C.A.K.E

Chapter 2: I Think We're Alone Now

THE STONES

“Home sweet home, my dear.”

Elliott opens the door of their four-bedroom condo and ushers Arden over the threshold. As soon as her

heels touch the reclaimed hardwood floor, the motion sensor lights are triggered. The open floor plan of

the main living area is illuminated within seconds. She sits her clutch on the foyer table and Eli

removes his jacket from her shoulders.

“Such a gentleman.” Smiling, she slips out of her shoes.

“Only for you.” He hooks his arm around her middle and scoops her up. “I can be quite rough at times.”

She squeals and pretends to struggle against him. Elliott carries her to the master bedroom and falls

backward onto the California king bed with her.

She sits up and swings her leg over his body so that her thighs are hugging his torso. Her dress glides

up as his hands chase the thin material up her thighs, before cupping her round bottom. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

Moonlight rains down from the skylight above the bed, casting a sapphire glow over them. Arden stares

down at him and runs her fingers through his dusky blonde curls. Still grasping a handful of his hair,

she bends and whispers in his ear.

“Rough little boys need to be punished for their actions.” She tugs his locks. “Now what should I do with

you?”

“I don't know.” He sighs and turns his head to face her. “But I think it should hurt.”

She smiles, devilment in her eyes. “Can do.”

Arden teases him, letting her lips get just within reach of his before pulling back. Elliott tightens his grip

on her, making her soft curves press into him.

Eli breaks their kiss to trace slow circles on her shoulder with his tongue. She whimpers, as he bites

and sucks her skin. His hand finds the zipper on the side of her dress and tugs it down.

Arden pulls the garment over her head, ruffling her hair. She leans down, seeking his lips again. But his

touch on her stomach keeps her upright.

“What is it?”

“Just let me look at you for a second.” Clad in nothing but her nude strapless bra and matching

seamless underwear, she's a disheveled goddess.

She smooths her thumb over the stubble of his forming beard, then tugs at his bottom lip. “You know

that's not all you're allowed to do.”

Elliott pulls her down into another kiss.

Arden yanks the cashmere blend shirt over his head. She trails soft kisses down his chest to the

waistband of his jeans. She undoes the button and zipper with an urgency that isn't easy to derail. But

Eli manages.

“Baby, wait.” He catches her hands.

“What?” She lifts her head, brows furrowed.

“We both have early mornings ahead of us. And you know, we don't do quickies.”

Arden nods, continuing to undress him. He flips her over onto her back and holds her down by her

wrists.

“I have a meeting at eight. And you need to be at the bakery by four.”

“You're just stating facts right now. What's the problem?”

“We should get some rest.”

“It will still be late in twenty minutes.” She blows a lock of hair out of her face and wraps her legs

around his waist. “The only difference is we'll both be a whole lot happier.”

He gives her a tender kiss then scoots to the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. Arden turns on the

bedside lamp and pulls him back down onto the sheets. Straddling him, she grabs his chin and makes

him look up at her.

“Hi. Elliott? Maybe, we haven't met.” She smirks and gestures to herself. “I'm Arden, your wife. And I'm

trying to sleep with you.”

“I'll make it up to you tomorrow.” He kisses her neck, then picks her up and lays her on top of the duvet.

“I promise.”

Arden watches his naked back disappear behind the pocket doors of their walk-in closet. She flings her

head back on the pillow and closes her eyes.

Every inch of her is craving to be touched. Casper's image flashes into her mind and the need is

intensified. She dismisses it and sighs.

Leaving her like this has to be criminal.

THE CALLAGHANS

“What color do you think her underwear was?”

Casper sighs. He knew the silent treatment in the car was too good to be true. Karma isn't one to

mince words and conflict is her middle name.

He decides to play dumb like any man with a lick of common sense would.

“Whose?”

She smirks. “You know exactly who I'm talking about.”

Yes, he does. She's a hard woman to forget. Brown eyes . . . A wide, sexy smile with lips perfect for

kissing . . . five-foot-seven with a healthy body and an ass that would have Casper at home every night

with bells on. He'd sip Arden Stone's bathwater through a swirly straw.

But like a good husband, he's resigned himself to touching her in the privacy of his dreams. Karma

owns his ass for sure. But she has no claim over the sexual playground that exists in his mind. His gray

matter has stored the sensations of innumerable raunchy encounters with hundreds of women.

“The only woman's underwear I'm concerned with are yours.”

He puts his arms around her and is shocked by the way his six-foot-three and two-hundred-twenty

pound frame engulfs her tiny body. She's always been petite at just four inches over five feet and a

hundred-twenty-five pounds. But her shape still had . . . some shape.

Karma went crazy about losing ten pounds to fit into her wedding dress. But here they were, five years

post-wedding, and she is still obsessive about keeping her weight in the low hundreds. She’s obsessive

about what she eats. Everything has to be organic, low-fat, or whatever new diet trend is flooding social

media. He’s convinced the only reason she still has sex with him is that she can burn off a few calories.

A big part of him wishes there was more of her to hold onto. Casper was a self-professed “ass man.”

Thank goodness her backside claimed the small percentage of body fat she allows to grace her slim

figure.

“Better be.” She whips around and throws him back on the sofa.

She unzips her gray structured dress to reveal a pair of black lace undies. No bra. Why bother? Her

breasts were petite handfuls that defied gravity. The leather wrinkles under their weight as she climbs

on top of him.

Casper's clothes are torn away from his body without much help from him. Ripping fabric is a turn-on

for him. But right now this is just rough. And not in a good way. He shuffles out of his boxer briefs

before she shreds them as well.

He pulls her to him for a kiss. Karma presses her mouth to his like she's trying to devour him, then

shoves him backward onto the couch again. She strokes his shaft and teases the tip with her lips, as

she warms herself up. Casper would jump in to help. But he's sure his assistance would be seen as

more of a hindrance.

Once he's hard enough to impale a brick wall she mounts him. He groans and winces as she grinds on

top of him. He grabs her ass and cups her breast in his other hand. Karma knocks his hand from her

chest and begins to rub her own nipples.

Casper watches her claim his manhood over and over in an aggressive vice grip. She's getting close.

He concentrates, trying to chase his own nirvana. If he doesn't cum when she does, it's going to be a

blue-balls kind of night.

She ascends the staircase to heaven just as he's approaching the first step. Her body bucks hard

against his, frozen momentarily as sharp gasps escape her. She slowly rides him, while she enjoys the

last waves of her climax. When her breathing returns to normal, she slides off him.

She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Mmm . . . that was so damn good.”

Karma leaves Casper and his half-limp dick to fend for themselves on the sofa and saunters into their

bedroom. He pulls the decorative throw from the opposite arm of the couch and covers his lower half.

Lately, it feels like she's doing the deed just to get it over with. It's all very mechanical and ordered, like

a job. He always gets the impression she'd rather be doing anything else .... or anyone else.

He brushes off his thoughts, not in the mood for any deep analysis. But the tension in his crotch can't

be ignored. He enlists the help of his best friend as a teenager--his left hand. As he and his palm get

reacquainted, Arden wanders into his mind.

He imagines his fingers skimming over her smooth skin. Her full breasts pressed against his chest and

his hands on her ass as he sinks into her. Casper can almost feel her lips on his, her legs wrapped

around his back, and her muffled moans against his neck.

A few strokes later, he's made the blanket unfit for anything but the trash can. Slipping back into his

boxers, he discards the cover in the garbage bin in the attached garage and washes up in the half bath.

He heads for the bar in the living room and pours himself a glass of Jack. He sips the stiff drink and

runs a hand over his hair. Her name bounces off the walls of his mind.

“Arden,” he whispers, thinking of doing much more than just looking.