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Bad Bad Girl

By: Alta Hensley
Published By: Blushing Press
Copyright: ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Alta Hensley
Three Novels / 114,430 Words
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How can it be wrong when it feels so, so right? 

What happens when you are a very bad, bad girl?

What happens when he is so alpha that he demands complete surrender?

What happens when your body, mind, and soul betray you?

 You submit. 

You utter the words you never thought you would say.

“Yes, sir.”

They should resist. They should say no. They should walk away and never look back.

But they won't.

Three women. Three men. Three tales of carnal delight that push the comfort zone. 

 Includes: Traditional Love, Traditional Terms, and Traditional Change.

*** Bad Bad Girl is an erotic romance that pushes the boundaries of taboo. It is far from a Traditional Love romance. There is graphic sex, there is content that will certainly make you blush, and there are scenes that could cause grandma to have a stroke. If this is not your cup of tea, then please do not take a sip.

*** Currently available exclusively at Amazon ***

Chapter One

I knew what I was going to walk in to. I knew, and yet I continued on. It was like one of those horror movies where you internally scream at the girl for being so stupid as she is about to be murdered in the most gruesome of ways. I was that stupid girl.

I suppose that deep down this incident was inevitable. Not that I was excusing what was before me, but I understood it. A wife should never have to walk in on her husband having sex with another woman, but I wasn’t surprised by it. I should be mad, devastated, hurt, and destroyed. I should be shaking with fury wanting to kill the woman who was wildly riding my husband. I should scream or throw something at them. Shouldn’t I? Then why was I simply watching this woman give my husband pleasure? I watched with a morbid fascination, a sickness really.

She raised her ass slowly and then pushed down with a driving force. He, of course, just sat back and enjoyed the ride. She seductively grabbed her breasts with each hand and began to rub and slightly pinch her nipples. She separated her luscious lips to let out a soft moan and angled her back to position his cock to reach just the right spot. Her creamy white skin glistened, and her wild hair cascaded down her back. She lowered her pink manicured finger to her dripping wet pussy and swirled it around her engorged clit. Her moan became louder, and her breathing became ragged. She rode his languid body with intense passion, thrusting herself down onto his ready cock, encompassing him with her soaking wet pussy. She worked unaided on her approaching peak.

She really was gorgeous, and she was doing an excellent job giving ecstasy to my selfish husband. She seemed to be doing all the work. It was erotic, sensual, sexual…but not because of him. By his moans and his tightly squeezed eyes, I could see he was close to orgasm. Of course he was close to orgasm. He was always close to orgasm. I actually felt sorry for this woman because it was very likely he’d be finished long before she had her needs met. And with that thought, I decided to do to him what he so often did to me, and soon to this woman. I was going to stop them before he could reach completion.

There I was, standing in the doorway of the bedroom I once shared with my husband, watching him have lousy sex with another woman, and I was actually smiling. I crossed my arms smugly and leaned against the doorjamb. Very calmly, I cleared my throat. My husband jumped up in surprise, and the woman quickly covered herself with a sheet. I actually got quite a bit of amusement in their embarrassment.

“Jesus, Neely! What the fuck! How long have you been standing there?” He reached for a blanket to cover up. I found this funny. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what he looked like naked.

I smiled at him and the traumatized woman. I didn’t say a single word to either. I turned around and slowly walked out of the house, my house, for the last time.

This was what I needed. I needed to know for sure that I was making the right decision. Leaving my husband wasn’t something I took lightly. I believed in the vows I took. I believed in happily ever after. When I walked down the aisle in my ridiculously priced dress, on my absurdly priced wedding day, I truly believed we would grow old together. But I couldn’t have happily ever after if I wasn’t happy now. Seeing my husband have sex with someone else only gave me the closure I so desperately needed. I could move on, knowing that he had. He had been the first to step out. Betrayal in a way. So the guilt of ending our marriage could be on him…right?

My husband didn’t want the divorce, or so he said. He wanted me, he cried for me, and he begged me. But what he never did was fight for me. His sensitivity and his gentle soul was everything I thought I needed until I realized that it made him seem weak. I had no respect for this man. He was highly intelligent and extremely kind, but it was never enough. I wanted something more—for him to be stronger somehow. Our relationship was at war and I wanted—no needed—a warrior to battle for us.

The sex was average. Average wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t good. It got to a point that having sex was like a chore or duty. It lacked passion and fire. We lacked excitement and desire. Two years of marriage and we no longer had sex. I was to blame as well, because I gave nothing. I couldn’t find anything to give. Have you heard the term “limp noodle,” or “dead fish?” It was fair to say that was me.

So we separated. I left and got a place temporarily to decide what was next. A furnished apartment became my home. For months I lived amongst belongings that weren’t my own. I slept in a bed that others had slept in, watched a television that didn’t truly belong to me and received mail in a mailbox that would only be for a short time. He called, he visited, and he cried. I didn’t. My heart had grown cold. Emotions, feelings, any form of love lacked in my impassive heart.

I came to the house today to come to an agreement. I could no longer stay in the limbo between marriage and divorce. Apparently, based on what I walked in on, he couldn’t either. He was ready to move on as well. Almost a year of separation was enough for both of us. He moved on, and so should I.

So yes, a woman should never have to see her husband having sex with another woman. But it allowed me to release my guilt somewhat. Seeing him naked beneath another woman allowed me to close the door. Today told me that the marriage was indeed over. That it had been over for a very long time. I could move on and not look back. I could accept the job offer I got back in my hometown and start over. I could move home, be surrounded by my closest friends, and try to fix my broken life.

I got offered the job I’d wanted, as a program director for a non-profit. It finally seemed as if my luck might be changing, and I couldn’t help but be a little hopeful. After today, I decided it was time to start letting my friends know I was returning home…for good.

I quickly called Coley, my best friend since high school. We managed to always stay in contact, even if we both lived in different states or countries. Coley had always been my constant. She was one of those girls who spoke her mind freely…sometimes a little too freely. She was spontaneous, fun and lived life to the fullest. She was a free spirit and let nothing get her down. She, too, had just recently returned home after writing stories in a café in Prague. Only Coley could have the courage to travel to the countries she did. She traveled with a one-way ticket and no real plan as to when she’d be returning. I loved Coley more than anything and couldn’t wait to tell her that I’d be seeing her in just a week.

I hurriedly dialed her number and was disappointed to hear, “Hey, it’s Coley. You know what to do.” Beep.

“Coley, it’s me, Neely. I have excellent news! Call me as soon as you can.”

My next call was to Coley’s older brother, Caine. Caine meant more to me than any man alive. He had always been the protective older “brother” to me, as well as to Coley. He was just as strong in his actions as he was in his physique. He loved with an intensity which could be annoying to a troublesome teenager, but was desired as an adult. I loved Caine, as a friend, or at least that was how we always kept it. Caine and Coley were the only family I had left, and I’m pretty sure Caine and Coley felt the same about me.

My mom had died three years ago from colon cancer after a long and painful battle. It was Caine who held me as I sobbed for days. It was Coley and Caine who helped me through one of the darkest moments in my life. My father was never in the picture, so it was just me and my mom, and when my mom died, I was alone.

Coley and Caine were no novices when it came to death and grieving either. They had lost their parents in a horrible car accident two days before our high school graduation. The driver had somehow lost control of the car on a mountain pass and it went over the cliff. I can still remember how devastating the tragedy was. I stood at the gravesite holding hands with Caine and Coley, sobbing as their parents were lowered into the ground.

I paced the kitchen as the phone rang, hoping I could catch Caine. I could never really be sure of his ever-changing firefighting schedule.

“Hello,” Caine’s deep voice echoed. It always amazed me how, even over the phone, he seemed so strong and powerful.

“Caine, it’s me, Neely. I have fantastic news! I’m moving home. I’m moving back to you guys! I just got offered a job today, and I start in a week.” I spoke so fast and so loud I was sure Caine had to pull the phone back away from his ear. “I’m moving forward with the divorce.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. How are you holding up?”

“Surprisingly well. This has been a long time coming. I just needed something to make me take the plunge.” I paused for a long moment. “I guess you could say I got the closure I needed today.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“I know. I just need to keep telling myself that.”

“I’m really happy you’re coming home to us. Does Coley know yet?”

“No, not yet. I got her voicemail.”

“So do you need any help packing or moving? What can I do to help? A week isn’t very long to make a move like this,” he inquired with his practical and protective tone.

“Honestly, Caine, I don’t have it in me to fight with the divorce. So I’m just going to walk away with my clothes, some items that hold special memories, and my car. There is nothing to pack really.” I was losing all the excitement in my voice.

I could sense Caine was completely furious hearing this and even more furious that my soon-to-be-ex-husband could take the fight out of me. He never liked my husband and disliked him even more during the separation.

“Why in the hell would you let that jerk get everything? You have more strength than to let that ass walk all over you,” he lectured.

I sighed. “Please, I really don’t want to talk about it. It was a horrible time, and I just want to look ahead. No more talk about him, okay?” I made my voice perk up. “Now I’m free to return home and start my life over. I think I need to come as soon as possible to find an apartment. Do you mind helping me with that?”

“There’s no reason for you to find an apartment and live by yourself. I have a new three bedroom house, and I have a spare room you can move into. We can be roommates,” he stated rather than asked.

“I can’t do that. You’re living with Sara, right? I don’t think me moving in is what you two lovebirds want.”

I didn’t really know much about his new girlfriend. I knew she was one of many and that Caine had just recently moved her into his house. He rarely spoke of his girlfriends other than their name. He kept his love life private and seldom shared that side of him. In all the years I had known Caine, I only met a couple girls, and I had never seen him in love. He had never been with anyone longer than a few months.

“She’ll be fine with it.”

“Come on. No girl in the world would be okay with this idea.”

There was a long pause before he spoke. “It’s my house. Sara lives with me…for now.”

“For now?”

He cleared his throat. “We aren’t discussing me and Sara right now. No getting out of this. Besides, I’m not comfortable with the idea of you living alone. You need people who love you around.”

“I could crash with Coley,” I interjected.

“She has a one bedroom, a lumpy couch and you know how messy my sister is.” He chuckled. “My home is your home, period.” His tone made it clear the conversation was over.

I sighed. “Fine, but I insist on paying rent. And if you and Sara need alone time, you just need to give me some secret code to get out of Dodge.”

He let out a big laugh. “Neely girl, get your ass moving and come home now!”

I couldn’t help but giggle. It was nice to feel this excited and hopeful again. I was happy to be moving in with Caine. I was sick of being alone and having no one to come home to. I couldn’t imagine a better place to live or a better person to live with. I hadn’t felt so beat down in my entire life, and I realized I needed his strength to help me find my own.

“I love you. And I’ll see you guys soon.”

I hung up the phone and felt the urge to laugh or scream. Instead, I cried. I couldn’t believe the past few years were soon to be behind me. I had a new job, new home, and old friends. I couldn’t ask for more…well maybe a new man.

I chuckled at the thought of bringing a man home to meet Caine. How would that go over? I would have to tell a possible love interest that I live with a man. I would have to deal with his fatherly behavior monitoring my dating life. I wiped at my tears and smiled at the thought of seeing him every day. The pity party needed to end. I was done feeling like a failure, and feeling alone. I was ready to take my life back. But more than anything, I couldn’t wait to get back home.

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