Page 2 of Choosing the right Man

I consume her mouth as I reach down her slick back and grip her perfect ass. I pull her against me and my dick pulses with the need to plunge inside her. But she breaks our kiss and pushes against me.

“I need to do this,” she says before dropping in front of me. I groan as my hands push against the shower wall. Her tight fist wraps around me as she takes my dick deep inside her mouth and sucks.

We moan together as the water pours over us. She nearly makes me come when I reach down and tangle my fingers in her hair, pulling her away from me. Her lips are swollen, and I almost lose it again when she licks my pre-come from her eager mouth.

I quickly pull her up, turn the water off, and lift her. We’re both dripping as I carry her from the shower into the small room next to it. A bed awaits. I toss her down, loving the sound of air rushing from her open lips. I reach into the drawer and pull out a sleeve of condoms, slipping one on before I climb on top of her.

I devour her mouth again, her lips ripe and swollen. She tastes so damn good. My hands drift between us so I can finally squeeze her perfect breasts. Ineedto taste her. I break our lips apart and move down the smooth column of her throat and over the mounds of her breasts.

Finally I get the first flavor of her luscious pink nipples. First one and then the other. She’s moaning as she arches off the bed, begging for more. We’re both in a frenzy.

“Please, Mason, please . . .” she begs.

“One more taste,” I assure her. I move down her body. There are still splashes of color that managed to hold on to her skin. This turns me on even more. I run my lips across her hips while spreading her thighs wide.

I trace my tongue along her silken folds and taste every beautiful inch of her before closing my mouth over her mound and sucking in a perfect rhythm. She screams as she begins shaking with her first release.

I don’t stop. I suck and lick and nip her swollen skin as she twists beneath me. I push three fingers inside her, preparing her for when I take her hard and fast. I want her body ready. She tenses for only a moment and then shakes as I push in and out, bringing her body to another orgasm.

I don’t let up, losing myself in her pleasure. She’s so damn responsive, so beautiful. I’m ready. I climb up her body, and she opens her eyes as I thrust inside. I’ve prepared her, but I’m a large man and she’s now full of me. She gasps. I rest for a moment, my teeth clenched as I give her time to adjust.

When I feel her body soften around me I know I can move. I grip her hips tightly and pound against her. Our bodies grow damp with sweat as I take her hard. My speed picks up and I close my eyes, lost in the pleasure of this moment.

She screams as her core clenches around me over and over again. I moan as I feel my release ripped from me. It goes on and on in the most beautiful way. Finally, I’m spent.

I collapse on top of her for only a moment, then turn onto my back. My arousal is still pulsing, but I’m sated for at least a moment. She curls into my side. I need to decide if I’ll take her again. This will be our only night together. There’s no need for more.

Her fingers run down my chest as she practically purrs next to me. I rip off the condom, tossing it into the nearby wastebasket. I quickly sheath myself again and grab her hips to pull her over me.

“Again?” she gasps as she slides onto me, delight in her eyes.

“At least once more,” I tell her with a growl.

She immediately starts moving on top of me. The sun tops the mountain and streams into the room as we both cry out our pleasure. It’s a perfect way to both endandbegin a new day.

Chapter One

Chloe

I understand how adultery happens. I know, your first thought is:Of course you understand — you’re a cheater.That’s not an absolute. All I’m saying is I understandhowit happens. Again, I can hear your voice:That’s always what a cheater says, right?

Youmight be correct. But that’s not the whole story. We’re often too quick to judge, too quick to think we can step into another’s shoes and make better decisions than they could ever even possibly make. The outside appearance doesn’t show others what’s on the inside. If our neighbors truly saw the rawness of those around them, I’m not sure we could live in a civilized society anymore. We’re dark, ugly messes, and it takes all we have to cover this up, to suppress the urges within us that are screaming to escape.

I want to be a good person... but it takes all I have to achieve this... and I often fail. My dreams have evaporated in the past ten years. I want to blame my boyfriend, but that’s not fair. It takes more than one person to fail in a relationship.

Paul and I moved to Portland, Oregon so he could pursue his dreams. At one point, I honestly believed his dreams were alsomine. I saw such potential in his work. I knew he’d make it big. And then we could live our dreams together. We could have a perfect home with two perfect children. I’d be the PTA president and he’d provide for us. We’d attend corporate events and I’d wear little black dresses and sexy heels. I’d eventually be the proud wife on his arm.

Then the two of us would run home, making mad, passionate love for hours on end. The world would want him, but I’d be the only one who got him, the only one he needed. I’d be his everything and he’d be mine. But it’s funny how dreams rarely live up to reality. I can lie in bed all I want and fantasize about the life I expected to have. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s incredibly rare when fantasies become reality. Living in the city is expensive, and it certainly isn’t easy.

We live a simple life. And this means my dreams of getting married and having children have been put on hold. I tried college and realized I’d lost my love of learning. I quit and got a job, then another, and then another. I’m starting a new job tomorrow. This is probably my tenth since moving to Portland, but it’s for a large corporation with an amazing salary and incredible benefits. What’s even better is,theymessagedme. I guess LinkedIn really does work. The dreamer in me has slowly died over the years. It’s time to grow up. It’s time for me to have a career of my own. It’s time for me to find a new dream.

After nine years with my boyfriend, he barely touches me anymore. We’ve had the obligatory monthly sex, but even that has begun to fizzle. I’m twenty-seven; he’s thirty-two. We should be doing it like bunnies, night and day, or at least a couple of times a week, to be realistic. But this hasn’t happened in at least three years.

It didn’t truly hit me until I was away for a couple of weeks. I came home, and we both fell asleep, me snuggling up against hisback like we always sleep. But that’sallwe do. We just... sleep. No big deal, you say? Wrong. It’s averybig deal.

That night I realized we had a real problem. Still, I pushed it from my mind. We’re okay, I thought. I had a long trip. He was busy at home. It was all going to be okay. But the next night we didn’t have sex, or the night after that. Neither of us even tried.

Finally, a few days later, he came into the bedroom and began rubbing my back while I lay naked on top of the covers. Mmm, here it is. See. We’re fine. It’s all going to be perfect. As he rubbed my back, I felt that old familiar ache begin in my stomach, just a stirring, not the fireworks that used to erupt when we were first together, but that was okay. It was slow and steady, and I could still have a great orgasm. I could still be close to the man I loved.

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