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I feel a pang of guilt at the surprise in her voice. The last time we had sex was the day Justine started working for me, and I was so worked up that I couldn’t hang on long enough for her to reach her peak.
But it’s very fleeting, leaving as soon as it arrives.
Her hand reaches out to switch on the lamp, but I grab it and roll us so that she’s on her stomach and I’m resting on her back.
“Let me take care of you. I’ll do all the work.”
“Quinn, I…”
“Shh, baby. Don’t talk.”
All it takes is a quick tug of her panties, and I’m inside her warm heat. We both groan at the sensation, and it takes willpower not to press down on her head, to muffle her groans in the pillow. I want to get lost in a pair of blue eyes. I want a pair of plump lips moving against mine, our tongues tangling and exploring. I want more of her taste. There’s nothing wrong with fantasies, is there? We all have them. And right now, I want to pretend I’m somewhere else, with someone else.
My thrusts start slow, but then I think of how turned on Justine was by my kiss. How her nipples peaked and pressed against the silk of her blouse. Her skin’s paler than Bailey’s so I bet they’re a light, rosy pink, perfectly made to suck on. How she’d look naked, every last bit of her smooth skin exposed for my hungry eyes, her mouth moving against mine, her body writhing in pleasure as I lick and suck her. I can’t wait to find out if her pussy tastes as sweet as her mouth. A bolt of lust—a mixture of ecstasy and agony—slams through me, and my thrusts grow uncontrollable; every grunt ripped from my chest with every slam of my hips.
I wonder if Justine will moan like Bailey’s moaning?
When I come, it’s to a vision of Justine’s back arching, her feet resting on my shoulders, screaming my name while I empty all I have in her pussy.
I fall to the side and roll on my back, throwing my arm over my eyes, trying to regain my breath. The silence stretches, and when I turn my head, I see the glimmer of Bailey’s eyes focused on me in the darkness. The look in them makes me uncomfortable, forcing my eyes to the ceiling. A soft rustle and the slight dip in the mattress tell me she’s left the bed. Most probably to clean up.
Now that my lust is sated, that pang of guilt hits me in full force. What the fuck am I doing? I love Bailey. I’ve always loved Bailey. She’s my wife and my best friend. She’s been a constant my whole life and doesn’t deserve this. I’m a piece of shit for using her the way I did tonight.
All I need to do is put some boundaries in place to stop things from going any further with Justine.
Tell her the kiss was a mistake and it can’t happen again. I can still come back from this.
My mind made up, I turn to Bailey when she gets back in bed, determined to take her in my arms and tell her how much I love her. She snuggles closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder and tracing her fingers up and down my chest.
“I love you, Quinn.”
Her voice is so soft I have to strain to hear her, even in the nighttime quiet of the apartment.
“I love you, too.” The sincerity in my voice is real. I do love her. I’d be lost without her.
“Do you remember that time we went to New York for a weekend?”
It was a few years back, just after I started my current job. I had to attend a conference, and Bailey accompanied me. We took an extra day and made a long weekend of it. It was our first time in such a big city.
“It was an eye-opener for sure.”
It looked like everyone on the streets was hustling to get to their next destination, faces drawn, looking down, and avoiding eye contact with people around them.
“Remember how stressed everyone looked? We said we’d never get like that. We’d never forget to take the time to just breathe. To never forget what was important and enjoy life.”
I tighten my arms around her and bury my face in her hair, the memory filling me with sadness. It was us against the world, and we were filled with excitement for the endless opportunities stretched out in front of us. It’s only been a few years, but I feel like I’ve aged so much in that time. I have to get us back to that.
CHAPTER SIX
BAILEY
“WHY DOI get the feeling you’re not listening to me?”
“I am.”
Placing the last magazine on the rack, I turn my back on that damn distracting picture of winding streets and quaint cafes, banishing the image I conjured of Quinn and me sipping champagne in the City of Love, and focus on Amelia’s voice.
“As I was saying, I called for a reason. I bumped into Charlene the other day, and she told me she’s pregnant with their third.”
