Page 65 of Married With Malice

“Still a long way to go until the playoffs,” Luca says. “But the standings look damn good.”

I wish he’d shut up and put the fucking phone down.

But with the first fierce thrust of his cock, I forget about wishing for anything but more of this. Fresh off my last orgasm, a new one starts to build. I’m trying to lean on my elbows but they keep sliding across the shiny wood surface every time Luca drives himself deep.

A black mesh pen holder topples. Some pens go rolling off and hit the floor. I sweep the papers away because they annoy me. My hip bone bangs into the hard edge of the desk. Gritting my teeth, I push back and smile when I hear Luca’s sharp inhale. But his next words betray no clue that he’s buried inside me.

“Sure, I’ll go to a game. Let me know the next time you’re in New York. I’ll bring Annalisa. She’d enjoy watching you in action out on the ice.”

Wait a minute.

Just wait a big fat fucking minute!!!

An alarming new suspicion snakes its way through my mind but is quickly sidetracked as another round of ecstasy blooms deep and rapidly explodes. I’m captive to the sensations, getting rocked to the core. The earth moves. Or maybe that was just the desk. Everything is temporarily fuzzy as Luca’s voice penetrates through the noise of my moans.

“Well, it was nice catching up with you,” Luca says. “Six years is too long. I’ll give your regards to my wife.”

He throws the phone and it lands neatly in the seat of his black leather desk chair. There’s a metallic click, a pinch of pressure and my bra gets neatly sliced in two at the back. It felt like a knife. I didn’t even know he carried a knife. I guess if you’re already carrying a gun then a knife is no big deal. The straps of my bra slide away and my bare breasts touch the cold surface of his desk.

Luca’s hands seize my hips. His fingers dig into my skin as he takes what he wants. I wish I could hate the way it feels but even as my heart tries to shut him out, I’m open and willing and eager to have him.

He releases with a protracted groan. I close my eyes and picture his face. I love to see the way he looks when he loses himself inside of me. When we finally separate, a dreary sense of loss drains the air from my lungs.

My body still hums with the fizzing echoes of back-to-back orgasms.

But a mounting sense of outrage tightens my throat and steals all the words.

I’ve never felt so good and so terrible at the same time as I stagger away from the desk. My bra is in ruins. I toss it into a shallow wastebasket before snatching my sweater off the floor and hastily pulling it over my head.

“Thanks for the interruption,” Luca says amid the sound of zipping and buckling. “I needed a break.”

He takes no notice as I rub my arms, feeling a sudden powerful chill, and wander to the large window with a view of the backyard.

The world outside the window is ugly. All the greenery is gone and even the rich hues of autumn couldn’t survive the recent frost. The trees and bushes have been stripped and exposed down to the bones of their gnarly branches, which shiver in the wind.

Luca finally realizes that I haven’t spoken a word.

“Anni?” His tone shifts as my silence stretches. “What’s wrong?”

I can hear him approaching. There’s an acid taste in my mouth and a stinging burn behind my eyes. Tears will spill if I allow them to, but I won’t.

“That phone bullshit was inexcusable,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it that far. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

I wrap my arms more tightly around my body, hugging myself into an untouchable cocoon.

“Baby, what is it?” He’s really worried now, setting his hands on my shoulders and trying to pull me into the warm comfort of his chest. “Was I too rough? Please talk to me.”

Why does he have to pickthismoment, when I need to close my heart to him, to try and hold me with tenderness for once?

Anyway, his concern is misplaced. The sex was excellent, as always. Exactly what I craved.

And I know that Luca wasn’t really talking to my ex-boyfriend. This was just a game, something he thought would mildly piss me off in our petty household war.

Instead, he scraped a healed wound and made it bleed again.

As for Matthew Pentone, I’ve felt nothing but vague disgust for him these last six years. But experiencing that pain once, that helpless heartbreak, wasn’t an experience I cared to ever recreate. I was young and I’d shared more of myself than I planned to. In the end, I got hurt. After that, I didn’t give anyone much of a chance to eventually make a fool out of me.

Luca has ended this streak. I never intended to get so attached to him.

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