Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TRULY
Why did I bother coming back here? I should have stayed and gone home with Mabel. We've been texting, but she was swamped in finals, so I've been keeping it light. She's going to murder me when I finally tell her everything. I did find out, however, that she'd gotten her passport back.
I'm stuck in this stupid warehouse, or whatever you call it. I even tried the stupid gym but got bored after ten minutes. I don't know how people walk or run in place.
My phone dings, and I roll over, grabbing it off the table.
I think it's going to be a text from Mabel, but it's my stupid Google alert.
Yes, I have a Google alert on my husband.
It doesn't go off much, and when it does, it's about business. I mean, I guess it’s better than nothing since I haven’t seen him in a few days. Not since the kiss.
"What the hell!" I sit up when I see a picture of Blake at a bar with a woman, but not just any bar. One in a very nice hotel. Sure, the hotel has a few restaurants, but still. Is that where he's been staying? Anger hits me in a rush, followed by sadness.
He lied to me. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I can’t help the hurt and betrayal I feel. I know I’m being ridiculous. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let my guard down around him.
Now I need a glass of wine. That first night I'd had more than a few.
It helped me sleep, and I woke up okay. What wasn't okay was my Blake not being here.
It's a bunch of bullshit. I don't understand why he needs to keep me as his wife. He’s a damn hypocrite too.
Asking me if I was planning to have an affair while he is obviously already having one.
I’m not sure if I’m more mad or heartbroken at this point. But the wine will help me figure it out. I walk over to the kitchen, grab a glass, and pour myself a drink. When I hear the front door, my heart sinks. I’m pissed but not ready to face him.
He hasn’t been home for days, but he goes from his mistress to me? The hell? The second he spots me, his brows rise. The anger must show on my face.
“Oh, look who's home. My husband.” I try to sound sarcastic but uttering the word husband cuts deep. How long I’d wanted just that.
“You’re mad.” He pulls at his tie. Why does he always have to be so handsome?
“What would you think I would be? I’ve been trapped in this place, and you can’t bother to even come home.”
His brows rise. “The door isn’t bolted. You’re not trapped.” I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going. “And what makes you think I haven’t been home?”
"So you've been slipping in and out of here like a coward?"
He lets out an audible breath. "I thought I was doing what was best, but now"—he shakes his head—"I don't know what I'm doing." There is a sadness to his words that gives me pause.
“Was what you thought was best hanging at a hotel with another woman?”
He has the audacity to appear shocked. "With my lawyer."
"I don't care about their occupation. What I care about is you lying about being a faithful husband." I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts.
“I have been nothing but loyal to you.” I watch him run his hand down his face. “Before I should have been.” He mutters the last part.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have wanted you to be my wife for longer than I should have!” he shouts, shocking the hell out of me.
"Then why are you out with another woman in a hotel bar?
" I shout back when I recover from my momentary shock at his admission.
I'm still not sure if I'm understanding him correctly.
Likely not because I have been so, so wrong about who I thought he was.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I keep going because I'm on a roll. I have never been a shouter, but hell, it feels good. "I wasn't done speaking. And where am I going to go? I don't have any money. You’ve made sure of that. That I’d be in debt to you for an amount that will take me probably a lifetime to pay off.” I’m getting more and more worked up as the words leave my mouth.
He stares at me with that unreadable expression on his face that I want to smack off and then maybe kiss. I'm so mad. I don't think I have ever been this mad in my life.
"Are you going to just stare at me?" Thirty seconds ago I didn’t want him to speak, and now I’m pissed that he’s got nothing to say. I honestly don’t know if I’m coming or going with this man. He has my emotions, thoughts, and words all twisted up.
"I enjoy staring at my wife, but I'm more than willing to do more." I hate the way my body reacts to his words. The flush I felt on my cheeks from being pissed off is quickly turning to a blush.
"Typical man behavior. Turning the conversation over to sex to dodge what I was saying."
"Who are these typical men? And how do you know their behavior so well?” He narrows his eyes at me. Does he have the audacity to question me?!
"You know what? Fuck you!" I shout before turning and stomping off toward the bedroom. Not that I make it far before he's on me. Before I even know what’s happening, he spins me around, and I’m lifted off my feet and thrown over his shoulder.
“Someone needs a spanking.”
“You did not say that,” I hiss, and his hand comes down on my ass. I let out a squeak and return the favor, giving his ass a smack too. He's unbothered by this. I still can’t believe I shouted “fuck you” at him.
"I don't say things I don't mean."
"You can't spank me," I repeat, and it gets me another one. I let out another squeak. It doesn't actually hurt, but it's only pissing me off more.
"You seem to be enjoying it." The next thing I know, I'm chest down on the kitchen island, my legs dangling over one side.
"Blake," I hiss. I try to move, but he has one hand pressed firmly to my back.
"I'll take two months off.” I don't get a chance to respond before he's yanking my panties down my thighs but not fully off.
"I'm not a whore."
"Deal or no deal?" His fingers trail up the back of my thigh. My legs spread more. I can't control it. "That sounds like a silent yes to me." It was. I don't want to admit to wanting it. I mean, who wants to be spanked, and why is my body screaming that I need it?
"Did you sleep with her?"
"I didn't sleep with anyone." There’s something in his tone that lets me know he’s telling me the truth. “Deal or no deal?” His hand caresses my bare ass cheek. I almost let out a moan, but I bite my lip to suppress it.
The ache between my thighs is unbearable at this point. I need relief, and I know without a doubt that he’s the only one that can give it to me. I peer over my shoulder to see the hungry expression on his face. His eyes are trained on my bare ass.
"I'm not a whore." But I hate that there is this thrill to the idea of it.
"You'd only be my whore." I turn my head, unable to stare at him as I utter the word.
"Deal."
A groan of approval leaves him. My heart starts to race as antipathetic feelings strum through my veins.
"Blake?" I whisper his name.
"I told you, I enjoy staring at my wife.” I peek over my shoulder again, and I see that he has partly dropped down, giving himself a better view.
"Can you see—"
"Your cunt?"
"Blake!" I don't know why the word shocks me. I've lived in Europe for the past few years, and I read it in my romance books all the time.
"Wife," he responds before his hand comes down on my ass.
A loud gasp leaves me. This smack is harder than the others, but it still doesn't hurt.
It does, however, have a straight line right to my clit.
Not sure how that's possible. Faulty wiring in my brain?
"Did my wife enjoy that?" His hand rubs the spot before pushing my shirt partially up to run his fingers along my spine, making a shiver shimmer down it.
Goose bumps break out across my skin. "Answer," he orders as another smack comes down, this time to the other cheek.
"Yes!" The word rips from me before I can even try to fight the response.
“Are you wet?” His tone isn’t smug. No, it's thick and filled with lust. I love the idea of turning him on. I shouldn't, but I’m not going to lie to myself. But I don’t have to respond, either.
“Another month off to let me check for myself.” My stomach quivers. I’m selling myself, and it’s freaking turning me on.
“Two.” I press my lips together, thankful he’s behind me and can’t see my expressive face.
“Deal,” he agrees. I won that one. I have a small sense of victory. “Spread your legs farther.”
“Another month.” I try my luck.
“No deal.” His hands grip my inner thighs; I swear they freaking engulf them, and he yanks my legs open for himself. I hear a moan come from him, and I can't stop myself from peering over my shoulder to steal a peek. Especially when his hands drop from my thighs, taking the warmth with him.
My sex is throbbing, knowing he's staring at it and dying for him to touch me there. What I see has me biting my own lip to not moan. Blake has one hand braced on the counter, his other rubbing the front of his slacks, the hard outline of his cock showing.
“My sweet untouched flower. Made just for me.” He leans in, and I watch as he breathes me in. I have to fight not to close my legs to try and put pressure on the ever-present throb. His tongue comes out, licking his lips. “Bet you taste as sweet as you smell.”
“Deal.” What the hell! I scold myself. I was supposed to negotiate, but it doesn’t matter because my mind is momentarily blank as Blake doesn’t hesitate to bury his face between my thighs.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. The amount of pleasure I feel is all-consuming. Any and all rational thought goes out the window. I surrender to him, allowing myself to enjoy this moment.
He licks and sucks as though he’s been starved for me. I can’t help the moans that leave me. His mouth latches on to my clit. “Blake!” I cry out his name. My vision blurs, and the orgasm rocks me to my core. Holy hell. Never in my life have I experienced anything close to this.
“Another,” he demands, his tongue beginning to circle my overly sensitive clit. I try to close my legs, but he pins me in place.
“I can’t,” I tell him.
“You will,” he demands, his mouth dipping lower, his tongue now pushing inside of me.
“I need…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for at this point, but what he’s doing now feels like the sweetest torture.
“I know what my wife needs. She just needs to be reminded of that.” With that, he pushes a finger inside of me. “So fucking tight.”
“Blake, please.” I plead with him. My body is on fire, his words igniting this reaction. I try to push back so that I can get the relief I so desperately need, but Blake holds me in place while he continues to work his fingers in and out of me.
I’m about to really start begging, but he shows me mercy, his mouth coming back to my clit. His tongue circles it a few times before he once again sucks it into his mouth. I go off again instantaneously. This orgasm hits me like a damn tidal wave, knocking me out for the count.