If I Could Do It Again (11 page)

I feel … high.

I’m floating. With each breath I take, butterflies dance in my stomach. It’s a peaceful feeling, warm and relaxed.

Stalling my footsteps, I glance back at Joshua. He’s watching me, his lips curving with a smile as he waves goodbye to me. He mouths ‘I love you’, before turning away, following the guard to the glass room, ready to be pat down.

A genuine smile lights up my face as I turn back around and walk again. A kiss, a touch, a single smile from that man does more than any drug, any drink ever could do for me.

I take a deep breath as soon as I’m out on the pathway leading to the prison exit. The evening air is so cold my skin prickles with goosebumps. It’s not too late, only six-thirty, but it’s already dark.

I walk quickly, following the yellow painted pathway. It only takes me a few minutes to reach the gate. I stick my right hand through the opening just before the gate, allowing a guard to see my black light stamp, and then I wait for the gate to unlock.

The guards in the reception area eye me as I step toward my locker, retrieving my purse and keys. I quickly wish them goodnight as I reach into my purse to grab my cellphone and turn it on, and then I head out to the parking lot.

The drive back to the hotel flies by as I sing along with the radio. I’m just walking into my room, setting down my purse, thinking that I should probably start to pack up before grabbing some food since I have to drive back home first thing in the morning, when my phone starts ringing, Joshua’s number popping up on the screen. I answer it, grinning as I bring the phone to my ear, impatiently waiting for the long recording to end so I can accept the call.

“How’s my sexy little slut doing?”

The words echo over the line, catching me off guard and I frown. “Um, did you just call me a slut?”

Joshua chuckles. “I’m horny. Talk dirty to me.”

I hesitate for three solid heartbeats, the blood draining from my face, and the high feeling I’ve been riding on since I left him fizzles away. I start stammering. Oh God, ten seconds on the phone and I’ve turned into a tongue-tied fool because this man wants me to talk sexy.

He laughs, amused. “Come on, baby. You can do this. I know you want to be my dirty little slut.”

Sighing, I bury my face in my hand, saying nothing, not because I don’t want to but because I can’t. My throat is suddenly dry, my mouth glued shut, and for a second, I want to pretend I didn’t answer the phone.

“Are you there?”

Crap. I wish I wasn’t. I wish I wasn’t sitting here, staring at the wall in my hotel room. I only just got back from the visit minutes before the phone rang. I should have stopped for food or gas or something … anything.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m here.”

“You looked so fucking sexy in those jeans today, baby,” he rasps out. “And it turned me on so goddamn much hearing you say you love me.”

I open my mouth to speak, and then stall as a recording plays, reminding us that the call is being recorded and monitored.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m getting so used to the recordings, hardly noticing them anymore, but at this minute all I can think about is some guard sitting there listening to us, listening to our private moment.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, my stomach clenching. “I don’t know … Can I just write you a story? I could do it tonight and mail it before I leave tomorrow.”

As silly as it is, I want to be good at this for him.

I want him to be happy.

I want him to be happy with me.

And if I try this, there’s a pretty high chance that I’m going to suck, but if I write him something …

“Did you pack some of your new toys like I asked?” he questions.

“Um, yeah,” I say, nodding. “I did.”

He hums into the phone, his voice dropping lower. “Why don’t you go grab your vibrator and the vibrating plug for your ass?”

I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. I know what he’s trying to do: make me relax by distracting me with an anal toy I haven’t found the guts to try yet, but there’s no cure for the nerves spinning in my stomach. Reluctantly, I say, “Okay.”

Sighing, because I don’t know how I’m going to do this, I stand up, crossing the room to my suitcase. I take my time digging (stalling) for the toys, almost wishing I’d never packed them.

Almost.

I’d considered it, stressing over what the border patrol might think if they searched my bags and found a bunch of vibrators.
Embarrassing.
But Joshua asked me to pack them, and the truth is, our phone sex thrills me. Thrills me in ways I’ve never been thrilled before even if I haven’t had the guts to do much more than moan my way through it yet.

I just couldn’t
not
pack them.

“Okay,” I say, pulling the toy bag out of my suitcase and opening it up. I take out the toys he asked for along with the lube, and then toss the toy bag back into my suitcase. “I’ve got them.”

“I want you to get naked, then lay back in the bed and turn on the vibrator,” he instructs. “Rub it on your clit and relax. Get that pussy all nice and wet, but don’t push it inside you until I tell you, okay?”

I swallow hard, placing the toys and lube on the nightstand, and then doing as he says, stripping off my clothing, before crawling under the covers, turning on the vibrator. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” he says, and hums. “Now picture this. I’m sitting in bed, watching some TV when you come in. You’re wearing those sexy-ass yoga pants you like so much, and a skin-tight tank top. You walk by me to the closet, and I nearly groan at the sight of your thick, round ass, jiggling as you walk by.”

I let out a giggle, though it sounds like more of a muffled moan. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you loving my big butt.”

“You better,” he says. “That ass of yours is sexy as fuck.”

He pauses for a beat, listening to my breathing, as I rub my clit. “I come up behind you, turning you around, and I grip your ass, pulling you close until our lips meet. It’s like fireworks going off as my tongue darts into your mouth. I can feel you pressing your crotch against me and my dick starts hardening.”

Fireworks indeed.

I can feel them, the tiny sparks along my skin.

My pussy is wet—soaking wet—and aching, and I find myself relaxing, all my nerves fizzling away as I enjoy the sound of his voice.

“I pull away and start kissing your neck,” he says, his voice dropping low to a whisper. “I want to fuck you while you have a vibrator in that tight little asshole of yours.”

My breath comes quicker, my body heating up and all the emotions trapped within my chest, fear, excitement, anxiety, come out on a groan.

Joshua continues, his voice deep and raspy, “Tugging off your shirt, and pushing down your pants and panties, I kiss my way down to your breast and start sucking on your nipple, getting it nice and hard before moving to your other one, giving it the same attention, and then I tell you to lay down on the bed, and you do. I grab the toy and I show it to you, telling you to relax as my hands trail up your thighs.”

“Joshua,” I groan. “I need the vibrator inside me. Please.”

I’m breathless.

I’m breathless and hurting in a delicious kind of way.

“Not yet,” he says. “I want you to grab the vibrating plug and lube, and get it ready, baby.”

I hesitate. The thought of it, of using anal toys turns me on, but actually doing it … well, I don’t know. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Probably,” he says. “But I promise you, you’ll like it in the end.”

“O … okay.” I’m shaky, and edgy, as I do what he says, squirting some lube on the plug, getting it ready. When it is, I whisper, “I’m ready, I think.”

Silence falls.

It’s a breathless silence, full of anticipation and excitement.

I place the plug at my tight little bud, putting some pressure on it, trying to work it in, and then I freeze. Pain, not intolerable, but definitely uncomfortable, holds me still.

“It—” I let out a sharp breath. “Hurts.”

“Just relax, love,” he murmurs. “Work it in and out. Relax.”

I try. I really, really try to relax, but it’s an impossible task. The pain is sharp and it’s so hard to keep a steady pressure, as I work it in and out. I make a sound, a groan or a moan, I’m not quite sure, and then, biting my bottom lips—hard—I push the plug all the way in.

“Did you glide it in, baby?” he murmurs.

I lick my lips nervously, and breathlessly, I respond, “Yes.”

“How does it feel?”

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice shaky. “It hurts, but it also feels … different. Good almost.”

“Good, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “Now turn it on, then I want you to push the vibrator into your pussy and tell me how it feels while you’re doing it.”

Pressing the button on the plug, it buzzes to life, making me moan. My body starts to buck as I add the vibrator to the mix, making me pant. I’m so wet that it doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to slide it in.

Jesus, it shouldn’t feel this good, this intense.

“It feels … good,” I say, spreading my legs wider apart, moaning again. “I feel full. So … good.”

“Good, baby,” he says, his voice changing, sounding rougher than before, raspy. “I can feel the pre-come dripping down my hard length. Your legs are wide open, and I slowly press my cock inside your pussy, pushing it all the way in. Your legs wrap around me and I lean down and start kissing you. Your breasts are pressed against my pecs and I can feel your heart beating out of your chest.”

My eyes roll back from the pleasure and I cry out. It’s just so … intense, so different. I feel like I’m soaring higher and higher, so high I’m not sure I’ll ever hit the ground again.

“As one hand grips your ass, I pull my cock out, and push it back in. I can feel the vibrations of the plug that’s deep inside your asshole, buzzing against my cock as I’m pushing in and out of your tight little pussy. It feels so fucking good. I love feeling you stretched out to the max. I love sliding my cock in and out of you.”

I moan—loud—my breath coming faster and faster. I don’t even know what to do with the feelings inside me or how to describe them.

It’s good.

It’s amazing.

It’s … another moan pours out of me.

“That’s right, baby, let go for me, Victoria,” he murmurs. “I start kissing you and your nails dig into my back. I can feel your pussy clenching down around me. Every time I pull my cock out, you use your thighs, pulling me back in. I push up a little bit, staring into your eyes as I work my cock in and out, letting you know that I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. My hand glides up and I grip your throat. You moan a little bit louder, and I stare into your eyes as my hand tightens, choking you, holding you still. Fuck, I love looking into those gorgeous green eyes, knowing you couldn’t go anywhere unless I let you.”

I moan at the mental image, oddly feeling even more aroused. I can almost feel his hand on my throat, and if the reality is anything like the image conjuring in my mind, I wouldn’t mind it.

Not even a little.

I’d give up total control to this man in a heartbeat.

My body clenches tight, heat unraveling in my belly, as I start to thrash. “I’m going to come,” I moan softly. “It feels so good … I can’t …” Another moan slips out, my body tightening. “I’m … I’m … I’m coming.”

Pure, hot ecstasy spreads through my body, my body clenching and clasping on the two toys within me, the vibrations shooting sparks through me. I gasp from the sensations, arching and twisting beneath the sheets, shuddering through an explosive orgasm.

He hums, the sound vibrating through the line. “Tell me my little slut is coming.”

I don’t hesitate. “Your little slut’s coming.”

“Again,” he demands.

“Your little slut’s coming.” My voice is ragged and breathless.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that, right?”

“Really?” I rasp out, feeling dazed and relaxed as I turn off the toys. So very, very relaxed.

“Really,” he says. “Do you feel good, baby girl?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Good.” Oh God, I can hear the smile in his voice. “Now talk dirty to me.”

I stir from my dazed, relaxed state, swallowing down a swell of anxiety, and nod my head against the pillow. “Okay.”

That’s it.

That’s all I say.

My mind just … blanks. I can’t think, can’t picture anything. It’s all just … blank. A dark void of nothingness.

I laugh. It’s awkward and nervous and loud, and oh my God, did I just snort a little?

Crap, I did.

“Relax, baby girl. It’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat, although when I continue my voice is still a barely audible whisper. “Okay, I like giving blow jobs so can I try talking about that?”

He hums. “Talk about anything you want, baby.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding again. “Picture me, uh, on my knees in front of you. I lick my lips, reaching for your …”

The one-minute left recording sounds, cutting me off, and I smile, relief almost crippling me. I let out a breath. I have no idea where I was going with that.

“You did good, baby,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. “I’m really proud of you for trying that new toy.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m glad I tried it.”

“I’m going to go jerk off,” he says. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”

He hangs up then, and I flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking that I seriously need to call up one of those phone sex lines and get some pointers.

“You’re home.”

My footsteps falter in the middle of the foyer, the door just barely clicking shut behind me. I hesitate, glancing up at Richard standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing only a pair of jeans. The button is hanging open, and the fly, only zipped halfway, as though he was rushing, tugging them on when he heard the door open. He looks surprised to see me, surprised and a little happy, too. It’s odd … “I am.”

I take off my coat, hanging it in the closet, before kicking off my shoes and putting them away. When I turn back around, he’s still standing there, cold eyes boring into me.

I hesitate, eyeing him back, before saying, “I’m going to go grab a shower, then go to bed.”

The corner of his lip twitches, but it’s not with amusement. He walks a few steps in my direction, and then pauses, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his eyes flaring. “I wouldn’t recommend that. Come sit down for a minute. There’s something we need to discuss.”

My shoulders sag and I close my eyes for a beat. It’s a little after eleven o’clock at night, and I’ve been driving all day. God, I’m too tired to deal with his shit today. Too exhausted from the drive to even think.

With a long sigh, I follow him into the living room, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer my question, instead, asking one of his own as he sits down on the loveseat across from me. “Did you have fun?”

I hesitate to respond; the coldness I feel from him putting me on edge. “Yes, I did. The drive was kind of boring and long, but overall it was a fun trip.”

“Huh,” he says, eyeing me curiously. He leans back, folding his arms over his bare chest. “Do you think you’ll go again?”

My brows furrow at his question, but I nod. “Yup. I’m probably going to go back in a couple months.”

“Huh,” he says again. He doesn’t look the least bit impressed by my answer.

Whatever.

There’s a breath of silence, and then, “I have company.”

I blink at him, shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s hosted business guests here numerous times, but I am. I’m stunned he didn’t let me know. Floored, actually. “Okay.”

He nods. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes. “I sent you a message, one that you read. You knew I’d be back tonight.”

“Huh,” he says, his lips twitching again, but this time I see the amusement hidden behind the annoyance. “I must have forgotten.”

I know there’s a point to this conversation. He’s gearing up for something, he always is, but at this moment, I don’t care.

I’m too tired to care.

“Richard,” I say, a hint of annoyance leaking into my voice. “I’m tired and I need a shower. We can do whatever this is tomorrow.”

I move to stand up, but his voice stops me. “You should probably do all of that somewhere else tonight.”

“What?” I ask, cutting my eyes to him.

“Like I said, I have company,” Richard says. “I suppose you could use one of the guest bedrooms, although I’d prefer it if you just … vanished until I leave tomorrow.” A wide grin splits his face. “I wouldn’t want Julia to feel uncomfortable.”

I stare at him.

And stare.

He wouldn’t want Julia to feel uncomfortable?

And I stare some more.

Who’s Julia?

And then … I clue in.

He has company.

It’s not a client or coworker.

He has a woman over.

In my house.

In my bed.

Instead of putting me on guard, the idea intrigues me. Is he finally moving on? My eyes widen. “You have a woman over? You brought her here? To our house?”

“Of course I did,” he says, sounding proud of himself. “Any man in my situation would.”

I laugh once. “And what exactly is your situation?”

“My wife is a lying, cheating whore,” he says, matter-of-factly. “But I figure, now we’re even.”

We’re even? I stare at him. I don’t know what to say. I’m flabbergasted. I’m annoyed. I’m tired. I’m … relieved? Yes, beneath the slow burn of irritation, there’s relief.

I shrug noncommittally.

I don’t let my spiking anger show, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the outrage simmering through me. He might take it the wrong way. Might think that I give a shit about his little affair, rather than simply annoyed that I’m not in bed, or better yet, not still in Pennsylvania with Joshua.

I can’t believe I came home for this.

“Jesus, you’re an asshole.” I exhale loudly. “I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never cheated on you. We’ve been over for months. How the fuck can you say I’m a cheating whore when you’re the one with another woman in our bed?”

His eyes drift over me, and he’s quiet for a moment. I wait for him to say more, watching as a nasty smile lifts his lips.

“Is that right?” He sounds genuinely interested. “We’re over? I was under the impression that we were trying to work things out.”

My skin starts to heat; my knees bounce. I continue breathing, though it feels like a challenge. He keeps looking at me, his eyes straight on my face, watching for something, waiting perhaps for me to freak-out.

I feel like freaking-out.

He has
Julia
upstairs in our bed and he still thinks we’re trying to work things out?

Right, there’s a woman in my bed.

A woman that’s not me.

Jesus, I’m tired.

Maybe I should go up there, kick her out, and throw a fit, but it seems like a hell of a lot of work.

“You’re delusional,” I say, laughing. “You know damn well there’s nothing left here, nothing for us to work out. I don’t love you. I haven’t loved you for a while now and you know it.”

“And yet,” he says, laughing under his breath, “you’re still here. Living in my house.”

“It’s not your house,” I say through clenched teeth as my face flushes, frustration heating my cheeks. “I own just as much of it as you do.”

“Choose your words carefully, pumpkin,” he says quietly, his gaze hardening on mine. “Or you might not like what I do next.”

“Oh, yeah?” I snap, my voice turning harsh and just as cold as his. “And what exactly are you going to do?”

Slowly, he leans forward, his eyes fixed on mine as he places his elbows on his knees. “I wonder what the world would think of a married romance writer carrying on a relationship behind her husband’s back with a convicted murderer. I’m curious. Do you think if your readers knew what you’re up to, they’d still buy your books?”

He says it without an ounce of hesitation, and I stare at him, stunned. “You wouldn’t.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I would,” he says. “If you don’t stop talking to that asshole, I’ll ruin you. I’ll take everything,
every-fucking-thing.
You’ll have no one to help you, nowhere to go. When I’m done, the only thing you’ll have left is that piece of shit killer.”

Something happens to me then, something that I can’t even explain. A calm settles over me, but at the same time rage crashes through me. Flashes of the last three years flood my mind. Tears and heartache and anger fill the majority of them.

God, were we ever happy together?

If we were, I can’t see it … can’t feel it.

“That’s it,” I say, my voice a breathless whisper. “I’m done.”

And I mean it this time.

I’m well and truly done.

He flinches when I say it, his expression falling as his gaze settles on me, his cold eyes staring me down. He laughs once. “I can’t believe I wasted three years of my life on you. I swear to God you and your little convict are going to pay for the bullshit you’ve put me through these last few months.”

Those words make me tremble. His tone isn’t sharp, but it’s definitely serious. It’s not an empty threat, I don’t think. My skin tingles, that frosty look in his eyes freezing my blood. I believe him, believe that he won’t rest until he’s destroyed my life, but knowing that doesn’t change my mind. Maybe I should stay with him, but I don’t want to.

I don’t think I can.

“What do you want from me?”

He says nothing as he stares at me. Nothing about what he wants from me, but somehow, I already know.

He wants me.

It sends a chill down my spine.

“Richard, please,” I say, hating the desperation I hear in my voice. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s over. It’s been over for a long time.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “If you want to leave, then leave. I’m not stopping you, but you screwed me, and I promise you, if you leave I’ll screw you just as hard.”

“Who are you?” I ask. “Where’s that nice man I married? You weren’t always this … bitter, this … vindictive.”

“I am the same—” He pauses for a beat, shaking his head. “I haven’t changed, Vic. You’re the one that’s changed.”

I can’t really argue with that.

Guilty.

I have changed.

But so has he.

“The way I see it, you’ve got a choice here,” he says after a moment. “You can cut him out of your life and stay. I’ll forget all of this and we can move on. Or you can leave. I’ll go to the media with your story, and your father. I’ll make sure everyone knows what a whore you are. I’ll destroy your business and your name, and then I’ll take everything that’s left. Every goddamn penny.”

I swallow hard. “You couldn’t. All of this is just as much mine as it is yours.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he says coolly. “But are you willing to lose your career for a murderer?”

“Stop calling him that!”

“Why?” he asks. “That’s what he is. A coldblooded murderer.”

I can see what he’s trying to do here, the doubt he’s trying to plant. “I think I hate you.”

He stares at me for a moment. “You should feel lucky. I’m willing to forget it all. All you have to do is cut him out of your life.”

I laugh. Lucky? Nothing about this makes me feel lucky.

Richard stands up then, walking toward the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, glancing back at me. “I’m taking Julia to the Hawaii beach house for a couple weeks. Think about it, sweetheart. I expect your decision by the time I get back.”

I sit there for a moment, hesitating, watching as Richard disappears upstairs, before finally getting up and walking back out the door, grabbing my bag as I leave.

There’s nothing to think about.

Nothing at all.

I put my bag back in the trunk and get into my car, starting it up as I dig for my phone in my purse. Finding it, I shoot off a quick text to Becca.

ME: Are you home?

BECCA: Yup. What’s up?

ME: Richard has a visitor of the woman variety. Mind if I crash with you tonight?

BECCA: WTF? He’s cheating? R U OK?

ME: I’m fine. Great, actually. It’s finally over.

BECCA: Yay! *Happy Dance* The door’s open. C U soon.

ME: Thanks.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to Becca’s house. I turn on the radio, blasting the music, and try to think of something—anything—except the reality of my situation.

By the time I make it there, I’ve almost convinced myself that Richard’s threats were empty. He won’t go to the media. He’s too worried about his reputation to shine a spotlight on our failing relationship. I turn into Becca’s driveway, parking behind her silver Focus, and slip the car in park, turning it off.

Becca had turned on the outside light for me. Getting out, I pull my bag out of the trunk and pad up to the house, letting myself in.

“Becca?” I call out as I close the door behind me, locking it as I dump my bag at the door.

“In the kitchen,” she calls out.

Kicking off my shoes, I head down the entry hallway, and step into the large kitchen, stalling at the doorway when I spot Becca standing at the island, pouring two shots of tequila.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I don’t want to talk. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

“Shit, babe,” Becca mutters, giving me a thorough onceover. “You look awful. Are you okay?”

Sighing, I walk over to the island and hop up onto one of the tall bar-style stools. “That’s because I’ve been driving all day.”

She lets out a dry laugh and slides a shot over to me. “Right. Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.”

I cut my eyes at her. “A shower and a good night’s sleep will make me feel better.”

“Okay, fine,” she says, sitting down beside me and offering me a small smile. The sight of it makes me feel a little more at ease. “Drink up. It’ll make
me
feel better.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”

“Sure …” Becca grins, and then downs her shot. “So, is Joshua as hot in person as his pictures?”

I smile at her. God, I love my best friend. “He’s even hotter.”