came off sort of like a grimace. “Thanks. Your wedding ring is lovely,” she said, gesturing to my hand.
No way that bitch was gutsy enough to gawk at my wedding ring. She obviously had no idea I knew who she was, or that she was fucking my husband. I played right along, though.
“Oh, thanks,” I cried, holding my hand out for her to examine the ring. “It’s three carats,” I said, sighing, playing up the smitten wife role. I leaned into her and whispered, “Do you want to try it on? I don’t mind.” She pulled back from me like she’d been bitten. Oh, I think I touched a nerve. She looked as if she tasted something sour and then she took a stance as if to lunge at me, but Derrek grabbed her elbow and strode her away from me, saying something about having to discuss a certain account with her.
As he ushered her away from me, I felt a strange sensation, as if I were being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my heart pounded in my chest. My head swiveled to the left, then to the right, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. My eyes found Derrek again and I watched as he tried to calm Jessica down, tried to keep her from causing a scene. She looked near tears and it was obvious my being there was distressing to her. Join the club, lady. I couldn’t watch my husband comfort his mistress any longer, so I turned to find the restroom.
I walked down the hallway along the far end of the ballroom, guessing I would find the restrooms somewhere close by. My heels were clacking on the hard floors, a sound I had always enjoyed hearing, and I focused on the echo it made. Then, the echo of my shoes was joined by the sound of another set of shoes walking behind me. Before I could process the extra footfalls, I felt a hand on my elbow and I was being pulled through a door to my right.
I was tugged into the room and I stumbled a few steps, trying to regain my balance. The room was lit, but dimly, and all I could focus on was Preston and his face, which looked like a cross between pained and furious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice urgent but quiet. I did not need to be discovered in a utility closet with a man who wasn’t my husband. “And what is your problem? You can’t just yank me around!”
“I didn’t yank you.” He was pacing around the room like a caged tiger. As he walked back and forth, he ran his hand through his hair, and I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing a tuxedo. This was not a tuxedo he’d rented for an evening. This was his tuxedo, and it was tailored specifically for him. Even though most of his body was covered, I’d never been so enraptured by it before. The man wore that tuxedo in a way that made my entire body want to crawl inside of it with him.
“Preston, why are you here?”
“He had his hands on you.” He stopped pacing when he spoke, looking directly at me. I swallowed hard, taking in the sharp features of his face, made even more striking by his anger. He took a step toward me and I instinctively took a step backward. He continued in my direction and I retreated until I was pressed against a wall, and he was just feet away. I had nowhere to go so I just tipped my chin up and looked him in the eye, not backing down. “I would have stayed out of sight,” he said, stopping inches from me. “I planned to stay out of sight, but then he had to put his hands on you.”
I took a deep breath in, but he was so close my breasts pushed against him. I exhaled quickly, enjoying the contact too much, and then tried to respond to him.
“He’s my husband,” I managed, if only a strangled whisper, his face now just a breath away from mine.
“But you belong to me.” I didn’t have time to respond to his words before his mouth crashed down onto mine. I fought his mouth, my hands coming to his chest to push him away at first, but then his tongue slid along the seam of my lips, and when I
No way that bitch was gutsy enough to gawk at my wedding ring. She obviously had no idea I knew who she was, or that she was fucking my husband. I played right along, though.
“Oh, thanks,” I cried, holding my hand out for her to examine the ring. “It’s three carats,” I said, sighing, playing up the smitten wife role. I leaned into her and whispered, “Do you want to try it on? I don’t mind.” She pulled back from me like she’d been bitten. Oh, I think I touched a nerve. She looked as if she tasted something sour and then she took a stance as if to lunge at me, but Derrek grabbed her elbow and strode her away from me, saying something about having to discuss a certain account with her.
As he ushered her away from me, I felt a strange sensation, as if I were being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my heart pounded in my chest. My head swiveled to the left, then to the right, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. My eyes found Derrek again and I watched as he tried to calm Jessica down, tried to keep her from causing a scene. She looked near tears and it was obvious my being there was distressing to her. Join the club, lady. I couldn’t watch my husband comfort his mistress any longer, so I turned to find the restroom.
I walked down the hallway along the far end of the ballroom, guessing I would find the restrooms somewhere close by. My heels were clacking on the hard floors, a sound I had always enjoyed hearing, and I focused on the echo it made. Then, the echo of my shoes was joined by the sound of another set of shoes walking behind me. Before I could process the extra footfalls, I felt a hand on my elbow and I was being pulled through a door to my right.
I was tugged into the room and I stumbled a few steps, trying to regain my balance. The room was lit, but dimly, and all I could focus on was Preston and his face, which looked like a cross between pained and furious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice urgent but quiet. I did not need to be discovered in a utility closet with a man who wasn’t my husband. “And what is your problem? You can’t just yank me around!”
“I didn’t yank you.” He was pacing around the room like a caged tiger. As he walked back and forth, he ran his hand through his hair, and I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing a tuxedo. This was not a tuxedo he’d rented for an evening. This was his tuxedo, and it was tailored specifically for him. Even though most of his body was covered, I’d never been so enraptured by it before. The man wore that tuxedo in a way that made my entire body want to crawl inside of it with him.
“Preston, why are you here?”
“He had his hands on you.” He stopped pacing when he spoke, looking directly at me. I swallowed hard, taking in the sharp features of his face, made even more striking by his anger. He took a step toward me and I instinctively took a step backward. He continued in my direction and I retreated until I was pressed against a wall, and he was just feet away. I had nowhere to go so I just tipped my chin up and looked him in the eye, not backing down. “I would have stayed out of sight,” he said, stopping inches from me. “I planned to stay out of sight, but then he had to put his hands on you.”
I took a deep breath in, but he was so close my breasts pushed against him. I exhaled quickly, enjoying the contact too much, and then tried to respond to him.
“He’s my husband,” I managed, if only a strangled whisper, his face now just a breath away from mine.
“But you belong to me.” I didn’t have time to respond to his words before his mouth crashed down onto mine. I fought his mouth, my hands coming to his chest to push him away at first, but then his tongue slid along the seam of my lips, and when I
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