Sweetest Mistress Read online

  Chapter Five

  I was going insane. It had been two weeks and jerking off was getting me nowhere. Even worse, I missed her. It didn’t seem possible that I could know her so well or feel her loss so deeply when I’d only known her so little, but it was true.

  She’d called me the day after I’d left, but I hadn’t answered. I listened to the message. Three times, like I was some high school girl with a crush. She’d spoken the way she had when I’d met her – nervous, bashful – saying she was glad I’d come over, that she wanted to see me again. I hadn’t called her since, hadn’t known how to deal.

  Sure, I was rusty with dating, but how did you tell a girl you wanted to fuck her but not really…well, have a relationship? It’s not you, it’s me was a cliché for a reason.

  After lunch, I shut the door to my office and called Melissa.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  Her voice was frosty. I was on her shit list, I guess, and that was only fair.

  “Hi, Melissa. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but – ”

  “But what? You show up at my place uninvited, you sleep with me, and then you leave and I don’t hear from you for weeks. There’s a name for guys like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard then gave it to her straight. “I got a little spooked. Things were going so fast and I…well, I needed to figure this out, figure us out.”

  Her voice softened. “And what did you figure out?”

  “That I want to see you again. Let me take you out tonight. A proper date to make it up to you.”

  “Popcorn and Twizzlers?” she asked.

  “I know a great place with a New York Strip.”

  “Pick me up at seven.” She hung up.

  That night, the classy atmosphere and gourmet food proved the perfect antidote to my callous treatment. She was kind and sweet and sexy, as always, though there was a new carefulness to her words. As if she needed to protect herself from me, guard her thoughts, and I only had myself to blame. I was determined not to give her a reason to doubt me again.

  After dinner, I was perfectly content to let the night end with a kiss. Well, perfectly content was an overstatement, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Do you want to sleep over?” she whispered.

  Yes, I did.

  We met in a kiss as soon as the front door closed behind us. Then wound our way through the living room, down the hall, and into the bedroom, shedding clothes and the invisible armor of earlier under onslaught of arousal.

  She sat on the bed as I shucked my final piece of clothing, my underwear. As I turned back to her, she sucked my cock into her mouth. I rocked urgently into the warmth, but I couldn’t sustain it. I needed to really thrust, to fuck, so I pulled away and we climbed onto the bed.

  I spread her legs apart and dipped my tongue into her folds. So wet for me. I couldn’t wait. Pulling myself flush against her body, my cock slid against her pussy. She reached down and angled my cock into her, giving me a few emboldening strokes with slender fingers before I pushed inside.

  Fully sheathed, I gasped, “Shit, condom.”

  “On the pill and clean,” she breathed. “Unless…”

  “No,” I gasped. “We’re good.”

  And then I was moving, thrusting into her while her hips thrust right back. I kissed her – her lips, her neck, her breasts. Her fingernails scored my back, probably leaving marks. I told her how sexy she was and she moaned. There weren’t any power games this time around. It was pure unadulterated sex.

  * * *

  I woke up to the smell of bacon. Probably the very best way to be woken up was with sex, but bacon was a close second, and I wasn’t complaining about this, no way. I used the bathroom and dressed in my work clothes from the night before.

  I felt great. Sated from sex, relaxed from sleep, and happy about my relationship with Melissa. It had never been this easy before. Things had just slid into place between us, but I was done questioning it.

  In the kitchen, Melissa flipped a pancake. A pile of bacon sat on a plate next to her, and I picked up a piece as I gave her a kiss on the cheek. She greeted me with a shy smile, wearing a robe and sleep-tousled hair.

  “Want some?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. Here, let me start the coffee.”

  I puttered around her tiny kitchen, finding the cream and sugar as the coffee brewed. Pouring us each a mug, I met her at the table. It had been an age since I’d had a real breakfast. Stale coffee or McDonald’s didn’t count.

  She slid a plate of pancakes to me.

  I stared in wonder at the stack of pancakes with sliced bananas on top. It was hardly a common thing. “How did you know I like bananas on my pancakes?”

  Red flushed her cheeks. “Just a lucky guess,” she mumbled.

  It was incredible, like a sign, in case I’d missed all the other ones showing me how perfect we were for each other. Giddy, I dug in.

  “What time do you have to head in?” I asked.

  “In about an hour. I usually run around now and head in to the office at eight.”

  “Sorry to keep you from your run,” I said, though I was sure my grin told the truth. I wasn’t sorry. This was how every morning should start.

  She laughed a soft sound. “Last night was a workout of its own.”

  I studied her, the crown of her bent head, her thick lashes, as if I could find the answers. “Are you really okay with the stuff we do?”

  “Yeah.” She looked up, cocking her head to the side in a way that reminded me of last night when she’d looked at my dick. “If you like it, I like it.”

  A shiver of unease ran through me. Women didn’t just like what men liked, especially what we did. Plus, it was so random, the way we had hooked up.

  I guessed that’s what serendipity was all about. Meant to be together and all that – at least in the bedroom. Though I had to admit, I didn’t mind spending time with her at breakfast, after work, or any other time of the day.

  With an oh-so-domestic kiss on the cheek, I left her place and swung by my own to change. Already thoughts were forming about leaving a change of clothes at her place. Maybe swapping keys. I hadn’t even brought her over to my place yet. I could rectify that, though really I didn’t mind spending my time at her place, at her table, in her bed…

  Don’t screw this up, I told myself sternly.

  If I moved too fast, I could spook her. Hell, I was spooking myself.

  Had my divorce taught me nothing? The magic wore off, that’s what it should have taught me, leaving me with only bitterness and my fist for comfort. But then, the magic had never been like this. Did that count for anything, or was I only fooling myself? I wasn’t sure there was a way to really know. There was only this, living in the moment, enjoying what I could.

  I whistled on my way into the office.

  Penny paused her typing, looking astonished. “Don’t you look chipper?”

  “I’m feeling great. Today’s going to be a good day.”

  “You got a call this morning from Joanna.”

  “Excellent,” I called as I swung the door shut.

  Just the lady I needed to thank. And maybe get the scoop on Melissa. I thumbed through the numbers on my phone until I hit Joanna’s. I kicked my feet up on the desk as the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Joanna! Good to hear from you.”

  “Wyle, is that you? You sound different.”

  “I feel different. And I owe you one, big time, for setting me up with Melissa. She’s great.”

  She laughed, a tinny sound across the phone. “That’s why I was calling, to see how it went.”

  “Couldn’t have gone better,” I said. “I have a good feeling about her.”

  “I’m glad. When she asked about you, I could tell how excited she was.”

  There was a brief pause as I heard rumbling in the background. I knew Joanna worked on big photography sets. What did she mean, though, that Melissa had been excited about me? S
he hadn’t known me before the date, so what was there to get excited about? If anything, I sounded worse on paper than I did in person. A forty-something divorced financial planner. Maybe Joanna meant that Melissa had been excited to see me again, after our first date had gone well.

  “So you talked to her recently? What did she say about me?”

  “No, not since I set you guys up. Hey, the models are freaking out, and it’s crazy over here. I’ve got to run. Glad things worked out!”

  The line went dead.

  It could be nothing. Maybe it was Joanna phrasing things oddly when nothing was odd at all. But my uncertainty about this merged with my earlier unease to make me very uncomfortable. I went cold, actually, a far cry from the heat of last night or the warmth of this morning. I’d known it was too good to be true, and I’d been right.

  I couldn’t figure out why she’d done it. It was conceivable, though far-fetched, that she was spying on me for one of my competitors. I’d lost one of my clients just last month. Long before I’d met Melissa, but if there were someone targeting me, why wouldn’t he send in a super-hot woman to blindside me?

  She could easily get information from our conversations. Eventually, I’d have invited her to my place, and maybe she’d even have ended up in the office, picked me up for lunch or something. She did call me during work. That was unusual. If nothing else, she distracted the hell out of me.

  Or maybe she’d seen me or heard of me from someone, maybe one of my clients. Maybe she liked to have sugar daddies, and one of them had been my client. When he’d let her go, she’d latched on to a guy who probably had money – the guy who managed their money. Then it made a hell of a lot of sense that she’d been so willing to do what I wanted in the sack.

  Any explanation I came up with had to do with money, because that’s the only thing I had of value. The whole thing made sickeningly more sense than a beautiful girl like her wanting to be with a washed up guy. And that made her a whore.

  I was an idiot.

  I called myself that, and many other, more vulgar choice words, throughout the rest of the day. I ignored Melissa’s calls that evening, listening to her replay her innocent-sounding messages about meeting up late after work.

  She missed me, she said. No, she had to get her claws into me. Hell, she had no reason to think she couldn’t. I’d been like putty in her hands until now. It was horrifying to think of just how far I’d fallen for her in the span of a couple of days.

  When it was time to leave, I stalked to my car like a man on a mission. I had something to prove tonight, and it wouldn’t be pretty. At her apartment, the lights were dark. I knocked, but no one answered. Checking my phone, I replayed the message.

  Hey, Wyle. I really enjoyed last night. I’m running a little late today, but I was thinking we could hang out after work. It’s cool if you’re busy. Call me.

  Faithless bitch. Just like my ex-wife, squeezing me for every dime on her way out.

  Headlights sprayed like spotlights in the sky as a car turned into the small parking lot. I recognized her silhouette as she emerged from the sedan, loaded down with a laptop bag and a stack of files. She clicked her way across the lot to her door. The shadows had engulfed me by this point, so when I said, “Hello, Melissa,” in a low, angry tone, she jumped.

  “Shit, Wyle. You scared me.”

  “Mmm,” was all I responded. Her lips that I’d once thought sexy were now full of lies. The downcast eyes now read as guilty. She was still sexy as hell, only I didn’t want to her. I didn’t want to want her anymore.

  Juggling her files, she opened the door and went inside, leaving it open in obvious invitation. Like a lamb to the wolf, only this lamb wasn’t so innocent.

  She was in the living room when I went in, dumping her stuff on the coffee table and kicking off her shoes. It was only as she tousled her hair and turned to me with a smile that she realized something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m good now,” I said. “And I’ll be even better soon.”

  She smiled uncertainly. “Wyle, babe. Did you have a bad day at work? Want to tell me about it?”

  I saw red. Her asking me about work as if she cared about me when all she cared about was the money it could bring her. Her calling me babe, though, that was the worst. Because I liked it and I wished it were true. What a crock of shit.

  I struggled to control my breathing. I had to play this right. If I didn’t, if I lost control and let her see how badly I wanted her, she’d win.

  “We’re going to play this one a little different, Melissa. I’m calling the shots tonight.”

  Her eyes grew dark with heat. And acceptance. Fuck, if only she weren’t so sexy.

  “Okay, Wyle. Whatever you want.”

  Lies, lies. Whatever I wanted in bed maybe, because that’s what a whore did. Not what I really wanted, though, because I wanted her to be real.

  “Strip.” I sneered, to punctuate that this would be different, to remind myself that no matter how beautiful or sweet she looked, it wasn’t for me. Not after tonight.

  She glanced around the living room, then back at me. Then she unbuttoned her gray suit jacket and removed it, revealing a cream blouse. She pulled that off too, leaving a creamy lace bra. Thank God I’d told her to do it. She was wearing way too many damn clothes, and the way I was feeling, I’d have torn all that lace and silk into shreds. Plus it was sexy to watch her strip. Very hot librarian, or it would be if I didn’t know what she really was.

  Next, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall at her feet. Her cream panties and bra, along with her beige stockings, painted her with nude, giving the illusion she was naked, until you looked closely. Then I could see the dark of her nipples through the lace.

  She pulled off her thigh-high stockings and panties, then her bra.

  Totally naked, she stood before me. Her pose was shy and seductive, but only one of those were true.

  I hated it. I wanted to punish her.

  “Get on your hands and knees.”

  She did. I walked over to her, knowing she’d expect me to touch her or fuck her. But I stuck my hand into the silky strands of her dark hair and yanked back.

  “Crawl,” I said, giving her only a second to digest the order before I pulled her hair along with me toward the bedroom. She whimpered but complied, crawling along the carpet. In the bedroom I gave her head a harsh shake before releasing her, telling her to stay there.

  Chapter Six

  My conscience wanted to intrude, to tell me to calm down, to not be so rough, but I couldn’t. Somehow this was worse than the months of lame-ass dates or even the drawn out divorce battle, because I’d really liked her. And I’d get my strip of skin before I left to make up for it.

  So I spanked her. Once. The sharp, loud crack of my hand and her yelp cut through the air.

  “Wyle?” Her voice trembled. She knew she was in trouble.

  “Stay,” I said.

  I hit her again, on her ass cheeks, returning every hit she’d given me. I had wanted them then, but that was when I thought she was someone else. It was all a false pretense, and I owed her that back and more.

  Melissa cried out with every strike, but she didn’t get up, didn’t move to stop me. If she had, I would have had to let her go, and wouldn’t that have been a shame?

  I hit her and hit her. Her voice grew thicker, more stuttering, and I realized she was crying. My hand paused, hovering over her red, burning ass. Of course I should stop. I was an animal. She didn’t want this, even if she let me do it. But that’s how far gone I was, that in a show of defiance and rage, I let my hand fall three more times atop the raw skin.

  I fell back on the floor. My own hand burned from the strikes, almost numb from the repeated impact. She sobbed on the floor, hugging it for comfort with her hands and face while her bare, broken ass pointed up in the air.

  Shit, I’d hit a woman.

  I hadn’t meant it like that. Or maybe I had. It was just that
she had spanked me and jerked me around, literally, figuratively, and I wanted to do the same back to her. But it wasn’t the same, not when it was physical. I’d wanted that spanking, but she sure as hell hadn’t asked for this.

  She’d brought me to this, though.

  “Why?” I whispered. “Why did you do it?”

  She didn’t answer, just muffled cries into the carpet.

  “Jesus, Melissa.” I pulled her to me and turned her over, then wrapped her in my arms there on the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just tell me why.”

  She sniffled and looked up at me with her gorgeous brown eyes, now puffy and red. “What are you talking about? Why what?”

  I tried to harden my voice, though the gig was up now that I was cradling her tenderly in my arms. “I talked to Joanna. She told me you’d asked about me. That you’d wanted to be setup on a date with me. Why?”

  She turned her face away. My heart sank. I guess I’d been thinking – hoping – that she’d had a real explanation. More fool me.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

  I hardened my mind and my stomach against what I would hear.

  She hiccupped. “Do you remember back – that summer when you were visiting from college? There was a cat on the street, he’d been – ”

  “Run over by a car,” I said, feeling my stomach lurch. No, this hadn’t been what I’d expected to hear at all.

  “Yeah,” she said. “The cat belonged to a girl. Her parents weren’t home so you helped her take it to the vet. And when the cat died, you held her while she cried.”

  “Oh my god,” I said.

  “That was me. Emmy was what I went by then, though I didn’t think you’d remember me anyway. We were neighbors, but what college guy is interested in an eight-year-old girl?”

  I stared at her dumbly. I did remember that – a cat halfway to dead on the street and a sobbing dark-haired little girl. It had freaked me out, that’s what it had done, dealing with death and childhood when I was used to thinking about keggers. I’d helped her, but I’d been glad to pass her off to her parents once they got home from work.