Chapter - 2
Meanwhile, downstairs, the rich aroma of coffee filled the kitchen, but the woman's hands were still trembling. Thinking about the memory of his arms around her, she could not help but rub her thighs against each other.
'Why am I still so wet? Shit!'
She stood over the counter, replaying the scene in Ethan's room over and over. The heat of his body. The strength in his arms, and the shocking, undeniable wetness between her legs.
'What is happening to me?' She felt disgusted with herself. But… But… a part of her craved for it again.
'This is all Richard's fault,' She tried to rationalize it. She tried to blame it all on her husband's cold indifference, 'It was all his fault. It has to be.'
On the other hand, the unintended culprit of all this, Richard, was at the dining table, hidden behind the wall of a financial newspaper.
He hadn't even looked up when she'd come down. He was like a statue carved from ambition and apathy. He was like a man who inhabited the same house as hers, but they lived in totally different worlds entirely.
When the woman walked past the table, lost in the storm of her own thoughts, he called out for her without tearing his gaze away from the newspaper.
"Clara! Is he up yet?" Richard asked, his face hidden by the paper. He didn't look at her.
But the woman, Clara, didn't hear him. She continued to walk forward thinking about Ethan as he nuzzled into her neck.
"Clara!" Richard's voice was sharper now, laced with impatience. He hated being ignored. He finally lowered the paper, his brow furrowed in irritation, "I asked you a question."
"It's nothing," Clara said, her voice flat, "Ethan had another one of those nightmares."
Richard sighed, a long, weary sound of annoyance, "He's a tough kid. He will get through it," he said, his eyes already drifting back to the stock market figures.
"That's what a man does. You bottle it up and you move on."
"But it is not normal, Richard," she pressed, needing him to see, to feel even a fraction of what she felt, "He looked like he was in pain."
"He must be. But you coddling him isn't going to help," Richard said dismissively. "He needs to stand on his own two feet."
Listening to him sprout those words, something inside Clara snapped. The lingering warmth from Ethan's embrace, and now the contrast of the arctic chill spewing from her husband's mouth, it created a volatile chemical reaction. But she held herself back.
In fact, the months of pent-up frustration, a need to feel full again inside of her, the longing was there to fuel something else as well.
And now when the coffee was done, She slowly walked out of the kitchen and walked towards Richard. Her movements were deliberate and seductive. When she reached him, she placed a hand over his chest, tracing it gently from his chest to his shoulder.
She leaned in slightly to have him smell her sweet body scent and whispered in a low husky voice, "Richard, why don't you forget about work this morning. In a while Ethan will be gone for a few fours and we will be all alone…"
"It has been so long since we…"
While she said so, her hand began to rub his shoulder and then trail downstairs. Her hand moved along his shirt, and towards the buckle of his belt.
But in contrast to Clara's burning desires, Richard's reaction was swift and clinical.
He didn't outrightly push her away, but he was quick to catch his wrist. His grip was firm, stopping her hand from progressing any further.
"Honey, not today," Richard said with a smile, his voice was perfectly stable, "You know my work. I can't afford to miss a day. I can't afford any distractions."
"It will be an inconvenience."
"Let us talk about this in the evening?"
Richard's rejection was absolute. If he had just said that he had a headache, or he wasn't in the mood, she wouldn't have felt bad and persisted. But this?
The pent up frustration in Clara's heart erupted, from a physical reaction down in her pussy, it transformed into pure white-hot rage.
She pulled her hand back away from his chest as if he was some filthy scum. Her eyes which help tender love and hope a moment ago now blazed with murderous fire.
"Inconvenience?" Clara hissed, her voice dripping with venom, "That's all I am to you now?"
"Now, Clara, don't be so dramatic," he said while pulling up his paper again, dismissing her, "You know what I meant."
"Dramatic?" she shrieked, "Hell ith dramatic!"
"I will show you something dramatic! You and your damn work! Stuff your work up your ass, Richard!"
And saying so, she spun on her heel in a swift motion and stormed into the kitchen.
Finally Richard could feel some very bad things were about to happen to him. If he started any longer, there was no guarantee if he could walk away on his own two feet.
He quickly threw the paper on the table, picked up his briefcase, ready to make his exit.
And he was absolutely spot on. A second later, Clara reappeared in the kitchen doorway, her face masked with pure fury. In her hand, she brandished her own cast - iron sword, the frying pan.
"You are not going anywhere!" She screamed and charged at him.
Richard's eyes went wide with genuine fear. He almost stumbled backwards and fell over the chair. He barely managed to pull himself together and bolted for the front door.
Just at that moment, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, with his messy hair from the morning now perfectly styled, Ethan climbed down the stairs.
He was ready for his interview, but the sight in front of him almost made him slip down the stairs. Clara looked as if she was really out for blood.
"Get back here, you cowardly bastard!" Clara roared as she darted forward, "I will show you "BLOODY" drama."
"Oh boy!" Ethan moved down the stairs in two long strides and in no time he crossed the room and appeared behind her. Before Clara could swing the pan and fuck up Richard's brain, he caught her from behind. He wrapped one arm around her waist and with the other he held her arm, trapping her in his embrace.
"Calm down!" His voice was sharp, "What's going on between you two?"
But Clara was in no mood to explain, she struggled to get out of his grip, "Let me go, Ethan! I am going to end him right here!"
"Hey… Take it easy!" Ethan tried to steady her, tightening his hold around her, but in the struggle, his hand slipped upward. And suddenly instead of her waist, his palm was squarely on her right breast, cupping it.
"Eeeehhh!" Clara froze.
The pan wobbled in her hand, nearly slipping from her hand as a jolt of shock surged through her body.
Every muscle of hers went stiff, her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she couldn't even comprehend what had happened. Heat flared from her back, and raced up her neck. The furious words she had been spitting a second ago now died on her lips.
Seeing his chance, Richard didn't wait for a second longer. With Clara held back by Ethan, he flung the door wide and bolted out of the house, not even bothering to even shut the door behind him.
But Clara barely noticed, her deadbeat husband run away. The fire of her anger had water poured down by something far more disarming, she could feel his strong chest pressed against her.
The warmth of his big palm seeped through her night gown and she could feel her nipples going hard. The will of her fight drained away quickly, and was replaced by a disoriented weakness. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy, and she had no energy left to struggle.
Ethan, on realizing that Clara has stopped, he loosened his grip and let go of her breast, "Now that you have calmed down," He said softly, "I will get going. I will be back by evening."
Hearing him, Clara could only manage to nod. The pan in her hand felt as though it weighed a ton, her fingers barely able to keep hold of it.
"Bye then," Ethan leaned in, intending to give a quick, comforting kiss on her cheek.
But Clara, who was still caught in the haze of the moment, just so happened to turn at the exact same moment. And his lips were planted on the delicate skin at the curve of her neck.
The contact of his lips was soft and feather light. But for Clara, it was devastating, and her world was almost shaken to the ground.
As if the flood gates were about to break through the dam, a raw sensation shot through her body, making her knees weaken beneath her. The place where his lips had touched burned as if it was branded.
Ethan, on the other hand, with that always pleasant smile on his face, he said his good bye to Clara and walked out of the house.
As he watched the door shut behind him, the pan in her hand finally slipped out of her fingers. But the sound of it crashing against the wooden door barely reached her ears.
All that fury, the heat of wanting to smash that head of Richard, had evaporated and was replaced with something more primal and physical.
Slowly, her hand rose without thought, and her fingertips brushed the spot at her neck where Ethan's lips had just met. Her breath became heavy and her lips parted slightly. But no sound came out.
Her eyelids dropped as unconsciously her fingers drifted lower, following the heat as it spread through her chest. And finally she replaced Ethan's palm and gently cupped her breast.
"Ummmhh!" A soft moan escaped her lips as she gently squeezed herself. It was her hand, but she was imagining something strong embracing her.
Clara's fingers pressed deeper into the soft flesh beneath the thin fabric of her night gown. She could still feel the lingering ghost of his touch, the kiss planted on her skin, and the wetness between her thighs.
Shame and guilt clawed their way into her mind, 'This is so wrong… So very wrong,' she thought to herself.
But her body betrayed her completely now.
"God… Why do I want him so bad?"
"Why him?"
** ** ** ** **
[
Author's Question: What do you think? What does Carla wants more?
A. Ethan?
B. To smash Richard's head
]