Wicked Ch. 05

This is a tough chapter. You've been warned.
Thanks for being patient with me.

+

The next day Vivienne went into work, determined not to even look at Michael. It was over; she conquered him. She fucked the happily married husband, she'd proven herself to be his irresistible better, and Victor was tickled pink. It was enough.



Until Michael walked by her in the hallway, his eyes focused on her with that razor-sharp intensity that made her want to just be fucked in front of the entire office, and she had to face reality... It wasn't enough.

She didn't know why, couldn't pinpoint the reason that her whole world shattered into thousands of unrecognizable pieces when she looked at him. Men never did that to her. She never before was turned into a blubbering, shivering mess of hormones and raw want. Yet she couldn't stop- couldn't make the fantasies of fucking Michael again end, or the desire to kiss his mouth and swallow his cock deep inside. 



Perhaps it was because he was so good. He was the antithesis of her... of Victor, even. Being with him reminded her of something she accepted she would never have long ago.



All day long she was jittery, and her nerves didn't calm even when she arrived at the weekly office meeting. When she was called upon to speak, her voice was breathless and unsure. More than a few people traded glances- it was unlike Vivienne to be anything but self-assured and bold. She saw them all staring at her and hated them for it. Most of all she hated Michael for making her so weak... She never wanted to feel helpless around a man again, and yet here she was, barely able to answer yes or no questions.



Victor had been so, so right and he wasn't even aware of it. He had never anticipated anything like this.



Michael watched Vivienne throughout the day. She could sense his eyes burning through her clothing, recalling the way she wrapped herself around him. Like an idiot, she wondered what happened when he finally made it home the night before. Did he fuck Christine? Did she care?



Watching the way his dark eyes flicked between her and the pad he was writing on, she decided yes. Yes, she cared. As if he could read her thoughts, he offered her a subtle smirk that made Vivienne wonder if he didn't have a little of the wicked inside, too.



She snuck out during her lunch break and dialed her husband's number. He was all she had, her only friend. Part of her was terrified of what he would say. Victor never experienced jealousy when it came to her, but then he'd always known she belonged to him. She wasn't a moron- she didn't intend on running off with Michael, because what kind of happy ending would that be?- but these thoughts were dangerous. Compulsive. She couldn't remember ever feeling such a persistent ache between her thighs, such an empty, hollow longing in her chest. Not even for Victor.



"Hi." Victor's tone was curt; he hadn't been pleased when she begged off giving him head in the shower that morning.

She doubted it was because she denied him a blow job; Victor was uncanny with his observational skills. She shook just thinking of what was possibly churning in his mind.



"I just... I needed to talk to you. I'm having a bad day."



He let out a long breath. "Inferior assholes giving you a hard time?"



"No. It's not that."



There was an unmistakable weight to her words and she knew Victor would understand her meaning instantly. 



"Are you regretting it? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?" He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Is he making you feel guilty?"



It was cold outside. Vivienne huddled in her coat and watched her pants visibly puff in the air. "Yes to all your questions, but not in the way you think."



There was a silence. Then, "Is this how we're going to discuss this, Vivienne? Like scared children? I'd much rather do this face to face."



"We both know we would never get around to it. You'd start fucking me on the dinner table."



He laughed again. "Maybe. So what do you want to do? Fuck him again? You want my permission?"



"I want to forget about it. I hate what this is doing to me."



"And what about what it's doing to me?"



Vivienne pulled in a deep breath as a rare flare of anger pulsed through her. "You set me on this course, Victor. You knew the risks."



He was quiet for a few seconds. "We'll discuss this when I get home from work. Until then, I suggest you keep those pretty legs crossed and remember who you belong to."



He hung up on her. Vivienne didn't feel anything but empty. And maybe just a twinge of wanting to be near Michael, just for a second, like a kitten who twirls around its Master's ankles... desperate to be pet.



So when Michael glanced her way when he was leaving, she couldn't help but follow him.



+



"How did you meet him?"



Vivienne kicked her leg out from underneath the shabby motel's bed-sheet and sighed. Her nose scrunched up as her eyes scanned his face. He could tell she didn't like the question, or talking about her husband, but it comforted him knowing they were in the same boat. Somehow having a fling with a married woman was a lot better than screwing a single girl. That was how he rationalized it in his head, anyway.



He kissed down her damp neck, redolent of the sex they'd had just moments before. His lips made trails against her skin, up and down her arm. When his tongue slivered out to taste her elbow, she giggled slightly and relaxed. And then she started to speak.



"He saved me. I was... Well, my life was a bit of a mess. Victor took care of things for me."



Michael smiled against her shoulder. "I don't think you could have come up with a more vague answer."



"I'm sorry, it's just... I've never talked about this with anyone before. I don't know how you'll take it. It's not..." She smiled at him sadly, looking vulnerable for the first time he'd known her. "It's not a nice story. Not like yours. We didn't sweep each other off our feet in the university library."



Michael shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts instantly going to Christine. She was probably eating take-out all alone, growing suspicious and resentful. He felt awful about it, truly he did, and he still cared so much. But he couldn't resist the warm body next to him, looking at him with big green eyes that for the first time seemed real to him somehow. Human.



Vivienne saw his somber expression and started talking again. "My mother died when I was twelve. I think I told you that before, right?"



He fingered the delicate charm bracelet on her wrist- the one she mentioned was once her mother's. "Yes."



"A family friend took me in. He wasn't a very nice man. To his credit, he tried to be good for a while. And then he didn't anymore. He thought of me as a burden. I hated living there, so I left and drifted around a bit. I met this older guy- Carl- and he let me stay with him for a while. He kind of thought of me as his live-in girlfriend. We... Well, I guess I sort of was. And I felt like I couldn't ever leave, you know? He wouldn't let me. He... wasn't very nice, either. Then Victor came around... They were sort of friends for a bit. It's a long story." 



Michael kissed her fingertips. "Carl forced you to stay with him?"



"Not exactly. He made me weak. He made giving into him seem easy, but that's because it looked like my only option at the time. And I guess it was, and he took advantage of that. I don't have any dark, deep-seated issues over it or anything."



Michael only quirked an eyebrow.



"Well," Vivienne continued, "not as many dark, deep-seated issues I would have had if Victor hadn't taken me away."



"Did you two run away?"



"Not really." Vivienne exhaled and climbed on top of him. She flung her hair back and grinned at him. Straddling him there, her nipples rosy pink in the gauzy light of the motel room, Michael thought he never saw anything so beautiful. "Victor is a proficient businessman. He just promised Carl something better in exchange."



"Your husband bartered for you?" Michael tried to keep the shock and disgust out of his tone, but her smile fell.



Then those lips curved upwards as she spread her slippery heat along the length of his cock. He hardened quickly beneath her movements.

"What would YOU give to fuck me, Michael?"



He tried to smile but she felt too good. "I-I don't know."



"Oh, I think you do. I think you know exactly what you'd give."



His hand found the soft flesh of her hip and squeezed. She took that exact moment to fist his cock with her hand. Ecstasy shot down his spine in a cold shudder. "Everything."

The answer came out so easily, and if she didn't feel so good against him, he would have been horrified because of how true it was.



Vivienne slid down his body, running her tongue across his nipples, into the dip of his bellybutton, across the peaks of his hipbones. "Everything, hm? I'd like to see that."



He tried to answer but her tongue was now dancing across his thighs. She skirted it around his balls, neglecting the swollen head that glistened with his pleasure.



She sighed against him, making his cock twitch. "Yes. I'd like to see you give up everything."



At this, his hand clutched her chin and tugged it up sharply so that her eyes met his. "I already have risked everything to be here with you right now." His voice was deep and rougher than he meant it to be, but it got his point across.



She didn't respond; she merely took him into her throat, all the while keeping her eyes on his.



"I don't know- Jesus- I don't know what you're doing to me. You're all I can think about now. It's like... Oh, God, like that!" His head clutched the silky strands of red hair that fanned across his thighs while she sucked like a wanton goddess. "It's like you've possessed me."



"Oh, honey," she whispered with wet lips that brushed against his sensitive head. "I have."



She rammed him back into her mouth and moaned.



"Fuck!" His breath came in quick spurts as he watched her bob up and down. Her giving him head was so fucking beautiful. She didn't do it because it was nice for him, or because she felt she had to, or because she wanted him to love her. It was because she enjoyed it. It was written all over her- the way she closed her eyes as though she were savoring it, the passionate hums she breathed that vibrated down his cock and drove him crazy.



"You look so beautiful." Her eyes flickered up to him and she winked. "No, really. So beautiful... Your mouth on me.... So fucking sexy."



He was devastatingly close, but he didn't want to cum like this. So he pulled her head off of him, which was a painful task, and tackled her.



"I need to fuck you."



She bit his lip. "So fuck me."



He drove into her, slapping his hips against hers. Her moans quickly turned into broken pleas.



"Yes, yeah, yeah." She arched up into his body, greedily taking his cock. He loved it, loved every instant of making her his. His mouth sucked her breast and he delighted into how her sounds changed- everything she called out sounded like a question. And every plunge of his cock was her answer.



"You like my cock?"



She ran her hands down his back and dug her fingernails into his ass. "I love it. I love you f-filling me up. I wanna feel your fucking all day tomorrow."



"What would give up to have me, Vivienne?"



She smiled a little at how he turned the game around on her but didn't answer. He pushed up and pulled her body with him, fucking into her with powerful thrusts that made him dizzy. 



"Answer me."



She kissed him and sucked his tongue into her mouth. He pulled away and asked her again.

"Tell me. What would you give for this dick fucking you, cumming into you every day? Huh?"



Vivienne screamed and thrashed against him before her entire body froze beneath him. Her nails bit into the skin of his back as she clawed desperately through the tremor of her orgasm. All the while, Michael pounded into her, feeling almost numb from the exquisite sensation of sliding through the tightening of her cunt. 



Finally she relaxed and laughed against his lips. Her body slithered beneath him in slow, purposeful nudges that balanced out the fast and rough movements of his own.



"God, you're so good." She licked her lips and grinned. Those magical hands swirled up her belly and clenched around her breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples between her fingers.

Michael appreciated the gesture a little too much. He wanted to own her, own those fingers and those nipples and that nearly sacred place between her thighs.

He realized as he continued pushing towards his own orgasm that at least in that moment, he did. He owned her. He gave her what she wanted and she was positively fucking glowing from it.



"Fuck! Oh, fu- I'm gonna..." Michael tore himself from her and stroked his cock against her pink flesh.



He shoved his face into her neck just as the exploding thrill surged through his cock. His cum shot out in a round of stripes that ran from her pussy to the middle of her stomach.



When he was done, he laughed breathlessly and dropped next to her. "Jesus."



She ran a hand through the mess on her stomach and licked part of him off her finger, giggling when she saw him staring. "You're delicious. I can't help myself."

He continued watch her. She was so beautiful and wild. He meant it when he said he would give everything. He only hoped he wouldn't have to, that this would fizzle out and he could go back to living his ordinary life where he belonged. 



Vivienne turned on her side and perched herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her hand. Her other stroked along his body. He loved the electric current that followed with every glide of her fingers.



"You're going to destroy me," he whispered. And both of them knew he wasn't kidding.



+



"You were home so late last night."



Michael rubbed his eyes and smiled. It didn't escape Christine's attention that it was forced. "Did I wake you? Sorry... Things have been so crazy lately."



Christine stood with a sigh and went into the bathroom, straightening things up. She made a small noise of annoyance when she saw his clothes from the night before, just thrown all over the floor from when he took his shower. 



She was awake when he stumbled in at 2AM, but she didn't let him know. She didn't feel much like talking to him. It wasn't his fault that things were so hectic at work, but he could at least make an effort to come home at a normal hour.

She hated this; it was like they hadn't spent more than ten minutes in each other's presence for the longest time. And forget about sex... He was too tired, or distracted, or just not home.



Christine longed to speak with him about it, but that was the other thing- his mood. Everything she said annoyed him. He either snapped at her or rolled his eyes. Or worse, sighed and left the room.



So she picked up his clothes. She flung them into the hamper, eager to get them away from her, when she noticed something on his dress shirt. Christine slowly reached for it and picked it up, analyzing the collar. 



There, in perfect contrast with the starched white, was a ring of red lipstick. 



She didn't have to ask what it meant, or why it was there. She didn't even kid herself for a moment there was a reasonable explanation. She was a smart girl; she always had been. The more important question to ask was what she was going to do about it. Fury and nausea bubbled in her stomach, making it next to impossible to breathe. Tears gathered in an unbearable huddle deep within her chest and crept up and up until they burned her eyes. 



"I'm getting up, Chris. Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?" Michael called out, startling her.



"Sure," she whispered. Her throat was filled with unshed tears. She cleared it. "Sure," she repeated louder.


"I'll take you out. We'll go someplace nice." 



She waited for a few minutes and then numbly grabbed a basket for the offending clothes. As she walked down the stairs, she told herself to be calm and to be careful. Her body was shaking.



Michael sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. It was just like any other morning. He smiled at her as she walked by. She had to remind herself to be calm, and especially not to throw up.

She went into the laundry room and closed the door. She knew what she was going to do- she was going to do what many, many women had done before her. 



Christine grabbed the bleach with shaking hands and poured it all over the shirt, practically dumping the whole bottle on it. Then she threw it in the wash and closed her eyes. 

Finally she could breathe again.

+

Victor had thankfully been asleep when Vivienne snuck in. She didn't want to speak with him; everything felt so raw and new. She didn't trust herself not to start crying, or to tell him she thought she was starting to feel something horrific and chaotic for her conquest. She was also terrified she wouldn't have to say anything... That Victor would just look at her and know.

So she pulled herself into bed beside him, his light snores easing her, and drifted slowly asleep. One thing haunted her just before she drifted into the blissfulness of dreamland- Michael's question.

"What would give up to have me, Vivienne?"

If she had allowed herself to answer, if she could have tore away the mask she'd cultivated for years, if she could undo all the damage that ravaged anything good inside her, she would have answered "anything". She would have said that to any man she was toying with before, because that would have been what they wanted to hear.

But she couldn't have said it this time. Not with Michael. She would have meant it.

The next morning she woke first and tip-toed to the bathroom like the scared little girl she was. The spray was hot and unforgiving, scorching her pale skin just the way she liked it. She didn't want to think about the man in her bed, or the man that was currently in someone else's. She wanted to shower and forget, and maybe just once feel clean when she emerged.

"I didn't hear you come in."

Vivienne jumped at the sound of Victor's voice on the other side of the curtain. The soap in her hand fell to the floor of the tub. Her mouth opened to reply but he swept the curtain aside at that moment and stared at her, and words weren't necessary.

They never were with Victor.

His blue eyes sizzled with omniscience. He was naked and hard and furious. One tan leg stepped into the shower, followed by the other.

His long arm reached out and turned the water hotter. His eyes never left hers, but he said nothing. Instead he turned her body around and slammed the front of it into the wet shower wall.

Vivienne felt the tip of his erection tickling her ass cheek and thought maybe he'd just fuck her and leave the unpleasant words unsaid. That was usually his style. But she knew it was too good to be true, especially when he decided that moment to shove his cock up her ass.

Victor knew she hated anal. Absolutely loathed it. She did it now and then when he particularly asked for it (which was rare, seeing as he fucking knew she detested the act), and maybe she'd let one of the others do it up the ass if they were tiny or pathetic and she really wanted to lord over them.

Yet here he was, hammering into her. Reminding her all over again. It hurt. As if that wasn't enough, he started speaking.

"Isn't this how Carl used to do you?" he whispered in her ear, his voice gravelly with arousal and anger.

His hand grabbed her hair and pulled until she yelped. "Yes!"

"Who saved you from that?"

His breaths were choppy, his movements haphazard. He was close, but Vivienne knew he'd hold out until she answered him.