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All the while he never lets up, his mouth busy on my flesh, his fingers pushing so deep inside of my body I swear he touches my womb.
Finally I come back to myself, the sound of the palm fronds fluttering in the wind. The heat from the sun soaking into my skin. My husband’s face pressed against the back of my thigh as he rubs against it, his fingers now drifting across the ridged skin of my asshole.
A shiver moves through me when he tests me there, with just his fingertip.
I don’t know if I can take any more. Despite the delicious tingles that sweep over me when he touches me like that.
My pussy throbs. My chest hurts. I slump against the lounger, my lips parted, the sunglasses falling off my face and onto the ground with a clatter. “Oh my God.”
“Dirty girl,” he murmurs against my right ass cheek, right before he kisses it. “I own you there.”
I don’t protest. He’s right.
He does own me there.
And I’m sure he’ll try to claim me in other ways there as well.
***
Our raunchy momentin the sun left me golden. Guess the suntan oil worked, I think to myself as I step out of the outdoor shower and check my reflection in the steamy glass.
There are no tan lines to be found.
I lather myself up in body lotion, smoothing it everywhere I can reach. Until my newly golden skin is gleaming in the light. I grab one of the dresses Tinsley packed for me and slip it on, not bothering with panties or a bra.
There’s something so liberating about being here. In Mexico, in this villa, with my husband. My entire body feels lit from within, and not just from the sun.
No, Perry has something to do with it. The way he seems to worship me with his hands and mouth and dick. Oh and his eyes. The way he watches me makes me feel powerful.
As if I could do anything.
That’s a foreign experience for me. My entire life I’ve never felt powerful. My father controlled my every move. My older brothers snapped at me if I did something wrong. I went to a strict private school my younger years and was sent away to Lancaster Prep as a freshman. Where lots of students tended to go wild and get into trouble, I stayed the course and kept my head down.
Meaning I was the complete opposite of the typical Lancaster.
I thought running away to Paris was my one shot at freedom but it turned into me letting another man control me.
Seamus.
With his lyrical accent and steely gaze. He moved with ease around the classroom, and spoke with such passion about the architectural history of Paris. I was enraptured. Crushing hard. And he knew it.
He took advantage of me, and I let him. I was totally swept up by his pretty words and suggestive glances. To the point that I basically threw myself at him in his cramped office at the university, sending his old desk chair backwards with a loud creak when I kissed him.
He kissed me back. That was the first sign something significant was going to happen between us. I was giddy. Obsessed.
I realize now he took advantage of a lonely, inexperienced girl. I was basically a child starved for affection, and somehow, he knew it. Sensed it.
And gave me everything I thought I wanted.
He controlled me and I didn’t protest—I was used to it. Turned me into his dirty little secret and I never minded. There was something thrilling about sneaking around, reaching for each other in dark places, where no one would see. He’d slap my hand away if he thought I was getting too close in public, and that hurt.
He’d flirt with other women in class and that hurt too.
Yet he always had an explanation. A reason. I accepted those reasons, gullible and completely infatuated.
At one point, I thought it was love.
It all came crashing down that one afternoon in class. When he was in the middle of the lecture and a beautiful woman burst into the room, a giant smile on her face. Her dark hair flowed in flawless waves down her back and her dark eyes burned bright when they landed on him.
