The Convenient Wife

Digging my nails into the bed, I turn my face and hold my breath. I’m right there, standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for that little push to go tumbling over.

The hair on my body prickles as a rush of sparks speed through my muscles. My pussy milks his shaft as I’m swept away by this incredible feeling.

Bolt gives one hard thrust, holding his hips still and exploding in the condom. I can feel his body tremble as he lays his head on my back and groans. Pulse after pulse, his cock jerks inside me.

Our breathing is labored as we collapse onto the bed together, both of us trying to catch our breath. My brain is twirling and whirling, unable to find a single word to say.

“I think we missed dinner,” Bolt finally says, resting his hands on his chest and staring up at the ceiling. “We can order Chinese instead. What do you think, want Chinese?”

Rolling onto my side to face him, I cover my chest with the loose front of the dress. “I love Chinese, that sounds delicious.”

Bolt chuckles as he sits up and takes the condom off, dropping it into the garbage beside the bed. “Me too, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just wouldn’t expect it with all the fancy suits, first class airplane tickets…” Picking up the ring off the table, I roll it between my fingers. “Expensive ring.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Starla Bishop.”

“Tell me then, tell me something about Bolt Sheckler that I don’t know.”

It’s time to learn about my fiancé…

8

Starla

What the hell happened last night?

The question plays over and over in my head as flashes of us together keep bursting like fireworks in my brain. His hands running over my body, his hard chest pressed against my back, his lips on my neck and mouth.

All of it, down to the feel of his cock as it slid inside me, is fresh in my mind, it’s right there, and I’m getting wet just thinking about it. Rubbing my thighs together, I’m tempted to touch myself, but I don’t, and for a good reason.

Glancing to my right, Bolt is still asleep, oblivious to the shit that’s running through my head. I didn’t regret how our night ended, not at all. It was incredible, it was amazing, it was everything it shouldn’t be—Because this isn’t real!

But I liked it…maybe a little too much.

My heart beats hard for him. My chest feels tight and tingles run up and down my body from just the way he looks at me. The slightest touch of his skin on mine is enough to cause an explosion of butterflies in my stomach.

What I’m feeling isn’t fake. What I feel inside my heart isn’t made up or pretend. It’s real; real feelings, real emotions, real connection.

But what about him? Does he feel something too? Or is this just convenient sex for him?

I don’t want to think that Bolt could just be going through the motions, and that this is nothing more than casual sex.

That’s what this is, so stop analyzing it!

Rolling onto my side, I’m afraid to look at him, afraid to see his eyes when he wakes up. There’s a fear that I’ll see something else, something different than I saw last night. The spark might be gone, the color dull and lackluster, regret written all over his face.

I don’t want to be the mistake girl.

The red digits on the clock say it’s six in the morning, far too early to be thinking about this shit. I’m over thinking it, and I know it.

Forget it already and go back to bed.

Closing my eyes, I try to fall back asleep. It’s useless. I toss and turn for the next half hour, thinking about what happened between us, and how much I loved and hated it all in the same breath.

If this is just a little weekend fling, and I can’t ignore what’s stewing in my gut, then going back to what we were before will be difficult.

I was never the type of girl to just go out and have sex with someone for fun. I am, however, always the perfect guy friend. I’m the girl there for advice about a date, or about an issue with a girlfriend.

I’m the girl stuck forever in the friend zone.

The few boyfriends I’ve had over the years always ended one way or another. We either didn’t click at all, or we clicked too well and were better off as friends.

The tips of Bolt’s fingers trace the side of my face, yanking me out of my head. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispers into my ear as he moves his hand down my jaw and over my chest. Wrapping my stomach, he pulls me in closer. “How’d you sleep?”