Unfaithful: An Unlocked Novella (6 page)

Alex made a short, sharp noise like he’d been punched in the stomach. His balls clenched and jerked upwards. For a moment he swelled even bigger in my mouth, and then his cock was pulsing between my lips, spasming, and thick, salty cum spurted out of him. I coughed in surprise and it sprayed over my chin, but more of it gagged me and I swallowed reflexively.
The taste was intense; for a moment it was all I could think about.

Then I started gulping it down as fast as I could. The heat between my thighs ignited, and I sucked eagerly at Alex’s dick, trying to extract the last drops.
The scent of cum, like freshly-mown grass, filled the room and I breathed it in as deeply as I could. I didn’t want to miss a single part of him, of his sex.

He shuddered and withdrew.

I ran my fingers over my chin, desperate to get every last drop of his cum. I sucked his juices off my fingers.

“Look,” I said, and held up one shiny finger for him to see. “Your little teenage slut wants to taste your cum again.”

And while he was watching, I sucked my fingers, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Then, giggling, I jumped back onto the bed and into his arms. He put his hands on my ass and pulled him close while I threw the covers over us.

“Today,” Alex said, “was a very big surprise. Remind me to send a thank you note to those clients for letting their system go down like that.”

I snuggled closer into his chest. He was warm and smelled like sex, but I did too. He gently ran his fingers through my hair.

“I’m gonna have to call my clients,” Alex said. “Let them know I’ll be running a bit late to meet them.”

“Gee, Alex,” I said, all innocent. “What will we do in the meantime?”

He grinned. God, I loved that grin.

“Right now,” he said. “I think you can probably tell Mark that things are over between the two of you.”

And that’s when I started to shake. The wild fog of sex had cleared from my brain. I didn’t even know the tears were going to start coming. One second I was feeling happy and the next I was sniffing back a sob that was threatening to burst out of me.

Alex saw, and he sat up. Concern was written all over his face.

“Lisa Jeanne, what’s wrong?” he asked. His expression cleared.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “I didn’t mean to— ”

“I just cheated on my boyfriend with his
dad’s business partner!” I said, and saying it out loud made it worse. My whole body shook. “Jesus, what was I thinking? I just ruined your whole business! I just ruined my life!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

###

I couldn’t look Alex in the eye.

I could feel the guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach, as heavy and sullen as a slab of lead. It felt gray, and cold. All the pleasure I’d been feeling just a few moments ago, all the happiness... it had vanished, like mist in the blazing morning sun.

“You know,” I said, after a little while, “I overheard Mark talking to some of his buddies a little while ago. It was before we were going to a party at my friend Sara’s house.”

I took a long, shuddering breath. I hadn’t told anyone this before. I could
feel
Alex listening to me.

“I was in the bathroom, getting ready,” I said. The memory of it made my stomach twist. “And he’d had a couple of beers already. He was on the phone to his friends and he made this joke about my friend Sara. About how she was so dumb she thought a quarterback was a refund.”

I shook my head, remembering.

“I was going to come out and say something, and then I heard Mark talking about how he’d never have to worry about me cheating on him, because then there’d be no one left to pay for me to have dinner.”

Alex sighed.

“That,” he said, “sounds j
ust like Mark, I’m sorry to say.”

I finally turned to look at him.

There was so much concern in his face. There was so much kindness in his eyes. I just wanted to jump back into his arms. To smell his good smell and have him make everything OK.

But I couldn’t.

“Me and Mark...” I said. “We’ve been having trouble. For a while now. But that doesn’t make it OK to jump into bed with someone else.”

Just hearing myself say that made me flinch.

“Nothing makes that OK,” I said. And once the words were out of my mouth they hovered in the room, filling it with a sudden, unhappy silence. The kind of silence that feels like nothing can ever lift it.

Alex put his arms around me, which somehow made me feel even worse.

“It’s OK, Lisa, it’s OK,” he kept saying. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel sad about anything. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered.
“I just had sex with you! Twice! What’s Mark gonna say? What are his parents gonna say? What’s everyone gonna say when they find out? They’re gonna think I’m this massive slut and I came on to you and made you have sex with me! I’m gonna have to run away to Florida and change my name or something! I’ll never see my mom or my friends again!”

Alex almost looked like he was going to start laughing. The skin around hi
s eyes crinkled up and he put his hand over his mouth. Then he calmed down.

“Hey,” he said softly, and he put a tender hand on my shoulder. “They don’t have to find out. Not if we don’t want them to. It’ll be OK.”

“I can’t lie!” I said. “I’m the worst liar in the world. One time in junior high I cheated on an English test because I hadn’t studied. The second my teacher picked up my test I yelled out
I’m really sorry, Miss Wood, I copied Katie’s test!
So I definitely can’t lie to Mark! Not to anyone. Not about this. They’ll
know
. And what am I supposed to do, just come over here and see you like everything’s normal? Like you didn’t just fuck me sideways? I can’t do it, Alex!”

“Jesus,” he said. He pulled away from me. His face was hard, and his voice had gone all tight.  “Would you keep your damn voice down? Sooner or later the neighbors are going to start listening in. And then there’ll be no chance of pretending everything’s OK.”

I scrambled off the bed. All I could think about was running home. Back to my mom. Back to my room. Back to my own safe bed and my nice cotton sheets.

Alex’s face softened. He reached out for me.

“Lisa Jeanne,” he said, “I promise you everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry about a thing. Come back here and get into bed.”

I almost did. My whole body was crying out for his touch. For his kisses to melt the ugly feelings inside me. For him to stretch me and squeeze me like he had when we were making love. To make me feel all smooth and happy again.

“I gotta go,” I babbled. “I’ll come back tomorrow and make sure the house is OK. Sorry, Mr. Locke. I mean, Alex. I just. . .”

He sighed, and I dashed out of the room. My face flushed when I realized my ass was bare. And his eyes were on it. 

Naked, I bolted through the house to the study. I must have sounded like a freight train the way I thumped over the floorboards. I almost bounced off a wooden bookcase and I skidded around it at the last minute. If I’d hit it I would have been buried under all the antique bronze sculptures standing on it. What a way to go.

I threw my creased clothes on as fast as I could. I didn’t want Alex to come back down and talk me out of going.

As I was pulling my pants on I felt something cold and wet against my ankle. I shrieked. When I turned around, though, it was just Dino. He looked up at me with pleading brown doggy eyes. He tried to nudge me with his nose again.

“Sorry, buddy,” I said, and I gave him a pat on top of his wiry-haired little head. “I gotta go.”

When I opened the door the sun was still bright, sharp and stinging. I had to blink several times until I could see again. I slapped my sunglasses on and ran down the Moores’ paved, too-smooth driveway. For a moment I had a vision of running so fast that my scruffy old tennis shoes would slip. I could see myself landing smack on my ass in the middle of the driveway. But I got to my car safe and jumped in. It started first time. Without even looking to see if there was anyone else coming, I pulled out and drove off.

Once there was some distance between me and Alex, I relaxed a little bit. I tried to breathe deeply. My heart rate started to slow.

OK
, I said to myself.
I’m going to work this out. I’m going to get home. And I’m going to think. And not about Mr. Alex Locke. Or his chiseled body. Or the way his cock tasted so sweet in my mouth. Or that little twitch right before he shot his load. Or how much I loved the taste
.

And then, suddenly, there was another car barreling right for me like a meteorite. I’d been so caught up in thought that I’d drifted almost entirely out of my lane. But the harsh blare of their horn brought me back to reality. I looked up and screamed. A lemon-yellow Prius was headed straight toward me.

Blinding white panic exploded in my stomach. I yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could to the side. I slammed on the brakes with all my strength. My tires squealed. The thick stink of burning rubber instantly filled the air. It was rank and heavy and it clogged my nose. All I could think as I flew forward and my seatbelt caught was
Oh shit I’m going to die.

And I’ve only got to fuck Alex Locke twice.

###

I’m watching TV, something to distract me from a long, dull day at work. The kind of gray, overcast day where the train is late, where the streets are crowded. Where the boss is angry from the moment you walk in the door, and the deadlines are closing in. One of those brutal days that drains the life out of you.

I’m drinking that red Spanish wine we bought two bottles of when we went away for the summer; savoring the light, fruity taste of it on my tongue and the memories it brings. Of the deep cold blue water of the lake, and the way the wooden steps to the front door creaked when we walked into our rickety rented cabin. Of the wood-paneled floors and the way you carried me into the tiny bedroom. Of the hot summer night air that meant we slept naked, the cotton sheets thrown in a little huddle in the corner.

Now I need the fire burning to keep the winter chill at bay. It sends long shadows streaming out across the floor. An ember pops in the grate and one of the logs slides back down into the blaze. Its underside is alive with sparks and glowing with orange heat.

I hear your step coming up the stairs and pretend like I’m surprised when you open the door.

“How was your day?” I ask, acting like I care what’s on TV.

And then I turn and see you, and I know you’re not fooled. You’re standing there, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe. You’re giving me that little smile, that I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself smile that makes your mouth go up at one side. I follow its lopsided crinkle, tracing that perfect, curving line I know so well. That I love so well.

“Come to the bedroom,” you say, fooling with the top button of your white shirt. “There’s something I want to show you.”

I know what it is. And I want to see it. But I want to draw our game out, want to make you work for as long as I can stand before I tear your clothes off and trace my lust into your skin with my mouth.

This is just like you. You move fast when I want to move slow. You move slow when I’m desperate and yearning for your touch. You drive me crazy with it.

“Show me out here,” I say.

“Quick,” you say, easing a kink from your neck. “It’s important.” Your voice, that deep baritone, is low and clear.

And with that, you’re gone, leaving me to scramble after you, chasing your back down the hall, watching you slip out of sight around the door to our bedroom. I breathe out, feeling the air sweep over my lips, trying to slow my steps. Trying to quell my desire until it’s back under my control.

When I walk in, the long tallow candles we keep on the dresser are lit and before I can see where you are, your hands are around my waist, pulling me tight and close. My hands go up to your chest, feeling the strength, solid in my hands. In the light of the candles, I press my body against yours.

Your lips are on mine and I’m falling into a dream—the dream we share together. You suck my lower lip into your mouth, slowly, gently, sucking until I feel a shiver start at the base of my spin and race all the way up to the nape of my neck. Then you take my face in your hands and kiss me—deep, rough, passionate. I love it when you kiss me hard. Just like the first time, when I was so scared you were just going to walk away.

I’m like melted chocolate in your arms. A buzzing, demanding heat starts in the pit of my stomach, reaching out through me like a giant made of fire. My heartbeat hammers in my chest. I can feel myself surrendering to the arousal that started to build the moment I saw you, just like ti always does. I’m losing all my ability to think, but I don’t care. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. I just want to feel you.

I wrap my arms around you. I can feel the muscles of your chest against me. You unhook one of the wide straps of my blue dress and let it fall. You break the kiss and I give just the tiniest moan of disappointment. It escapes into the night like a prisoner, free at last. My eyes open, searching your face for the reason our kiss ended. But then your warm breath is on my shoulder and I smile and close my eyes again, knowing what’s coming next.

And then your lips are on my neck, your warm, wet mouth open, softly suckling at the sensitive skin. Goosebumps break out over my skin in a wave and I shudder. A white heat is building up in my crotch. I’m already so wet that I’m soaking through my underwear.

I run my hands down your starched white shirtfront.  The material is thick and heavy under my palms. I press my face to your chest and inhale. You smell like a man should, strong and faintly sweet. You smell like ice-sharp Italian cologne. You smell like love and I want to taste your skin. I look up into your eyes, those deep green eyes, with the candlelight flickering over them, and start unbuttoning your shirt buttons, one by one. You drop one hand and softly stroke me between my legs. I almost cry out at the first gentle feel of your hand but nothing’s going to distract me from my task. Not your smell, and not your eyes, and not even the delicious pressure of your fingers on my lower lips.

At last I get your shirt open. I can put my hands on your warm body now, on the life that surges through you, just beneath the skin. I can feel the way your brawn bunches. I put my lips to the little upside-down triangle ridge at the hollow of your neck, and now it’s your turn to shiver. I know how you like it; know you like it warm and wet, and I suck on your skin while I push my tongue against you.

You’re still stroking me as I pull your shirt out of your pants, as I strip it off you. You finally help me and shrug it off over your shoulders. Then I’m fumbling at your blue jeans. I can feel the hardness of you pushing against my legs, but I don’t want to touch you; not yet. I want to save that for later.

Finally I get your belt undone and you step backward. You put your hands on your hips and shove everything down. You step out of the pants and briefs and socks and stand there, naked in the candlelit room, the red and gold light gently illuminating your body.

And your cock. Your beautiful, hard cock. It’s proud and rigid. The head pushes upwards towards the ceiling. I want so much to throw myself to my knees and worship your hardness. To suck you dry. I want to cup your balls and feel the cum pumping out of you and over my tongue, taste the salt of you spreading over my tongue. But I’m going to force myself to wait.

“Take off your clothes,” you say, and with a small, secret smile, I start to do as you order. But first, I turn around. I can feel your eyes on my back, on my hips, on my ass. I look over my shoulders, and sure enough, you’re looking at me. I hear your breathing stop. The room is heavy with anticipation and lust.

“You like it?” I ask, unhooking the other strap of my dress. “You want to see all of it?”

I let the dress fall to the floor and stand there in my bra and panties. Growling in the back of your throat, you cross the floor with one stride and wrap your hand around my stomach, pulling me against you.

I can feel your cock buried up against the crack of my ass, rubbing against me through the thin cotton of my panties. You grab one of my breasts with your left hand, squeezing it, and run your right hand down the front of my body, cupping my sex again. I’m lost in sensation. I’m lost in your touch.

I wiggle my ass against you, pushing back. You’re grinding against me now, circling your hips. It’s almost as if we’re dancing. A Latin rhythm, of back and forth, of man and woman, of conquest and surrender.

Then your hands are searching under the band of my underwear, slipping it over my thighs. It drops silently to the floor and I step out of it. I lean back against you as I feel your finger trace its way up my thighs and gently explore the outline of my vulva.

There’s a desperate yearning inside me. I want your fingers inside me.

You tease me first, with your expert, light touches. Did you learn that somewhere? Or were you born with a gift, a gift that only I get the benefit of? I feel the tension ratchet up inside me until I’m like a piano wire stretched taut. When will you do it? I can’t tell. When will you make the first—

Ahhhhh. There you are. I feel your fingers slide inside me, and I groan with relief. You move them out, and in. Out, and in. Out and in. Each time I feel you slide deeper inside me and spread me wider. I’m like a puppet with her strings cut, lost to everything except feeling you in me.

Then you’re gone. Like the broken kiss, I can’t do anything but sigh in disappointment. But it’s only for a moment, because your hand is moving, pushing my legs apart. I stand wider, and grin as you squeeze my ass. I know you love the curves there, love to grab them and release, grab them and release.

But this time . . . you work your slick fingers between my buttocks and press at the little opening behind me. My eyes fly open. This is new. This is very new. A blush rises in my face as I realize what you’ve got in mind.

Gently, you press up, and I feel your finger pop inside, the tight ring of muscle opening to let you in and clamping down again. The intensity is incredible. I can feel the tension growing all through my pelvis as you push.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop.”

I push my butt back toward you and you reward me by putting a second finger alongside the first and gently pressing. I want to scream with the pleasure as the second finger slides inside, stretching me almost to the point of pain. I feel so full.

You withdraw your finger carefully, and I feel the muscles inside me unclench. I feel drunk, like my whole body is heavy, like I’m underwater. I can’t catch my breath. My breasts rise and fall as I try to get air. You look at me with something like danger in your eyes, something like love. Something animal.

You push me back. The cool of the bed meets the back of my knees. I fold and fall backward, bouncing off the mattress. I don’t see you, but I feel the mattress shift under your weight. I can feel you going to your knees by the way it moves, by the way the balance shifts. Then your hands are on my knees, spreading them apart, the sheets rustling underneath me.

Your breath is hot on my crotch. I feel your lips kiss me there, and I shiver. You hum in the back of your throat and I vibrate. Your tongue is on me, tasting me, hungrily licking me up and down until I want to clamp my legs shut and keep you there forever. You know all my secret places and you push your tongue against the little raised nub of flesh at the top of my sex. I gasp, and my legs twitch. Your body is hot against me. You push harder, the cords in your shoulders standing out, as you lever yourself harder against my groin, your mouth opening, the wet suction of it pulling at my most tender skin. I can feel you lapping at me, sinking your tongue inside me.

I can’t stand it. It’s too much, too soon. The intensity of the feelings blossoming hot and red will wipe me out if I don’t slow down. Catching my breath, I push your head away. At first you don’t want to go, but I push harder. You fall back on your heels, unsure of what’s happening.

Then I’m off the bed, desperate for your hardness. I almost sob in relief when I put my mouth on you, feeling you hard on my tongue. I lovingly push my mouth further down your shaft. You push deeper, carefully, with your hips, and I nearly gag. You pull back, and I grab your ass and push you in again, loving feeling your cock throbbing in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the head and you reward me with a grunt of surprised pleasure. I run my tongue over the smooth skin and pressed the tip against the slender opening at the end of your cock, delicately, and a slippery salt taste blooms on my tongue. I moan at the exquisite feeling, like melting butter, that pours up through me from my crotch.

I pump your cock with my hand. I want you to fuck my mouth like you fuck me; I want you to use me. I run my other hand up the inside of your legs and cup your heavy scrotum; it’s smooth and soft in my hand.
             

I pull away and look up at you staring down at me. From the look in your eyes I know it’s time. I push myself onto the bed, my legs open. Your eyes go to my breasts and then your mouth is on me again, sucking my nipple. I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation. I can feel you moving on the bed, positioning yourself. Once again, you spread your legs. The comfortable weight of you settles on me, your chest squashing my breasts flat, your stomach on mine. This is what I dream of all day—feeling your skin against my skin.

Then you slide inside me, into the pulsing heat. I want to feel you fill me and you oblige; with your first movement you hilt yourself inside me. My flesh is alive with sensation; I can feel every inch of you swelling inside me. I muffle the shriek I want to make by planting my mouth on your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. I spread my legs wider, giving you easier access. I want to feel the very base of your pelvis scraping against mine.

“That’s right,” I whisper into your ear. “Just like that. Oooh, yeah. Just like that, baby.”

I clamp my hands on your ass, pulling you deeper at the end of every one of your thrusts, aching to get just a millimeter more depth out of you. I’m lost in your body, in the presence of you, that heavy gym-toned torso of yours tensed and cradling me. You slip your hands under me and grab my ass. Somehow you gain that fraction of extra leverage. You thrust yourself totally, completely, inside me. I cry out, helpless to stop the noises bursting out of my throat.

“You’re so tight,” you breathe, the motion of your hips starting to become more ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”

“How do I feel?” I demand, feeling the inferno inside me leaping up with your words.