Chapter 15 WildCat (1)
Oliver's POV
I married a wildcat, literally.
She always wanted my rod, in the heat and the cold. Different positions and different styles. She wanted it whenever. I knew what I had married and at a point, I never needed to look outside.
Claire was enough for me. But soon, she was losing the heat, giving one lame excuse over another. So I needed to slice up our love life by starting over again.
"What's up with you, Claire? You've not even tried smiling for once," my brows furrowed as I looked at her. We were both seated at a lounge, demarcated by an oval table between us.
"I told you that I had work to do, now, I'm forced against my will to be here." She rolled her emerald's eyes.
"What do you mean you're forced against your will? Claire, how am I suppose to spice things up if you agree to do this and say something else entirely? Why do you make me look like a fool?" My voice was becoming slightly irritable as well as I was pissed.
"So, you're shouting now! Maybe, I should simply get you a microphone." She intoned. My mouth dropped open and the waiter saved me from uttering any more words.
"Good day, sir, good day, ma. What would you like to order?" The lad towered over us.
Claire flipped her curls aside as she looked up at the young lad, smiling up at him. He was a fine lad, built from his outer appearance. Strong abs and well-dimpled for a guy. He must be in his middle twenties, I concluded. Something tightened in the depths of my stomach, was it fury? Possibly not! Or jealousy? Maybe, that was it!
I sat back, yanking free one button from my shirt while I stared at them exchanging pleasantries. And the way she slithered her hand across his hand disgusted me. I cleared my throat, reminding both of them that I existed. Claire pulled her hand free from him and eyed me.
"And what would you like to order as well?" The younger man bounced his eyes on me.
"I'll take whatever she orders," I replied, without letting go of Claire's eyes.
The moment the young lad was gone, I scoffed, leaning over the table. "You wouldn't smile at me all day. But one look at the waiter, and you're all wet," I remarked.
Her eyes bulged, "what the fuck, Oliver! Have you lost your manners?"
"Cut with the crap, Claire. You've been avoiding my touches and kisses. You wouldn't say why, yet the first glance at that dude, your folds are reeking with nectar."
I did have a way with words. That was one good way I turned her on. Saying such words to her would give me some insight into what she had been doing behind my back. But she was damn good, acting up and faking shit.
"Oliver, if you don't give me that due respect, I'm gonna walk out of here," she threatened.
"Oh, so we're doing that now? Throwing threats in the air like they're some rocks?" I scoffed.
Our lips sealed shut when the lad sauntered to our table, placing two dishes of spaghetti all'assassins before us. I tried a fake smile at him, mouthing a thank you.
"You know, you'd better learn how to be in control of your jealousy. That way you're in power," Claire shot a manicured finger at me, arching a brow over the other when the lad was gone.
The way she arched her brow had my wood waking up with a mild twitch. I closed my eyes briefly.
No, not in here, I told myself, patting my groin while grateful for the table that concealed that private region of me.
If not for my willpower, I would have thrown whatever was on the table, placed her at the center of it then pounded her to insanity. Why did she choose to punish me this way? I could have any other woman as I so required. But I chose to have her instead. I'd wondered at the magnitude of witchcraft that she had held on me.
I have to win her again to me. After this dinner, I wouldn't hesitate to make love to her. My breaths deepened at the thought of our meshed bodies, tangled limbs, and naked skin.
I watched her curl her spaghetti sauce around her cutlery, place it into her sweet mouth. She paused when she caught me licking my lips. Coughing, she went straight for her ice water.
"Baby, are you alright?" I asked, concern etched across my face.
"Are you a pervert, Oliver? What's with that goddamn look on your face?" She asked me.
"Truthfully, baby, my boney can't just wait to sink itself into you," I muttered, my eyes taking a darker shade.
She smiled then. My heart jumped at the sight of her stifling a laughter. And my wood bobbed again. She would be all mine, and there was no holding back.
The moment we hit the door to our bedroom, we were all over each other, holding and kissing each other. Our mouths jammed and gloried in redemption. She trembled in my arms when I kissed her neck.
"You know, I like it when you talk dirty," she hissed in my ears.
"I know that, boo," I replied, touching the soft flesh of her naked breasts. Her breasts swung free when she let go of her brassieres, the size of her twin breasts - full and luscious, inviting me for a drink.
My head swung low, grabbing one nipple to my mouth while she caressed my swollen pride. I groaned leading her to our comfy-sized bed. She unzipped the rest of her peach gown and thronged herself out of it before we fell to the bed.
She moaned. Nestling her hands into my thick, dark hair, she grabbed it upwards wrenching my lips free from her swollen nipples. Then we kissed again like it was all that truly mattered.
A shrilly sound sliced the air, lacing our muffled sounds. Claire's mouth pulled free from my mouth as she looked around.
"My phone is ringing," she rasped breathlessly from the savage of her mouth.
"Let it ring, baby. You can get back to it later," I mumbled, dipping a finger into her wetness while finding her clitoris.
She whimpered at my flickering caresses. Stirred, and rolled away from my embrace to reach for her handbag. I sighed, giving up while I waited for her return, I unzipped and pulled my trousers. My throbbed meat needed freedom, it ached tremendously from lack of touch and worship.
I sat back at the edge of the bed, clasping my rock-hard average dick while watching the sway of her hips. She was everything beautiful, that my rod simply ached from watching her.
"Who's that?" I asked, wondering why she was delaying our make-out.
"My boss," she said, turning back to me. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I have work to do."
My eyes widened. What the hell? Even at night? Who the hell was her boss to tie her down with duties? That made no sense to me.
"Work to do? Claire, you can't be serious." I was stunned as she began to pick up her wandered clothes.
"I'll be in the guest room if you need me." She tried a weak smile.
"Are you leaving me like this?" I asked.
She didn't reply me. I thought she was merely joking, until I was alone, alone with my thoughts as seconds waltzed by. What the hell was happening to Claire? She had never turned down our lovemaking only to answer her boss's demands.
My crotch began to hurt and I needed a release. I walked into the bathroom, sprayed a handful of lotion into my hand while I clasped it tightly around my rod and began to stroke.
While stroking, I envisioned memories of Claire's tunnel wrapping around my dick. I groaned as my strokes took a faster pace, faster and faster until I could feel my seed rising. It convulsed profusely then plastered across the mirror in front of mine, I watched my distorted reflection wondering what had become of me.
Was Claire cheating on me? I was going to find out my way. I didn't care anymore if this was how she wanted our sex life to fade out, I was going to punish her for it, I told myself.