feigning exhaustion. The wind picked up from the bay and ushered in a cool breeze, Maine perfect for the first month of summer.
She walked into the house, Kari and Sicily arguing over something in the kitchen, a jar of tomato sauce being hustled between the two of them.
"I sure as fuck hope there is a top on that sauce. I'm not paying our landlord when you two dick up the kitchen." Lisa dropped her stuff just beside the door and walked toward her friends, bending over to slip her shoes off.
"He's outside working on a loose board on the porch. We'll spill it and tell him it was you." Sicily stuck out her tongue.
Kari moved to offer a hug, Lisa accepting it and pressing her cheek to her friend's shoulder.
"What's wrong?" Kari asked, moving back to rub her hands up and down Lisa's shoulders.
"Nothing. Just really tired."
"I call bullshit." Sicily turned and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I'm hungry and tired. That's it." Lisa shrugged and walked toward the hall. "I'm going to change. Don't spill that sauce and blame it on me you hookers. Jake knows I'm too classy to cook."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sicily's voice rose an octave, the pitch giving Lisa a laugh. She knew the buttons to push on her friends to bring forth hours of entertainment and she wasn't beyond doing it. Anything to keep the topic of conversation off herself. She wasn't in the mood just yet to dig into her demons.
She slipped out of her clothes, tossing the sexy bra and panties into the bin with more emotion than needed. She shouldn't have slept with him. What was his name? Michael something or other. Surely he had heard her moan out Marc's name ten times. He didn't seem to care. Sex was sex and she agreed wholeheartedly. She could care less if her partner focused on her or imagined her to be the Queen of England. She laughed sardonically at her thoughts before slipping into jeans and a t-shirt, her sports bra being the contraption of choice for the evening.