Chapter Seven: His presence, My undoing

NADIA'S POV

“What's wrong, my love?”

I ignored Marlowe's question, knowing that I badly wanted to scream in his face.

It was all his fault.

Just when I thought I was past whatever had happened in California at the conference, he had proceeded to bring the problem to the present.

Why? Why did Fabian have to be his roommate and his close friend from school? What happened to it being anyone else but the same technician I had fucked forty eight hours ago?

I patted my hair, my hands trembling.

“Oh come on, Nadia, I know I sprung this up on you and I'm sorry. But he needs my help. He's a very creative person, and I know that you already have your hands full with the children…”

“That's enough, Marlowe. It's…it's not your fault. I'm just tired from the conference, the jet lag and all.”

When he hugged me from behind, I didn't resist, letting his bulky arms envelope me.

I had never noticed he wasn't hairy, but with Fabian in the house now, I touched his arms, closing my eyes and wishing there was hair on them.

At that moment, I wondered what would've happened if Nancy hadn't entered the kitchen when she had. He had been so close to me, and I knew that just a touch was enough to make me lose control there and then.

“Come to bed, my love.”

I felt my husband's erection poke at my behind, and I smiled guiltily, knowing how swiftly he got hard as soon as he had his hands around me.

He spun me around and kissed me deeply, his tongue requesting entry as he sought a French kiss.

I opened my mouth, hoping for the best, hoping that he found a way to correct his errors and that his friend who was a few rooms away from us wasn't a better kisser than he was.

I was wrong.

Our tongues clashed once again as he tried to initiate the kiss, and I quietly withdrew, ending the kiss as soon as it began.

He raised a puzzled eyebrow, and I immediately went for the waistband of his briefs, dragging it down as the perfect excuse to end a kiss scheduled for disaster.

I caressed his testicles with my hands as I suckled on his hard cock. He let out a groan, a sound way different from Fabian’s.

Fabian's groan was a perfectly hit high note and my husband's groan was well, my husband's. Flat and bland, just like his kiss.

I doubled down on my sucking, letting saliva dribble from my mouth as I continued. My actions successfully steered him into overdrive because he was guiding me towards the bed in the next instant, his penis leaving my lips with a quiet “pop” sound.

When he entered me, I felt my walls stretch to accommodate him fully.

Sex with my husband had never been painful, but with every thrust, I felt as if I was being forced to be where I was. I adjusted, hoping it was the angle.

But it wasn't.

I was dry as hell. I wasn't wet for my husband.

I moaned, hoping I could steer him to his release.

When he thrusted once again and I adjusted for the umpteenth time, he stopped.

“Are you okay, Nadia? I can stop if you're not ready…”

I placed a hand on his free hand, taking it strategically to form a chokehold on my neck, before urging him to continue.

In the same vein, I closed my eyes, imagining that it wasn't my husband behind me, but the long and hairy arms of Fabian, tearing me apart, taking me like I was his. I imagined the green eyes boring into my soul as his tongue clashed with my clitoris, his fingers flattering my nipples to life.

My husband's thrusts had become smoother.

I was wet.

But I knew I wasn't wet for my husband. I was wet for Fabian Davenport.

“Oh Nadia, I'm coming…I'm coming, my love…” I heard Marlowe's voice tremble as his hips slammed into mine.

We came at the same time, my eyes closed, my mind creating vivid images of everything that had happened back at the hotel in California.

We climbed the bed together, his limp penis still inside of me.

“My goodness, I've missed you. Writers conference be damned! You should never step out of this house ever again.”

I chuckled as I disengaged, stretching to put off the bedside lamp.

“Didn't you miss me too, my love?” He inquired, his voice lighter now. I could tell he was already starting to fall asleep.

“Of course, I did, of course I did…”

I closed my eyes as his breath slowed to even and regular.

However, sleep refused to come.

How was I going to sleep when I knew that the man whom I had cheated on my husband with two days ago was under the same roof as I was? And he was going to be here for an entire week?

The questions stared at me point-blank in the face because I had no answers to them.

When sleep came later on, it haunted me, filled with images of long and hairy arms, green eyes and the tool kit of an air conditioner technician.

____________

“Isn't your friend coming down for breakfast?”

I was too scared to even say his name now. That was how haunted I was by the handsome stranger who was in my home.

Marlowe shook his head in the negative as he ate a strip of bacon, then noisily slurped the coffee in his cup.

“Fabian loves his mornings to himself. He's the yoga and jogging type of guy, you know, the loner type.”

I shrugged, knowing that deep within me, I wanted to know more about the stranger who had fucked me, but I also knew that it was dangerous to want to know more.

“Anderson, Nancy, hurry up. You miss the bus and you walk to school. I won't drive you both to school for the second time this week, that wasn't the agreement.”

Marlowe stood as he drank the last of his coffee.

“Thank you for breakfast, my love. I'll be back during lunch to show Fabian the city.”

A loud kiss and two waves later, and my husband and my two children were out of the house, leaving me alone with a man whom I knew I wasn't supposed to be alone with no matter the circumstances.

Fabian Davenport.