Chapter 2

The sun that crept through my bedroom curtains the next morning didn't feel like a new beginning; it felt like an interrogation lamp. Every muscle in my body felt heavy, a dull, thrumming ache cantered deep between my thighs that served as a constant, rhythmic reminder of Laredo. I stayed under the covers for as long as I could, my skin still smelling faintly of his sandalwood soap and the musky, salt-sweet scent of our shared climax.

I had never felt more like a stranger in my own skin.

"Lisa? Sweetie, are you up? Breakfast is getting cold!"

My mother’s voice drifted up the stairs, cheerful and oblivious. It sliced through the hazy memory of Laredo’s hands on my hips, making me flinch. I forced myself out of bed, my legs trembling slightly as I stood. When I looked in the vanity mirror, I saw the evidence: a small, darkening bruise just above my collarbone where he had bitten me in the height of his release.

I pulled on a high-necked sweater, despite the morning warmth, and headed down to the lion's den.

The Breakfast Table

The kitchen was filled with the smell of bacon and overpriced coffee. Elaine was at the stove, her hair perfectly coiffed, looking every bit the elegant wife of a titan. And there he was. Laredo sat at the head of the table, hidden behind the morning paper, his large hands steady as he held his mug.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Elaine said, turning to beam at me. She walked over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I felt like a traitor, a hollow shell of a daughter. "You look pale. Did you finally get some sleep after the storm?"

"A little," I lied, sliding into my chair. My seat was directly to Laredo’s right.

As I sat, Laredo lowered his paper. His dark eyes met mine, and for a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. I saw the flash of the man from last night—the man who had filled me until I screamed, who had emptied himself inside me with a guttural roar. His gaze dropped briefly to my throat, noting the high collar of my sweater, before he turned back to his coffee.

"Laredo was just telling me he has to head into the city early for a meeting," Elaine said, oblivious to the silent lightning bolt passing between us.

"Is that so?" I asked, my voice coming out breathy. I reached for the cream, and as I did, Laredo’s hand "accidentally" brushed mine on the table.

It wasn't just a brush. He let his fingers linger, his rough skin dragging over my knuckles. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Under the table, out of Elaine’s sight, his boots nudged my shins. He pushed his leg forward until his thick, denim-clad thigh was pressed firmly against mine.

"Yes," Laredo said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that made my stomach flip. "Business won't wait. Though, I find myself... distracted this morning."

"Oh, you work too hard, darling," Elaine sighed, leaning over to drape her arms around his shoulders from behind. She pressed her cheek to his, and I had to look away. The sight of her touching the man who had been buried inside me hours ago made bile rise in my throat. "Maybe you should take the afternoon off? We could go to the club."

Laredo didn't look at her. He kept his eyes locked on me as he felt me trembling against his leg under the table. He reached down, his hand disappearing beneath the tablecloth.

I gasped, a small, choked sound.

"Lisa? Are you okay?" my mother asked, pulling back from Laredo.

"Fine," I squeezed out, my hands clutching the edge of the table. "Just... I burned my tongue on the coffee."

Under the table, Laredo’s hand had found my knee. He didn't stop there. His fingers began to crawl upward, pushing the hem of my skirt higher and higher. His palm was a furnace against my skin. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was testing me, pushing the boundaries of our shared sin right under the nose of the woman he was supposed to love.

His fingers reached the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, stroking the area he had spent the night worshiping. I felt the familiar, heavy pulse of arousal beginning to throb in my clitoris. I was becoming slick again, my body traitorously responding to the man who was currently holding my mother's other hand.

"You're very quiet today, Lisa," Laredo noted, his thumb pressing firmly into the soft flesh of my thigh, dangerously close to the lace of my panties. "Usually you have so much to say about your studies."

"I... I'm just tired, Laredo," I whispered, my eyes pleading with him to stop even as my hips instinctively tilted toward his touch.

"Well," Elaine said, moving toward the sink with a stack of plates. "I have to get to my Pilates class. Laredo, will you be home for dinner?"

"I might be late," he said, his fingers finally hooking into the edge of my underwear. He gave a sharp, deliberate tug, his knuckle rubbing against my labia for a fleeting, agonizing second. "Don't wait up."

The Aftermath of the Morning

The moment the garage door closed behind Elaine’s car, the silence in the kitchen became predatory. Laredo stood up, but he didn't head for the door. He walked around the table until he was standing directly behind me.

He leaned down, his mouth hovering just an inch from the shell of my ear.

"You were shaking, Lisa," he whispered, his hands coming down to rest on my shoulders. "Did you like it? Having me touch you while she was standing right there?"

"I hated it," I lied, my head falling back against his stomach.

"Your body says otherwise," he growled. He turned my chair around so I was facing him, his hands sliding down to grip my waist. He pulled me forward until I was eye-level with his crotch. Even through his suit trousers, I could see the heavy, stiffening ridge of his cock.

"You're obsessed," I breathed, reaching out with a trembling hand to trace the outline of him.

"I'm ruined," he corrected, his voice thick. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back so I had to look at him. "I spent the whole morning watching her, and all I could think about was the way you arched your back when I was inside you. I can still feel how tight you were around me."

He unzipped his fly with a sharp, metallic sound. He didn't take it out, not yet, but he guided my hand inside his silk boxers. My fingers closed around him—he was hot, pulsing, and already leaking a bead of pre-cum at the tip. He let out a long, ragged groan as I began to stroke him, my thumb swirling over the sensitive head of his penis.

"If she comes back..." I whispered, even as I increased the pace.

"She won't," he gasped, his eyes fluttering shut. "And even if she did... I don't think I could stop."

He reached down, his fingers finding the moisture between my legs once more. He wasn't being gentle now; he was frantic, driven by the same jagged adrenaline that was currently singing through my veins. He pushed two fingers inside me, mimicking the thrusting of his cock, while his thumb worked my clitoris into a frenzy.

I was on the verge, my breath coming in short, sharp hitches, when the phone on the counter rang.

We both froze.

The caller ID flashed: Elaine.

Laredo didn't pull his hand out of me. He looked at the phone, then back at me, a dark, wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Answer it," he commanded.

"What? No—"

"Answer it, Lisa. Tell your mother how much you're enjoying your breakfast."

He pushed his fingers deeper, finding the sweet spot behind my G-spot and hooking upward. I gasped, my hand flying to the phone. I hit 'Accept' with a trembling finger.

"H-hello?" I stammered.

"Lisa? Oh, honey, I forgot my yoga mat on the hall bench. Could you grab it and put it in the garage? I’ll swing back around in five minutes."

Laredo began to move his fingers in a fast, relentless rhythm. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my entire body tensing as the orgasm began to roar through my system like a freight train.

"Lisa? Are you there?"

"Yes," I choked out, my eyes rolling back as the first wave of pleasure crashed over me. "I... I'll get it, Mom. See you... soon."

I hung up and collapsed against Laredo, my body shaking with a violent, silent climax. He pulled his hand out, slick and glistening, and wiped it on the front of my sweater before zipping himself back up.

"Five minutes," he whispered, kissing my forehead with a chilling tenderness. "Better get that mat, Lisa. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."