The Mistress (8 page)

“The door is open,” he stated in between kisses. She looked at him, smiled coyly, and clawed his chest’s flesh. She wasn’t letting him get off of her.

“You’re bad,” he smiled. “Do you know how bad girls get fucked?”

“Do tell..” she replied with a burning hot confidence that she rarely exhibited.

“Rough. Hard. Without fucking mercy,” he responded, tearing at her pajama pants, pulling them down.

Oh, yes. Please do
. Marissa’s mind was swimming in a pool of pure, unadulterated lust, and he was her husband. How lucky was she? If she knew anything, she knew that Preston was always ready for a good fuck. This time, though, she was the one ready for it.

He was always good in bed, but part of her hoped that he would put on the best performance of his life. They hadn’t been engaging in much sex as of late, and now – two days in a row – she was ready to pounce on him like a panther in heat.

“Promise?” Her voice was thick and sultry, trying to convey her wants. She pulled his pants down just enough so that his cock was exposed. After all, if they got caught, she would rather them not be completely naked.

He smiled evilly as his hands grasped at her naked thighs and he pulled her to him with a ferocious determination.
Oh yes
. She wanted him to fuck her hard. “This is what bad girls get,” is all she heard before she felt his muscular arms latch onto her thighs and flip her entire body over so that her ass was facing him. He pulled her back end up and smacked her bum lightly at first, but then again – harder.

“You’re so wet...” His voice was husky and dark as he slid his finger across her already wet core.

“Stop talking and – ah!”

He entered her from behind in one rough stroke. “Oh yeah, ‘ah’ is right,” he whispered darkly into her ear. “You’re soaking. Do you know how good you feel – all hot and slippery like this?”

“Fuck me harder!” she moaned against the sheets as she gripped at them. She was hoping the kids wouldn’t investigate, but it felt too good to stop now.

“Your mouth gets so dirty when you’re worked up,” he mused.

Just as she was about to respond, he hammered inside of her harder than he ever had before. His thrusts drove her into the mattress with force. She moaned heavily, her breath becoming ragged. His fingers tightened on her hips and he pressed his body even closer to her. He took the flesh of her neck into his mouth and sucked hard. He wanted to brand her, make her his. Taking this realization in while he continued to hit her g-spot violently, she came.

What’s more, and much to her eventual delight – he didn’t stop. He kept fucking her in the same, steady but rough rhythm that had driven her wild just moments before. Her toes curled more and more with every thrust. “More,” he panted harshly as he leaned over her further and slid his hand to envelope hers; their fingers interlaced together in a bond of pure love and affection during a moment so naughty. It was a perfect mix.

“Give me more. I need it,” he whispered, the venom running off of his tongue.

She had to admit, in this heated moment, she loved how forceful he was being. It was the one instance that he seemed to reserve his intimidation for her. He was always gentle previously – he was almost exclusively loving and tender with her. Not that she didn’t love it – she did, but this was a nice change of a pace. This was something else. This was lust. She missed lust, and she reveled in the way it was making her feel. She felt sexy.

“Preston!” she groaned as her body reached its maximum pleasure peak.

He was relentless though, unable to satiate his needs. Skirting the edge of the line between controlled, forceful sex and something else more dominating, he had to force himself to slow down. The fact was, after so long without having her, he couldn’t get enough of the choked, sheet-muffled moans that she made every time he buried himself to the hilt.

The sensations were beginning to feel good again, and her fire was now fueled once again.

“Don’t stop,” she begged.

“Never.” His voice was full of heated desperation. His grip on her more than likely bruised hip became stronger, and his knuckles turned white from resilient clenching. The lack of blood flow was evident, but he continued to pump her long and hard. He was waiting, waiting to feel her contract around his rod one more time.

With one more thrust, she came. As she tightened around him, his cock was given a most satisfying massage by her love-soaked walls. Preston cursed loudly as his hot liquid filled her to the brim.

“Preston... God... that was amazing.” she gasped, her body beginning to relax. She felt a wave of contentment wash over her, and then – all of a sudden – hunger sat in and her stomach growled quite comically. He laughed, slipping out of her.

“As I said, wait here – we’re making you breakfast.” And with a jump, he pulled up his pajama pants and was covered once again.

She heard the creak of the floorboard as he left the hallway. She loved that sound. Family and friends always wondered why she and Preston never bothered getting it fixed. It would be considered an annoyance by many, but in reality Marissa loved the sound. When guests would ask, she would merely laugh it off and tell them they’d get around to it one day, but secretly Marissa hoped that day would never come.

Her hours at the bakery kept her on a schedule which wasn’t the most ideal for women with a family. She left the house before dawn and came back clear after dark. She would eat dinner with her family, but it wasn’t long after that she would retire to her bedroom to start the entire process over again. That creak kept her sane.

She would awake every time one of the kids or Preston stepped over it. It made her feel connected to them; it was as if a piece of her was still awake and there to witness the chaos that was likely unfolding. It was a silly thing, really. She knew that. But she wouldn’t trade that “annoying” sound for a peaceful night’s sleep on any day of the year.

She shifted in the unmade bed, straightened her shirt, and pulled her purple polka-dotted pajama pants up. God, she felt amazing in that moment. Her clit still throbbing and her center still wet, she reached back into the stretchy waistband of her pants and touched herself.

Marissa moaned at the sensation of her finger on her clit and leaned back. “Ow!” She reacted to something piercing her side. Looking down to investigate what had stabbed her, she saw a glimmering metallic piece of jewelry. Furrowing her brow, she examined it. An earring?

~~~

I
n a similar awakening, Haley shifted over on her stomach and extended her arms to the other side. She too found only an empty space beside her. She smoothed her hands over the sheets, and felt the cold fabric beneath her touch. The chill caused her to pull her blankets tighter against her, and she rolled into them. Unlike Marissa, there was no evidence of another presence being there recently. There was no warmth, only the chill of an unslept on side. She sighed, lifted her tired body off of her bed, and got ready for the day ahead of her.

Another day at fucking work. Another day of seeing him. Hi Ho – fucking  Hi Ho
– she began to sing, laughing at the innuendo, which seemed to describe her perfectly.
Ho.

She was wondering at that moment why in the world she had agreed to work Saturdays. Fucking Saturdays.

~~~

M
arissa laughed at herself – mocked even – for even thinking that the earring’s presence in the bed was strange. It was obviously Haley’s earring. She remembered her wearing them consistently, and Haley cleaned everything in the house. It was only a matter of time before she found some of her things scattered about randomly.

Forgetting about her stupidity, she turned her attention to her family. She admired them greatly; hell, the kids and Preston made a beautiful spread for breakfast, and she was incredibly grateful for it. It had been absolutely delicious, consisting of pancakes, fruit, bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice with a hint of grapefruit squeezed in.

Part of her really hoped that they hadn’t made too much of a mess, though. She hadn’t had the time to go into the kitchen and investigate the cleanliness – or lack thereof, of the room.
Poor Haley
, she thought to herself. The woman was
too
good. She cooked, cleaned, chauffeured the kids to and from school, extra-curricular activities and sports, and wherever else they needed to go; she folded all the laundry and put it all away – she truly was a miracle worker.

Marissa was forever indebted to her for working Saturdays. Once upon a time it wasn’t in the job description. It wasn’t until the bakery started noticing a large decline in business due to competition that she decided to open up on Saturday afternoons like other bakeries in the area. Because she was open, and Preston was always preparing for his job, it was necessary for Haley to be around on Saturdays. The kids often had activities on those days, plus it was nice to have someone around to clean up after the crazy Saturday morning breakfast rush at home.

There were many times that they wondered if they truly needed a nanny, especially with the growing age of the kids, but it was out of the question to get rid of her. Over the last twelve years, she really had been part of the family. Lucas and Sophie loved her as if she were a second mother or a fun aunt, and in truth, Marissa didn’t know what she would do without her. She loved talking to her, and she knew Preston felt the same way.

As soon as she heard the front door open and the kids running through the house, she knew that she was there. Smiling, she grabbed her jacket and apron and went to greet the woman.

“Hey, you dropped your earrings in our room!” Marissa bellowed through the house. She couldn’t place Haley’s expression but shrugged it off as nothing, “I’m sure you would be crazy without it! It looks expensive!” she finished, rushing past the woman. She was almost late for work.

~~`

A tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, dressed in an expensive-looking hand-stitched blue sport coat, busted through the bakery door with a conducting flamboyancy. In a sing-a-long tune he musically uplifted a “hello” before fox-trotting to the counter to greet the blonde. “You’re late, sweetie,” Marissa smiled. She loved the man. Truly she did. He was such a joy to work with, but completely unreliable.

“I prefer fashionably so,” he responded, feigning a catty tone.

“Fashionably or not, Joseph. You’re still late. Don’t let it happen again.”

When she hired Joseph she had suspected he would fulfill the gay best friend role that every woman – including her – secretly vies for. Though he did fill the position quite well, there was only one problem – he wasn’t gay. He was just very upbeat and energetic with a touch of metro sexual prowess thrown in.

She wasn’t one to stereotype, but her poorly attuned radar had beeped slightly when she interviewed him for the job. How wrong she was, though, when the very first week he started working there he had tried to put the moves on her. Obviously, he didn’t know she was married, and ever since they had been the best of friends.

“Oh, we’re back to threats again.” He rolled his eyes and took off his jacket as he rounded the counter and dramatically forced the swinging door to the kitchen open and disappeared through it. “Well, chop-chop, hon! We have a tyrannical boss that says we’re late! Time to get started on all these damned baked goods so fatties everywhere can rejoice!” she heard him call comically from behind the still swinging grey door.

She laughed, admiring his continual comedy. She loved that man to death. She really did. He always knew how to put her into a good mood.

~~~

H
aley had just gotten back from dropping Lucas off at his friend Trent’s house, and Sophie at her piano practice. She was a bit jealous and perhaps even a bit worried by the fact that the children seemed to both have more of a life than she did.
Time to start cleaning
, she thought, regretfully looking at the cluttering mess of dishes and pancake batter that littered the entire kitchen. What was it with them and kitchens? It was like a fucking bomb went off every time one of them cooked.

She still couldn’t believe she dropped her earring in yesterday’s tussle with Preston in their bedroom. She thought for sure when Marissa brought it to her that they had been caught, but of course not. It was perfectly believable that your nanny of twelve years, who was a personal friend of yours, would never sleep with your husband. It was believable that dropping an earring was just a mistake that happened when said nanny was doing chores. But, here she was, the unbelievable, home-wrecking
skank
that she was.

She reached beneath the sink and scrounged together her cleaning supplies, but as she rose up to throw them onto the counter she realized how hot it was in the house. It was a little warm outside, yes, but she expected them to have the air conditioner on – it surprised her that they didn’t.

She took her jacket off so that she could comfortably get to work, but perhaps she was only stalling. This room was chaotic, and ultimately it was daunting to even think about cleaning, but she had to. It was her job. Her fucking job. She was beginning to wonder – after all that had happened – if she would be better off seeking employment elsewhere. She didn’t want to, but really, what was she to do?

Hoping that cleaning would actually take her mind off of the thoughts currently invading her forethoughts, she decided to actually get to work. Clad in only a tank top and pencil skirt now, she was finally comfortable. She walked over to the mudroom and obtained her Swiffer, ready to begin the ultimate challenge of cleaning this ridiculous untidy kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind her. Fucking hell, what was with this kitchen and his dramatic entrances? Why must he always be there?

She turned around and snapped at him immediately, “Do you mind not stepping in my general direction? I really just want to get my work done early and go home.”

“I want to explain about last night,” he said, sincerity in his eyes. Those eyes. She wondered if they were really innocent or merely just the devil’s eyes, always deceiving those who peered into them. “I just wanted to be able to have a comfortable dinner without any outbursts. I want to discuss things with her on my own, and on my own time,” he continued, conveniently forgetting to mention that he had just made love to his wife.