Chapter 10

“Fucking hell, Caleb. That trip was insane,” Steve said before lifting his tumbler in salute.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” He nodded while gazing from his office’s dark windows. His travel companion’s smile was reflected in the glass. “Amina came through.”

“As she always does.” While taking a healthy swig, the wiry man was staring at Caleb’s back. Right as the man’s lips parted, Caleb’s pulse stammered. He knew what Steve would add—again. “You really should—”

“No, I should not.” Without turning, he locked onto the man’s reflection. “Amina is excellent at what she does. When I need her to do it. Anything more and—”

“Complications,” Steve murmured.

“Precisely.”

“Well, she worked her magic, that’s for damn sure. I thought those Chinese bastards would never concede. Did you send her—”

“—after Zhang Mei, the Wan guy’s wife?” He chortled. “Yep. Bless her horny little heart—”

“Understatement, Caleb. Jesus, they were in the ladies’ room for what, fifteen minutes? The look on that woman’s red face. The way Mrs. Zhang’s legs were shaking when she staggered back out. Plus, jeez, the catbird smile Amina wore. Fuck, boss, she’s amazing. You sure—”

“She is. And I am.”

“At least hit the clubs.” Steve peered at the city lights. “Find somebody. I mean, um, now that Beth—”

“No, got other plans.” He held in a grin while nodding towards the door. “You should get outta here. Have a good one. See you Monday.”

An hour later, Caleb slowed the sleek sportster. Its engine’s throaty rumble resonated in a quiet suburban neighborhood of manicured lawns and perfect trees in neat rows, lining streets of shiny black asphalt.

“Mundane,” he murmured.

Since he’d dispatched Terry to Japan, there was plenty of time. No rush. Mister Married Man would be in Tokyo for a week or more, following-up with Miyamoto Combined Funds. They’d been working with Wan on the deal.

Once Terry’s home came into view, he chuckled. The man had been correct; the trip wasn’t necessary. But given what Caleb had planned for his sweet little wife, she’d require several days to recover.

“Sweet?” He laughed aloud while parking the grumbling mechanical beast in their driveway.

Subtle he was not. Let her explain the car to curious neighbors. That was half the fun. Once standing on the bright concrete, he stretched, muscles creaking, towards the starry sky. After all, even if Terry did find out...

“What can the poor sod do, anyway?” As he inhaled the chilly night air, a smile appeared. “Quit?”

The smile was matched by a quiet growl when the front door eased open, and he let the low sound intensify as he marched up the flower-lined walk. At the sleek silhouette in a very short, pink-flowered silk kimono, his shaft stiffened. As he required, her long, straight, light-brown hair was in a tight French braid down the center of her back.

“Horny, cunt?” he said, halting on the threshold.

After a quick scan behind him, the slender brunette ran her tongue over glossy red lips. Blue-green eyes shimmering, so full of need, she nodded while undoing the robe’s loose knot. At his fingers tugging the halves apart, she gulped.

“Words, Brooke,” he hissed. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes, Caleb.” A louder gulp escaped her when the silk dropped to her ankles. “I’ve, um, missed you.”

“Hmm, I can see.” He smiled as his fingertips found the heated spikes atop her upthrust chest. At his forceful press, her whimper echoed into the darkness. “Do what you do best, whore.”

“Yes, Caleb,” she replied, before slipping to her knees.

At the swift tugging on his zipper, he chuckled. One of his finest acquisitions. Terry didn’t enjoy oral, giving, or receiving, but his wife damn sure did.

Towards the end of their wedding reception, Caleb had devoured the drunken bride’s sweet pussy. As she lay panting on her back across a table, white dress crumpled around her waist and snowy lace garter rubbing his head, a bargain had been struck.

When he wound his hand tight in the French braid, Brooke unleashed a wavering moan. Shaky, not with fear but hunger, her slim fingers tugged. No sooner had his hardening flesh whipped into the chill than her waiting tongue slathered its taut skin.

“Oh, that’s nice. I’ve missed you too, slut.” He smiled down at her as the slow swirling tongue sent jangles through his body. “Gonna give me that ass, Brooke?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered while pressing her lips against the side of his length.

As, eyes twinkling, she began her first long slurping drag along his cock; he sighed. Terry didn’t do anal either. Oh, but Brooke did. With Caleb, plus a few others with whom he’d shared her. As his dad said, “always be thinking about business.”

“Oh, fuck!” shot from him when she plunged her open mouth over his tip and sucked. Yeah, she was needy. With a growl, he tugged on her hair. “Jesus, whore. Slow down. This time, I’m staying all weekend.”

After a quick blink of her long lashes, she slowed, but with a languid twist of her head, engulfed more of him. At his knob touching the back of her throat, his fingers tightened and, as her nostrils flared, he smiled.

“Such pretty eyes, cunt.”

With a jerk, he yanked her forward, and while he drove his mast into her tight throat, her clawing nails shot to his rear. That initial glugging slurp echoed in the night. Tradition. He’d face-fucked her the first time they’d met after the wedding. Office holiday party with Terry drunk and passed out in the other room. Yes, she was quite the slut.

He held in a chuckle while ramming deeper. As her hands clenched his butt, a warm trail of thick drool slithered onto his balls. An elementary school teacher. Mother of two boys. Living in a mundane, boring middle-class world.

“Yet, such kinky, kinky drives,” he murmured while mashing her face into his trousers. “Mmm, that’s it. Choke on my cock, you filthy little whore.”

As her hands tightened on his behind, he pressed her skull to him and sighed. So tight, warm and—perfect.

“Not Beth,” he whispered.

Anger boiling within him, he gripped Brooke and sped her drooling lips along his shaft. As spit spattered onto the front porch, loud glugging resounded across the neighborhood. Whenever he could see them, her eyes blazed, and her hands stayed tight to him. He should visit more often. One more way to get over Beth.

Time wandered away as he used her throat. Images tumbled in his mind. Oh, definitely of Beth.

But also of Amina, arching her dark-skinned, darker-tipped, saliva dripping cones skyward. Although they begged for more of his attention, the dusky woman hadn’t spoken on the flight home from China. Only fucked. Except, once they’d landed, he’d struggled to peel her warm curves from him. Then, right at the foot of the airstair, she’d burst into tears. Steve’s words returned, but he shook his head in the night as Brooke’s stretched lips slurped at his root. Complications.

Speaking of complicated, thoughts of Cindy arrived. His sexy cooling rod. The most complex of them all. Although she too had a habit of remaining silent, she understood her role. Sooner or later, that zipper would drop a bit too far or she’d rub a little too hard against him. And he’d go critical, maybe risk her leaving.

“One day,” he murmured while swirling his pelvis into Brooke’s soft face. More warm drool slipped free of her stretched lips.

He gulped. Yeah, he was running out of patience. Cindy would be worth the risk. He’d get her drunk. Maybe slip something extra into her drink, but not too much, only enough for her to loosen up. Then she’d fuck like a wild beast; that was in her eyes.

Out of nowhere, that ornery blonde cunt from the café slashed into his mind. His entire body tensed. Sleek, sporty frame. While glancing back at his expensive sportster, he froze in mid-stroke. As Brooke stared up at him, her irises glowed.