Betrayed - Bully Bonding Ch. 01

"Honey, stop fussing so much," Heather said, pulling on Sam's wrist as they waited in line. "You look great."

The muffled sounds of driving subwoofers drifted through the brick walls of the building in front of them, and his heartbeat accelerated. "You know I don't like these kinds of things." He tugged on the sleeve cuffs of the button up gray shirt that stretched tight around his stomach and shoulders.

Heather smacked his arm, and the gold bands on her wrist jingled. "Stop worrying about yourself. For a grown man, you really are self-conscious."

"I'm more worried about you." Heather's amber eyes met Sam's. He stared her down.

"What?" She stepped back from Sam and performed a little twirl. The ruffled hem of her skirt flitted about her knees. Her dark bare arms, legs, and generous cleavage stood in stark contrast to her white dress. His eyes stayed glued to the soft contours of her breasts. "Don't you want to show me off? Or are you embarrassed that you have such a hot wife?"

Sam tore his eyes off his wife's tantalizing body, reminding himself he hated her choice of outfit for the occasion. Several pairs of visible eyes focused on Heather. "I'm sure you'll be the highlight for a lot of the guys."

"Oh, don't worry about them." Heather's index finger caught Sam's chin and titled his gaze back to her. "I don't care, and neither should you. I'm here for you. No one else." She winked, slipped her arm around Sam's, and pulled herself close to his side.

Hints of lavender wafted off Heather's curly black hair as it rubbed against Sam's cheek and parted over his shoulder. "That would be reassuring, Heather, if you weren't the one who dragged me here in the first place."

"C'mon, you can't not come to your ten-year alumni party." Heather squeezed Sam's arm. "And I'll be dragging you to mine next year."

"Great." Sam jerked until he became untangled.

"Yes, it will be great. You'll see." Excitement danced in Heather's eyes, and a smirk formed on her face before she turned away and entered the club.

The moment Sam passed though the slow revolving door, the loud dance music assaulted his ears. He grimaced. While he enjoyed the genre a little bit, it wasn't his go-to, and the shoddy speakers didn't help. He continued on despite his misgivings, trying to keep pace with Heather.

"So," Heather called over her shoulder while she approached the mass of people dancing, "wanna dance?"

Sam stared at the press of people five feet away from them and shook his head. "How about we get a drink first?"

With a spin, Heather pivoted on her heel and strut toward Sam. She placed her right hand on his chest and teased one of the taught buttons. "You know, the days of you getting me drunk to try and get into my pants are long gone."

"I know," Sam put his hands on Heather's hips and pulled her tight against him, "but you have to get me drunk to go out there."

"Challenge accepted." Heather stood on her tiptoes and placed a quick peck on Sam's lips.

Before Sam could kiss her back or stop her, Heather slipped away. She hip-checked him and grabbed his hand. A smile spread across his face as she forced him to grab her firm backside. Their hands dropped from one other's, and they returned to decent behavior as she led him to the bar.

Heather squeezed through the group hovering by the counter and flagged down the bartender. "One margarita, and a whiskey on the rocks please." The man's eyes lingered on her chest until he nodded.

Sam approached Heather from behind and leaned down to her ear. "I wish you hadn't worn that dress."

A sharp breath escaped Heather's nose. "Relax. Think of it this way: they get to look, but you're the only one who gets to touch."

"I guess that makes it better." Sam wrapped his arms around Heather's waist, hands over her stomach. "Still, do you have to tease them so much?"

"I can't help it that they find me sexy. I'm not trying to tease them." Heather's lips curled, and mischievousness played over the visible half of her face.

Sam nipped Heather's earlobe. "Sure you're not."

The bartender trudged back over, two glasses in hand. "Here's your drinks, miss." Sam nodded, but the man glared at him and muttered something under his breath.

"Nice guy," Sam said, backing away from the bar.

Heather followed him and handed off his whiskey. "Hey, they're free drinks. Let's go over where there's a few less people."

A table for two in the corner caught Sam's eye. He set his drink down, pulled out a seat for Heather, and slipped into one for himself. The whiskey called to him, so he lifted his glass and took a sip. A twinge of bitterness clung to his tongue.

Heather sat beside Sam. She sampled her own drink before sliding her chair closer. Her hand rested on his thigh, rubbing up and down at a slow pace. He glanced over at her, and she hid her smile behind the rim of her wide glass.

"Recognize anyone?" Heather asked.

Sam searched the nearby crowd. "Maybe a few of them vaguely." Not a single face conjured up a name. "I haven't seen most of them in about ten years."

A somber expression flickered across Heather's face. "Well, if you don't, we'll just have to enjoy ourselves. At least we tried."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but heather shook her head and squeezed his leg. He placed his hand on top of hers. She splayed her fingers, allowing theirs to intertwine. He knew she enjoyed these types of outings, but it seemed a stretch for her to be disappointed.

"Sammy!" A tall man emerged from the mass of faceless people. Colored lights glinted off his bald head and dark skin, and he wore a V-neck shirt and dress pants. "I thought it was you. Still hiding in the corner after all these years I see."

Revulsion flooded Sam, and he gripped Heather's hand tight. "Hello, Will."

A grin split Will's face. "Who's this lovely lady?"

"Heather," she said, extending her free hand. Will accepted her handshake as he approached the table. Too close for Sam's taste. "Sam's wife."

"I'm impressed, Sammy." Will's eyes scanned up and down Heather's body, and Sam's temper flared. "Didn't think ya had it in ya to land such a babe."

Sam glared at Will. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about Heather like that."

"Oh, sorry, man. Old habits and all." As hard as he tried to play it off, Will continued to glance over at Heather. "Mind if I join you two since you're here? I wanted to apologize."

"I don't think so."

"Honey, don't be rude," Heather said, extending her left hand out at Will. "He wants to make amends."

"Okay." Sam had no intentions of ever forgiving Will, but he'd humor Heather.

A smile slipped onto Will's face. "I know the drinks are free but let me get ya another one. What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

Heather lifted her glass and smiled. "Margarita."

Sam watched Will leave, suspicious. Nothing good had ever come from interacting with the asshole, and Sam didn't think that would ever change. He tore his eyes off his past bully as he arrived at the bar. Regret swelled within him.

"Why'd you do that?" Sam asked.

The slight curl of Heather's lips faded, and she met Sam's gaze. "He sounded like he wanted to make amends. I know he harassed you back in college, and he speaks rough, but at least give him a chance. You don't have to be best buds afterwards."

"You're right." Sam sighed and shook his head. "I just lost it when I saw him. Too many flashbacks to all the ways he's tortured me."

"I'm right here with you." Heather patted Sam's inner thigh, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Here ya go." Will set Heather and Sam's drink in front of them before pulling a chair in from the side and sitting. "So, like I said, I wanted to apologize. I was an asshole back in the day, but it's been years, and I told myself that if I saw you here, I'd apologize. I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time."

Sam breathed deep and slow. He opened his mouth, but he decided against speaking and drank his whiskey instead. Heather tapped his thigh. He had to say something, yet he didn't think he could ever forgive Will. All he had to do was get through the night.

"Thank you." Sam took another nervous gulp of his drink. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, but I appreciate it."

Will leaned back in his seat and sipped his alcohol. "I didn't think you'd come to one of these."

"I don't—"

"I made him," Heater chimed in and leaned forward on the table.

"Well, I'm glad." Will lifted his gaze from Heather's presented cleavage to Sam's face. "I didn't like thinking about how I treated you."

"Don't worry about it," Sam said.

"So, Will," Heather took a quick swig, "what do you do for a living?"

"I—" Sam's head swam, and he lurched to the side. "You all right, man?"

Heather wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and held him tight. "Yeah, just a little lightheaded. Maybe the alcohol is stronger than I thought."

"You gonna let me outdrink you?" Heather asked, her voice equal parts mocking and bubbly.

"No. I just—" The world spun, and Sam collapsed on the table.

A loud clap echoed in Sam's ears and jolted him out of unconsciousness. Bits of his bedroom appeared around him through his groggy vision as he opened his eyes. He sighed, relieved. The booze must've made him pass out and someone brought him home.

Sam wasn't alone.

"Oh," Heather said in a breathy voice. "Looks like he decided to wake up."

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy. We thought we were going to have to start without you." Will stood at the foot of their bed, a half-naked Heather beside him.

Anger sparked within Sam, and he reared up. Ropes around his wrists and ankles kept him rooted to the chair. "What the hell is going on?"

"What does it look like?" Will yanked Heather against his bare chest with his left hand and clapped her asscheek with his right. "It's a shame you couldn't keep this. Your wife's got a fat ass."

Heather shot a glare up at Will and smacked him. "Hey!"

"It's a compliment, baby, you know it." Will's thick fingers sank into Heather's supple backside. "Don't you wish your husband treated you like this?"

"He's so precious." Heather arched her back, melting against will. Her eyes peeked over her shoulder before they rolled in frustration. "He only ever treated me with respect...even when I asked him to be rougher."

"I guess that's why you came to me, huh?" Will's fingers curled around Heather's chin, yanking her face close to his with a rough jerk. "To be treated like the bitch you are."

Sam raged against his restraints, but they didn't yield an inch. "Don't talk to her like that."

"Oh, honey," Heather mocked, spun around, and rubbed her ass against Will's crotch. "It's all right. You'd know that if you listened to me once in a while."

"Damn, you were always such a little shit, I guess nothing has changed. No wonder every girl in school, and now your wife, chose me." Will's words cut deep. A chasm formed in Sam's chest, his heart sinking into the pits of despair. He could never escape Will's domineering shadow.

"I'm not the first?" Sorrow played in Heather's voice, and she hung her head back. "That makes this a little less exciting."

"Don't worry," Will stared down into Heather's eyes, "he stood no chance with them bitches. He only ever wished he had them. Not sure how he landed a classy bitch like you."

"I was young and stupid. I thought he was worth it."

"I'm still here," Sam said, seething but no longer attempting to free himself. "Untie me now and get out of my house."

"Honey." Heather lowered her head to the side and glared at Sam, irritated. "Don't you think that's a rude way to speak to our guest. I invited him in after you...passed out."

Sam bent forward, glaring at Will. "You never wanted to apologize. You just wanted a way to torture me one last time."

"Don't look at me, Sammy." Will rested a hand on Heather's shoulder and pointed a lazy finger at her. "It was her idea."

The anger Sam held, directed only at Will, vanished. He counted on the bastard twisting things to fuck him over, but he never expected Heather to be the mastermind. "What? Why?"

"You weren't giving me what I want, I need." Heather pushed away from Will and stormed across the room, eyes smoldering. "So, I had to go find it elsewhere. That's when I met Will. I remembered what you told me about him and, at first I was going to yell at him for how he acted, and then he...persuaded me."

"You could have talked to me. We could have figured something out." Everything was unraveling. Sam didn't know what to think anymore.

"Why," Heather snapped. "So, you could ignore me some more? No. You made your decision, and now you must pay for it." She smacked her hand on Sam's forehead and shoved him back into the chair. "Just sit back and watch. Maybe you'll learn something."

"Please," agony twisted Sam's chest and churned his stomach as Heather walked away, "don't do this. I didn't mean to make you feel neglected."

Heather fell back into Will's masculine arms. "Too late."

"Please. What do I have to do? Just tell me, and I'll do anything." Tears welled up in Sam's eyes, yet his penis remained erect. "Just, please, don't sleep with him."

"Sorry, Sammy. I came here to fuck," Will's thick fingers slipped under the waistband of Heather's thong, "and your lovely wife is the only woman here."

All the rage that had built up in Sam rushed back. The desire to punch Will in the face burned within him. "You're such a piece of shit, Will. Haven't you taken enough from me without ruining my marriage?"

"I didn't do it. You did. You drove her away. I just supplied her with an"—Will thrust, jostling Heather—"outlet for her frustrations."

"How long?"

"Only a few weeks," Heather said, a twinge of sadness in her soft voice. "But I've felt like this for quite a while now."

Will cleared his throat, and Heather and Sam's eyes snapped to him. "As enjoyable as it is to see little Sammy break down, I didn't come here to watch couple's therapy."

"Oh, right." Heather shook her head and ran her hand along Will's sculpted torso. "Where were we?"

"I think you were just telling me how you find me so much sexier than Sammy and how he just doesn't do it for you."

"It's not his fault, but you're right. He doesn't have big, strong muscles like you, or know how to treat a woman properly, or..." Heather's hand drifted down from Will's abs, brushing over the crotch of his pants where a noticeable bulge stood out.

A wicked grin split Will's features, and his gaze met Sam's. "So, I was right about his little..." His eyes dipped down.

"I mean," Heather paused and rocked her head side-to-side, "it's not terrible—could always be a bit bigger—but you know your way around yours much better."

"That doesn't sound quite like a ringing endorsement, eh, Sammy?" Will teased the band of Heather's underwear down with his hooked thumb.

"Shut up and get on with it or get out." Despite his rage and defiant performance, Sam's cock grew harder with each passing second.

"It sounds like he wants it now. Isn't it great to have your husband's consent to fuck another man?" Will stared down at Heather, but the amusement on his face didn't escape Sam's vision.

"I don't need his consent." Heather's eyes flashed back at Sam for a moment. "I haven't before."

A bark of laughter echoed in the intimate room. "Wow, such a cold bitch. Ya don't even care about poor Sammy's feelings."

"He doesn't own me."

"Who does own you?" Will asked, slapping Heather's ass. The strike filled Sam's ears, and a red mark appeared on her left cheek.

Heather collapsed against Will, her pouty lips grazing his pecks. "You."

"And why's that?"

"You give me what I want." One of Heather's slender hands traveled down to Will's crotch.

"What do you want right now?"

Heather remained transfixed by the beast in Will's pants, and she stroked it with reverence. "This wonderful thing here."

"You know what to do," Will said.

Sam's heart leaped into his throat. One last hope. "Heather. Please."

Without so much as a second of hesitation, Heather unzipped Will's slacks and popped the button. The way he stood, hips forward, back arched, made his clothes slide right off his muscular frame. Sam wished he could look away, but part of him wanted to know, to see.

Will's boxer briefs stretched from the size of his dick, raising almost enough to catch a peek out the bottom of the right leg. Sam stared, captivated. A thin layer of cotton separated another man's junk from his wife's face. His own manhood jumped and strained against his pants.

Heather inched closer and rubbed her lips against the length of the clothed member. Ache lanced Sam. She never threw herself at him the same blind, heedless way she did Will. His cock was something to be worshiped while his own was just serviceable.

Damp spots marked Will's underwear where Heather lingered a little too long. He didn't seem to mind, though. His eyes were fixated on Sam, watching, relishing his reactions. Sam tried not to give Will any more ammunition, yet the intensity of his stare betrayed him.

Heather, content with her ministrations, slid her hands up Will's thighs to the band of his boxers. She paused for a moment, her head quirking to the side, before she continued. All of Will's cock sprang free and landed on her face. He covered more than Sam ever did.

A breathy, excited noise squeaked out if Heather. Her hands came up to meet the shaft, lifting it off her cheek and lips. Pink tongue poked out from her mouth and ran along the root. Sam bit his lip and tore his eyes off his slutty wife. Will greeted him.

"Yes, Sammy," Will groaned as Heather licked up the underside of his perfect manhood, "that's your bitch licking my cock. How does it feel?"

Pain, betrayal, regret, longing, remorse, and arousal warned within Sam. His stomach churned, his chest ached, his head spun, and his dick stood proud. He couldn't pin down one emotion for more than a second. However, the tears that welled in his eyes earlier were nowhere to be seen.

"Nothing to say for yourself? That's probably for the best. You don't want to ruin the mood and upset your talented wife, do you?" Will placed a meaty hand on Heather's head and stroked her hair.

Heather continued her work like she hadn't heard Will's mocking. She appeared in the zone, focused on one thing and one thing only. Sam had to admit that seeing her so single-minded turned him on. If only that was his cock she slathered with her tongue and not his old bully's.

Will's cockhead prodded Heather's cherry-colored lips, and Sam's heart leapt. She took it in stride and parted for the thick girth. The head and then inch after inch of the shaft disappeared. A bulge formed along her slender throat as she gobbled up the length.

Nothing stopped Heather until her nose pressed up against Will's public hair. Sharp breaths cut through the room from her nostrils, and she turned her body to the left, exposing everything to Sam. Finally, her eyes met his.

Lust overtook all of Heather's features. She was completely lost to her base desires, but something else played in her eyes. Amusement. She must have been proud of herself to not only put Sam in this situation but get every reaction she wanted out if him.

Heather craned her neck forward, and her throat bulged further. Sam's trapped penis twitched, begging to be noticed. Her eyes flicked down from his face and lit up. With practiced grace, she pulled back. Will's huge cock reappeared and popped out of her mouth with a satisfying smack.

"Damn, girl." A shiver ran through Will's body, and he floundered a step. "You trying to impress me or him?"

Heather's eyes never left Sam's. "Him. Sorry." She stood, and a trail of saliva formed across the front of her abdomen.

"I'll allow it this one time since it was my dick you were suckin'." Will grabbed himself in one hand and slapped the fat, wet head against Heather's stomach—right above her thong's waistband—several times.