Chapter 55 Sex with my husband's driver: Finally fucking my husband
POV: Benjamin (Jalen)
I clicked on the message and I froze at what I saw.
“Rema took the bait and I fucked her. I'll send the pictures to you later at night and I've missed fucking you so much.”
I clenched my fist, not only did he set Rema up, he was also cheating on me.
He entered after taking a bath and tried to hug me but I pushed him away.
“Really?”
“What happened babe?”
“You're fucking cheating on me….with my driver?”
“I can explain…” he moved closer to me but I pushed him away and rushed towards my car.
I needed to check up on Rema. She got hurt because of me and I can't forgive myself for that.
Third person POV
Benjamin drove home like a maniac, a journey of almost two hours took him forty minutes.
He rushed inside and met Rema laying on the bed quietly.
“Babe,” he called out gently.
She stood up and looked at her husband who's been gone for months, she forced a smile.
She was dying of guilt and couldn't hold it in any longer.
“I can't explain…” She moved closer to Benjamin but he held her back and pulled her close.
He set the glass down with deliberate care.
“Basement,” he said, voice low, almost conversational. He wanted to apologize to her through other methods and his basement was the only place.
One word.
Rema’s lips parted on a breath that trembled.
She nodded once and preceded him down the narrow staircase hidden behind the pantry.
The door at the bottom was an oak, soundproofed, painted matte black.
Benjamin keyed in the code, it was her birthday, reversed and the lock clicked open.
Inside, the room breathed luxury and menace in equal measure.
Black walls absorbed the light from sconces set low, their glow the color of fresh bruises.
A wide, low bed dominated the center, draped in charcoal black linen.
Restraints of butter-soft leather waited at each corner.
Along one wall, glass-fronted cabinets displayed toys arranged like museum pieces, polished steel, gleaming silicone, hand-blown glass chilled in a silver bucket of ice water…it felt like the room was not left for more than three months.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and her perfume from the last time.
Benjamin closed the door. The click of the latch sounded final.
Rema’s pulse fluttered visibly in her throat. She stood in the center of the room, barefoot on the heated slate floor, robe tied loosely enough that every breath threatened to undo it.
He circled her slowly like a predator assessing prey, letting anticipation coil tighter in her belly.
“Take it off,” he murmured. He could only have BDSM sex with Rema because he was gay and that was how he could enjoy sex.
Her fingers trembled only slightly, she untied the sash.
The silk slid from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, leaving her naked except for the thin gold chain around her waist.
Goosebumps rose across her skin though the room was warm.
Benjamin stopped behind her. He hasn't touched her yet.
Instead he let his breath ghost over the nape of her neck, watching the fine hairs rise.
When he finally spoke, his voice cracked up and was deep.
“Tell me what you want tonight, Rema.”
Her answer came out a whisper. “Everything you haven't given me for years.”
He wanted to fuck her, the thought of her calling another man's name made him really mad and angry.
He smiled against her ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Then earn it.”
He guided her to the bed with a hand at the small of her back, pressure gentle but inexorable.
She crawled onto the mattress on all fours, knees sinking into the plush duvet, and waited.
Benjamin selected four cuffs from the drawer.
He buckled the first around her left wrist, tightening until the fit was snug but not cruel, then stretched her arm toward the headboard and clipped it to the hidden ring.
He repeated the process with deliberate slowness, drawing the moment out until she was spread-eagle on her stomach, cheek pressed to the cool linen and back arched in helpless offering.
Only when the last cuff clicked shut did he allow himself the first real touch, the flat of his palm gliding down the elegant line of her spine, pausing to trace each vertebra, then lower, cupping the swell of her ass before spreading her open just enough to make her gasp.
“Color?” he asked, the ritual question. He had always used these signs.
“Green,” she breathed. “So green.”
He rewarded her with a kiss between her shoulder blades, open-mouthed and wet, then moved away.
She heard the clink of glass, the soft slosh of liquid.
When he returned, he held a crystal pitcher beaded with condensation. Ice water inside, cubes clinking softly.
Rema’s breath hitched. She wondered how the ice cubes got there.
He started at the base of her neck. A thin stream poured over her skin, shocking cold racing down the channel of her spine.
She cried out, arching hard against the restraints.
Benjamin watched rivulets snake over the curve of her waist, drip from her ribs, darken the sheets.
He tilted the pitcher again, letting water cascade across her shoulder blades, then lower, tracing the cleft of her ass.
The cold made her clench involuntarily, the sight made his cock throb against the front of his trousers.
He set the pitcher aside and bent to lick a path through the water, his tongue was hot in contrast, lapping it from her skin like a cat with milk.
Rema writhed, her thighs sliding restlessly against each other.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what, darling?”
“Touch me. Anywhere. I’m dying.”
He chuckled, dark and indulgent. “Not yet.”
Instead he fetched a small remote-controlled vibrator curved wickedly and a bottle of chilled silicone lube.
He drizzled the lube over her exposed entrance, watching her flinch at the cold, then used one finger to circle the tight ring of her muscle.
Slow, patient circles until she relaxed by degrees. When he finally pressed inside, the sound she made was pure surrender.