“Okay?” I frown, unclear of my role here. “What about your sons?”
“I need to get on my feet, then I’ll come back for them.”
Before I can say anything else, she rushes toward me and throws her arms around my neck, catching me off guard and making me teeter on my feet as I’m forced to catch her. It’s odd, and I don’t know how to respond.
I pat her back, then detach her from me. She looks down at her feet.
“Thank you for always being kind to me,” she murmurs. “I wish Eric was more like you.”
Once again, I don’t understand what she’s referring to. I’ve never treated her with favor, just tried to be polite to keep up appearances. Maybe she’s crazy and that’s why Eric fucks anything with a pulse. When I don’t speak, she appears to take this as an invitation. She advances on me, lifting on her tiptoes and planting her lips to mine.
What the hell is happening?
Her kiss is frantic and starved as her fake breasts smash against me. She’s an attractive woman, sure, but she’s been worn down by a selfish husband and is famished for affection.
Eric’s smirky, cocky face flashes in my mind, and satisfaction settles in my bones. His little wife has left him and she’s here with me. I pull her away and look at her smudged lipstick as she pants for air.
So fucking eager.
She’s here begging for scraps of affection. Affection she’s conjured up in her own mind thinking I’d be willing to give to her. It makes me wonder if she has ever fucked Eric’s friends and partners. Levi, maybe not. And Mateo seems happily married. But Trevor? Nixon and his likeness isn’t just a coincidence. Julia has been hungry for attention her whole marriage, and Trevor offered it to her at some point. There’s no doubt in my mind.
“Please, Jax,” she begs.
All I can think about is how smug Eric is about his seemingly perfect life. Yet, look how pathetic his wife is—how eager and needy her cunt is for me. No wonder he finds me so threatening. I bet she moans my name while she touches herself.
Dirty Mrs. Pearson.
She’s hungry for me. I’ll feed her, then send her back to him, knowing at every party he throws and invites me to, I fucked his deprived wife. It’s ammo to store and use against him if the need arises.
I’m not usually a petty man…
Oh, who am I kidding?
Of course I fucking am.
All men are, and I’m no exception.
I swipe the tools from the table I use, causing her eyes to widen with anticipation as they clatter loudly to the floor. She moves to hop on, but I stop her with a hand to her shoulder and a shake of my head. I spin her body around so her back is to me and push her shoulders forward with a heavy palm until she’s laying her torso flat against the wood surface. Lifting her little flower emblazoned dress, I stroke over the little scars of stretched skin made only by carrying four children, and fist her expensive underwear, tearing them away with a grunt. She’s panting and trembling, so desperate for human contact. To have someone want her, desire her—give her an inkling of attention and prove she’s still a woman, not just a mother and wife.
When I kick her legs apart, her cunt opens, and her arousal is pungent. It’s been a hot day, and her fuck hole stinks of sweat, so my cock won’t harden. I’ve never been with a woman of her age or who has birthed so many children. I’m learning I don’t find her one bit arousing. That’s problematic. The idea of Eric jabbing away at her over the years is a turn off and her making those eager noises makes my cock want to disappear inside itself like a second belly button.
I want her to shut up.
Force her to be still.
To do as she’s told.
My hand twitches, and I notice I’m still holding the screwdriver in my palm. The handle is made of rubber and shaped like the fat sausages Eric served tonight.
Perfect.
I turn it in my hand so I’m fisting the metal end, then thrust the rubber end of it inside her desperate cunt. There’s no barrier. No resistance. It just slides right in, making her scream at the intrusion. Her body becomes rigid compared to the compellability from seconds ago.
She loves it, though. I’m giving her what she needs and she’s grateful.
“What is that?” she cries out, looking back at me over her shoulder.
Stop fucking talking, woman.
No wonder Eric’s eyes wander. If I had to put my cock inside her every night, I’d want to run away too.
“Shut up,” I bark, holding her down with one hand and using the other to plunder her hole over and over. Juices run down the handle and drip onto my hand. The urge to pull my hand away and swipe it on my slacks is strong, but I grit my teeth and continue my ministrations.
“This is what you want. What you begged for because you don’t like the little sluts who parade their under-age asses around for your husband to fantasize about defiling. He likes their tight cunts and smooth skin. Their delicate moans and innocent doe eyes. And there you are, used up, having birthed his sons. You gave the selfish, ungrateful bastard your youth. He wants to eat new pussy while yours dries up.”
A sob escapes her as my words hit their intended mark.
“I thought you liked me.” She sniffles, grunting.
Why did she think that?
I must be better at this pretending shit than I thought.
“I do,” I lie, using my forearm muscles to speed this shit up. I’m already bored and my mind is on other things.
Why did I bother entertaining her in the first place? To have one over on Eric. I think this actually may be one he has over me. I’m doing him a favor seeing to this chore so he doesn’t have to.
“Look how good to you I’m being,” I croon in a tone I’ve heard men use on women. I’ve learned women are the easiest creatures to manipulate. A few soft words and compliments can usually win over any female.
Her cunt becomes a slippery pit, and gone are the questions. Now she’s clinging to the sides of the table, her nails scraping with every prod. She’s sobbing, her body jerking from the force of her misery. She wanted to be a whore, and now she’s being treated like one.
It’s never as you thought it would be, is it?
I snort and pull the object from her, only to realize it’s not her arousal making her wet but blood. Maybe I was a little rough. I drop the object to the floor and remove my hand from her back.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her with a smirk.
Damn, I wasn’t just including myself in the neighborly functions, I was now doing charity work on top of it.
Shaking, she gathers herself, pushing down her dress and bending to pick up her destroyed panties. She scrubs a hand over her face to remove the tears of elation. I bet she hasn’t been fucked like that before.
She can’t look me in the face, knowing what a whore she’s been.
Her disgusting fluids are making my fingers sticky, so I move to the sink to finally wash my hands. She doesn’t pick her bag up to leave like I hoped, and having her down here in my space is making me fidgety.
Was I supposed to offer her a beverage now or something? Usually this act is played out very differently for me.
She won’t stay. She’ll run home where she belongs because actually leaving Eric means leaving his money.
It’s going to be amusing. Eric will know she’s been up to no good when she limps back to him, and it will be something he always questions. Who, where, with what?