Myla was on her hands and knees, her lips wrapped tightly around Beck's thick cock, hearing his low groans as her tongue flicked along his shaft. Jared was behind her, holding her hips firm while he slammed into her, each thrust deep and rough. Their hands caressed her body like they owned her. Their voices filled her ears with filthy praises. She felt her pussy spasm as her orgasm rose. Climbing higher and higher, till…
Myla woke with a soft gasp, her heart beating fast, her skin damp even with the cool AC. She blinked rapidly at the ceiling, trying to clear the memory of the wet dream.
Though it had been a month since the pool incident, she was still dreaming of Beck and Jared.
Three long weeks since she'd watched her husband's best friends fuck each other like a creep.
"...Until you can't take it anymore and beg me to allow you cum." She heard the words that Jared said to Beck that day echoing in her ears, "You'll take whatever I decide to give you, won't you, Beck?"
She reached down between her thighs, hissing softly as she stroked her swollen clit. She stopped herself, let out a shaky sigh, and pushed the sheets off her body.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Dragging herself out of bed, she crossed the heated wooden floors of her room and stepped into the en-suite bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. The water was warm as she stepped into the shower. She tilted her head back, her face turned into the spray, and closed her eyes as she tried to shake away the remnants of the dream... the sound of Beck's moans, the way Jared had gripped her hair, the thick feel of cock in her mouth, in her pussy.
Was she really so sex-starved that her body had become so desperate that she had started imagining herself cheating on her husband? With his own freaking best friends?
Her stomach twisted with shame and guilt as she picked up her sponge, poured her shower lotion on it, and started washing her body thoroughly, like she was trying to scrub away her sins.
Her body and mind ached with want; she wanted to feel wanted again. To be used... worshiped... filled.
"It's been so long since I felt a real dick in me," she thought bitterly. "Of course I'm starting to lose my damn mind."
She shook the thought away, shoving it to the back of her mind, where she kept all the other feelings she didn't want to deal with. The way she had been doing it for the past year.
Just as she stepped out of the shower, she heard the soft hum of motorized wheels echoing from the hallway.
Her heart skipped a beat when the familiar mechanical whir of her husband's wheelchair sounded closer and closer as it entered her bedroom.
"Are you done, dear?" his deep voice called out from the bedroom. "We need to move as soon as we can. Everyone will be gathering soon, and you know how much I dislike arriving after everyone else."
Myla froze as a shiver of shame and arousal rushed through her. Beck and Jared would be at that meeting.
She cleared her throat. "I'll be fast, baby."
She quickly rinsed off, stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her body, stepped to the sink, and quickly brushed her teeth.
She thought about Hayden and his recently developed pet peeve about lateness. She knew it wasn't really about punctuality but about making sure no one pitied the man in the wheelchair. He hated the way they assumed that the man in the wheelchair was struggling and that they needed to wait. That he should be pitied.
And one thing Hayden Oakley hated the most was pity. He didn't accept it from anyone, not even her.
Myla looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. Her flushed cheeks and glowing skin.
She let out a breath and muttered, "Fuck it." Under her breath.
She untied the towel around her body and hung it on the drying rack, then stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom stark naked. Her steps were slow and confident. Her body was on full display with an inviting smile on her lips.
Hayden sat in his chair just a little after the door, dressed in a sharp black suit. His dark hair was combed back neatly from his face, showing off his strong jawline and perfect cheekbones, still so breathtakingly handsome. His blue eyes locked on her the moment she walked out.
For one second, she saw something flicker in them, then it was gone. He gave her a look of indifference, not even glancing down her body. "Well, hurry up," he said simply, then turned the chair around and rolled out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Myla stood there naked as she choked down the sharp sting of insecurity and shame that clogged her throat. She walked over to her vanity, blinking back tears. "Was she no longer attractive?"
She looked at her reflection in the large mirror: her full breasts, her trim waist, her soft hips, and her round ass.
No. She was still sexy.
She remembered how Hayden used to lose control and worship her body. He used to grab her anytime, the way he used to lift her onto counters, onto the bed... any suitable surface and just fuck her right there like he couldn't breathe without her. Even after two years of marriage, he still used to take her in the middle of the day.
But not anymore. Now he wouldn't even look at her with anything more than indifference or, on worse days, irritation.
The accident had taken more than his ability to walk. It had taken him... his warmth... his hunger and love for her.
She jumped a little when his voice impatiently called out from the hallway. "I'll be waiting for you in the car."
She took in a deep breath, shaking away the melancholy, and quickly applied her lotions and some light makeup, then stood up and began getting dressed.
Thirty minutes later, she closed the front door behind her and made her way down the wide marble steps. The customized black Lexus SUV waited in the driveway; the soft purr of the running engine was the only sound in the quiet morning air.
She sighed in relief when she saw Hayden was already seated inside.
He hated when she saw him getting in, even though the car had been customized to have just two passenger seats and a large open space behind for his chair that he could access with a portable ramp at the back of the car.
Their driver, Steve, opened the back door for her with a warm smile. "You look beautiful this morning, ma'am."
Myla smiled faintly. "Thank you, Steve."
"Let's move, Steve," Hayden called out flatly.
She gave Steve an apologetic smile and climbed in.
Hayden didn't even glance her way. His eyes and attention stayed glued to the tablet that was in his hands.
The SUV eased out of the driveway.
Myla leaned back in her seat, letting her gaze drift to her husband.
He was still gorgeous... nothing about the accident had changed that. If anything, the accident had only made him sharper; he had that cold edge now that amplified the quiet power that men envied.
She had even masturbated to the thought of him in that chair, dominating her, commanding her to ride him exactly how he wanted.
The man she had married would have done that, but that Hayden didn't exist anymore.
What was left was a cold, closed-off stranger who wouldn't even look her in the eyes or spend any time with her.
She turned her head toward the window, blinking against the sting in her eyes.
God knows she had tried to reach him, to pull him out of his self-isolation, had begged him to open up to her...talk to her.
She honestly didn't know how long she could keep losing parts of herself trying to hold it all together.
Her mind flashed back to that terrible, awful day. The day that broke the body and soul of her husband.