AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My, what I’ve missed,” Ian sighed. An exalted shiver of happiness tore through his loins and limbs. Drawing his erection back, a gentle massage of the woman’s whole channel began. Each time the ramming organ drove deep and then slowly pulled away, Jocelyn’s body quaked and an audible, half woe, half pleasure escaped her lips.
In her mind she was escaping reality. With every thrust of Ian’s bold cock another piece of her wounded life was falling aside, lost in the void where for a time she wouldn’t be reminded of the pressing hurt. Such a pleasant amnesia! Only if she could, she would swim in that place forever, never resurfacing, never becoming conscious again. Picking up speed, Ian began fucking her harder. His dick probed her like hell on wheels. She screamed softly, demanding she relinquish more, that she give up any desire of her own, abandoning her own needs for his. She became her ass alone, nothing more than an ass for a horny man to screw.
Ian lasted a long time inside her, drawing back and waiting several times when he was about to climax. Building again with intensity renewed, the willing recipient of his relentless pursuit for the perfect orgasm allowed herself to be used with little worry that he’d cause her pain. The harder his prick thrust the more she seemed to like it. And then by some common agreement communicated in the silent language of two fucking bodies, Ian picked up the pliant flesh of Jocelyn’s form, and held her tight against his chest as he climaxed.
Ian brought her back to life by fingering her clitoris. She jerked hard, her body spasming deeply and without restraint now that Ian had been satisfied. And yet with so much going on inside her body, she struggled to find the orgasmic handle. Ian had an expert way of toying with her cunt, and soon her body crested to a place of physical ecstasy where she stayed for a long while as the orgasm rolled through her.
She jerked several times in his arms when he kissed the back of her neck and his hand fondled her
freely. Then, when the last sensations died away, he turned her about and held her until she was ready to back away.
“It was never as good as this, was it?” she said.
“Not in my memory,” Ian replied. “But then if memory serves me well, there’s no orgasm quite like the present one.”
“Oh, not for me, I could rate them on a scale from one to ten,” she said. Sighing, she picked her clothes up off the floor and collapsed into a chair too weak to do more.
“Humph. I never believed you that objective,” Ian retorted.
“Ah, this is not an objective thing at all.”
“So, how about dinner?” Ian suggested. “You hungry?
“Ravenous.”
“You have a bath through here?” He pointed to the doors at the end of the room.
“Uh, huh.” She answered. “Take your time, I’m in no hurry.”
As Jocelyn watched Ian disappear into the bathroom, she gazed toward her desk, immediately spotting the picture of her and Reggie taken at Tahoe after their wedding. His arms surrounded her and their faces were flushed with excitement from a day water skiing. In an unguarded moment the photographer had caught them in a casual moment. What exuded from that rendering was Jocelyn’s favorite memory of her husband, spontaneous and smiling with his signature charm reeking from every atom of his carefully cultured soul. What one glance at that photograph did was bring her back to an awful reality she hoped she could forget for a few more hours. Unfortunately, the sweet emptiness of the sex was gone, and she had to wonder to herself why she was compounding the problems that already loomed over her life.
Chapter Five
Life almost seemed normal with Reggie home. They had sex the night he arrived, almost as memorable as sex with Ian. Ian was special because he was different, but not because he made her feel any better. Sex with Reggie was comforting, though it was never mundane. But after her interludes with the scoundrel, re-establishing the relationship with her husband was the foremost thought in her mind. She was relieved to know that Ian would be leaving town the day after their dinner together. Vulnerable as she was, too much temptation proved dangerous.
It was time to get make things right with Reg, and time to get beyond the muddle of her working life. She was mulling changes, almost ready to admit that Reggie was right about her business’s demise. The morning after his homecoming they sat together in the kitchen sharing a civil breakfast that promised to proceed without an argument.
“You were pretty hot last night,” she said, running her toes along his leg. Perfectly starched and ready for work, his face was buried in the paper, but he looked up responding to her fondling.
“I have a fondness for your ass, what can I say? Is it still sore?”
“Just a little. I thought you’d never stop spanking me.”
“You liked it, didn’t you?” was his cool reply, and he returned to his newspaper while Jocelyn returned to the kitchen for the coffee pot.
Strange how things turn out, she was thinking. Rarely was she punished enough to feel the effects the day after. But the night before, once Reggie had tackled her to the bed, he’d been unrelenting with a new leather spanker he’d purchased in a New York leather shop. It started and ended playfully, with a rash of hard burning smacks to the center of her ass cheeks; but he might as well have been punishing her for some crime considering the intensity of the spanking. Maybe without even knowing, he was punishing her for her dalliance with Ian. How poetic, she was thinking in the aftermath. Would that be enough to absolve her of her guilt? Perhaps not. But she’d give it a try.
“More coffee?” she asked as she was about to pour some into his mug.
“What’s this?” Reggie asked. What had been a decently pleasant look on his face abruptly faded into a scowl. He pointed to Germaine Charles’s gossip column, something he rarely read.
“What’s that?” she asked, gazing down at the paper.
“Let me read it to you,” Reggie said, pulling the paper away from her.
“One wonders what’s amiss in the romance between the Reginald Harolds, the irrepressible Jocelyn Killian Harold just seen at Dorsis with a new man-about-town, who this reporter has yet to identify. Sources suggest that Mrs. Harold’s new darling is a European born magnate of some renown. It’s nice seeing a smile on the face of the lovely head of Killian Management, who’s been so reviled by the press for her alleged part in the now infamous Ibercon catastrophe. Seeing her so cozy with this elegant man on the dance floor Friday night, one can only speculate that the idyllic marriage between the Harolds is ripping apart under the strain of this never ending and very public corporate battle. Perhaps the cool Reggie Harold is no long handling his wife’s faux pax with his accustomed grace. Quite fascinating drama, don’t you think?
By the time Reggie spit out the last of Germaine’s biting chronicle, Jocelyn was weak-kneed and slumping into a chair opposite her grave looking husband, trying to keep him from noticing the sudden fear that swept her soul.
