Warning: This book is for mature readers only, 18+. This has cheating and affairs in it and if this is something that you were prefer not to read, please skip. I know it can be a sensitive subject for some people but again this is a work of fiction. I had to write a disclaimer for this book as it garnished some hateful comments from readers about the subject matter. Since this is an erotic story, some people don’t have an issue with cheating and affairs in their books. I’ve had to defend myself on more than one occasion. Recently I’ve received 4-5 ⭐ reviews from women who loved the book. Not only was a breath of fresh air but it is giving me the motivation to continue writing.
Below is the first 2 chapters of Love or Lust. Chapter 1 is an introduction to the story and Chapter 2 goes into present day. This book starts in present day and moves backwards, showcasing the events that led up to present day. At the end will be a link for purchase in both eBook and paperback.
What is the definition of love; an intense feeling of deep affection, a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone, affectionate greetings conveyed to someone on one’s behalf, or a great interest and pleasure in something.
What is the definition of lust; a strong sexual desire, or a passionate desire for something.
When you think about your life, do you have love, lust, or both? If you’re me, there is no lust. After fifteen years and three kids, lusting after each other felt like an afterthought.
Let me set the scene. At eighteen years old, I did what other women in my family did following high-school graduation. I went to a two-year college to get a degree in Paralegal Studies. Within the first few months, I met John. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, someone to have a few one-night stands to survive exams and finals. John stood six feet tall with short brown hair and chocolate eyes. He was studying Aviation and Defense, so along with my degree, we would not have a problem finding a long-lasting career.
John had all the decent qualities to make an excellent husband. He was loyal, dependable, and didn’t care if I hogged the covers or bed. More like a golden retriever, huh?
After dating for six months, John and I got engaged. It happened during Christmas break when John took me home to meet his parents. Everyone was sitting around the Christmas tree, wearing a variation of snowflake pajamas. Each gift being passed around to their perspective owners until a small box was hidden deep in the tree.
Looking at the box from Tiffany’s, I could only imagine what was in it. A new pair of earrings, perhaps a necklace? So, when John stood to one knee, the shock came upon my face and an utterance of a quick “yes.”
After the spring semester of our first year, John and I wed in a small backyard ceremony on his parent’s estate. Fifty of our closest friends and family joined in our happiness as we became husband and wife. Recalling memories with my grandmother, I knew all the women in my family had married quickly, sometimes never finishing college, as some of my aunts had done.
I was determined to graduate school when I found out I was pregnant a few short months after my wedding. A girl Lily was the first of many more pregnancies to come those next two years. When Lily turned three months, I ended up pregnant with my daughter, Rose, followed shortly by her brother Max.
With three kids under three, John and I found ourselves in a routine that did not have time for romance. After graduating from college, I ended up staying home to raise the children while John went to work as a defense contractor in Charlotte, North Carolina. Work kept him busy, traveling across the world while I held the fort down. I could count on my hands and toes the few amounts of days John and I spent together in any given year for more than a week at a time, just the two of us.
He wasn’t to blame. His work kept me home to mold our children into caring young adults, living a comfortable lifestyle, and making a lot of fun-loving, energetic, and non-narcissistic group of friends. I had enough to keep me busy without worrying about my non-romance. Any time there was a moment of romance, neither one recognized the opportunity nor were too tired to take advantage to jump each other’s bones. We loved each other. Wasn’t it enough?
CHAPTER TWO: PRESENT DAY
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, looking into Damien’s hazel eyes as I ran my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. It was the twentieth or so time I had asked him that evening while sitting on a king-size bed on the first floor at the Hilton. He shifted in the bed until his naked back rested against the wooden headboard. I saw our reflection on the flat-screen TV on top of the dresser. It was not our first time seeing our silhouettes across a screen.
“Are you having second thoughts?” He asked as I reached for my robe.
“I don’t know. I mean, I shouldn’t. We’ve talked about the possible outcomes of this decision.” I found myself pacing back and forth, slowly wearing a hole through the floor.
“Do you love me?” Damien asked, crawling toward the edge of the bed.
“Of course, I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be racking my brain going over the pros and cons. We have our children to consider, at least I do. They are all at an impressionable age, and I’m afraid it will affect their views on relationships as they get older. Yours are older and can make their own decisions about this relationship.”
“We said we would keep them out of this. Do you want to be happy? More specifically, do you want to be happy with me? Kate, think about everything we’ve been through to get to this point. Yes, there have been heartache and disappointment. However, think about all the good times. Remember the Bahamas?” Damien rose to his knees, and the strap of my robe becoming undone. As his touch hit my bare skin, igniting the fire in my regions, even after all these years.
“Are you changing the subject to get me naked again?”
“Baby, you know I love seeing you naked.”
“I’m serious,” I said, smacking his hands away. I’ve never been able to resist him. Not when he flashes those eyes and those pearly whites.
“Let’s go over this one more time. When we get home, we’ll tell our spouses over dinner tomorrow. We will explain our situation and tell them about our decision. Easy-peasy.”
“Everything’s easy-peasy for you, isn’t it?” Letting the robe fall to the floor, I crawled back towards his legs. Clothed or naked, this man personified perfection. My hands ran from his calves to his thighs, his cock already at full salute. A smirk passed on his face, making me giggle.
“Really? Am I amusing you?”
“Anytime my mouth is near your cock, you smirk.”
“That’s because I know what’s going through your mind, and I know how strong your mouth is. What can I say, we’re simpatico?”
“So, if I do this…” My left hand squeezed gently between his balls and anus. Damien leaked a soft sigh from his lips.
“See simpatico.” That same devilish smirk spread on his face, and I was already planning my revenge. I slowly cover the tip of his cock with the roof of my mouth. As always, his cock responds to my touch, hardens even more as I take him whole. I feel him tighten up — he always does when I deep-throat. After a few minutes and a few gags, he grabbed hold of my arms to flip me over. I tried to resist him again. He intertwined his hands with mine, his signature way of controlling the situation. As soon as his tongue touched my clit, I shook. My legs spasmed as if I was having a seizure. I sensed another smirk as he teased and buried his face into my juices. I tried to rearrange myself by shifting my weight, but the strength from his hands held me down. I was ready to cum, but he removed his mouth, smiled, and climbed on top of me so I could taste myself.
“So sweet,” I said, licking my lips. My body responded, as it always did, as he slowly pushed in inch-by-inch, my legs wrapping around him to keep him deep. With every thrust, he leaned closer, whispering in my ear as he’s ready to cum. Even his voice had passion as he and I released together, the relaxing sighs escaping from our mouths, our bodies tapping out.
He rolled over as I cleaned up. As I was walking out of the bathroom, I pivoted toward the wall, sneaking a peak to watch him. I was never tired of seeing Damien’s body. He was the perfect specimen, from his head to his toes. He had the right amount of gray coming through his short brown locks and his beard, showing off the lusciousness of his lips. The definition in his arms and legs, years of running, push-ups, and throwing footballs. His tattoos of his sons’ names, one on each arm, along with his proud Army tattoo, three v-shaped signs with a skull overshadowing. His chiseled chest, abs with abs from years of healthy eating, CrossFit, and sex. A bald eagle roosted on his right pec and his dog tags on the left — my initial on his heart, a reminder of our love.
“I guess it’s time, huh?” A frown across his face.
“I guess so. After tomorrow, it won’t have to be like this.” I dressed as I knew if I laid down again, his cock would harden; my pussy would drip, and we’d spend the next couple of hours on Ecstasy Island.
“Let me know when you get home.” After grabbing my coat and keys, my hands on the bed to kiss him. My heart always aches whenever I left him. I reminded myself I had the rest of my life to kiss those lips. As I climbed into my black Cadillac CTS, I grabbed my wedding rings from my purse.
“Only one more day of wearing these,” I told myself as I put the car in reverse and drove the thirty-minutes home. I texted Damien to let him know I was home as he was almost back as well.
“Tomorrow, it’ll all be over. Remember, I love you.” His text came as I opened the door to my house.
“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turn my phone on vibrate as John walked through the kitchen door.
“Have fun with your girlfriends?” He sat in his recliner, turned the TV on, and the breaking news swallowed him in.
“Always. Are we doing anything tomorrow?” I hung my purse on the rack.
“I don’t think so.”
“I thought we should get together with Mallory and Damien. Maybe have them over for dinner.”
“I’ll make your favorites.” I headed upstairs to my bedroom, smelling Damien’s cologne on my shirt. My body tensed up as my phone vibrated.
“It’s a go.” Damien texted with a huge smiley face emoji.
“Are you naked yet?” Devil emoji leered at me.
“Getting there. Go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“So, do you. You should be here.”
“Soon enough.” I sent one last kiss emoji and put my phone on the charger. I changed into my pajamas, climbed into the king-size bed, and turned the TV on to find something that will put me to sleep, maybe the news. When John was home, this was how most of the nights went. Nine times out of ten, he’d fall asleep in his chair, a half-eaten sandwich on his lap.
The next morning, my nerves are taking over my body. Perhaps it was my slight anxiety of the nights’ endeavors on pulling the trigger on my marriage. My mind was running every scenario repeatedly. My mother picked them from school to spend time with them and take them out to dinner. I had the menu planned. I’d serve a tossed salad with a variety of dressings, a chilled red wine to serve with the New York T-Bone steaks, risotto, and green beans. Freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies, a favorite of both John and Damien’s, for dessert. I pull my most modest black dress from the closet, another love of my boys, with my black heels. Every hour, I found myself playing with my rings, ready to feel the nakedness of bare fingers. Fifteen years of love, hurt, anger, family vacations, weddings, and funerals. We had so many shared experiences, and other times we didn’t know if we stayed together because of all of John’s traveling. No matter how the night turned out, one thing was for sure: I could no longer remain married.
Before I knew it, zero hour was here. I put the steaks on the grill, went up to change, and noticed something different in my reflection. I looked brighter, happier even. Maybe it was all in my head, and this could work out. I heard John come through the door as I tied the sash around my waist.
“Something smells good.” He puts his things on the chair, undid his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. I find myself staring at him as he undressed. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. His six-foot frame, the small amounts of hair on his chest, a soft pudginess of his stomach I’ve loved since day one. Suddenly, my heart raced, and my hands shook. Maybe I was having a panic attack and faint right there. At least, it would get me out of having to break John’s heart. He jumped in the shower as I jogged down the stairs to check on the steaks. The cool airbrushed my face, a much-needed relief, as my phone buzzed. It’s Damien. They’re on their way.
I flipped the steaks and set the dining room table. Each plate reaching the table, my mind thought about all the family dinners, the laughter, the debates with my two girls over which boy was cuter. John comes down the stairs, a crisp white shirt with jeans. He leaned in for a kiss and checked on the steaks. A car pulled into the driveway. My chest tightened. I was going to pray for a heart attack or some medical emergency, but why avoid the inevitable. It was now or never.
The doorbell rang, and I opened to Mallory in her favorite sunflower dress and Damien looking dapper in a polo shirt and jeans.
“You look great,” Mallory said as she reached for a hug. Damien shook John’s hand and sent me a side glance. We walked into the kitchen as John placed the steaks on the table with the rest of the food. Damien stared at John while he and Mallory talked about politics. He slides next to me, his hand on the small of my back.
“Are you ready to do this?”
“Can we do it after dessert? I don’t want to spoil dinner.” We sat and passed the food around. We discussed the weather, politics, international news, latest restaurants coming to town. After everyone ate, and John released a button on his pants, I excused myself to the kitchen, grabbing the cookies. Damien met me at the door.
“It’s time. You ready.” He grabbed the plate.
“It’s do or die.” We walked back to the table. Damien sat next to me. John and Mallory stopped their conversation and looked our way. I could feel the heat from their eyes, wondering why Damien sat close to me.
“John, you’ve been my best friend for the last twelve years. We’ve had a lot of good times, personally and professionally. You’ve been one of the few friends whom I can chat with about football and cars. Mallory, you’ve been my rock for twenty-five years. You gave me two beautiful sons, and I’ll be forever thankful.
“What’s going on, Damien?” Mallory asked, turning toward John, who was questionably as confused.
“John, Mallory, there’s something we need to tell you.”
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