to indulge his fantasy instead of turning to another woman?
Sick to my stomach, I buried my face into the bony planes of my knees, pressing the newly clammy skin of my forehead against them. But the lightning crack of flesh hitting against flesh had me jerking my chin back up, gluing my eyes once again to the screen.
A large, cupped palm, one that had explored every inch of my own body, lashed out to strike the quivering globes of the woman’s ass, which turned a pretty pink under the blows. She screamed at what must have been intense pain, for he wasn’t being gentle as he smacked her again and again, but there was an undeniable edge of excitement in her voice, a sharp knife of pleasure that slid smoothly through the sounds of pain.
Again and again, he smacked the flat of his hand against her ass; over and over she screamed. I wanted to scream myself. Where had I been that day? Why was this happening?
What had I done to deserve it?
My numb brain turned over that question as I heard the crinkle of foil and saw Kyle roll a tube of latex—and thank goodness for that, at least—over the cock that had fucked me a thousand times. Bracing the woman’s thighs farther apart than they already were, he dipped into her wide-open cunt once, twice, before sliding up, up the crease of her ass to press against the pucker that lay hidden deep within.
Oh God. No. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t stop watching it. I knew we’d had arguments about sex before, about a lackluster sex life, about my need for slow yet sensuous love, about Kyle’s wanting to try things that he didn’t think I’d like. But he hadn’t told me what those things were. I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted if he had, but I’d never, never thought that he’d turn away from me to someone else to obtain his pleasure.
But it certainly seemed that he had. My eyes glazed over a bit as I watched his cock slide, bit by tiny bit, into the crease of the woman’s ass. His breath hissed in, hers came out in a hot moan as he hit home and began to move, slowly, in a sensual dance.
I was ashamed enough to feel tears prick at the backs of my eyes when my traitorous cunt grew damp at the steamy scene playing out before me.
Reaching for the remote, I unfolded my legs and moved to turn the set off. I’d seen enough. But the wobble of the camera caught my eye then, a sharp vibration before the perfect stillness of the frame.
Had someone else been holding the camera?
I received my answer when another man moved out from behind the tripod that the camera now obviously sat on. The warm light of the bedside lamp washed over tawny skin and hard muscles, and a new dagger of grief stabbed its way through my gut. My mouth fell open as the man knelt beside Kyle on the bed, ran hands down his shoulders, and leaned in for a brief but obviously sexual kiss.
That was my ex-husband. My ex-husband Steve, kissing my current fiancé Kyle, on my bed, in my house. And now I knew where I’d seen the woman before, why she’d looked familiar—her name was Madeleine, and she was Steve’s current wife. The woman he’d left me for.
Déjà vu rolled over me in a sickening wave.
My hand began to shake, a tremor that rioted its way up my arm and down my torso. Before the remote could slip from the sudden slickness of my grasp, I pounded a fat thumb on the power button and inhaled a jagged, sobbing breath of relief when, with a hiss of static, the screen faded to black.
“Fuck” was the only word that my trembling, swollen lips could utter. “Holy fucking fuckity fuck.”
What was I supposed to do? The panic that was clawing its way through my system had me wide-eyed and wild. I stood, then sat down again, not sure what to do to stem the flood of emotion that was rioting through my body.
I felt like my whole life had spun out of control.
I hated it when things were out of my control.
What could I do to feel in control again?
I wanted to punish Kyle. I wanted to punish
Sick to my stomach, I buried my face into the bony planes of my knees, pressing the newly clammy skin of my forehead against them. But the lightning crack of flesh hitting against flesh had me jerking my chin back up, gluing my eyes once again to the screen.
A large, cupped palm, one that had explored every inch of my own body, lashed out to strike the quivering globes of the woman’s ass, which turned a pretty pink under the blows. She screamed at what must have been intense pain, for he wasn’t being gentle as he smacked her again and again, but there was an undeniable edge of excitement in her voice, a sharp knife of pleasure that slid smoothly through the sounds of pain.
Again and again, he smacked the flat of his hand against her ass; over and over she screamed. I wanted to scream myself. Where had I been that day? Why was this happening?
What had I done to deserve it?
My numb brain turned over that question as I heard the crinkle of foil and saw Kyle roll a tube of latex—and thank goodness for that, at least—over the cock that had fucked me a thousand times. Bracing the woman’s thighs farther apart than they already were, he dipped into her wide-open cunt once, twice, before sliding up, up the crease of her ass to press against the pucker that lay hidden deep within.
Oh God. No. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t stop watching it. I knew we’d had arguments about sex before, about a lackluster sex life, about my need for slow yet sensuous love, about Kyle’s wanting to try things that he didn’t think I’d like. But he hadn’t told me what those things were. I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted if he had, but I’d never, never thought that he’d turn away from me to someone else to obtain his pleasure.
But it certainly seemed that he had. My eyes glazed over a bit as I watched his cock slide, bit by tiny bit, into the crease of the woman’s ass. His breath hissed in, hers came out in a hot moan as he hit home and began to move, slowly, in a sensual dance.
I was ashamed enough to feel tears prick at the backs of my eyes when my traitorous cunt grew damp at the steamy scene playing out before me.
Reaching for the remote, I unfolded my legs and moved to turn the set off. I’d seen enough. But the wobble of the camera caught my eye then, a sharp vibration before the perfect stillness of the frame.
Had someone else been holding the camera?
I received my answer when another man moved out from behind the tripod that the camera now obviously sat on. The warm light of the bedside lamp washed over tawny skin and hard muscles, and a new dagger of grief stabbed its way through my gut. My mouth fell open as the man knelt beside Kyle on the bed, ran hands down his shoulders, and leaned in for a brief but obviously sexual kiss.
That was my ex-husband. My ex-husband Steve, kissing my current fiancé Kyle, on my bed, in my house. And now I knew where I’d seen the woman before, why she’d looked familiar—her name was Madeleine, and she was Steve’s current wife. The woman he’d left me for.
Déjà vu rolled over me in a sickening wave.
My hand began to shake, a tremor that rioted its way up my arm and down my torso. Before the remote could slip from the sudden slickness of my grasp, I pounded a fat thumb on the power button and inhaled a jagged, sobbing breath of relief when, with a hiss of static, the screen faded to black.
“Fuck” was the only word that my trembling, swollen lips could utter. “Holy fucking fuckity fuck.”
What was I supposed to do? The panic that was clawing its way through my system had me wide-eyed and wild. I stood, then sat down again, not sure what to do to stem the flood of emotion that was rioting through my body.
I felt like my whole life had spun out of control.
I hated it when things were out of my control.
What could I do to feel in control again?
I wanted to punish Kyle. I wanted to punish
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