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The Gala II
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2021-12-08 17:00:28Richard stared after the woman as she left. The pretty young teenager with a nice enough ass to stare at — he’d thought. She couldn’t be too bright. After all, there had been dollar signs in her father’s eyes at the mere proposition of being CEO. Bradley had known all about Christopher’s scheme to boost their profits. The hasty plan to pin it all on Vincent couldn’t even shake the fool. Of course, Bradley had no idea that he was plan B. Richard couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. He’d like them both to go to prison equally, if only for his own entertainment. Was he really so awful for that? Or was he simply more in tune with his desires than the average joe? He was a bigger man for not denying himself of his own thoughts; more in control by not having to fight himself for it. Or was it the other way around? Suddenly, he was confused. His phone couldn’t have rung at a more convenient time.
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Stood up on all fours, Vincent couldn’t help but admire the woman. She complimented the suite quite nicely, brunette mane framed by the chocolate bar headboard almost as high as the ceiling, a hickory brown wood. Bare skin the same pale cream as the walls, floor, and curtains. The insides of her thighs as ivory as the bedsheets. Lashes as black as the light fixtures. Staring at her petals, core open, reddened and swollen, he knew he’d have to check out early. He’d booked the hotel because he couldn’t bear to stay in the apartment that served no purpose other than to remind him what he couldn’t have. Now, the woman had sullied the Ritz-Carlton. He’d have to rebook in the morning; move as far across town as it took to expel the image of the woman who haunted his every waking and sleeping moment. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he rubbed the tip of his desire along her as he’d imagined in detail. Shuddered at her warmth. Relished in h
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It took a great deal of effort to pry herself from Vincent’s side when she awoke to her silent alarm at quarter-to-four. Their naked skin had fused together to the point she’d feared they’d been glued while trying to separate. His cologne had seeped through her skin to the bone, so much so that she feared she would never get the smell of him off her. But she had, third lather in.She’d been staring at the wall for quite some time, soaped shampoo running down her spine with the pelting shower stream, her arms hugged around her chest, yet she didn’t yelp as her ex-husband took her shoulders in his hands. He spun the woman to him. Smiled gently. Lamented the fact she no longer reeked of his sex. Took the sides of her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Slowly.Blue hoped quietly he’d think her eyes half swollen shut were from fatigue rather than her silent tears. Playing house with the man in his hotel room filled her with nothing
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Blue stared at the city; Vincent stood at the counter behind her. The windowsill seemed to share her most pivotal moments more than even the universe shared them with her. Though her grief was one of the poorer-kept secrets of the world she felt marginally better whispering her thoughts to the brittle pane. Just as she felt gratitude Vincent had kept the apartment they’d outgrown with the baby for nostalgia’s sake. Or to bolster his net worth. Either one.She was muttering the same three words over and over. Repeated hoping that enough times would unencumber her or the rage that swelled with each inhale to expel them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate… The world?“I should write him a very strongly worded letter.” She glanced to her husband, the man fiddling with a steaming tea as though debating which moment would be safest to present it to his wife. “But
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Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
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“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
