Chapter 10

Whether Derrin watched the raw video of me and Rio, and lied to give me time to recover or was telling the truth about the next event being delayed, I didn’t mind. As I lay on a wooden lounger, a warm ocean breeze skimmed me. To the sounds of surf pounding the beach, the sun’s heat baked far into my tired frame. The aromas of the coconut lotion glistening on my skin and a large fruity drink—with a generous splash of vodka—on a small round table wafted around me.

My brain was still spinning.

Earlier, Dave had met me as I stepped downstairs with a towel over my shoulder. As his gaze roamed my freshly-showered curves, I gave him a smile.

“Um, you’re not gonna wear a swimsuit?”

“No.”

“But—”

“No, Dave. I am not wearing a damn suit.” I turned from him to stare out the window at the foamy surf. “Besides, this place is pretty secluded. Didn’t you say you were going out for groceries or something?”

Was I being snippy? Yes, I was. In that cute cottage, he’d been moping around, shoulders slumped again. Plus, my mind was just as bubbly as the ocean—flooded with all kinds of thoughts. A lot of those involved Rio. Okay, most of them.

Dave left in a huff.

“I don’t care what he thinks,” I murmured under the bright sunshine.

That was wrong. Uncalled for. It was unfair to him. He loved me. And, um, I still loved him. It’s only that ... The strangest ember smoldered deep inside me—something new. And it was coming alive. Even as my body ached, my outstretched fingers swept downward to caress my glistening pelvis. As a whimper slipped from me, I spread my legs so the sun could warm my crimson, battered folds.

“Rio’s good work,” I muttered, then whimpered as far inside me echoes of his heartbeat thumped.

The day before, once the hunky giant disappeared from view, shattering my sudden desire to dash down the road after him, I’d stumbled into the cottage. After slamming the door behind me, I locked gazes with my trembling husband. Wide-eyed and panting like a madman, he stank of the cum spattered across his pale, heaving stomach and dripping down his shaky legs.

Without a word, I strode up to him, slapped the purse down on the counter, and shoved him to his knees. After cramming Rio’s “price quote” and the folded paper into the purse, I placed my hands on either side of Dave’s head. Again, we locked eyes, and he let me drive his face into me.

As his tongue lashed deep or swept through my draining folds, his slurping and gulping along with my rising moans resounded through the cottage. After adding swirling, lengthy licks over my inner thighs to snatch the final errant dribbles, he gazed up at me. With a twinkling smile, he slammed his lips around my clit and sucked.

I screamed. Loudly.

Dave was a runner. Long distances and fast. His lungs were beyond strong.

While my loving husband suckled and chewed on my battered, throbbing bud, he drew my soul out through his mouth. With his fingers gouging deep into my sore butt to hold me in place, my cries drowned out his loud sucking.

Yeah, a lot of screams echoed through that little cottage.

As my writhing body bucked with massive waves blasting through me, I swayed forward to slam my hands onto the counter. Beneath a curtain of matted tresses, my head dropped. In the pulsing blur that was my world, I spotted the folded paper sticking out of the purse. It was a phone number.

That blip of focus lasted only a split second. My gaze flew to the ceiling as I cried out. The universe warped around my spasming, husband-slamming body. When at last Dave pulled his mouth from me, he slid to one side and I collapsed onto the still-sweat smeared counter where Rio had taken me.

Where I’d let Rio take me.

Where Dave, my beloved hubby, in the very next room, had let Rio take me.

As I breathed in the aroma of raw sex; mine, Rio’s and Dave’s, I extended a clawed, shaky hand to shove the yellow paper deeper into the purse. Without speaking, I left my husband, kneeling and face white-streaked. A single glance at his little crimson rod, once-more stiff, brought a sort of smirk to me. Our gazes locked.

Not good enough. Not anymore.

However, even as I walked to the bathroom for a badly needed shower, the look of understanding in his eyes had haunted me.

It isn’t fair.

He loves me.

And I love him, but ... Well, if we didn’t know before, we do now.

Not good enough. Not anymore.

So there I was, a day later, under the sizzling sun. As tiny whimpers left my lips, my fingers swirled through the glimmering sweat and lotion on my stomach while I stared out at the ocean. White arrows, gazing down at me, seabirds circled above. As my back arched, peeling from the lounge chair, I moaned a little louder, recalling the wonderful dinner Dave had prepared. While I’d been dead to the world in the spacious bed upstairs, he’d whipped up a magical spread.

However, it was a quiet meal, with me still spasming and him in a silent contemplative world. From behind the door, it was clear he’d heard each word between Rio and me. It hadn’t been acting. Dave recognized the dark giant from the apartment. The look he gave me all evening confirmed he knew that hadn’t been “Rochelle” and Rio wasn’t “Carl.”

Rio had fucked the living shit out of his slutty wife, and she’d loved every fucking second of it.

And wants him again. Now!

As my fingertips curled into my seam, my shaky groans scared away several voyeuristic seagulls. Amid the suddenly blurring beachside view, more sharp memories flooded me.

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