The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter

Ten

Oh god, he felt so damn good. Thick, and hard, and long. Only one man had ever been in me before, my ex-husband. And I didn’t remember much about his penis, other than that every encounter with it had been like an assault.

He’d enjoyed that. My cries of pain, not pleasure. Was it any wonder I hadn’t been with anyone else since?

This though? This was the polar opposite. Everything in Bastian seemed intent on my pleasure, not his. The orgasm he’d given me was wonderous, but now, moving inside me, the drag of his hard member over the nerve endings inside was building me up to something that might wreck me.

My hips lifted to meet his, again and again. His thrusts got longer and faster and harder, as he read my body’s response to his. We weren’t kissing any more. His head was pressed on the pillow by mine, his mouth by my ear, where he whispered dirty words of encouragement to me between rasping breaths.

Words like I’d never heard used this way. Words that I considered swear words. Or wouldn’t use in my vocabulary. Words like fuck and pussy. Short phrases. So tight. So good. But how could that abhorrent word, cunt, sound so hot and sexy and make my girlie bits convulse?

My toes were curling, my insides tightening, and I felt almost panicked as these feelings started to claim me. “Bastian!” I cried out his name.

“Let it out, honey. I’ve got you. Let that hot little cunt squeeze me dry,” he grunted (growled?) the words in my ear. “I can feel you, baby. Feel you pulsing around me. Let go. I’ll come with you.” He wrapped his arms around me. I was cocooned by his body as he powered into me, and kept repeating, “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

And I detonated. A wave of pleasure swamped me from head to toe, leaving me mute in its wake. I just tucked my head into the crook of Bastian’s neck, letting him carry me away on this ride as he held me safe. Vaguely I was aware of his carnal groaning and the pulsing of his cock as he came too.

He continued to hold me after, stroking my back with long leisurely sweeps of his hands, like he needed to soothe me. How could he read me so well and know so little about me? I kept my head tucked into him, taking the time to taste his skin, slick with perspiration, slightly salty. All man. I’d never been with a man before. Only a bully, an abuser.

This brief interlude with Bastian was the one thing I had done solely for myself in years. It wasn’t likely to be repeated in the foreseeable future, so I stayed there a bit longer, breathing him in. Luxuriating in being held.

Maybe we could do that again before I left. I reached both hands down to feel the glorious muscular globes of his bum. It had looked delectable in his jeans, and felt even better in my hands.

“Oh yeah?” Bastian’s grin wasn’t visible but heard in his voice and felt as his facial muscles lifted against my shoulder.

“Hhmmm?” I feigned ignorance.

“More?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.” I too was smiling now.

“Let me get rid of this condom and get a new one.”

He was good to his word. Suited up and ready to go again mere moments later. This time it was harder, more physical. He moved me around like I weighed nothing, positioning me to his liking. Making sure it was to my liking too, as he thrust into me, fingers strumming me to yet another orgasm, then deftly coaxing out a final one before he increased his pace, driving into me from behind until he let out a roar and held himself deep while he emptied himself into the condom.

After, Bastian pulled me into his arms, my back to his front, checking that my ankle was doing okay first. He was a remarkably solicitous man. The way he had glowered at me over the boardroom table, I had thought he was a miserable, judgemental prat. Then again, I had been dressed to the nines as the old me trying to fool everyone, so it was all just a jumbled mess.

Years of my life had led up to this day, to finally make Robert pay for what he had done to me. The culmination of the ultimate revenge. He deserved it. I revelled in what I had done to him. At the very least, I had destroyed his reputation in the city and that would rot his socks. He had lived to gloat about his influence and lord it over everyone else. That was one of the reasons he had wanted me, the stupidly young wife. So he could show his contemporaries that he was capable of scoring the ultimate trophy wife.

What would I do now that I had lost my raison d’etre that had driven me ever since I had escaped my marriage?

I listened to Bastian’s breathing slow in my ear, as he fell into a deep sleep. I waited, making sure he was truly out of it before I slowly eased out of his arms. I stood, gazing down at his face in rest, softer and younger looking, before I turned and scooped up my knickers and went looking for my remaining clothing in the sitting room.

My ankle was killing me, puffy and mottled blue. I limped, barefoot, down the hall to the lift and went up the three floors to where my room was located. I would have loved a shower but balancing on one good leg trying to get clean didn’t appeal. I would have a bath when I got home. I slipped on a pair of skinny jeans and a big chunky hoodie. Pulled my hair back in a high ponytail after giving it a vigorous brushing, removing the tangles acquired in Bastian’s bed.

I looked at the time on my phone. It was well into the early hours. This was good. The roads would be quiet, and the trip home would be quick. Much better than attempting to leave in the height of traffic in the morning. I calculated how much alcohol I had imbibed. I hadn’t ended up drinking the last one, and it was hours since I had had anything. I would be safe to drive.

I threw the few items dotted around the room into my suitcase, gathered my toiletries and did a last check for anything else before closing my suitcase. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on my Doc Martens, gritting my teeth at the agony when I forced my injured foot into one.

The sturdy boots would provide the best support for my ankle as I made my escape. I’d go see my GP if it wasn’t any better in a couple of days. She could tell me off then if needs be. Right then it was more important that I leave the city than resting it for the remainder of the night.

Pulling my case behind me, I exited the room, left the hotel via its small carpark, and drove by the front, just to see the few paparazzi who still lingered so I could flip a finger at them. A satisfying gesture, even if they were unaware. I travelled out of London, the weight that had been on my shoulders for so many years slowly starting to ease. It was time to get back to my real life. The one that filled me with joy on a daily basis.

There was a brief pang at the thought of leaving behind what just happened between myself and Bastian, but there was no room in my life for him. So I drove on without looking back.