Page 177 of Wicked Fantasies

Faith closed her eyes, groaned. “Every part?”

He bent forward to nip at her earlobe, his words rumbling through her soul like a freight train. “Mouth, pussy, ass, tits. Every part.”

“God, yes,” she whispered as she attempted to grind her aching clit against his leg harder.

“Shit,” Troy said, taking another step away from her. “You’re driving me crazy, Faith. I have a plan, but you are seriously fucking with it.”

She laughed. Her lovely, organized husband. No doubt, he had their evening’s activities plotted out down to the very second. She loved the idea that she could turn him on so much, he lost his way. Loved the power she felt in that moment, the knowledge that she could still fluster him, leave him panting for more.

“Take me back to the truck,” she said, dragging her fingers along his chest.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’ll play along? Be a good girl?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Faith.”

“You aren’t the only one with some plans for tonight, Mr. Wainwright. Let’s go.”

Their return to the truck was much quicker than their leisurely stroll toward the park. Troy had an iron-clad grip on her hand and Faith knew he was hanging on to his sanity by a mere thread. He opened her car door, quickly crossing to take his place behind the driver’s seat.

“Do you remember those woods over on Watkins’ Lane?” she asked as he started the car.

She distinctly heard him mumble the word “fuck” before he put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“I want to go there. I mean, that place certainly has some sentimental memories attached to it.” Faith tried to give him an innocent grin, but she knew she was falling short. She and Troy had spent many a night “parking” on the very secluded, dirt lane and she’d lost her virginity to Troy in the backseat of his dad’s car there shortly after graduation.

“Dammit, Faith.”

“You seriously mean to tell me that Watkins’ Lane wasn’t a stop on your tour?”

He gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “I knew what would happen if we went there and I’m too old and too large to try to have sex in the front seat of a truck. I’ve gotten spoiled by years of being able to have sex in the privacy of our bedroom…in a king-sized bed.”

She reached across the truck seat and ran her hand up his thigh until she could press her palm against his cock. “Take me there, Troy. I want to see it again.”

He briefly glanced in her direction and didn’t respond, but she noticed when he took the appropriate turn and she knew she was getting her request. “There’s nothing to see back there except trees and a dirt road.”

“Well, I wasn’t really planning to look at the scenery. Actually I just want to suck your cock. Since you have this hang-up about public places, I thought maybe you’d feel more comfortable there. I seem to recall you didn’t mind doing all sorts of naughty things there when we were younger.”

“Shit.” He pulled to the side of the road so quickly she almost got whiplash. “You wanna go to Watkins’ Lane, fine. But first, we’re gonna pretend to follow my plan.” He reached for the photo album, placing it on her lap. Dusk had descended so he had to turn on the interior light. “Turn the page. You can read the letter while I drive.”

She flipped the page as he pulled back out on to the road. The picture was of the two of them before they married. Troy was facing the camera and she was looking up at him—both of them were laughing. Had they ever been that young, that carefree? Troy’s dark eyes were brimming with a self-assuredness that said the world was his to claim. She recognized it as the same look that now resided in her son’s brown eyes and she was amazed by how similar the father and son really were.

Her gaze traveled to her younger face and in it, she saw shades of Jenna. Faith looked like a young woman—happy and in love, with her future looming bright before her. She silently prayed she’d see that exact same expression on her daughter’s face one day when she met the young man who would turn her head and make her believe in forever.

As Troy drove, she read the letter and realized the future captured by that photograph was now her past. And oh, what a past it had been.

My beautiful Faith,

I remember my dad telling me when I was younger I’d know instantly when I met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. At the time, I thought the old guy was off his rocker. Dating had never been comfortable for me and I was pretty sure married life would be more of the same—endless hassles and complications.

Then I met you. It’s always been easy between us, Faith. Easy to talk, to laugh, to love. I’d dated lots of girls before I met you and it was always damn hard work. I felt like I had to think before I spoke, that I was always second-guessing every gesture, every move, playing games with no clear-cut rules. I never did any of that with you. You just came into my life and let me be me. When I look back now, I can’t remember a time when you weren’t there or a time when I didn’t want you there.

I remember the day I proposed to you like it was yesterday. I’d carried that damn little ring around in my pocket for nearly a week, trying to find the right time, the right words. And after all that worry, I still fucked it up. We walked around that stupid lake for hours and the whole time I was giving myself an internal pep talk, determined you’d have my ring on your finger before I took you home that night.

Finally, my nerves snapped and when we sat down on that bench, I blurted out, “Hey, let’s get hitched.” Days of practicing flowery proposals and that’s what came out. I didn’t remember my dad’s words about knowing the right woman until you answered me. You just smiled, laughed a little and said, “Okay. That sounds like fun,” and I knew the man was right. You didn’t want the fancy words or flowers or even a big ring. You just wanted me and in that moment, I felt like I was ten feet tall.

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