They kiss and kiss again and again with mounting hunger.
Soon, he presses her down on the couch, holding his weight up on his elbows. Without taking his mouth off hers, he fumbles at his fresh jeans. A rip down there tells her that he has opened his fly. She knows he doesn’t wear underwear as a general rule when he’s at home, and she can feel his rock hard flesh straining against her clothes.
He pauses from their kiss long enough to undo the buttons of her jeans as well. Then he tears her jeans off her long legs, as if he’s helping her shed her skin. She wears a plain white pair of cotton panties. He swiftly rips these off as well.
She is naked from the waist down, but he still has his pants on, even though his genitals are exposed. She sneaks a look down there. Somehow, his c**k seems even more enormous spilling out of his fly this way.
His brilliant green eyes meet hers and slide away. A pang twitches her chest. Even now, when he is about to f**k her, he has guilt issues. Wordlessly, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans for a condom. He certainly is well prepared.
He rolls the condom onto his super-erect cock. With a sigh, he positions it against her moist opening, and he pushes it in. Gently. She closes her eyes as his enormous width cleaves her silky walls.
Oh, Brian.
The internal struggle is still apparent on his beautiful face as he allows her to acclimatize to his girth, as he always does, before he starts rocking his hips. The fabric of his open jeans rubs against her pubis, belly and thighs. The rough friction of this combined with the unspoken tension of their situation only serves to her excite her further, as though this is an illicit tryst. A sordid f**k behind two walls of secrets.
They gaze at each other as they f**k. Emotions flit across his expressive eyes and face. He doesn’t say anything. They merely grunt and make soft noises as they f**k away, the sweat beading on their foreheads and upper lips.
He waits till she climaxes before allowing his own pleasure to take him over. Then he comes with a sharp intake of breath. There’s a soft whoosh as he releases it. He closes his eyes and collapses on top of her half-clothed body.
They lie there together for a long, long time without speaking.
7
It’s been a week that he has been with Delilah Faulkner. She has phoned in to her office to take as much leave from work as possible, presumably to be with him. They f**k three times a day, and that does not include all the time they spend on foreplay and o**l s*x.
Delilah is not unpleasant to be with, Brian surmises. But he doesn’t particularly want to be with her either. He’d rather be with Sam.
He feels awful having to lie to Sam like this. OK, so he omitted the truth. That’s the same as lying, isn’t it? He never told Sam where he has been, not even once. He guesses (correctly) that she suspects, but she is not saying a word because she respects his privacy and what he has to do.
It’s better this way, he tells himself. This way, she has more time to get to know Thor or whoever it is she wishes to date once he’s in prison and out of her life.
Today, Delilah has a suggestion.
“Let’s go out,” she announces.
He eyes her incredulously. “You want to be seen out with me, the man you accused of rape? That won’t lend credence to your case, will it?”
His suspicion quotient immediately shoots skyward. What’s she trying to pull? So far, she has insisted that he be absolutely discreet. He can only enter after dark. He cannot allow anyone to see him go into her apartment if he knows what’s good for Sam. He is made to feel like the lover to the wife of a cuckolded husband. Only the truth is too bizarre to contemplate. Nobody would believe him if he told them.
She’s playing with his c**k again. She appears to have a fascination with it. She snares it between her fingers and thumb, and she is pulling at it, giving him a languorous hand job. She treats him like a sex object.
The thought of this is depressing, even though women have treated him as a sex object for most of his adult life. But he was in control. He called the shots. He decided who he wanted to have sex with.
With Delilah, he has no control whatsoever. He does what she tells him, and it’s freaking him out. More so as the days whittle past.
She says, “I’m tired of staying in here. I want to be seen out with you. Only I’m not going as me.”
He furrows his brow. He watches her as she leaves him on the bed and walks to her built-in closet, stark naked. She rummages in there and takes out a brunette wig. She goes to the dressing table mirror and tries it on.
“You’re wearing that?” he says.
“Why not?” She shoots him a pointed look. “You got a problem?”
They dress. She dons her wig proper, and he has to admit she looks pretty good. The plastic surgery job was astounding. No one would have recognized Adele Jankovic. And with her brunette, femme fatale wig, no one would recognize Delilah Faulkner either, unless you look really hard.
She makes him take a shower and brush his hair. As he is doing so, she wraps her arms around his waist and looks at his reflection in the mirror.
“You’re so handsome,” she murmurs, squeezing his waist tightly.
“Thank you.”
The wistfulness he espies in her expression makes him think that this is not a random compliment. She has gotten more affectionate with him in recent days. She strokes his hair. She kisses him deeply. She lies in his arms when they fall asleep at night. Her obsession with him is turning into something else. Something he dare not admit.
They go out in his Jeep. He drives them all the way out of Chicago to a smaller town. She chooses a Chinese restaurant, and they dine on sweet and sour pork and lo mein. Just like a regular couple on a date. She gazes at him constantly with that strange light in her eyes. His discomfort level increases. Between courses, her hand snakes out for his on the table.
I am not your date, he wants to tell her through clenched teeth. But he’s afraid to rock the equilibrium, especially since he’s poured in so much effort.
She says, “I’ve always dreamt of this. Dreamt of us being together like this.”
His voice is tight as he says, “Well, yeah, you can dream on. I may be going to prison in a couple of weeks. You made sure of that.”
She smiles. “So you think my case is airtight?”
He straightens his mouth. “I’m going to fight you all the way on that stand, Delilah.”
“But you’re not going to say anything on this past week. We had a deal.”
“The deal stands. No one knows about this. What we’re doing.” He’s a man of his word, even if people think he has other questionable morals. “Who the f**k is gonna believe me anyway?”