Page 21 of Mr. Strategic

“Yes, now. Yes, here. Anywhere I want you.”

He tore my panties down my legs and I felt the cool breeze as he ripped my skirt higher.

I was lying under him, half-naked and wholly exposed, trapped here by his hard hands, but would my husband truly take me like this?

In the divorce lawyer’sparking garage?

Michael’s face was light and shadow above mine, all that beauty and power, and I was wholly at his mercy.

But my eyes were caught by those scrapes down his throat, the blood that had burst to the surface, and as his hands tightened on my wrists, I felt little droplets of blood smear from his fingertips onto my skin.

I gasped in horror and he drove his cock inside me, my thighs shaking as he bottomed out hard, my body feeling swollen with his size.

The rough fabric of his medical coat scraped by my cheek as he drew his cock out, obscenely wet and shining in the darkness of the parking garage.

Then he plunged in again, pressing past my sore labia and into my narrow channel.

“I’m going to get this vasectomy reversed. Give you a baby like you want. We’re going to create something new together.”

I said nothing, his savage thrusts overfilling my pussy, making my lower half feel split open and overpowered.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

I ignored him, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him, and my husband dropped one wrist to slide his fingers down my body, fingers digging deep past my breasts, belly, and then circle my clit.

“Look at me, Lavender! You’re my wife. Give me my sweet wife back again and I promise you’ll get what you’ve always wanted.”

Michael’s lips descended on mine again and I felt my body heating up uncontrollably, hurtling over the cliff into an all-consuming orgasm, shattering through my resistance.

Afterwards, after I had manage to drag my limp body back into the passenger seat, his cum streaming down my legs, my husband spoke again.

“We’ll go to Paris,” he said composedly, as if he hadn’t just savaged me in the back of his car. “We’ll take a tour down the French Riviera. See the Eiffel Tower. Anything you want.”

And I looked out the window. Like I was just an ordinary wife.

Like my husband was just an ordinary man.

Instead of someone I barely recognized.

Someone with a dark side.

Chapter Eight

For the next several days I laid low. Did the bare minimum around the house. Did not refuse Michael when he sat in the big chair in the living room.

The annual St. Angeles Chamber of Commerce Banquet was coming up and I went to the country club as I always did the day before to decorate and prepare the tables.

At first I felt sick to my stomach to see that Alix was another one of the wives there. Strange to think we had been friendly before, swapped recipes or talked about what it was like to be married to surgeons. The pressure they must be under. The importance of a soft, comforting home life.

And all along she’d been fucking her husbandandmine.

But then I realized something.

Alix was much more nervous than I was. I was wondering if everyone knew Michael had cheated on me with her, butshewas the one licking her lips and shifting her eyes around anxiously.

As I folded the fine linen napkins into a beautiful origami shape, she sidled up to me.

At first, she said nothing.