The Revenge Games Duet

I watch with anticipation and a galloping heartbeat, his head lowering down and settling between my legs. My panties are parted, his fist is clutching them as the tip of his tongue touches my swollen clit. My back arches against the marble, the tips of my fingers gripping the edge for support.

He knows he’s damn good, sticking his tongue in between my creases at a delightful pace. I’m close. Desperate not to give in so early, but that fire in my belly, the one making my head spin, demands that I succumb to the raging orgasm about to take over.

Then—boom.

My body collapses against the countertop with my breaths short and quick. I want to laugh, scream, and tie myself to this man for the rest of my life.

The sound of metal clinks against the concrete floors. I try to pull myself up, but Wesley is pinning me down, sliding himself in me. No questions, no words, his mouth against mine roughly as he thrusts deep into me, trapping my screams amongst his kisses.

His need to make love so raw yet intimate makes me fall for him even harder. I grab onto his hair, running my hands through it and using them to guide his lips to mine, wanting him more and more to the point that I’m willing to sacrifice everything for this moment.

His taste is erotically charged—a mixture of desperation and dominance—two very different things yet everything that turns me on when he’s inside me.

A loud grunt barrels through him as our bodies disconnect, the cool air falling onto my heated skin as he finishes himself on my thigh. Both of us are out of breath, unable to talk as we gulp for air, our chests rising and falling from the intensity of this moment.

He extends his hand, arms flexing and doing that nice thing with his biceps that make them look sexy. Great, you’re getting all turned on again.

“Hungry?”

“Famished,” I tell him as he wipes down my thigh with a tea towel. “Oh, really. Did you have to use that?”

“It’s not like I haven’t…” He purposely cuts himself off, distracting me by handing me a bottle of wine. “How about you head outside, and I’ll finish cooking in here?”

I pretend it doesn’t hurt, knowing that other women have been where I have been. With my confidence in shatters and my silence portraying my humiliation, the cold, hard reality is that this could be a regular occurrence for him.

Keeping my opinion at bay, I make my way outside and stand by the pool’s edge, admiring the view as I did the first night here. What a completely different world I find myself in. I wonder what stronger force brought me here.

How did I end up in a relationship with a man who’s so beautiful inside and out yet so damaged at the same time?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says softly from the edge of the room. Wesley steps outside, placing a dish on the table. He slides a chair out and gestures for me to sit, placing a napkin on my lap then leaning in to kiss my lips. “That I do this for all women.”

&n

bsp; “I wasn’t thinking that.” I’m not a great liar, though I am happy he doesn’t push me to answer that question again. The warm air caresses my skin, giving me a moment to calm down and try my best to enjoy this moment. He’s gone to all this effort, and my insecurity needs to take a massive raincheck and stop horning in on my quality time with Wesley.

“It’s so beautiful out here. You know, back home, you don’t see lights like that.”

“What do you see?”

I stare into the sky, remembering what it felt like to be home again. I lose myself, smiling as if this is back home. “Mountains, water… nature.”

“You miss it, don’t you?”

I nod, hiding my sadness with a smile. “This meal looks amazing.”

“Spicy, so watch out. A housekeeper I grew up with taught me how to cook it.” He takes a bite, following through with some wine. “So, you have questions…”

I swallow my food and drink the wine, almost in one go, not expecting him to be so forthcoming.

“I can’t think. I don’t know, Wesley. I just don’t know you.”

He pours more wine into my glass then his, taking another drink before clearing his throat. Another drink, and I will be passed out on the floor. I need to pace myself to get through the questions he wants me to ask.

“I was born in Kansas, a small town, but we lived there until I was about four. I don’t remember much, not even my dad.”

“Your dad lives in Kansas?”

“He did when he was alive.”