The Revenge Games Duet

“Squirting,” she responds with a satisfied smile. “You told me you wanted to watch me squirt. Now, I can’t make any promises but this bad boy over here is supposed to do the trick.”

With a wide grin, I lean my head in far enough to rub the tip of my nose against hers. Our lips are inches away from each other.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Uh-huh,” she says with a straight face until her mouth widens into a smile. “Talk to my vagina because the face don’t wanna hear it.”

I slap the side of her thigh which causes her to squeal, then straighten my back. My woman is about to give me the show of a lifetime.

I realize then that she’ll do anything for me, as silly and boundary-pushing as it may be. And so, I will do the same for her.

Tonight, after all is said and done and I’m completely covered in her juices, I will sign the dotted line on the contract that’s been sitting on our dining table for weeks. A contract that causes this huge divide between us every time we try to discuss it.

Our own reality television show.

Eight episodes.

One season.

All us—completely raw and unscripted.

WESLEY RICH

The words are coming out of her mouth but they don’t make any sense. Farrah continues to talk while standing in front of the mirror—wearing only her pink lace thong—applying fresh red lipstick onto her fake pout.

“I mean really, Wes, did you honestly not see that Emerson was fucking Logan behind your back?”

I saw. I watched. I felt completely helpless after my own actions.

Despite our somewhat turbulent relationship, Emerson had a way of standing her own ground. She got what she wanted indirectly even if I didn’t know it at the time. I had controlled her wild spirit as much as I could over the years, but even then she had a way of making me feel like I had zero control over her.

And perhaps—that’s why I proposed marriage.

Yeah, I loved her.

She was convenient.

We worked together, and it was either her or some Hollywood bimbo like Farrah who would end up as my wife. At least Emerson was hot and intelligent. She had an annoying family though, who I had planned to get rid of. Distance her from them as much as possible because I couldn’t stand them stealing her attention away from me. That and her br

other’s a fucking moron.

“What do you care anyway, Farrah? You sucked my dick, hell, you even shoved it up that tight ass of yours. Let it fucking go already.”

The shrill in her laughter is disturbing. “How can you let it go? You got played in front of the whole world!”

This bitch is riding my tail and it’s time to cut her loose. I don’t need anyone else shoving my failures in my fucking face.

“You’ve always been jealous of Em. The whole world saw that,” I respond too eagerly.

Her face remains stiff. Emotionless from the Botox injected into her once-youthful skin. I know she’s threatened by the truth. Finally, it’s enough to shut her up already.

Moving to the bed, she crawls toward me until she’s straddling my body with her tits against my chest. They’re massive, an eyesore, great for a tit-fuck but not as good as the real deal.

Not as soft as Emerson’s.

Don’t torture yourself.

“Funny, Wes. I was never jealous of Emerson Chase… I just don’t like her. In fact, I despise her. Enough to make sure that big dick of yours got in trouble in Amsterdam.”