Chapter 1

Happy New Year!

There is one more chapter of this story which will be released by the end of this week.

“I can’t hear you,” I told the guy again. He had to be at least eight years younger than me, but he reminded me of Brendan in a strange way. The thought made my heart hurt.

He said something else. The music drowned out the sound, and I was never a great lip reader.

The atmosphere was getting to me in the worst way. I’d had enough to drink, my head was pounding, and the little black dress I bought was pressing uncomfortably against my breasts. I just wanted to get back to my room, take 2 Advil and pass out.

His lips were against my ear. “You look sexy in that dress.”

In spite of the pounding music, I understood every word. His statement sent chills down my spine. I found myself breathing in deeply, the pressure of my dress now a pleasure instead of a hindrance.

I’m not sure why I had such an instantaneous and dramatic response to what was a rather simple and cliched come-on. And yet...

His blue eyes watched me shift on my heels uncertainly. I looked around. My sister, Abigail, and her wedding party were doing shots at the bar, but they were too far to help me.

My eyes found his again. Did I want help?

He smiled as if he heard my thoughts. He took my left hand—which proudly displayed my wedding ring—and tugged me towards him. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

When we finally stepped out onto the Atlantic City boardwalk, the fresh air and much quieter ambience nearly alarmed me. I blinked into the night, hearing the faint crash of waves. Crowds of people moved past, pushing me closer to the stranger who hadn’t yet let go of my hand.

We walked closer to the edge of the boardwalk, just slightly out of the bright lights.

“I’m not sure I should be doing this,” I said, mostly to myself.

The man looked down at me. “Doing what?”

I gestured between us. “This. Plus, you’re luring me into the dark.”

He laughed. He looked even younger when he laughed. Shit.

“Listen, my sister and friends will be looking for me.”

He sat down on a bench. “I’m sure they’re all a little distracted by now. And they could call you on your phone, right?”

“They might worry.”

He shrugged. “They might.”

I fought a smile. “Come on. This is weird.”

“Having a conversation is weird?”

“Having a conversation with a married woman is weird, yeah.” I fidgeted under his direct gaze. “I’m not sure why you’d want to be talking to me when you could talk to ... pretty much any other girl in the club.”

He smirked. “Thanks for the compliment, but I just felt like talking to someone tonight. You were the first to respond intelligently.”

I sat next to him, suddenly feeling more comfortable. “Just so we are clear. I’m married.”

“I noticed.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope.” He reached over to play with my hair. I should have slapped his hand away. I should have asked how he could dare and stomped back to the casino. Instead, I leaned into his touch. “Does it bother you?”

“Being married?” I pulled back slightly and shivered. It was a chilly evening and I was just in my simple black dress. “Of course not.”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

“Because.”

He smiled briefly and then sat back. “What’s your name?”

“No. No names.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Makes it easier to flirt with a younger man.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” he asked with a grin.

I rubbed my arms to try to get warmer. He noticed. “Let’s go back inside.”

I thought of the bright multi-colored lights and the rhythmic music pumping through the floors and walls. I felt the shoving of bodies and the slipperiness of the floor. I could even smell stale beer and spilled vodka.

He caught the expression on my face. The stranger smiled. “You don’t want to go back.”

It wasn’t a question.

“We could try another casino,” I offered.

“We could,” he said, but didn’t sound that enthusiastic about it.

It dawned on me he probably had his own friends wondering where he was. “Let’s go back.”

He pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. A classic and effective move. “Let’s not.”

“Listen...”

He stepped closer. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what’s happening but I’m not having sex with you.” I blushed even as I blurted the words.

Again, the stranger smiled. “Now, who said anything about sex?”

I studied him. He had dirty-blonde hair that shone brighter than my own and gray eyes that reflected all the lights around us. He had a good seven or eight inches on me. His clothes were nice and effortless; he didn’t look like he’d spent hours analyzing what he was going to put on. He was naturally appealing.

“Seriously. I feel some vibe right now and that’s just not going to work.” I swallowed. I hadn’t felt like this in years. I felt reckless. Sensual. Turned on.

He hadn’t even done anything. He’d struck up a conversation with me at the bar and then suddenly we were too close on a bench outside. This wasn’t me. I was safe. Predictable. I didn’t fucking flirt in the darkness with men whose names I didn’t know. I didn’t flirt, period.

“So, you don’t want to fuck me, but you don’t seem that eager to leave me, either.”

My pussy became wet as a thrill vibrated through my body. I’d definitely had too much to drink. That was the only explanation.

He ran two fingers down the column of my throat, the silk across my collarbone, the cold skin of my cleavage. I shook and found myself moving closer to him, craving his touch.

“You have a vibe, you said. That must be good. And you haven’t been able to take your eyes off me since we started talking.” I blushed and looked down. He leaned his head down to meet my eyes. “Except when I call you out on it, it seems.”

“Please stop.” I didn’t mean it.

The man tilted his head. “Why?”

“This is wrong.”

“Who says?”

My laugh had just a touch of hysteria. “Everyone!”

He caressed my cheek. “You look like you haven’t been fucked in ages.” I trembled beneath his touch. “It seems to me like that should be rectified. I don’t think that’s wrong.”

“I’m—”

“Married, yes I know.” He had the nerve to touch my hip and smile.

“I don’t even know you.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Isn’t that better?”

“No,” I muttered. I felt pathetic.

“Just come have a drink at my hotel. You can do whatever you’d like after that.”

I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I was making a huge mistake, but I was so tired of my life. Brendan and I had been fighting like crazy lately. We’d even discussed divorce a few times. Weak excuses, I know, but that’s truly what went through my mind.

The liquor was getting to my head. I was buzzed and confused and turned on. Right and wrong were no longer concepts I could understand.

I pulled my phone out and texted Abigail. I told her I was at another casino trying my luck. She was so wrapped up with her bachelorette party that she wouldn’t think twice about it.

A burst of guilt burned through my chest when I noticed I had a miss call from Brendan. I put my phone away and forced a smile.

“How old are you?”

“21. Want to see my ID?” he teased.

I sighed. I felt the warped relief one feels when they have made a big decision, even when they know the decision is wrong. “Just one drink.”

“He doesn’t sound like he has much of a sense of humor.” The stranger watched me as I spilled secret after secret, his chin resting on his hand.

I sipped my drink and shrugged. “I think both of us used to be a lot funnier.”

“Then what happened?”

“People change. Sometimes they change so much that they barely resemble the person you fell in love with.”

He rested his free hand on my lap. The heavy heat of his touch drove me crazy. “So you don’t love him anymore?”

“Of course I do. That’s ... that’s not what I meant. It’s just that marriage is hard. My mom tried to warn me.” I smiled and shook my head. “She really did. Being married is the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do. Don’t get me wrong—there are many pros to being married. It’s just important to realize that it’s not all rainbows and butterflies and catchy pop songs.”

He squeezed my leg. “So what brings you to Atlantic City? I don’t think I asked you yet. Some kind of party, obviously.”

“My sister is getting married.”

He leaned close to me. The smell of his cologne was divine. I wanted to tell him that but I figured I would sound even more insane than he probably thought I was.

“Did you give her your “marriage sucks” speech?”

I laughed and said no. “I wouldn’t want to take that honor away from our mom. Besides, my sister’s relationship is different.”

He left one hand on my thigh and then grabbed hold of my right hand with his free one. “In what way?”

“Oh, you know. They’re really romantic. He is legitimately interested in everything she does and says. He’s really patient and indulgent with her. She’s really good to him back. They’re the real deal.”

“Huh. The real deal. And for a moment there, I thought you didn’t believe in any of that.” The stranger’s expression became intent. “Well, our drinks are almost over. What would you like to do next?”

What a loaded question. I wanted him. There was no doubt about that. It’s funny what distance, a fight and some liquor can do to your resolve. Brendan felt like another world. So did my sister. I quickly decided I didn’t want to think about them, so I pushed them out of my mind and asked myself what I wanted to do.

No one had asked me that question in a very long time.

Maybe that was why I decided to go up to his room; someone had shown me a modicum of attention and consideration and wanted to know what I wanted. It’s not an excuse for what I was about to do, mind you. I’m not pretending that I didn’t know it was wrong, or that my marriage was that miserable that having an affair with a stranger was justified. Believe me, I knew it was wrong and I have paid the price since.

I’ve paid dearly.

The door to his room wouldn’t close right. We laughed over it—typical Atlantic City.

His room was okay, but the view was spectacular. It had a glass window that extended across the majority of the wall so that we could look out on the boardwalk and the ocean. He turned out the lights of the room so that we had only the lights of the city below to see each other.

It was romantic, and I thought to myself that he was a rather slick 21-year-old man.

I decided he was beyond slick when he handed me a glass of champagne. “You were just looking for someone to talk to tonight, huh?”

He shrugged. “I like to keep champagne nearby, just in case.”

A strange thought crossed my mind. “How come you’re here all alone? The only people I know who come to Atlantic City alone are gambling addicts.”

He downed his glass of champagne and poured another. I was beginning to feel a little uneasy. “My brother is supposed to be coming tonight. He is running late.”

“Oh, is he sharing this room with you?”

“No. We get separate rooms.”

“Ah, I see.” I drank my champagne and eyed him over. “So you two can have privacy while talking to new people, right?”

He walked over and took the glass from my hand. “Honestly, I saw you at the club and had to have you. I wanted to talk, yeah, but talking wasn’t the only thing I had in mind. I don’t think you believe that, either. I was just trying to come up with any possible way to get you up here.”

“Well,” I said, not quite sure what else to say. I ran my hands down my dress and walked over to the window. “Now that I’m here, what do you plan on doing with me?”

I waited for his response. He silently came up behind me and hiked up my dress in one smooth movement. I let out a startled yelp and he laughed in return. He ran a finger under the band of my thong, teasing me.

He blew his hot breath against my ear. My shoulder involuntarily lifted at the sensation as pleasure spread through my body. “First, I want to fuck you against this window. That seems pretty hot to me. Then I want you to suck my cock and I want to taste you. After that, we’ll fuck in the bed. You’re going to tell me at some point that I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you’re going to mean it. How does that sound?”

I couldn’t respond. My forehead dropped against the cool window. I told myself this was insane, that I shouldn’t do this, that it wasn’t too late for me to back out.

Then I felt him. He dropped his jeans and boxers and pushed his naked cock against my ass. I exhaled slowly, fogging up the window.

“Help me take your dress off,” he ordered.

I worked with him to lift the dress up and over my head. He ripped off my bra and roughly yanked down my panties halfway down my thighs. He pulled a condom from somewhere and moaned softly when he put it on.

It was time.

Still not too late, a tiny voice inside me pleaded.

But it was. It was what I wanted.

“You ready?” he asked, giving me another chance to walk out.

I pressed my hips back at him. “Yes.”

He slammed into me, pressing me uncomfortably against the window. I welcomed the discomfort because the position and the situation was making me so hot. I squeezed my legs, loving the way my pussy tightened around his rather thick cock.

“Damn,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

He shoved in and out of my pussy. It was rough and fast and unbelievably dirty.

If people looked up, could they see? We were dozens of floors up, but the idea that we could potentially be seen was especially exciting to me. That was surprising. I’d never had any voyeuristic tendencies before.

His hands slid between my body and the window, cupping my breasts. “These are nice,” he grunted. He licked the side of my throat.

“You’re ... you’re so good,” I sighed. “So good.”

“Yeah, I know you love this, you little slut. You love the feeling of my cock inside you. Do you know how dirty that is?”

“Please.”

He removed one hand from pinching my nipples and pulled my hair. “Please, what?”

He wrapped his arm around my breasts and increased his pace. My head kept smacking against the window. “I—I don’t know. I don’t—”

“Oh, I think you do, slut.”

My cheeks burned because I did know what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to say it. I wanted to cum. I needed it badly. If I said it, though, it was somehow even more wrong than cheating on my husband in the first place.

He started driving into my pussy in long, deliberate thrusts. I was full of his cock and so incredibly close to orgasm. I wanted to weep.

“Say it!” he demanded.

“Please ... make me cum.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

I took a deep breath. “Make me cum, please.”

“Such a nice girl.” He pushed his cock in deep and stayed there, moving his hips around so that his cock could touch me in all the right places. He let go of my hair and finally touched my clit.

I lost all conscious thought as extreme pleasure exploded in my body. I came and came until tears streamed down my face.

He wasn’t far behind—he rutted inside me in three rough, uneven movements until he shook. He pulled out, ripped off the condom and thrust his cock between my ass cheeks. His cum was hot and sticky against my skin.

We both tried to catch our breath. We said nothing—what was there to say? He backed away from me and I turned, feebly grabbing at my dress. I felt vulnerable. Ashamed. Frightened.

The reality struck me as hard as if I’d been physically whipped. I had wanted this sin, but now I wasn’t sure it would be worth the fallout.

We hadn’t even kissed. I foolishly wondered if that would have made it better or worse.

“Fuck, that was good.” He sat on the bed and chugged some champagne. “It was better than I thought it would be.”

I wiped away the tears. “It was.”

“Come here,” he said when he saw I was upset. I walked over to him, not quite feeling my legs. He patted the bed and I sat beside him. “Don’t cry. It was a good thing, right? And no one needs to know.”

Humiliated tears fell down my cheeks. “I think I need to go.”

He kissed my shoulder. “Stay just a little bit longer.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” I looked up at him—affection that had been absent during the sex was back in his eyes. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”

Physically, yes. It had been amazing. Not the best sex I’d ever had, but certainly the best sex I’d had in a long, long time. It still didn’t make me feel good.

My body ached and my heart was sore. “I need to go.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just lie down with me a little while. You can’t go yet. Your sister will know immediately what you were doing if she sees you like this.”

Horrified, I stood up. “I’m going to shower.”

He smiled as he watched me. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need me.”

I hustled to get inside the bathroom and thanked God when I saw the door could be locked. I pressed the lock in, just in case he had any plans of joining me.

The shower was boiling hot when I slipped in. I wept underneath the water, letting it scald my skin. I wanted to be anywhere but in this crappy hotel room. I was a stranger to myself. The idea of going back home to Brendan felt impossible. The shame I felt would be instantly seen—I was sure of it.

What had I done?

It had been a flirty idea, one of the millions that goes through anyone’s head every day. It wasn’t meant to be serious. I still couldn’t understand how I’d ended up here.

I was so, so stupid. So stupid.

What would I tell Brendan? Abigail? They had to be wondering where I was.

Eventually the water turned cold. I stepped out and listened for him. I didn’t hear anything and assumed he’d fallen asleep.