Twisted Affair Vol. 2

  Unless... an idea came to me. Perhaps it wasn't a matter of him reading into something or trying to prompt a reaction by his behavior. Maybe he truly believed we'd had an encounter the night before because he'd dreamed it. I'd had dreams that seemed so realistic I could have sworn they really happened. Some were nightmares, memories of actual events I felt I was reliving, but others were just dreams. Ones that, when I woke, I would almost expect to see consequences of those actions. A hangover after a dream of being out with Katka at a bar. A sore throat after yelling back and forth to Katka across a canyon. Sometimes the dreams made sense – they were real places with real people. Others were weird, like the whole canyon dream. I'd had that one a couple times over the past several years. Katka always insisted they meant I needed to listen to her more. I don’t think so.

  The more I thought about it, the more my theory made sense. A dream would be a strange, but plausible reason. I knew Blayne was physically attracted to me. After all, he'd come on to me before the whole marriage thing came into play. It would make sense that, after the past few weeks, his subconscious would have me star in a sex dream. It didn't mean anything. And him acting on it only meant he wanted to get laid, nothing more.

  Now that I had a reasonable explanation, I should have been able to focus on my work, but even as I sketched out lines for a new design, my brain kept returning to the same thing.

  What had he dreamed?

  In my own imagination, a dream about someone like Blayne would be sweet and romantic. A picnic in the park. Maybe dinner at a five-star restaurant in the city. There'd be a stolen kiss, something spontaneous that make my knees weak and my heart melt...

  “Focus, Livie,” I scolded myself. “You should not be thinking these things about him. This is business.”

  That little pep talk gave me about a two minute reprieve.

  Instead of thinking about what my dreams would be, I started to imagine what someone like Blayne would dream. While I didn't sleep around and didn't crave sex, I wasn't a nun.

  Had he dreamed we'd gone dancing? Bodies swaying together, intimately pressed against each other until the dream melted our clothes away. His hands sliding over bare skin as I felt him harden against my hip. Entering me slowly, as if our dance had continued...

  “Dammit,” I swore. “Blayne is not that sort of man.”

  I couldn't say I knew that for sure. For all I knew, he preferred sex to be slow and sensual. But I told myself he preferred something painful and raunchy so that I would quit thinking about him in that manner.

  It didn't help.

  In my mind's eye, I could see him bringing me home after being out dancing. Not slow dancing, but the kind of dancing my sister did. He would tear off my clothes, ravaging me with his mouth.

  My nipples hardened under my sweatshirt as I thought about how it would feel to have his mouth on them. It had been too long since I'd been with a man. I never had a problem getting myself off and there was something to be said for self-gratification. It was better than the emotional mess involved with having a partner, but there were certain sensations that were impossible to duplicate alone.

  My pussy throbbed as my thoughts wandered even more, imagining Blayne on his knees in front of me, my back against the wall as he hooked a leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on me.

  Then his body. With my knack for fashion, I was usually accurate when it came to seeing beneath the clothes, so I didn't have a problem forming a picture in my mind of what he would look like naked. The broad shoulders, firmly muscled chest and back. Narrow hips. Muscular legs, but not too much so. A tight ass. And a package I was sure lived up to expectation.

  I shook my head. No. I wasn't going to think about him that way. He was attractive, yes, and I had no doubt he was as good in bed as my imagination said he would be. No good would come of me fantasizing about him. If I gave in to his desires and we slept together, it would ruin everything. I was closer to my dream than I had ever been. I couldn't let anything get in my way, and Blayne would definitely be in the way.

  No, it was better that he come to the realization that he had been dreaming and let it go rather than act it. Either outcome – a one night stand or the pursuing of a relationship – would be bad. The first would make things awkward. The second would be worse when I had to end it. I didn't want a relationship of any kind. I had to look out for Katka and myself. She was my responsibility and nothing could get in the way of that.

  Best to put all feelings aside and focus on the work. While Blayne's money and influence would help, it would be my own hard work that would make dreams come true for my sister and me, and that was what mattered.

  Men came and went, but family was forever.

  Chapter 3

  Blayne

  I ended up going to the gym after my confusing breakfast and spending all of Sunday morning there. The rest of the day I spent on the couch watching a football game I didn't really care about, drinking beer, and trying not to think about sex.

  It wasn't easy. I wasn't the kind of guy who was used to denying what I wanted. If I wanted a drink, I got it. Drugs, same thing. Sex, no problem. I never forced or even coerced a woman into doing something she didn't want to do, but I also had no problem walking away from a woman who didn't want to fuck and finding one who did. I wasn't in the habit of denying myself any sort of gratification, and overnight, I'd been expected to become a monk.

  I'd known sleeping with Livie was a mistake, but three weeks without sex had made it a little difficult to think straight. The problem was, now that I'd had sex, it wasn't making things any better. All I could think about was her. I spent pretty much the entire day with a raging erection that I didn't want to take care of because I knew whose face I'd see when I started jerking off. Fantasizing about her after she'd so firmly rebuffed me felt wrong.

  Finally, I ended up taking a cold shower and a sleeping pill before turning in early. I did, after all, have a job to go to in the morning.

  One of my father's other requirements for maintaining my lifestyle and my inheritance had been to get a job. I planned on taking advantage of his lack of specifications in that area as well, getting a job at Exotica or some other bar or strip club just to piss him off. Money wasn’t the issue. Dad wanted me to be responsible rather than some lay-about who spent all of his time partying. It hadn't been until partway through my honeymoon that I'd realized there was a serious flaw in my master plan.

  My dad's infidelity clause.

  There was no way I could handle being around strippers or gorgeous drunk women and not fuck them. I remembered all too well that, until last night, the last woman I'd slept with had been an Exotica dancer. She'd been a great lay and had offered me sex whenever I wanted it.

  As my father had pointed out on more than one occasion, I wasn't a man of strong moral character. If I worked at one of the places I liked to party, it wouldn't take much for me to succumb to temptation and ruin everything. And I had no doubt that my dad had spies at all of the places I usually frequented. The sad thing was, that wasn't even me being paranoid. He'd straight up told me that he would have people watching me to make sure I didn't cheat on Livie.

  So, going against everything I'd ever wanted for myself, I'd told my dad I'd take him up on his offer to work at one of our family businesses. I'd actually been a bit afraid of what he'd do if I agreed. Considering I had no college degree, no work experience and my father thought I was the biggest fuck-up our family had ever seen, I'd pretty much expected to be stuck in the mailroom or on the janitorial staff.

  It made sense, though, that my dad didn't do either of those things. Or, more accurately, he didn't do those things to our family. Once I thought about it, it didn't surprise me. There was no way he would let a Westmore clean toilets or deliver mail. I'd caused enough embarrassment to the family; he wouldn't add anymore. He would expect me to do a real job.

  So there I was, Monday morning, up earlier than I had been since school – unless I counted the times I'd gott
en home around this time from being out all night. I was dressed in a suit I usually wore for required family gatherings and wondering what in the world a junior VP in charge of sales did.

  Fortunately, Dad hadn't put me at one of our bigger businesses where my eldest brother, Benjamin, spent most of his time. The only person who thought I was a worse screw up than Dad was Benjamin. I always figured he felt that, as Dad's namesake and heir, he needed to outdo the old man. I could barely stand being in the same room as Benjamin when it was family stuff. I'd last about three seconds if he was telling me what to do. I doubted our father would take it very well if I decked my big brother at work.

  Dad had me at one of our smaller businesses, the one Samuel had actually started. I had a vague recollection of my other brother telling me about a research and development business he was interested in. Not some big drug company thing or anything like that. More like gadgets or widgets and shit. I hadn't really paid that much attention. I loved Samuel and he was pretty much the only one of my siblings who even liked me, but when he started in on the geek stuff, I kind of tuned him out.

  Today, I wouldn't be able to do that. It was embarrassing enough that everyone would think – correctly – I'd gotten the job because of who my family was. I couldn't imagine how it would look if Samuel had to fire me because I was incompetent.

  I arrived at the office with my most charming smile and my usual swagger, figuring I'd be able to fake some sort of semblance of intelligence. Samuel met me in the lobby and explained my job as we took the elevator to the third floor. He didn't seem overly happy to have me there, but he also wasn't angry, so that gave me some hope. I knew how seriously he took his business and I didn't want to let him down. I supposed that was why my father had put me here. He'd known I'd try harder for Samuel than for anyone else.

  The job was actually better than I'd thought. I would help manage the sales department. My responsibilities would include meeting with clients, wining and dining them. I would get companies to buy our products or invest in us. I would take the more important clients and dole out the responsibilities of the smaller clients to the four other members of the sales department.

  “Basically,” Samuel said with a hint of a smile. “We get to see if you can be as charming and persuasive to educated professionals as you can be when you're trying to get drunk strippers into bed.”

  I opened my mouth to make a smart comment, then shut it and shrugged. It was a pretty good fit, I had to admit. I couldn't go in blind, I knew, bullshitting my way through things, so I’d need to study products and clients, but all in all, it wasn't too bad.

  Samuel showed me to a small corner office and told me he was giving me the week to acclimate myself and to get caught up on our inventory, what we had in development and our regular clients. I'd start the field work part of my job next week. While I didn't exactly like not being able to come and go as I pleased or having to do vast amounts of reading in a lot of technical and legal-speak, I was forced to admit, grudgingly, that things could've been a lot worse.

  The biggest problem I had on my first day, however, had nothing to do with the stacks of files on my desk. No, it was my wife. I couldn't stop thinking about her. My senses seemed to recall every single moment of that night with greater clarity than they'd ever shown with any partner I'd ever had. If I'd thought it was difficult sitting around at home with a hard-on brought about from thinking about her, it was nothing compared to being in an office with one.

  As the end of my first day approached, I found myself wondering what would happen when I got home. Would Livie want to talk now? Had she finally come to accept what had happened between us? What would that mean? Or would she still be in denial and not want to speak to me? Or keep pretending it never happened?

  I'd never been one to get nervous, but not knowing how things would go was definitely causing some anxiety. I was so deep in thought that I didn't even hear Samuel until he knocked on my door and said my name, both done in such a way that I knew it hadn't been the first time.

  “How'd your first day go?” he asked with a genuine smile.

  “Good.” I smiled back. “I think I could be good at this.”

  He nodded. “I think so too.” He looked around at the fairly bare room. “Feel free to put some personal touches on the place. Maybe a picture or two of you and your wife.” He came into the office. “How is Livie?”

  “Good.” As much as I loved my brother, I wasn't about to discuss my very odd marital problem with him. “Busy working on getting things together for her design business.”

  “Hannah was saying that we need to have the two of you over some time for dinner. We'd love to get to know her. She is family now, after all.”

  If it had been anyone other than Samuel, I would've been immediately suspicious that my father had put him up to it. Only Samuel's support over the years kept me from throwing the invitation back in his face. I still suspected ulterior motives, but I wasn't going to completely blow him off without proof.

  I smiled, hating how stiff it felt. “That'd be nice. I'll check with her and see what her schedule's like.”

  “Great.” He looked at his watch. “Looks like it's time to head home. It's Hannah's night out with her friends and I'm on rug rat duty.”

  I smiled for real at that. I knew how much Samuel loved his kids and enjoyed his nights alone with them. I'd come over once to find the entire living room converted into a fort using every pillow and cushion in the house as they all played cowboys and space pirates. I hadn't asked for an explanation on that one.

  “See you bright and early tomorrow,” he said as he walked out.

  I nearly groaned. Right, bright and early. That would get old fast. I stood. I wasn't going to think about that now though. I would focus on dinner and the possibility of an awkward conversation with my wife. At the moment, I wasn't sure if I wanted her to admit we’d fucked or just ignore it so I could relax.

  I stopped to pick up chicken, not assuming that Livie would make enough dinner for two. We hadn't talked about eating meals together and we hadn't made any definite plans yesterday. I figured she'd made breakfast for me Sunday morning, so the least I could do was bring home something she could share with me. Okay, so she hadn't exactly made breakfast for me, but she hadn't kept the leftovers for herself either. Besides, I figured it might be a nice gesture that could help ease us into setting things right between us.

  When I walked inside the penthouse, however, all thoughts of food vanished.

  Livie was standing just within sightline of the doorway, partway in the living room. She was smiling at me, but that wasn't the first thing I noticed. It may have been a bit lecherous of me, but the first thing I saw was the incredibly sexy lingerie she was wearing.

  Her hair was down, tumbling across her bare shoulders. The bra was strapless, hugging her firm breasts in the most delightful way. There was a wide expanse of creamy flesh above the sheer and delicate silk of the bra. The color was a deep and rich green that matched her eyes perfectly and accented the nipples that were clearly visible beneath the garment. The panties were the same, leaving enough to the imagination to make my stomach clench. Her stockings went to just above her knees and were attached to garters with thin strips of ribbon. And fuck it all, she was wearing heels.

  “Liv?” Heat flooded my face when my voice almost cracked on her name. I couldn't stop staring. “What the hell is this?”

  She walked towards me, her steps slow and deliberate, the kind of movement designed to capture a man's attention. “What do you think this is?”

  “I think this is a tease, that's what I think.” Although I knew I should be annoyed at her for such obvious taunting, I couldn't bring myself to be anything but seriously turned on.

  “Do you really think I would do that?” The tone of her voice was almost an answer itself.

  She stopped in front of me and raised herself the short distance needed to brush her lips against my jaw.

  “What happened to no tou
ching?” I asked as I fought to keep from dropping the bucket of chicken in my hand. It was good food and I didn't want it to go to waste, no matter how good Livie looked.

  She smiled up at me. “I want you to touch me.” Her mouth brushed against mine.

  A better man than I wouldn't have been able to refuse that, chicken or no chicken.

  Chapter 4

  Blayne

  I put dinner on the counter and reached out to cup the back of Livie's head. I kept waiting for her to snap at me, for her to shove me away again, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned into me, bringing our mouths together more quickly than I'd anticipated. Our lips parted at the same time, tongues tangling and she pressed her body against mine.

  I dug my fingers into her curls, holding her firmly in place as I tilted my head to deepen the kiss. My free hand went to the small of her back, her skin soft under my palm. She moaned with pleasure as I explored her mouth thoroughly, my fingers slipping a little lower to tease under the waistband of her panties, lightly skimming across the top of her ass.

  She grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking it out of my pants even as she slid her hands underneath. My stomach muscles tensed under her touch.

  “Let us get this jacket off.” She broke the kiss for a moment, then moved her mouth to my neck.

  Damn. Heat spread across my skin as I shrugged off my jacket. Her fingers made short work of my buttons and then my shirt joined it on the floor. I wrapped my arms around her and planted an open mouthed kiss against the side of her throat. I lightly sucked on the skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her moan.

  “Why don't we move this somewhere a bit more comfortable?” I nipped at the skin across her collarbone.

  “I like that idea very much.” Her hip pressed against my half-hard cock.

  “To the couch then.” I smiled at her as we walked into the living room.

  We were about a foot away when she went to her knees, her hands reaching for the waist of my pants. She looked up at me as she pulled them down, peering up through thick lashes that did nothing to disguise the lust in her eyes. Then she licked her lips and I swore under my breath. Her lips were lush and soft, and I remembered all too well what it felt like in her mouth.