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Wickedly Twisted 36
RitaComing back to Dallas feels like returning to the real world.If the real world is also a total mess.Scar heads back to work. We don't talk about Gregory Callahan. We barely mention the move to Boston. It's like what happened at the beach didn't follow us home, and now the tension between us grows worse every day.I hate it. I don't understand this backslide. I want to go back to that Sunday morning, lying out on the beach with Scar, watching Orin and Molly playing in the water. I want to feel that sun. Feel his eyes on my body. I want to think about his taste in my mouth.Most of all, I want to feel good like that, something that's been missing from my life for a long time.Instead, he throws himself into his job like he always does while I lounge around his apartment. I don't bother pretending like I'm still his assistant. That was never going to work out—especially not now that Gregory's sniffing around us. It wouldn't make any sense, not if Scar and I were really married.Wh
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RitaI'm not a great cook so I order from his favorite take-out place, this barbecue restaurant a couple blocks away. I have everything set up when he gets home, looking exhausted from a long day at the office. I want to do something nice for him—the way he did something nice for me.A small surprise to ease some of his tension. Maybe even to bring a smile to his face.The more I'm around him, the more I think he needs this sort of surprise in his life. He has his friends, his work, but he spends so much time doing things for other people.He deserves to have something done for him for a change."Here's to a long day," Scar says, pouring two glasses of wine and toasting me."Here's to very thoughtful gifts."He sits down with a sigh, takes off his tie, rolls his sleeves up to show off his lovely forearms, and starts to eat. I watch him for a moment, picking at my plate, my guts a nervous roil, but Cait's right. If someone's going to make the first move, it might as well be me.And any
Wickedly Twisted 38
RitaI can't sleep. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Scar's room is across the hall from mine. I can picture him doing the same thing, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I glance at the clock—it's barely past eleven.There's a sound in the hall. A creak, a door opening. My heart races as I sit up on an elbow. The apartment's usually so quiet, except I hear footsteps coming toward my room. I'm about to call out when there's a soft knock."Rita?" Scar's whisper. "Are you awake?" The knob turns, the door opens.He's standing there. White t-shirt, black boxer-briefs. Staring in at me with that look like he wants to hold me down and feast on me.I sit up, hair spilling down my shoulders."Couldn't sleep," I say stupidly."Neither could I." He takes a step forward but hesitates. "You know we shouldn't.""I know," I say quietly. "But we can anyway.""I want to so fucking bad it's killing me.""I want it too.""Every night I lie in my room, thinking about you." He comes closer. "Abou
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ScarI dream of Rita that night. When I wake, I'm still in her bed. We smell like sex. I kiss her neck, cup her naked breasts. She wiggles her hips against me until I'm hard again. She's sleepy and beautiful as I kiss her. We fuck like that, half awake. I make sure to grind against her with my piercing, driving her wild. It gives me satisfaction, making her come like this, more joy than I ever thought possible. When she gets off twice, she pushes me back, panting and sweating, and she finishes me with her mouth. Slow and sensual, eyes locked on mine. Swallows every drop.While she showers, I make breakfast. Pancakes and coffee. She accepts a plate when she comes out, drying her hair. "That was unexpected," she says."What, the morning sex?""No, the pancakes." She stares at the plate. "I genuinely didn't think you knew how to work the stove."I roll my eyes. "I wasn't always rich, remember? I lived on pancakes for years. They gave me a scholarship at Blackwoods, but not a stipend. Mos
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ScarI lean back on the bench across from the climbing wall. The gym's quiet on a Friday afternoon. Rita claps her chalky hands together before getting into position and beginning her line up toward the top, her harness on, the safety rope connected to the overhead anchor with an auto belay device.God, she's gorgeous. Her back is lean and toned, her muscular ass, legs, and arms working as she pulls her way up a difficult wall.I can't help but stare at her and feel a sense of pride as she gets higher and higher.She's really good—there's no denying it—and really fucking hot. I smile to myself, glad I decided to take a mid afternoon break to watch her get some time in at the gym.She wanted me out there climbing too—but fuck that. This is her thing. I'll sit right here, sip my coffee, and enjoy her.My phone rings. I glance down, worried it'll be Ford—I haven't spoken to him yet and I'm dreading it—but instead, it's Janine, the recruiter. "Hello," I answer. "How are you?""Hey, Scar,"
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RitaScar decides to surprise me by taking the rest of the day off. We leave the gym and head to a nearby wine bar. Lots of glass, lots of light. Wood and metal are the dominant motifs. We get a table near the front windows, away from the other patrons. Scar orders for both of us. It's quiet, but starting to fill up as Friday wears on and people leave the office early."You're not talkative," I say, swirling my red, eyeing him over the glass. Despite claiming he wants to spend time with me, as soon as we're actually together, it's like his mind is elsewhere.He forces a smile though. "Sorry. Just thinking.""This is the part of the conversation where you share what you're thinking," I prompt, eyebrows raised."Just work stuff." He takes a drink. Shutting down again. Pushing me away.I want to push him on it, but decide on a different tact. "This morning when I sucked your dick, that's the first time I ever swallowed."He chokes on his drink, looking around to see if anyone heard. "I'm
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RitaI kneel on all fours on the couch, completely naked, his cock in my right hand, his tip in my mouth. "Like this?" I say, sliding forward, my ass in the air as my breasts dip down.He moves deeper into my mouth and throat as his fingers reach around my hips to tease my pussy."Just like that," he croons. "Relax. Breathe through your nose."I moan, gag, pull back. "Shit," I say, breathing hard, stroking him slowly. "I'll never get it all. You're fucking huge.""Maybe not, but I love when you try."So I try again. Going as deep as I can. But mostly I'm stroking him, sucking his tip, feeling him slide his fingers along my slit. Fuck, it feels good, having him rub my naked, soaking pussy like that, with his cock in my mouth. Staring at the piercing. I'm moaning, and bliss is slamming in my head, and he's making these little grunting pleasure noises that drive me absolutely wild.I suck him faster. Not caring about the mess I make. Drool rolls down his shaft. I keep going, groaning as
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ScarWe don't retire to separate rooms that night. Instead, she follows me into my room. We shower together, put on comfortable clothes. She steals shorts and a t-shirt from my drawer. I lie there looking at her in only boxer briefs, admiring her lean body, her beautiful tits, her firm ass. She looks over her shoulder at me, smiling, that dazed, pleasured look in her eye.Beautiful. Absolutely stunning."Do you want to know why I always ask you to put on your seatbelt?" The words spill out of me. I don't know why I'm bringing this up now, of all times.But there's something in this moment. We showered together. We're getting into bed together. She's wearing my clothes, and I fully plan on taking them off and feasting on her tonight.It's intimate. So far, our marriage has been fake. Every time we've moved things to the next level, we've tried to pull it back before it went too far.This feels like we're crossing a line.I want to keep going.I need to live in this moment—because I don
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