Page 54 of Preying Heart
Little does she know I’m going commando. I might be perverse, but I’m not shy about my body or the erection I have on an almost continual basis whenever she’s around.
Watching Remi run the table has me turned on, and so I do a slow strip tease, swiveling my hips and slowly unzipping my pants.
Her eyes grow wide, and then the color flushes her face. We’ve been pure and chaste ever since that day she decided to stay. Not a hint of flirtation. No surreptitious touches, and no kissing. I missed it, but I’m also glad that she’s not trading sex for protection. She trusts me enough to stop offering, and that means whatever happens now is from the heart—not transactional like it used to be.
I ease out of my pants and rise to full mast. Just having her look at me is arousing beyond belief, but I’m going to make her suffer by not advancing on her.
Instead, I collect the balls from the pockets and rack them, acting like all I care about is the next game—which I do, because this time, I’m going to beat the pants, panties, tank top, and bra off her.
“Winner gets to take the break shot.” I point her toward the pool table.
I’d like to think she’s so flustered her shot goes wide, leaving most of the balls clustered at the top of the table. None were pocketed, so it’s now my turn for sweet revenge.
I call the next shot and lean over the table to position my cue stick. “Are you ready to lose your clothes?”
ChapterNineteen
Gavin
I lie inside the tanning bed with the eye shields protecting my eyes. It’s the middle of the night and Claudia’s gone to sleep, but with all the crap going on, I’m unable to relax. The bed hums and glows, zapping my naked body with UV rays to give me that healthy outdoors appearance—especially valuable in Seattle where most people are as pale as toilet paper.
It’s tiring having to wear a grief-stricken face to answer reporters’ questions. Yes, of course, we’re in shock. No idea who would want to kill my father. He was a good man and dedicated his life to freeing trafficking victims. We gathered testimonials from the victims who were willing to speak out and presented some of them with scholarship checks.
I gave the eulogy at his memorial service and presided at the funeral. It’s all very exhausting, but even worse is the feeling of uncertainty. The police have no leads, but we all know how incompetent they are. Mom makes a big show out of demanding they find Dad’s killer, but we all know how much my parents pay for them to look the other way. So we go through the song and dance, wear shades even on cloudy days, and perfect the act of a family in mourning.
Then there’s Remi—still missing. You’d think with all the cops we paid for, that one of the numbnuts would have come across a clue. Her picture was spread all over the country, but all we got before we called off the search was a bunch of bad leads.
I’m antsy and revved up without Remi to take my appetites. She was always good for a pounding and thrusting, spanking and slapping. I could tie her up any way I wanted, bite her, choke her, and slap her around—to enhance her pleasure, of course, and she enjoyed it. Dang, I need to pinch those nipples of hers. Her screams arouse me, and the red welts spreading across her back are such a turn-on. She was clay in my hands and her face was so expressive: eyes squeezed tight, mouth contorted and body tense as a bowstring pulled tighter and tighter. I’d pound her so hard, taking her in every orifice, drawing blood and bruising up that milky white skin. It’s a wonder she could walk after our extended sessions.
The tanning bed hums hotter and hotter. My hand goes where it wants to go. There’s no shame except Remi isn’t here to receive my gift. I grab, squeeze tight, and stroke myself, imagining Remi’s goddess body splayed out, hands and feet tied to the four corners, and I force myself on her, invading and delivering sheer pleasure. She screams but I know she loves it. Craves what only I can do for her.
I force myself to slow my hand, but she has me so bewitched I need completion. I should never have married Claudia Steele, no matter how wealthy her dad is. I own Remi and I should have stood my ground. There’s no law against marrying a foster sister of legal age, but no, Dad thought it would make me unelectable. Now, Dad is gone and so is Remi. And all I have left is flaccid, stringy Claudia.
Dang. Claudia is ruining my fantasy porn movie. I concentrate hard on remembering Remi—her scent, her touch, the contours of her body, the way she feels when I plunge into her depths. I’m going to explode, and I’m going to plaster her face, her eyelids, her nose …
“Ahhhh,” I groan, but something’s not right. The UV lights blink off, and the tanning bed’s lid lifts.
“My, oh my, will you look at that?” Claudia snickers with a nasty gleam in her eyes.
Before I can hide my shame, a set of shriveled wrinkly thighs climb on top of my crotch as my wife’s bad breath blasts over my face. She slips what’s left of my erection into her fetid hole, and I’m beyond grateful I’m still wearing the tanning goggles.
She’s going to pay for this. She’s going to die, and I can’t let her see me cry.
ChapterTwenty
Remi
Naked pool didn’t pan out for Heath because pool shark that I am, I managed to keep my clothes on. It’s much more fun to laugh at him hanging everything out while I’m encased in the safety of a full set of clothing. Sure, I was tempted and it would have been so easy to miss a few pockets and join in on the stripping, but this is the first time I’ve had more clothes on than the man I’m with.
They say clothes make the man; well, I say, clothes give power to the man.
He who has clothes stays in control.
I rub my eyes and get out of my own bed. It’s so great being in control of my own body.
Heath has given me that, at least, even if he hasn’t allowed me to go online.
After showering and dressing, I meet Heath for our morning walk. The difference today is the two shotguns we’re carrying. It’s heavier than I expected. Guess it has a lot of metal parts.
