Underestimated (41 page)

epinephrine pumping through my veins, I was having a

hard time hiding it. I moved my hands to my jeans,

ignoring his question. He watched my hands unbutton my

jeans and slide down the zipper. I lifted my shirt over my

head and slowly and seductively removed my bra. I

moved my hands back to the buttons on his shirt, and he

didn’t stop me. He took my breast into his mouth, and I

moaned. Damnit. I didn’t want to do that.

I ran my hands over his strong chest, and he

flipped me over so that he was now towering over me. I

didn’t want that either. I needed to stay in control. Think

Riley. Think. I froze. Who the hell was Riley? The

question remained, but I did manage to move it to the back

of my mind while I figured out how to seduce my husband.

I raised my hips and slid out of my jeans and panties. I

could feel the protrusion grind into my hip as he kissed

me. He pulled his lips away from mine and looked down

my body, hungrily. Yes. That was what I wanted.

What I did next not only took him by surprise, but

myself as well.

“Go down on my, Drew,” I whispered in a pant.

His eyes shot back to mine. I didn’t let it phase me and

tilted my bent knee, exposing myself for him. I moved his

hand from my bare hip to the wet folds between my legs. I

moaned as I felt his fingers slide up me. I did mean to do it

that time.

“Taste me,” I whispered again. He wasn’t moving.

He was stoned stupid. I moved up to the pillow so that his

head was at a level playing field with my throbbing sex.

“Morgan?” he muttered. I had totally dumbfounded

him, and he didn’t know how to react. I was sure that I

was never the one to give the orders, but I was, and he

wasn’t sure how to respond.

I bucked my hips and ran my own fingers between

my folds, beckoning him to do as he was told. He moved

in and licked me once, almost like he wasn’t sure what to

do. I took his hair in my hand and kept his head there

while he stroked me with his tongue.

“Hmm, yes Drew,” I moaned. It must have been

turning him on, and my plan, whatever that was, was

working. I came as soon as he inserted two fingers into

me. I came hard and clinched his hair in my fist. As soon

as I was coherent enough to regulate my breathing I moved

him to his back and released his erection into my hand. He

still couldn’t speak. I bent to his lips and moaned as I

inserted my tongue into his mouth, tasting myself on his

lips. He raised his hips and helped me slide him out of his

clothes. I ran my hands up his strong pecks as I slid him

into me. I rode him hard, as fast and hard as I could. As

soon as I called out in agonizing pleasure, he thrust deep,

holding my hips into him. He came just as hard. I could

feel him convulsing beneath me.

I smiled down to him as he dropped back to the

bed. I moved his hand from my hip and kissed his

fingertips before removing myself.

“I’m going to shower. I’ll be down to eat with you

in a little bit.” I left him lying on my bed staring after me I

was sure. I knew, had I turned around he would have been

wearing that dazed, confused look that he had when I

demanded that he go down on me.

I showered, and while I was rinsing the soap from

my hair, I knew that I could see the camera lens around the

ring of the shower head. I didn’t stare at it and pretended

not to see it. I showered as normal, wrapped myself in a

towel and walked out to my room to dress. I opened the

closet and pulled a pair of jeans and a knit shirt from the

closet. I knew Drew hated me not wearing the designer

clothes right at my fingertips. I loved to defy his wishes. I

even went a step further and omitted the socks.

I walked down to where he was waiting and

smiled with narrowed eyes in a flirtatious manner. I

brushed my hands across his broad shoulders and let my

fingers dance in the back of his hair before taking my seat

beside him.

“What’s gotten into you, and where are your

socks?” he asked from the head of the table.

“I didn’t want socks, and what do you mean, what

has gotten into me? I don’t remember so if I am acting in a

different way than I normally did, you have to tell me what

I am doing wrong. I’m just trying to make sense of

everything and be your wife. Did I do something wrong?”

I asked, feeding him right out of my hand.

“No, you’ve just never been the um,” he stopped,

trying to think of the word, “aggressive, you have never

been the aggressive type before.”

I leaned in for a kiss. He hesitated but leaned in

and kissed me. “I think I might like being aggressive,” I

smiled as Marta brought our food. I wanted to keep him

talking. I just didn’t know what to talk about. I didn’t want

to ask about anything that would throw up any of his

defenses. I was determined to bring him down a few

levels. Why? I wasn’t sure yet, but I was working on it.

We ate our salads in silence, looking at each other

every now and then. I decided to go for the pity party.

“Drew,” I quietly said his name.

“Hmm?” he replied with food in his mouth,

looking over to me.

“What if I never remember? What if I never

remember the day we met, or our wedding day, what if I

never remember how much we mean to each other?”

“I think you will. Don’t worry about that. I think

you are trying too hard. Just let it come on its own.”

“You said that we have been married for almost

eight years.”

“Yes. We will be married eight years in June.

Why?”

“June what?” I asked. I really did want to know

that.

“June 4th.”

“My birthday is June 4th. That means that we got

married the day that I turned eighteen, right?”

He smiled a nervous smile and nodded.

“Where did we meet?”

“I came to your school when you were seventeen

and did a seminar on success and donated some money.

You were the prettiest girl in that school,” he smiled. “I

told you then that I was going to marry you. I would sneak

back there, and we would spend weekends together and as

soon as you graduated and turned eighteen I came and took

you away.”

“We got married the same day?”

“Yes, but that was all your idea. I had nothing to

do with that. I think you wanted to make sure that no one

else claimed me.”

“How old are you?” I kept the conversation going.

Some of it I wanted to know and some of it were

irrelevant.

“31, what’s with all the questions?”

I took a deep breath and pushed my half eaten

salad away. “I don’t know. You just have no idea what it’s

like, not to know who you are or where you came from. I

remember some things but don’t know why I remember

them.

“Like what?” Drew wanted to know.

“Like my birthday. I know when I was born, but

not when I got married. I remember books that I have read

and songs. You said that I would have never been caught

dead dressed like this. Did my personality change too?”

“Your personality did change from what I

remember too.”

“Like how?”

“Well, like I said before. You would have never

been as bold as you were earlier today. You didn’t wear

flannel pants or go barefoot. You would have never

barged into my office the way you do now, which by the

way, I do not like.”

I smiled even though I knew he was serious. I

placed my hand on his forearm, and he looked down at it,

almost confused.

“Thank you for being here for me,” I said, looking

at him with half a grin.

He didn’t answer and only smiled.

Drew excused himself to go finish up some work

after supper. I was working on a plan. I didn’t know why.

Maybe because I wanted him to come back to my room

and do to me what he had earlier. He was rather good at it,

and I felt myself throb at the thought of it.

I walked around outside until almost dark, thinking

and contemplating my life. I wondered why I had called

myself Riley earlier. Who the hell was Riley? It was

someone that I knew at some point. I was sure of it, but

was it me? Why did I think that? Did Riley have something

to do with Dawson? Why couldn’t I just remember?

I wasn’t sure where the cameras in my room were,

but I was sure they were there. I didn’t look for them and

undressed, trying to do it as I always did, not wanting

Drew to think that I was onto him. I took off my jeans, my

shirt and my bra and left my panties. I walked over to the

window and moved the curtain. I stood looking out,

pretending to be lost in an unknown world. I was, but that

wasn’t what I was thinking about at the time. I was

thinking about trying to get Drew to come to my room. I

wanted to make sure my intuitions were right although I

was pretty sure that they were.

I ran my finger along my back and lightly through

the lace of my panties. I could picture Drew sitting at his

desk watching me. I closed my eyes and leaned against the

frame of the window, running my fingers over my stomach

and up to my breast. I could feel my panties becoming

damp. I knew that it was the fascination of Drew watching

me. I must be a sick individual. Did I have some sort of

sex fetish? I didn’t care at that time. I had a goal to

achieve.

As I slid my fingers through the lace of my panties

and to the wet creases of my sex, I wondered about

something else. When did I start shaving down there? Had

I always kept it smooth? I moaned and knew that whether

Drew appeared or not, I was going to climax. I brought my

left leg up to the chair in front of me and moaned as I

inserted one finger, dragging it back to my swollen

clitoris.

I turned my head toward the door when it opened,

smiling inside, but keeping a somber face as I saw the

shocked expression on Drew’s face. I would have loved

to know what was going through his mind seeing me with

my legged cocked on the chair with my fingers in my

panties.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a husky tone,

walking toward me.

I dropped my leg and turned my back to him.

“Don’t you ever knock?” I asked, using his words.

“Had I known what I was walking into, I would

have.”

Lying son of a bitch…

He was close. I could feel the heat from his body. I

could smell him, but I didn’t turn around. I did stop the

movement of my hand but didn’t remove it. I gasped when

I felt his hands slide down my hips, removing my panties.

He ran his hands over my bare ass.

I tilted my head, beckoning him to kiss my neck.

He did. His hot breath on my neck and shoulder sent an

exciting chill straight to my vagina.

“Do you remember me spanking you?” he rasped.

“You used to beg for me to do that.”

“I did,” I asked. I
was
a sick individual.

“You did. Do you know what else you liked?” he

asked as his fingers traveled to my wet folds from behind,

stopping at my puckering anus.

“I have a feeling I know the answer to that one,” I

admitted as I felt his finger penetrate me.

“Do you want me to spank you, Morgan?” He

asked.

“Yes,” I replied, barely above a whisper. I would

have done anything the man told me to do at that moment.

I watched as Drew removed his clothes. He was

hard as iron, and I wanted to taste him.

“Come here, Morgan,” he demanded, and like a

puppet on a string, I walked to him.

“Bend over the bed, my bad girl,” he coaxed,

moving my arm to guide me.

I didn’t like the bad girl comment, and for some

reason panic was setting in, and I was afraid of him. He

rubbed my bare ass softly right before I felt the first sting

from his hand. I jumped.

“Don’t move, Morgan,” he warned. I didn’t like

the dark tone, but I was afraid to move. I suddenly didn’t

think my idea was so great anymore. After four, blows, he

was done with that and was spreading me open. I felt the

head of him on my anus, but he didn’t penetrate me. I was

no longer in control, he had taken it back, and I had let