The Other Woman (32 page)

Ritchie pumps fast, then slow, then fast, and slow again, as if he’s battling restraint. Like I am.

Since my birthday, I’ve been thinking about this,
fantasizing
about it, and all those wanton thoughts, they have to be tantric. Judging from the intensity of his thrusts, and the urgency of his kisses and his hunger, I’d say he’s been doing the same.

But I don’t want to explode. I want to prolong the delicious feel of having Ritchie deep inside of me, gazing into my eyes, both of us twitching and throbbing, both of us on the brink of glory.

Our patience is strangled by need – my thighs wrap tighter around him and my heels dig into him, spurring him on to thrust harder.

He pauses to look deep into my eyes, before he slowly withdraws from inside of me, kisses me hard, sucks on my neck, then my breasts, before he resumes his thrusting, his vigorous thrusting, bringing me to a shudder amongst a handful of glitter.

He slows down, allowing me the moment I so need.

“Are you…?”

“Yeah,” I croak, even though his question is a tad too late. “The pill.”

With a satisfied grunt, he throws my legs over his arms and rears up to begin his frenzied bucking and thrusting until I feel his molten lava inside of me.

For a few minutes we lie slick and spent in each other’s arms, a tangled mess of satiated flesh, Ritchie’s face buried in my shoulder.

He raises his head to look at me. “Well?”

I chuckle. “You were just awesome.”

He nods and plants a few light kisses on my lips. “You were…” his voice fails, but he squeezes me really hard. We don’t talk much –to speak would invite reality, break the spell we’re under, something neither of us wants. We fall asleep in each other’s arms amidst a haze of delicious contentment.

When I wake the next morning, Ritchie is gone. I look around for my phone in case he has texted me goodbye. Or left a message. Nothing. Just left without a word. Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am.

I reach over for the pillow he rested on and hug it to me, basking in the scent of his lingering aftershave
.

Pity. I loved having your body in my bed. I loved having you inside of me. Oh, Ritchie!

****

RITCHIE

When my phone buzzes, I dive for it. Ritchie?

It’s Arena. “Hey, Rival, how was your first night in your house?”

“It was okay,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. Imagine if she knew that her brother and I rocked this house.

“I can’t believe this happened to Bradley. It’s shocking.”

“Yeah. Neither can I.”

“Why don’t you bring the kids over for a swim? I’m sure they’ll love some company. We’ll barbeque while you regale me with all the juicy details.”

Will Ritchie be there?
I’m dying to ask. But Arena is smart, so I decide not to ask about him.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I say and hang up.

When I slip on my bikini and look in the mirror, I am appalled by the bruises all over my arms, thighs, breasts, and neck. Ritchie’s hands. Wow!

I giggle as I remember what a wild boy he was. But all these bruises will no doubt bring on an avalanche of questions – how do I answer them? I remove my bikini and put on a long-sleeve white top and a pair of jeans. After dabbing concealer over the bruises on my neck, I drive to Arena’s.

She greets me with a warm hug. “Karma blew in, right? Came with gusto!”

I chuckle. “She sure did.”

“And you’re…look at you.” Her eyes drag over me. “You’re glowing with happiness.”

“Eh…yeah.” My eyes shift away from hers.

“Being with your kids is exactly what you need.”

“Yeah,” I say in a shrill voice.

Liefie is already at the pool with her three kids and her husband, Vlad.

“Hi, all,” I say.

“Hello, Rival,” Vlad says. “Would you like a chair?” he gets up and offers me his. “Take mine.”

I smile at him. “Thanks, Vlad.”

“Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine, orange juice or Diet Coke?”

“Eh, yeah…Diet Coke would be fine, thanks.”

“Hi,” Liefie mumbles without looking at me. Yet, when I’m not looking, I feel her eyes on me.

I don’t really care. I’m too busy craning my neck to look around for Ritchie. He’s nowhere to be seen.

Ally and Becky race up to me and hug me, wetting me in the process. “Come race with us.”

“Yes, let’s have a competition,” Ally says, grabbing my other hand. “The winner gets a bullion dollars.”

“Billion,” Liefie snaps.

“Sorry girls, I can’t swim today, sorry. I don’t have my—”

“Ally, Becky, go back to the pool,” Liefie says. “Now!”

All eyes fly to look at Liefie.

“Please?” she says with a smile that does not reach her eyes.

For a few moments, there is silence among the adults before Arena breaks it. “Wanna help me bring some stuff out, Rival?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say and rush to follow her away from bitchy Liefie.

Mustering a casual voice, I ask. “Where’s Ritchie?”

“He’s gone to see Bradley. Been there a couple of hours.”

“Oh” I cringe when I think of him facing Bradley after the night we had last night.

An hour later, Ritchie strolls in, looking fine in black jeans and a tight grey t-shirt that strains across his chest and doesn’t hide his bulging biceps. Immediately my heart starts to slam around in my chest, my hands get clammy, and my mouth goes dry.

He greets everyone, and when he spots me, he literally stops in his tracks, a red flush creeping over his face. Luckily his daughters race up to him and try to push him into the pool. “In a while,” he says. “I promise.”

“Hey, Rival, how you doing?” he finally says, his eyes darting between my face and the ground, his voice strained.

“Hey, Ritchie. I’m good, how you doing?” I too avoid his eyes and try my best to stop my face from flaming.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he says, fiddling with his ear, his head bobbing. “Yeah…”

“How’s Bradley?” Bear asks, saving us both further embarrassment.

Ritchie turns to look at Bear, a relieved look on his face. “Not good. I’ve just seen him. He’s going to be there till Monday morning.”

“That’s crap. I don’t believe he did those things,” Bear says, flipping steaks. “Someone’s framing him, or Scarlett’s got a serious problem.”

Ritchie’s eyes fly to mine. I quickly look away, my heart thudding.

“Yeah,” is all Ritchie says.

“Did you see Scarlett?” Arena asks.

“Yeah. She’s not doing too well either. Is determined to get to the bottom of it.” Again Ritchie's eyes flit to mine before they look away.

“Pig, we’re waiting for you!” little Becky yells.

“Hey, it’s
Daddy
, not Pig,” Ritchie says, shaking his index finger at her.

“Dadda, c’mon!” Ally says.

With a sigh, Ritchie walks into the house and returns dressed in his swimming trunks.

“Yay!” the kids yell.

Ritchie pounds his chest, uttering a feral cry. The kids scatter in the pool, their eyes huge with fear. Ritchie runs and dives into the water. Immediately, the kids start to attack him. Shaking like King Kong, he picks them up, holds them high over his head, then with an animal roar, throws them into the water. The kids queue up for their turn. Even my kids demand a turn.

Then he plays water rugby with them. Arena’s three kids, his two kids, and my two kids chase him from one end of the pool to the other to stop him.

When they all grab him and try to overpower him, he shakes them off like a dinosaur would shake off kittens. After which he races them, lets them win, then cries like a baby when he loses. With the exception of Arena’s son, Warren, all the kids are mortified to see Ritchie cry and try to comfort him.

“He’s not really crying, you know,” Warren says.

“Yes, I am,” Ritchie says and wails louder, eliciting a whole lot of hugs from the girls.

I smile at his goofiness. He’s such a big kid.

“Bring that boy here,” Ritchie says to Liefie, shaking his finger at little Gareth.

“Gently, Ritchie,” Liefie says, handing Gareth to him.

Ritchie does not answer. In fact, I haven’t seen Ritchie and Liefie talk or share a laugh. I’ve seen them exchange a few words over the children, but that is it. It’s clear something’s not right between them.

Little Gareth screams with delight as Ritchie is anything but soft with him.

I smile to myself as I see Ritchie being such an awesome dad. Bradley didn’t play with our kids. He provided for them, took them places, but he didn’t goof around with them. Ritchie is different; he feeds little Gareth, changes his diaper, plays house with his girls, and is heavily involved in their upbringing. I like that about him. Growing up, I would have loved to have a dad like Ritchie.

Liefie is lucky to have someone like Ritchie in her life. Maybe that’s why she is so territorial. She glares at me all the time, making me feel really uncomfortable.

“Yo, what time are these steaks going to be ready?” Ritchie shouts from the pool. “I’m starving.”

“Mate, it’s early,” Bear says. “Did you have a workout or something?”

“Last night I did,” Ritchie says without skipping a beat, his eyes twinkling. He glances briefly at me.

I almost choke on my diet coke.

“Ah,” Bear says, peering at Ritchie. “I can tell – you look different today.”

“Different?” Ritchie asks.

“Yeah, like you had a facial or something,” Arena says, peering at him.

Ritchie’s laugh is borderline hysterical. So is mine.

When I look back at Ritchie, he is staring at me. This time neither of us averts our eyes. I will myself to, but I can’t. Suddenly, my collar is tight around my neck, my jeans are prickly, and my knees wobble – I need to sit down. Those eyes – they looked into mine while he pulsated inside of me. Those lips – I sucked on them before I slipped my tongue into his eager mouth. Those arms – they held me tight as my body shuddered with pleasure. That chest – I kissed it, traced every inch of it. The plains, the ridges, the meandering muscles – I know exactly how every inch of his chest feels, and I want to touch it again.

Vaguely, I hear people around us talking, kids shrieking, the sound of steak sizzling. But it really is just Ritchie and I right now.

Ritchie’s lips part, his eyes cloud, and slowly, he runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. I read him loud and clear –
I want you.
Again
.

Ditto. Oh God!

“Rival?”

I look up into Vlad’s face. “Huh?”

“A beer? Glass of wine?”

“Eh…um…" I look at my watch. “Vlad, it’s not even midday." I give him a weak smile. I don’t need wine –I’m intoxicated enough by the mere sight of Ritchie.

“Oh, it’s midday
somewhere
in the world, Rival,” he says with a chuckle.

“She said
no
, Vlad,” Liefie says in a sharp voice.

I look at Liefie.
What the fuck is your problem?
She holds my gaze and we enter into a staring contest.

“Here you go, then,” Vlad says, handing me another Diet Coke and breaking up the contest.

“Thanks, Vlad,” I mutter, angry at Liefie for making me feel like I don’t belong in this family.

****

RITCHIE

It’s really hard to look at Rival and not see her naked and under me even, though she is dressed like a nun. It’s hard not to see her writhing under me, hear her telling me how great I feel inside her and how much she wants me. I want to hear her soft, anguished moans and groans with each of my thrusts.

When she looks at me, I see anxiousness coupled with lust in those blue eyes, and want surges through me.

When I see her walk into the kitchen, I fight the urge to chase after her. But when I notice everyone around me either in the pool or busy, like a magnet to iron, I find myself sauntering after her. I shouldn’t, but I have no surge protector.

I stand by the kitchen door and watch her fish out ice cream from the fridge. “Why aren’t you swimming?” I ask.

Her response is to lift up her top and flash me her midriff.

I balk at her move, then at the sight of the bruises on her stomach. “Jayzus! Did I…no way.”

She lifts her top higher to reveal more bruising on her tits.

“Seriously?” I lunge to pull down her top, glancing behind me as I do.

She chuckles at my nervousness.

I relax and we grin at each other.

“Show me again,” I say.

She chuckles. “You
abused
me last night. Had your
way
with me.” Her eyes twinkle as she speaks. “Then stole away while I was asleep, without leaving me a rose on my pillow,” she pouts.

I pinch my bottom lip. “Your kids – didn’t want them to wake up and see me there.”

“Mm. Ritchie Mac
Thoughtful
, always thinking ahead. You belonged to Girl Scouts when you were little?”

I smile. “We need to talk.”

With her hands on her hips, she whispers, “Come over tonight.”

I look away, then at her. “It’s wrong to date your friend’s ex. Even if they broke up years ago. Guy code. If you do, your friendship will flounder. End even.”

“
Date
? You’re like, really thinking ahead,” she says in a scoffing voice.

I lift and drop my shoulders embarrassed.

“And fyi, Bradley’s marr—”

“I owe Bradley, Rival. You have no idea how much.”

“So you’re fighting me.”

“So…I…am …fighting
it
. Besides,” I jerk my head toward the pool. “Got my kids tonight.”

She exhales loudly.

“Rival, they say if you wanna know who your
true
friends are, get arrested. The person you call,
other
than your attorney, is your true friend. Who did Bradley call? Me. I’m his friend.

And what was I doing the night he got arrested? Fucking his wife in his house, with his kids sleeping in the next room. I feel like a jerk. I
am
a jerk. Today, this morning, I couldn’t look him…”

When she steps closer and stands almost on top of me, I struggle with my train of thought.

“When I was eh…eh…lying to him this…morning, I felt—”

Rival’s hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me. Her eyes are shiny, and that mischievous smile reappears.

Slowly, her hand travels down my neck, over my chest, over my stomach, and over my groin. I gasp as she palms me. Her touch has me spinning out of orbit. I grab her, shove her up against the wall, and kiss her.

“Ritchie, no!”

My fingers slide between her thighs. “You palm me, I finger you, get it?”