Obediently Ever After Page 2

  Caine grabbed her arm, preventing her for the moment from bolting from the bed. “But you'll keep coming when I call."

  It was a prediction as much as it was an order.

  "Screw you,” Erin spat, full of self-loathing, confusion and an almost uncontrollable sexual heat.

  Caine laughed, planting that diabolically detached smile once again. “Drive safe, sweet heart, there's some real animals on the road."

  None compared to the one in here, she thought.

  The cell phone rang as soon as she got in her car. It was Kevin. Her heart sank as he told her he was on his way to talk with Roger. There wasn't any way she could tip her hand by saying that the man didn't have any real business to discuss, she did the next best thing.

  "Just come right home after that, okay, baby? As soon as your meeting is done. Promise?"

  Kevin asked if she was all right, his voice filled with a concern and a sincerity that made her hate herself all the more for her infidelity—as well intentioned as it had been.

  I have to tell him, she decided. Tonight.

  "I'm fine, Kevin. I just ... miss you.” Erin rubbed her thighs together. She wanted her husband. She needed him bad. On top of her, nuzzling her neck, lapping at her breasts. Above all, though, she needed him between her legs. Plowing her mercilessly, reclaiming his territory. Fucking her silly. Fucking her straight. Fucking her back into her right mind.

  "I miss you, too.” He sounded puzzled.

  "Just tell me you love me, Kevin."

  "I do, Erin ... more than anything. You know that."

  Erin bit her lip, an idea popping into her head. Wicked and perfectly timed. If she could swallow Roger's issue, why not her husband's? He'd been wanting it since their first date and she'd never relented. “I have a treat for you, tonight,” she told him in her sexiest little voice.

  "What's that, sweetheart?"

  "You'll have to find out, won't you?"

  Kevin laughed. “You got a deal."

  She cringed just a little at the mention of deals. Roger Caine made deals. He played with people's lives on a daily basis. All the more reason for her to come clean tonight.

  After she'd given her husband the blowjob of his life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Caine's sexual relief, as always, was short lived.

  A half-hour after finishing up with Erin, he was downshifting like a maniac, pushing the Lotus past the one twenty mark. Taking the beltway all the way around the city just to get to the club on Fourteenth was a ferocious waste of time and gas, but he was in that kind of mood. Pissed and looking for a target. It might be some rookie cop dumb enough to pull him over.

  Or a smart-ass driver looking to start some trouble. Caine's lawyers—and he had enough to fill a football stadium—tried to discourage him from getting into petty scraps. But Roger Caine had come up from the streets. It was in his blood, to the point of his being a third degree black belt. And a cutthroat venture capitalist.

  Speaking of lawyers, he had a platoon of them working on his divorce settlement. Leaving Sophia penniless was a good start, but he wanted her cut off from the children as well.

  She was a whore and a slut, no matter what anyone else said and there was no way he'd allow Roger Junior and Amelia to be exposed to such moral decrepitude.

  They were in Switzerland at the moment in boarding school. Her own lawyers were seeking injunctions to bring them back, but that would be a little difficult since Roger Caine not only owned quarter of a million dollar sports cars, he owned judges. And cops and politicians, too. So many he had people just to keep count. Hell, his lawyers had lawyers. He had company lawyers, and he hired firms on top of that. Firms like the one employing Erin's husband.

  A delivery truck slammed on its brakes as Caine wove round him, temporarily occupying the space in front of the man's bumper. Roger stayed put in front of him an extra few seconds. Just because he could.

  "Talk to me,” he told Lillian on speakerphone.

  His no nonsense secretary rattled off the current status of his empire, weeding them down to the most immediate things to be taken care of. Two things caught his attention. Kevin Wyatt was still in the waiting room and Sophia his ex had called, breaking down in tears.

  Could she see her babies, please, for Christmas?

  "Have Sophia come in at nine tomorrow,” Roger said. “And hold Wyatt one more hour, then send him home. Tell him something else came up and I'll get back to him."

  Something had certainly come up this afternoon, Caine smiled. Namely his own cock. Three times, to be precise. Hard and mean in the young lawyer's wife's pussy and mouth. He really would have to see Wyatt soon just so he could enjoy that special secret thrill that came from looking at a man whose wife you've just fucked, laughing with him, putting your hand on his shoulder, feeling that rush as you know he's clueless to how he's been cuckolded. Hell, that was almost as good as the sex itself.

  Lillian asked no questions, which is why she'd stayed working for him so long. She didn't bat an eyelash at his sadism. She knew a man did what he had to at his level, both to advance his business and to maintain his sanity.

  The smile broadened as he thought of Sophia, though his emotions were cold as ice. She was going to get a lesson in the morning. And he'd get a couple of the girls at the club to help.

  No one manipulated Roger Caine, not with force, money or tears. Especially not with tears.

  About five people ran up to take care of him as he pulled up to the entrance of the Riverside Supper Club. The place was really two clubs in one. The front was a formal dining place for the club's members, among whom were numbered some of the richest and most powerful men in the city.

  In back was an adult entertainment section, similar to a gentleman's club, except that none of the normal rules for protecting the dancers or servers was in place. It was a man's world, start to finish.

  Roger went right on by the diners and down the stairs in the back. Anthony, one of his security men was sitting out front of the door. Not that they ever had much trouble down here from patrons.

  "Hey, Mr. C.,” Anthony beamed at the club's owner and founder. “How's it going?"

  Caine treated himself to a little slap boxing with the former middleweight contender. For a hundred dollars an hour, the man lent his talents and his good humor to the club's ambience.

  "Not bad, Tony, how about you?"

  "Can't complain. Nobody's listening, right? Hey, if you get a chance, try out the new girl. They brought her in last night."

  "She's good, then?"

  Anthony whistled. “Tighter than a drum, boss, tighter than a drum."

  Caine nodded, slapping the man on the back. “Thanks for the tip."

  "Don't mention it.” Anthony opened the door, allowing the smoke to pour out. Cigars, cigarettes, it was all okay in here. This was where men let their hair down. If they had any.

  He took a moment to soak in the atmosphere—the small round tables and leather upholstered chairs, the paneled walls with autographed photos of the century's greatest men, and of course the stage, where females displayed their god given charms to best advantage.

  Roger had a table in the corner, always reserved.

  He got Candy to wait on him because he was in a mood for breasts and hers were the best. Erin was a tiny bit lacking in that department, though she more than made up for it with her flat belly, taut ass and killer legs. He'd thought of her shaking her stuff down here, and it might come to that yet.

  Should she ever seriously cross him, that is.

  "The usual, sir?” chimed the well-endowed redhead, her full, white globes barely contained in a tiny black vest.

  "Surprise me.” Caine had her bend forward so he could undo the buttons.

  "Yes, sir,” she shuddered but did not resist as he casually flicked her large red nipples. At The Riverside Club, the customer was always right. And if there were things a man wanted to do that were too hard to accomplish out here at the tables, then there were back
rooms, complete with beds and all manner of creative devices to renew even the most jaded palate.

  It behooved a girl to satisfy the clients, for whether she was a mere waitress or one of the star dancers, the rules of discipline and punishment were strict. It was on correcting the wayward females, in fact, that Anthony and the others spent the bulk of their time.

  "I want these clamped,” he indicated the twin buds swollen between his thumbs and forefingers. “Alligators if you please."

  Candy's shoulders slumped. The alligators were excruciating. “Yes, sir,” she agreed, knowing that arguing was useless.

  Caine took pity, lifting her tiny little skirt—Candy's only other covering—to pat her naked ass. “Cheer up, honey. If you're good I'll let you ride in the car sometime and take you for an ice cream. Would you like that?"

  "Yes, sir,” Candy assured him. “Thank you, sir."

  Indeed it would be a huge treat for the girl to get out in the open air. Like most of the other waitresses, she lived on the premises, in a common room where each was assigned either a mattress or a cage, depending how pleasing she had been of late. The ice cream would probably be heaven, too. Waitresses ate scraps more often than not, off the floor on their hands and knees.

  Legally you couldn't call it slavery, though the effect was the same. Some of the girls had debts to pay, for themselves or their boyfriends while others were on the run from the law. Still others were runaways who'd signed one-sided contracts making them liable for living expenses that were designed to exceed their daily income.

  A few of the dancers got to live off premises, as pets kept in Caine's penthouse. He liked to rotate them every few months for variety. His favorites were the fresh captures. The exotics. Not the usual girls who put their bodies on the streets but proud women, with stories to tell and desperate edges. Women whose spirits he broke, just to prove the point that Roger Caine had no equal. He could have any female. And crush any man who got in the way.

  "Turn around,” he told Candy, wanting to feel her luscious behind.

  Caine flipped up the mockery of a skirt, noting the criss-crossed marks, angry red across her ass. “What did you do to get those little beauties?"

  "I was fighting with Sydney over a cracker."

  "You were hungry?"

  "I hadn't eaten all day, sir."

  "What happened to Sydney?"

  "She got off with a warning, sir."

  He could hear the pout in the girl's voice. This wasn't the first time the beautiful Sydney had gotten away with something. She was dark haired, lithe, a dancer. She spread her legs nightly for senators and CEO's. Still, she was only a woman and it never hurt to remind her of that from time to time.

  "I'll see she gets caged for a night."

  Candy whirled about, her eyes filled glee. “Thank you, sir,” she dropped to her knees to kiss his feet. “Candy is very grateful."

  He pushed her gently away. “I'm not doing it for you. Now go and get my drink. And don't forget the nipple clamps."

  The bare foot redhead was off like a shot. The charm bracelets on her ankles were jingling, suggesting the reality of her status. Candy was owned. By the club ... by him.

  Ownership. That's what they were good for. Didn't pay to marry them; eventually they turned on you. Like Sophia. So the woman wanted to see the children she'd ruined so badly with her poor mothering, did she? Very well, first she would give a little command performance showing Roger just what a whore she really was. Then, if he were satisfied with her display, he'd give her a few hours with the kids, a day maybe. If not, her slut ass could rot in hell before she saw so much as a digital photo of either Roger Jr. or Amelia.

  For some reason Roger was thinking of the lawyer's wife. The naive little Erin. It was rare for him to keep wanting a woman after the first couple of times, but the slender, green-eyed blonde kept popping into his mind.

  She certainly made him hard enough. It was like being twenty again. Was it strictly a function of her youth? Certainly he had even younger ones to choose from here at the club, all the way down to eighteen, and with flawless bodies, too. Maybe it was the way Erin seemed to retain her innocence. She was pure, despite his best efforts at corruption. After all he'd done, she still wanted to go back to her husband.

  As if there were ever a way back. That was one of those tough lessons she'd acquire in the real world, the sort of thing they don't teach at cheerleading camp or at sleepovers with giggly girlfriends.

  He was more than happy to be her instructor, too. It would be interesting to see what her next move was. He fully intended to call her tomorrow for another liaison. Would she have the guts to refuse? He almost wished she would, for the sheer sport of it.

  Candy returned wincing, his drink in hand.

  "Let me see."

  She let him examine the alligator clamps. He was fascinated by the sight of the metal biting into her flesh.

  "I have a job for you in the morning,” he played with the chain attaching the two clamps.

  Candy stifled the scream. “Yes, sir."

  "You are going to handle some business for me. You and Sydney. What do you think? Would you like a chance to get out of here and visit my office for a few hours?"

  "Yes,” she bobbed her head fiercely, wanting the pain to go away. “Yes, yes."

  He laughed, thinking of these two sluts having their way with his blue blood wife. “Have Anthony bring you,” he said. “Be at my office by eight. Come in the back way and wear some business clothes."

  "Yes, sir ... please ... sir ... the pain.” Tears streamed down her face.

  "I'll make Erin hurt like this,” he said, speaking his thoughts aloud.

  The notion caught him off guard. Once again, the lawyer's wife was slipping unbidden into his mind. I must break her quickly, he decided. I must reach the point of boredom so I can move on.

  * * * *

  Kevin Wyatt had no idea what had come over his sweet, staid little wife. Making suggestive remarks over the phone, talking about surprises that clearly had to do with sex. Not to be disrespectful, but ordinarily Erin was a cold fish. Totally uncommunicative, just lying there giving him no real indication of what was turning her on.

  It was like he was having sex with Erin's mother. Going through the motions to make babies. And they weren't even doing that, though it was a topic he'd really rather not talk about with her right now. They didn't talk about much of anything, anymore. Just his job. Which was fine, but didn't she have any passions of her own? Once upon a time she did, when he was a struggling law student. He loved that she wanted to stay at home now and be a traditional wife, but did she have to be so freaking boring?

  It was tough enough dealing with the pressures of the firm without having to come home to a lackluster, automaton. A woman totally housebound on the one hand and totally checked out on the other. Did she think he didn't know the orgasms weren't real? That her mind was a million miles away? That she was cringing deep inside every time he touched her?

  Bree was the exact opposite. She was alive and passionate and every time he looked at her she made it clear she wanted him. They'd done it everywhere in the office. Over his desk, in the copy room, in the toilets, the men's and the women's both. She was a maniac. An eighteen year old, gum chewing, pink haired, tight bodied, belly button ringed maniac. And every time he saw her, he wanted her like crazy. The way he'd wanted Erin, back in the beginning.

  Bree was also willing to get a little kinky. Her fine young ass could take a good punishing and it pinkened to a nice delicious hue. The fact that her father was Calvin Malbie, one of the managing partners of the firm, made it all the sweeter to take the girl in hand and make her moan.

  Kevin had never dreamed such things would turn him on. It was a lark at first, but now it was becoming something he craved. He'd even thought about going further. Proper Erin would never tolerate a man's hand on her body like that. She barely tolerated sex.

  He loved her, though, which is why he felt so damned torn
. Not to mention guilty as hell.

  All this ran through his mind as he left the Caine Building. Roger hadn't shown up for the meeting (Mr. Caine let him call him that now, much to Kevin's excitement) which left him free for the night.

  He could go right home to Erin and her surprise—which probably was nothing more than some new bedroom drapes—or he could go play in Bree's apartment where the sexy, pierced little teenager was waiting for him in nothing but her combat panties and a pair of handcuffs.

  This by the girl's own admission over cell phone, though he had no idea how she was managing to make the call without use of her hands.

  Like a good lawyer, Kevin decided to have it both ways.

  "Honey, looks like Caine's gonna keep me here half the night,” he told Erin en route to Bree's. “But keep that surprise warm for me, okay?"

  He thought she sounded a little funny, but when he asked she brushed it off. “Just allergies,” she told him.

  "All right then. See you later,” he let it go. “I love you."

  Well that had gone fairly well. Now all he had to figure out was if he thought he would enough juice for two orgasms tonight or if he was going to need to hold himself back with Bree.

  Kevin laughed at his adulterous dilemma. He really was getting more like Roger Caine every day. I could do worse, he thought with secret pride. A lot worse.

  * * * *

  Erin's hand trembled as she hung up the phone. Her husband had just lied to her. Roger Caine wasn't really keeping him late. She knew for a fact Caine had made up the meeting as an excuse in the first place. So what was her husband hiding? Was he having an affair? She'd had her suspicions. There were women at the law firm who wanted him. Erin wasn't stupid, or blind. She might not have a law degree, but she knew there were females out there with their eye on her husband. Kevin was tall, dark and handsome, not to mention young, and full of promise. Who wouldn't want a piece of that kind of action?

  Only Kevin was already spoken for. She was his husband. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. Forsaking all others. Had these words meant nothing to him? Where the hell was he going tonight? Something was up. She knew it. She should have seen it coming. He was traveling in circles she couldn't keep up with anymore. Half the time she didn't even feel attractive much less smart enough to fit in. It had stunned her when Roger showed an interest in her. She knew it probably had more to do with wanting to solidify her husband's loyalty, but she'd soaked up the little bits of attention he seemed to lavish on her during sex.