Obsession (27 page)

Fear spread down my back and arms like liquid ice. Gripped my gut and squeezed.

Slowly, I turned toward the television. Even though I knew what I’d see, I still gasped at the sight. I was on my back on Peter’s bed, my wrists tied to the headrest, my legs spread and Peter’s face buried in my pussy. My back was arched well off the bed, my breasts bouncing around as I writhed in ecstasy.

I jumped up from the sofa and in front of the television, blocking the screen from Andrew’s view.

“I’ve already seen it,” Andrew told me. “Every last minute.”

“H-how—”

“How did I get it? Your boyfriend brought it to me at the hotel today.”

“What?” Peter was home? He knew where Andrew worked?

“I especially love this next part.”

“Listen to me, Andrew. Peter—he’s insane. I thought he was out of town right now, but if he’s not, we shouldn’t stay here. It might not be safe.”

“Move out of the way,” Andrew said, not in the least interested in what I was saying.

“Please don’t watch this, Andrew,” I begged. “I don’t know what Peter was thinking. I didn’t even know he’d taped this. But—” My loud moaning was suddenly too much for me to bear. “Turn it off. Turn it—” I quickly whirled around to shut the television off.

Immediately, Andrew turned it back on with the remote control.

“Don’t do this, Andrew. For God’s sake.”

“Do you love me?” That was Peter’s voice. Then more of my moaning.

Unable to stand another moment of this, I pressed the button to open the DVD player. The disc appeared, and I snatched it up.

“You told him you loved him,” Andrew said.

I shook my head. It was all I could do.

“I heard you. And more importantly, I saw you.”

“It was sex talk. It didn’t mean anything.”

“No? Then how does he know my father died and left me some money?”

So that’s why Andrew made the comment about me staying with him because of the money his father had left him. “We were just talking,” I explained. “About parents, and death. There was nothing sinister about it.”

“You’ve never…” Andrew swallowed, as though he had to compose himself. “You’ve never been like that with me. The way you were moaning and moving around, the way you were trembling with pure ecstasy. I don’t think we’ve ever…It’s never been like that with us.”

Though I wanted to, I couldn’t argue Andrew’s point. Sex with Peter had been one hundred percent uninhibited, partly because it had been taboo. Partly because he’d opened me up to a whole new world of sensation that I’d been afraid to explore earlier.

“And when you were with your slut, it wasn’t enjoyable? You told me you ate her pussy. I’ll bet you loved that. You probably came in her mouth, or all over her face. Maybe both. I never wanted you to see me with Peter, but at least you know. I’ll always have to imagine what you did with your lover, and I can guarantee you, my imagination is much, much worse.”

“He told me you’re staying with me until you get part of my father’s estate.”

I flew toward Andrew and dropped myself onto the floor in front of him. “Do you believe that? Because if you do, then maybe you never knew me at all.”

Andrew didn’t answer, but I could tell by the way his eyes lit up that he didn’t believe what Peter had said.

“Peter—Well, he’s a little off-kilter,” I told Andrew. “I think he fell hard for me, which I didn’t expect, because it was just an affair. But he wasn’t happy when I told him it was over.”

“Did he know that? That it was ‘just an affair’?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t say a word. It was a valid question. And for the first time I realized that I
hadn’t
approached my affair with Peter as
just
an affair. At least, those weren’t the ground rules that had been laid out at the beginning. I knew Peter was falling for me, and a part of me had been falling for him.

“Did he?” Andrew asked again.

“Did Isabel think you were only fucking her?” I shot back. “Both of us did things we shouldn’t have,” I went on. “Should I have handled Peter differently? Yes, I know that now. But it’s over.” Tentatively, I reached for Andrew’s face. Caressed it. “You’re the only man I love. Despite everything, I still love you.”

“Then why did you tell him you love him?”

“Because—” Because he was playing with my pussy, holding my sexual release hostage until I told him what he wanted to hear. No, I couldn’t tell Andrew that.

“It was sex talk,” I said. “Please, baby. I don’t want to talk about Peter anymore. Nothing good will come of it.” I placed my hands on my husband’s legs, ran them up and down slowly. Seductively. Maybe I needed to show him how much I still wanted him, our marriage.

We would make love, right here, right now. If Peter was lurking outside, surely he would have been pounding on the door by now.

No, he wasn’t eavesdropping. He’d made sure to give Andrew a copy of the DVD, hoping that would be the last nail in the coffin on our relationship. And with Andrew out of my life, I would have no choice but to be with him.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

“I want to talk about us,” I said. I moved one hand to Andrew’s groin and stroked his penis. “Or maybe we don’t have to talk at all.”

Andrew placed his hands on mine, stopping them. “You’re not serious.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I want to fuck you, Andrew.”

“Sophie…”

“What? You don’t like to hear me swear? Because it’s dirty? Just like enjoying oral sex is dirty? I’m your wife, Andrew. We should be doing everything together. Oral sex, anal sex—whatever we want to do is not dirty.”

Andrew jerked backward. “Did he fuck you up the ass?”

“No. No! All I’m trying to say is that whatever we want to explore is okay. That’s what married people do.”

“I need some time…”

“I need you to touch me.” I took Andrew’s hand and placed it on my breast. “I need you to taste me.” Once again, I stroked him, stroked him until he grew hard. “I like that, Andrew. I like it a lot.”

Andrew closed his eyes. “I keep seeing him doing that to you.”

I pulled my blouse over my head, then unsnapped my bra. My breasts came free. “Touch me. Please.”

Andrew opened his eyes. Opened his eyes but didn’t really see me. He kept his attention on my face, never lowering it to my naked breasts.

“Pl—”

Suddenly, he covered a breast with his hand. “Yes,” I purred. “Touch me, Andrew.”

His hand moved over my breast. Slowly, like he was getting re-acquainted with it.

“Play with my nipple.” I played with my other nipple until it grew hard, something I hadn’t done in front of Andrew before because I knew he would have seen that as too brazen. He definitely enjoyed my breasts, but he’d always taken the lead when it came to sex and I’d let him.

But now, he wasn’t reacting with disapproval at me touching my own body. Instead, he looked from one breast to the other, his groans growing deeper.

“Oh, yes. Just like that, baby.”

Andrew’s breathing was heavier now. My panties were getting wet. Rising, I straddled him on the sofa. “Take my nipple in your mouth. Both, if you can. Lick them. Suck them.”

Andrew gently kneaded my left breast before edging his head toward my nipple. I watched as his mouth got nearer. Then, as his lips slowly parted, a jolt of delicious heat shot through my pussy even before his tongue made contact with my skin.

“Baby…mmm.” I closed my eyes and savored the pleasure of my husband’s tongue on me. He moved slowly at first, gently flicking his tongue over my nipple. Around the areola. A little nip, a brief suck.

I purred. “Do you have any idea how good this feels?”

Andrew groaned, the sound ripe with his pleasure. Then he drew my nipple completely into his mouth and suckled me hard. Suckled me as though he hoped to swallow my nipple. Beneath my vagina, his cock grew into a hard, throbbing weapon. One I needed to conquer me.

He grabbed my other breast, none too gently, and pushed it toward his mouth. Then his tongue moved from one nipple to sample the other. He sank his teeth into my nipple. Not enough to hurt, but enough to give a small dose of pain with the pleasure. Then he went back to the other nipple and did the same thing.

“Yes, baby,” I moaned. I wanted the same kind of wild, uninhibited sex with Andrew that I’d experienced with Peter. “Oh, God.”

Rocking his cock against my pussy, he squeezed my breasts together and took both my nipples into his mouth at one time. As his tongue worked over my nipples in a frenzy, I lolled my head backward and moaned in ecstasy. I picked up the pace of our hip movements, the friction on my clit heating my entire body.

All of a sudden, Andrew whipped our bodies around so that I was on my back and he was between my legs. Moving his mouth from my breasts, he trailed his tongue down the center of my ribs. As he did, he undid my jeans and wrestled them down my hips.

“Yes, baby,” I urged. I raised my hips so he could more easily move my jeans out of the way. He pressed his lips to the top of my pubic area. “Touch me…See how wet I am. How much I want you.”

Andrew ran his thumb over me through my panties. “Damn, you really are wet.”

“Take me in your mouth. Eat me until I’m screaming your name.”

Andrew pushed my panties out of the way. I thought he was going to touch me, or lick me, but instead he just stared. I watched him as his eyes drank in the sight of my pussy up close and personal. He’d never really done that before. His mouth was so close to me, his warm breath tickled my clit.

Finally, he stroked me again. I shuddered.

“Play with me, baby. Touch me. Taste me.”

He dipped a finger between my folds. “Like this.”

I lifted my hips in response. “Yes. Now put your fingers inside me. All of them if you can.”

Andrew slipped his middle finger inside me, a groan rumbling in his chest as he did. “You’re so beautiful, Sophie.”

He inserted another finger, and I gripped the sofa as waves of pleasure ripped through me. This pleasure was different than what I’d experienced with Peter, because it was ripe with love.

“So damn beautiful,” he rasped.

“Finger-fuck me. Yes, just like that!” Andrew pumped his fingers deep inside me, wiggled them around, then pumped even harder. Soon, I was panting, my enjoyment so intense I could hardly catch my breath.

I gripped my nipples and thrust my hips upward, hoping he’d understand what I wanted most. Andrew’s fingers felt wonderful, but I wanted his tongue. “Please taste me, sweetheart. I need to feel your tongue on me.”

Andrew turned his face into my thigh and nibbled there. It wasn’t what I wanted. “One touch, baby. One touch and I could come.” I wiggled my hips, desperate now for his touch.

He moved his lips closer to my center, and just as I braced for the sensation of his tongue on me, he pulled his head back.

I moaned in protest. “No…”

“I can’t.” Andrew backed away from me.

The words crushed me, as surely as if I were a bug being squashed by the heel of someone’s shoe. “Andrew, please.”

“I can’t. Not after seeing how you were with him.”

“Don’t do this,” I said, softly sobbing. I got onto my knees and reached for him. “I want
you,
Andrew. Only you.”

He got off the sofa and started from the living room. “I have to go.”

“No!”

Andrew didn’t listen. He sped out of the living room while I struggled to pull up my jeans. Once I finished, I ran through the living room to the front door. It was open, and I raced onto the porch.

Andrew was standing on the driveway beside his vehicle, as though he’d had a change of heart about leaving after all.

“Andrew,” I said.

He turned to face me, his eyes growing wide with horror. As his gaze lowered to my breasts, I realized that I didn’t have my top on. I glanced across the street, saw Mr. Warner looking my way with interest.

“Get back inside,” Andrew said.

I quickly stepped backward, moving out of sight of nosy eyes. I was too defeated to be humiliated. “Please come back in,” I said. “We need to talk about this.”

“I’m coming,” Andrew replied, his voice sounding strained.

The seconds ticked by. I would have moved back in front of the open door to see where he was, if not for Mr. Warner across the street.

Finally, Andrew crossed the threshold, and my shoulders sagged with relief.

But then I saw another shadow filling the doorway. I guess I sensed who it was before I saw. And fear trickled down my spine.

Peter stepped fully into the foyer, his gaze immediately falling on me.

As he looked my way and smiled, I saw the glint of a blade in his hand. He closed the door and turned the lock.

“Hello,
bella,
” Peter said. His smile appeared genuine, which, under the circumstance, only made it creepier.

I raised my hand to cover my breasts. I looked from Peter to Andrew, and then back to Peter. Rather, I looked at the knife in his hand.

“So here we all are,” Peter said. “Maybe this is the way it needs to be.”

“Let my wife put her blouse on,” Andrew said.

“There is no need,” Peter said. “I have already seen every inch of her body. Which you know, if you watched the video.”

Andrew said nothing. Neither did I.

“Ah, Sophie,” Peter said sadly.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You mean, why am I not in Seattle?”

I think I nodded.

“I needed to know, Sophie. To know if you were telling the truth about us. And now I do.”

My chest constricted, and I could hardly breathe. This had been a test. An elaborate trap. And I’d fallen right into it.

“Why don’t we all go to the living room,” Peter suggested. “Where we will be more comfortable.”

I didn’t budge. Neither did Andrew. But I saw Andrew’s eyes moving around frantically, and I could tell that he was trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

Peter was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and he had the knife mostly hidden beneath it. But now, he pulled it out, revealing a blade that had to be at least ten inches long.

“If you don’t move,” he began calmly, “I can assure you that this knife will go easily into your back. And once you’re on your knees, I will slit your throat.”

I gasped. If I’d had any doubts as to whether or not Peter
could
be a killer, those doubts quickly fled my mind.

“Go, Andrew,” I said. Peter had murdered our cat, I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

“You too,” Peter told me.

Andrew began to move, heading toward the kitchen. I walked slowly behind him, my heart pounding frenetically.

“And if you even think about grabbing a knife, remember that I am just behind your wife. If you do anything stupid, I will slice her from ear to ear.”

This wasn’t an idle threat. I didn’t want to believe Peter would hurt me, but I did.

“I won’t do anything stupid,” Andrew promised. He held up his hands as he continued to walk. “Look, you can see my hands. I’m not going to grab anything.”

“Good,” Peter said. “I would hate for this to turn ugly. All I want to do is talk.”

In the living room, Andrew and I stood in front of the sofa. I reached for my discarded blouse and slipped it on.

When I was done, Peter said, “Sit. Both of you.”

I lowered myself onto the sofa, never taking my eyes off Peter. Andrew sank onto the sofa beside me.

Peter positioned himself in front of the coffee table, then started to speak. “I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, but love isn’t always easy. Andrew, by now you have seen the video?”

Andrew hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“So you know exactly the depth of your wife’s feelings for me. And mine for her. I’m here to ask that you let her go quietly.”

I had no doubt that Peter had been spying on me while he was supposedly in Seattle. Watching to see if I met Andrew. Maybe listening in on my phone calls.

And even though he clearly knew that I
had
met with my husband during his supposed absence, Peter still held out hope that we would be together. In his mind, all he had to do was get Andrew out of the picture, and I would be his.

“Sophie,” Peter said. “This will be easy. You will gather your belongings, all your clothes, your makeup. Whatever you need. You’ll pack your things in suitcases and put them in my car.”

I looked at Andrew. Swallowed.

“If you let her leave quietly, Andrew, then you will live. It’s as simple as that. If you fight me, you will die.”

This couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it. “And what if I don’t want to leave with you? Will you kill me too?”

Peter’s expression was almost that of a parent looking at a misbehaving child. A kind of loving disapproval. “I know you don’t want to hurt your husband. You’re a good woman. You feel guilty for leaving him. But it’s the right thing to do, Sophie.”

“Is that what you want?” Andrew asked me.

“No,” I answered right away, and placed a reassuring hand on his knee. I didn’t plan on it, but I couldn’t help myself.

Which was why I knew I couldn’t leave with Peter. I couldn’t pretend anymore that I wanted to be with him. I was too emotionally spent to pull off such a ruse. Besides, I didn’t want to. Not anymore.

Which meant Peter might kill me.

I faced him, debating what I would say to him. I decided that all I could do was plead. Hope that the love he’d felt for me would allow him to do the right thing.

“Peter,” I began softly. “Don’t do this.”

“Did you tell him?” Peter asked, and the way he looked at me made dread fill my stomach like a lead weight. I started to shake my head, my eyes imploring him not to ask the question, but Peter continued. “Did you tell him that you’re carrying my child?”

I buried my face in my hands.
Oh, God, no…

“What!” Andrew exclaimed.

I couldn’t look at Andrew as he tugged on my wrists, forcing my hands from my face. “Is that true, Sophie?”

Andrew sounded downright terrified. Tears filled my eyes.

“Tell him,
bella.
” Peter wore a smug smile.

“Are you pregnant with his baby?”

I began to softly sob.

“My God,” Andrew said, and he slowly got to his feet. “You
are.
”

“I don’t know that it’s his,” I quickly said. “The baby…it might be yours.”

Andrew began to pace. “Jesus Christ.”

I glared at Peter. “How could you?” I asked. “How could you do this?”

“Your husband needs to know. He needs to know that we conceived a child in love. Do you think he will be with you now? He won’t, Sophie. Because he can’t forgive you.” Peter took a step toward me. “But I forgive you, Sophie.”

Through my tears I stared at him in confusion.

“I know what you were trying to do before I got here. It’s why you were topless and your jeans are still unbuttoned.” He kept moving, getting ever closer. “But I forgive you. Because I love you. Without you—without our child—my life is nothing.”

I threw a glance at Andrew, imploring him to look at me, imploring him to understand that it didn’t matter who the biological father of my child was. As far as I was concerned, Andrew was the father. I didn’t care what the tests might say.

“Your husband saw the video of us together,” Peter went on. “Do you think he can accept that you were with another man? No. And why not? Because he feels he owns you. Look at him. He’s like a caged animal, ready to strike out. Maybe he would hit you if I weren’t here.”

I stared at Andrew, who stopped pacing and looked from me to Peter. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily. He was glaring. Though I didn’t want them to, Peter’s words got to me.

Was any man, pushed beyond an emotional limit, capable of violence?

No, I couldn’t believe it. Andrew was angry, yes, but never had he raised a hand to strike me.

“If he loved you,” Peter said, “he would forgive you and welcome you back with open arms.”

I tried to swallow but found it difficult around the lump that had lodged in my throat. I met Andrew’s gaze. Held it. Then he looked away.

Was Peter right? Was Andrew unable to move past my affair? Even though he’d been the one to push me into the arms of another man, would he never be able to forgive me?

I turned away, unable to look at Andrew, knowing that it was truly over.

“I do forgive you.”

Andrew’s voice. Spinning around, I faced him, my heart filling with hope.

“I forgive you,” Andrew said. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for my mistake. And if you’re pregnant, I’ll raise the baby as mine.”

“Oh, Andrew.” I began to cry harder, knowing without doubt now, that he
was
the love of my life.

“I meant what I said, Sophie,” Andrew went on. “Now and forever.”

I started toward Andrew, but then Peter was there, stepping between us. His eyes flashed fire as he stared at me. “That is the wrong decision, Sophie.”

Very calmly, Peter turned—and slashed Andrew across the chest.

“No!” I screamed, and leaped for Peter’s arm. Easily, he threw me off him then turned the knife on me.

“I’ll give you one more chance to change your mind,” Peter said. “Next time, I’ll slit his throat.”

Shakily, I nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

Peter offered me his hand, and slowly I gave him mine. He pulled me to my feet.

My eyes quickly went to Andrew. He was on the sofa now, clutching his chest. Blood stained his white dress shirt.

“I’m okay,” he said. “The wound isn’t deep.”

“Let’s stop wasting time,” Peter said, stepping backward. “Get your things. Now.”

I was shaking, terrified. But something suddenly clicked.

The gun Marnie had given me was in the bedroom.

If I went there to pack my things, as Peter wanted me to do, I could get the gun.

“I will,” I said to Peter. Then I turned to Andrew. “He’s right. I fell in love with him. I didn’t want to hurt you, but…I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Something flashed in Andrew’s eyes. Hurt? Did he believe my words?

“I’m going to leave with Peter,” I went on. “But Peter, you have to promise not to hurt him. There’s no need. The police will be involved, then we can’t be together.” I forced a smile.

“I’ve already thought about this, and I know where I can put the body,” Peter assured me. “It’s where I would have put Theodore’s, had I been able to kill that filthy pig when I tried.”

So Peter wasn’t planning to let Andrew live, despite what he’d said. Surprise must have registered on my face, even though I didn’t want to show any sort of alarm. If Peter sensed I doubted him, he would kill Andrew—and me—before I had a chance to get the gun.

“Yes,
bella.
I was going to kill that awful man for you, the way your husband should have killed your rapist. But your husband wasn’t man enough. He’s not strong enough to protect you. I will always protect you and our child.”

What had happened to Peter to turn him into such a monster? The brutal sting of rejection? Or was violence a part of his nature, the way others were kindhearted, or mean-spirited?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I needed to get to the gun.

“I know you’ll always protect me,” I said to Peter. And for good measure, I approached him, gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “I’ll get my things now.”

I went to the bedroom and left the door open. I didn’t want Peter getting suspicious. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, and my hands were trembling so badly I didn’t know if I’d be able to shoot the gun.

I knew it was loaded. Marnie had told me that it was.

I rummaged around in drawers, threw clothes onto the bed. I made the sounds of a woman packing her things. But with every second that passed, I feared Peter would finish Andrew off with the knife.

The man was unpredictable.

Crazy.

Glancing behind me, I couldn’t see Peter. Which meant he couldn’t see me from this vantage point. Slowly I crept to the night table where the gun was. I eased the drawer open….

“Bella.”

My heart jumping, I whipped around. Peter stood in the doorway.

“Do you love me?”

I forced a smile. “Yes. Yes, Peter. I love you. I think I loved you right from the beginning.”

His lips pulled in a grin. “Do you need any help?”

I saw movement past Peter, and my eyes flitted in that direction. Andrew was trying to move slowly across the room to the kitchen.

Peter’s smile instantly vanished and, following the direction of my gaze, he whipped his head around.

“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, moving quickly into the living room. “Get back on the sofa!”

“Yo, I’m sorry, man,” Andrew said. “I just wanted to stretch my legs.”

“You think I’m joking?” Peter bellowed. “You think this is a game?”

It was now or never. Before Peter killed Andrew.

I didn’t waste another second. I reached into the drawer and pulled out the gun.

I eased back the safety the way Marnie had shown me, then I hurried out of the bedroom.

Andrew stood with his hands outstretched, hoping to keep Peter at bay. Peter had his fingers curled around the knife and was slowly raising it.

“I told you not to try anything stupid,” he said to Andrew. “I almost wasn’t going to kill you because of Sophie…but now you’re going to die.”

“Don’t touch him!” I yelled, and Peter turned to face me. Andrew, too.