Читать книгу Control - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 12

I had always believed that I was not motivated by sex. That for me, an emotional connection was paramount, first and foremost. So I was very surprised to find myself having another hot dream about the stranger from my store later that week.

In the dream, I was sitting at the bar, looked to my right—and suddenly he was there. My body had an immediate reaction to him, as if an electric current were hitting me.

He said no words, just smiled at me, the kind of smile that oozed sensual heat. Then, abruptly, we were no longer in the bar, but in a bedroom somewhere, with only one lamp on.

He was sitting on the large bed. I was standing in front of him.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

The words aroused me. The thought of undressing for this stranger, of fucking him, excited me beyond anything I had ever known.

So I pulled my dress over my head, revealing my nude body. I stood in front of him for a long while, his hazel eyes feasting on my nakedness and almost burning me with desire.

I’d never stood naked like this in front of a stranger before, and yet I didn’t feel self-conscious. Instead, a delicious rush coursed through my body.

“Touch your pussy,” he said.

I ran the tip of my finger over my clit, something I had never done in front of a man I didn’t know.

“Are you wet?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling an erotic charge at the admission. “Very.”

Slowly, he rose from the bed and came to me. He kissed me, deep and hot, while his hands covered my breasts. As he squeezed the soft mounds, tweaked my nipples, he moaned—a low, hot growl that made me feel a surge of feminine power beyond anything I had ever experienced.

I gripped the edges of his shirt, anxious to see him naked, as well. As his tongue tangled with mine, I pulled his shirt out of his pants and splayed my hands on his abdomen. He was all hard ripples and muscles, with the body of an Adonis.

Tearing his lips from mine, he lowered his head to my breast and drew one of my nipples into his mouth. Prickles of pleasure and pain shot through me. He suckled me hard, hungrily. This was raw, primal. About lust and need with a man whose body spoke to mine in a language all its own.

I arched my back, moaned. Stroked his cock through his pants.

As his tongue worked its wicked magic on my nipples, he cupped my pussy. I melted. Had anyone’s touch ever felt this good?

When his fingers slipped into my layers of flesh, I gripped his shoulders and threw my head back, whimpering from the exquisite pleasure. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Yes, baby,” he whispered against my ear, and penetrated my vagina with a finger, pushed it in deep. “I love how your pussy feels.” His digit still inside of me, he went down on his haunches. “Now I want to see how you taste.”

He flicked his thumb over my clit, and then his tongue—and a shudder roared through my body. Then he spread my folds and suckled me with exquisite gentleness until I was coming and screaming.

I woke up to find my hand between my legs, my pussy throbbing and wet. I rode the wave of my orgasm from my dream state to consciousness.

After my pleasure subsided, I was satisfied but perplexed. I had just come while dreaming.

Me—someone who hadn’t had these kinds of arousing fantasies even as a teenager.

Something was changing in me. I was having sexual needs and urges I wasn’t used to.

And I was liking them.

On Friday around ten, Sharon and I left for Charleston. She wanted to drive, and that was fine, so she came by my place and picked me up in her Cadillac Escalade. Robert had once again left for the office early that morning, but before he went, he’d kissed me deeply and told me to have a good time.

I had expected him to be busy with the board, with conference calls to Germany and whatever else he needed to do in order to seal the acquisition deal. So I was surprised when my iPhone trilled before Sharon and I even made it Charleston.

“I had a break, so I thought I’d call,” he explained when I picked up. “I phoned the bed-and-breakfast. They said you hadn’t checked in yet.”

“That’s because we’re just getting into Charleston now.”

“It’s nearly three o’clock,” Robert said.

“We didn’t leave until ten, and there was must have been a wreck on I-77, because we were backed up for a good hour.”

“Oh. So how far are you?”

“Ten minutes from the B and B, I think. Maybe fifteen.”

“Call me when you get settled,” he told me.

But before I could, he called again, just as Sharon and I got to the room.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Just making sure you’ve arrived.”

Or checking up on me? “We’re here.”

“Are you going to go get a bite to eat?”

“A snack, most likely. I already made reservations at Hyman’s.”

“The seafood place. Ah, very nice. For what time?”

“Six-thirty.”

“What’s the weather like?”

“Pretty nice. About seventy-one, right, Sharon?”

“Yeah, that’s what they said on the radio,” she concurred. “I might bring out that bikini yet.”

“What?” Robert asked. “What was that about a bikini?”

“It was a joke,” I told him. “We’re definitely not going swimming.” I paused. “Can I call you back? We just got up to the room, and we want to get settled—”

“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”

Hanging up, I faced Sharon. “He wanted to make sure we arrived okay.”

She smiled and looked away. But I got the feeling there was an opinion behind the grin.

It might not have been warm enough to swim, but it was warm enough for ice cream—at least as far as Sharon was concerned. So, two hours later, after getting a manicure, we went into an ice cream shop in historic Charleston. I got a cone. Sharon got a hot fudge sundae.

We were walking down the street two minutes later when my phone rang again. I pretty much knew, before looking at the display, that it would be Robert.

I lifted my phone from my purse. Somehow, I refrained from rolling my eyes when I saw his number on the display screen. I didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Give me a second, Sharon,” I said, stopping. “It’s Robert.”

“Again?” she asked.

I answered my phone. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

What kind of greeting was that? “Sharon and I are taking a stroll.”

“Oh. I called the room, and you weren’t there. And then your phone went straight to voice mail. I thought you might have headed to Myrtle Beach.”

“What? Myrtle Beach is two hours away.” I wondered why Robert was calling so much. He was acting like a paranoid parent checking up on a kid who’d gone off on her own for the first time. “We were getting our nails done, so I turned my phone off.”

“Of course. Of course. Are you having a good time?”

I looked at Sharon, who was making quick work of finishing off her sundae. “Yeah, we are. So far, so good.”

“Don’t let Sharon drag you into anything scandalous,” Robert said. “Like scoping out a new father for her baby.”

“What?” I asked, stunned by such a ridiculous question.

“Bad joke,” he admitted. “I was out of line.”

Bad joke was right.

“I suppose you’re tired of me calling, but I just miss you, that’s all,” Robert said. “I kind of feel a little…off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. A little woozy. Some aches and pains.”

“How serious?” I asked.

“It’s probably stress,” he replied. “It’s been a long week. Nothing a nap won’t cure.”

“You have been very stressed this week. Any success with the acquisition?”

“Finally, I think so.” Robert sounded relieved. “The deal should go through by Monday, as planned—so this is very, very good news.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling. I know how much of a headache it’s been for you.”

“It has been, but the end is in sight.” He paused briefly. “So, Hyman’s, right?”

“Yep.”

“Six-thirty?”

“Yep. Six-thirty.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at me. I could read her thought: What’s with the twenty questions?

“Excellent,” Robert said. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you, too,” I replied, then pressed the button to end the call.

I sighed loudly, playing up my own frustration with Robert’s many calls. “Sometimes it’s like he can’t survive without me.”

“That’s sweet,” Sharon commented, and she seemed sincere. “At least it can’t be said that he doesn’t love his wife.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

She made a wistful sound. “I miss that. The calls to see where you are, even if they’re annoying. I miss it so much.”

“Oh, Sharon.” I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. For the most part, ever since Warren’s funeral, she had kept her feelings locked inside. It was a rare moment when she even talked about missing her husband. So for her to be doing so now made it clear to me how much she was hurting. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She placed a hand on her belly. “I have our baby. I’ll be okay.”

“You want to go back to the room and relax for a bit before dinner?” I asked, releasing her.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind another hot fudge sundae.”

We both smiled.

I was surprised she’d finished off the first huge one. But I said, “Who am I to keep a pregnant woman from what she craves?”

We made it through dinner without Robert phoning again. I was relieved. Despite what Sharon said about Robert’s calls proving he loved me, she had to be wondering the same thing I was.

If he was checking up on me.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

I looked up at her. “Hmm?”

“You’ve hardly touched your key lime pie.”

And before I could speak, my phone rang.

If this was Robert calling for an itemized list of what we’d eaten…

Instead, the display showed the name Felicity Williams.

“It’s Felicity,” I announced, almost happily. I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Felicity. What’s up?”

“Wondering where you are tonight. A few of us are going to head to NV Lounge to kick back and have a couple of drinks, and wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”

“I can’t. I’m out of town right now.”

“Oh.”

“With Sharon.”

“Ohh.” Felicity’s tone fizzled. “How is she?”

“She’s good. Doing well, all things considering.”

“So sad, what she’s going through,” Felicity said, but she didn’t quite sound sincere.

“I’m gone for the weekend, so I’ll call you when I get back to town,” I told her.

“Where are you?”

“In Charleston.”

“Well, have fun. Ta-ta.”

“Bye,” I said, and ended the call.

“Did she actually ask about me?” Sharon inquired, looking dubious.

“She asked how you’re doing.”

“Funny—she could call me herself to find that out.”

“You still haven’t heard from her?”

“Ha ha ha. That’s a good one.”

Up until the time Warren died, Sharon and I used to get together on Sundays after church with a few other wives “to lunch.” Felicity was one of the women we regularly met with, as was Carmen, the wife of another Carolina Panther. It was what society women did, and we’d discuss what was happening in our worlds, charitable efforts and, of course, gossip.

Unlike Sharon—whom I truly connected with—there seemed to be a wall of glass around Felicity and Carmen. As if you could see them on the other side of the table, but couldn’t touch them. Couldn’t get close.

I’d taken to Sharon the instant I’d met her, seen her as a real person. Felicity and Carmen always put on a bright smile and played like they were happy to see you, but I never felt either one was genuine.

The fact that they hadn’t seen Sharon since her husband’s funeral proved me right.

“I can’t believe Felicity.” I shook my head. “You haven’t heard from Carmen, either?”

“You know those two are thick as thieves. What one does, they both do. And they suddenly have no use for me.”

“Do you think they’re staying away because they don’t know how to…to deal with your grief?” I knew that some people were uncomfortable in the face of another person’s pain.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “Let’s get back to you and what’s going on with you.”

“Me?”

She gave me a pointed look. “You know what I’m talking about.”

I did. And it was one of the reasons I’d wanted to go away with her—to use her as a sounding board for some of my doubts about Robert.

I cut my fork into the key lime pie, but didn’t lift the morsel to my mouth. I did it to keep my hands occupied.

“What’s bothering you?” Sharon pressed.

I sighed. “I just wonder sometimes.”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to go on.

“You and Warren were married for sixteen years. And I know you were college sweethearts and all that. But I just wonder…did you ever…Is it normal to sometimes feel that maybe you’re not sure about your marriage? To wonder if it will last?” I finished with difficulty.

“Is it normal to have doubts about your marriage? Of course it is.”

“So you had doubts at times?”

“Doubts?” Sharon made a face. “There were times I didn’t know if we would make it.”

“Really?”

“After my last miscarriage, I shut down. I had an emotional wall up that no one could penetrate. Warren threw himself into work as a way to avoid both my pain and his. For nearly a month, we hardly spoke.”

“Wow,” I said softly.

“I felt like a failure. We had a great life, and all I wanted was to complete our family with a baby.” Sharon stopped. Inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t meant to…to be a downer.”

“You’re not. Of course I’m thinking about Warren.” A soft smile curved her lips. “Gosh, we would fight sometimes. Yell and scream at each other. But when we made up…”

I chuckled.

“So, yeah, it’s normal to go through rough times.”

Again, I moved my fork around on my plate. Then I leaned forward and whispered, “But is it normal to…to have fantasies about other men?”

Sharon didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her water first, which made me wonder if my question had shocked her.

But she said, “I think fantasies are fine. If they help your sex life, why not? It’s a hell of a lot better than some of the things I’ve heard some of our neighbors have done to spice up their love lives.”

I was about to ask if she would still feel that way if all the fantasies were about the same man, but the waitress arrived at our table right then.

“Are you still eating your dessert?” she asked, nodding toward my half-eaten key lime pie.

“No. Please, take it away. I’m stuffed.” I pushed the dessert plate toward her.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” I said. “Just bring me the bill, please.”

“Actually, you can bring me the bill,” Sharon said. “It’ll be my treat.”

“That’s not necessary, Sharon,” I told her. “I can take care of it.”

“Lucky for both of you,” the waitress interjected, “the bill’s already been settled.”

I stared up at her in confusion. “But I didn’t give you my card.”

“Are you Elsie Kolstad?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Your husband called in.” Now the woman smiled. “He gave us his credit card and strict instructions to charge the bill to him.”

I looked across the table at Sharon. She shrugged.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “So it’s already been paid.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the waitress replied. “I wish my husband was so thoughtful.”

“Yeah,” I responded, making sure to keep my voice cheery.

It wasn’t the first time Robert had called ahead to pay my dinner bill, even if I was just out for the evening with friends. The first time he’d done it, I’d considered the gesture chivalrous.

Not today. Today, it seemed like control.