Page 12 of Stolen Moments

“Is it really painful?” she asked breathlessly.

“Only as painful as you want. Some people like a little bit some people like a lot.”

“And the humiliation?”

“Hmm, some folks are into that. I personally don’t like humiliating women, so that’s not really a part of my BDSM experience. I love dominating a woman, tying her up so she can’t move, pleasuring her and teasing her until she can’t stand it anymore.” Luka crossed his legs to keep his growing erection from showing.

Outside, in the waning night, the hoot of an owl seemed to break the spell inside the living room. Melia sprang up. “Thanks for the tea. I think I should go to bed now, early day tomorrow, want to make sure that I’m awake and refreshed in the AM.”

Luka cleared his throat and nodded. After putting their dishes in the sink they slowly made their way up the stairs. At the entrance of Melia’s bedroom, they turned to one another to say their goodnights.

All Melia could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears, the rush of blood in her veins. She felt the growing warmth and wetness between her legs and let a sigh escape her lips.

“Goodnight, Melia,” he whispered. He was unusually close to her, causing her to have to look up at him. He looked down at her upturned face, her glowing dark eyes lit up like onyx stones. It took every fiber of his being not to kiss her luscious, slightly parted lips. They were both panting lightly. He could tell she wanted him, and he wanted nothing more than to satisfy her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to tear himself away from her.

“Good night, Luka,” she said and reached back for her doorknob. Slinking in sideways, she slipped into her bedroom.

Before she could close the door Luka caught her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her back into the hallway.

Chapter Seven

Luka pushed Melia against the wall and pinned her hands above her head. Melia felt Luka’s sizeable erection brush up against her, and she gasped as Luka clamped his mouth over hers. He kissed her roughly with all of the pent-up desire of the previous weeks. He kissed her until his lips had gone slightly numb, until he couldn’t breathe anymore. His hands roamed freely and aggressively over her body. Melia moaned into Luka’s mouth, and he pushed up against her, grinding his hips into hers, until Melia was panting and whimpering with want. He pinned her again and slipped his hands into her pajama bottoms. She was dripping wet, and his breath caught in his throat as he moaned into her ear.

Luka pulled up and slipped a finger into her. He covered her mouth to stifle a scream. She bit down onto his finger gently and found herself pushing down to meet his hand. She wanted so desperately to give herself to him entirely, the thought of the proximity of her bed just there beyond the door only making that need more powerful. Only a few feet separated her from relinquishing all control to this man who had captivated her from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. The thought was immediately followed by the thought that in the room down the hall, Susan, Luka’s wife, lay attached to an oxygen mask. She broke away and looked up at Luka with a startled face. Luka saw her the way one saw a deer they were about to hit on the highway, and almost as quickly as the catastrophe would have occurred in real life, Melia broke away, hurried into her room and slammed the door shut.

Luka stood looking at the closed door for a moment before snapping out of the hazy fog that had taken over his mind.

On the other side of the door, Melia breathed deeply trying to steady herself. She tilted her head up and tried in vain to stop the tears. She crawled under the covers of her bed and began to cry, sexual frustration, guilt, and a deep unhappiness overwhelming her. The Rossiter’s house was the only real home she had ever felt she belonged to. She had grown to love and respect Susan. The love she shared with Luka was inspiring— and Melia had somehow gotten in between them. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

* * *

Luka climbed into bed with Susan and looked at her sleeping peacefully. What had he done? He had crossed a line and there was no going back. He tried to convince himself that it was only lust. He retraced his steps and asked himself how he had gotten there. He had tried everything to keep her at a distance, to close himself off from her. He had lost control with Melia. He prided himself in being a person who was always in control of himself, but Melia had swooped in and destroyed his composure. He couldn’t think, couldn’t eat, couldn’t stand to be away from her — but her presence clouded his mind like nothing he had ever felt since meeting Susan. He glanced down at his sleeping wife, reminded again of how unfair life was. Fate had been cruel.

He loved Susan, and she was dying.

He was falling in love with Melia— and she was the woman who took care of his dying wife.

Susan’s death would force them to part. Had he accepted his destiny? That he would be burying Susan shortly? Maybe this was his way of trying to move on.

He felt wracked with guilt and wondered whether or not he should tell Susan. He had been faithful their entire relationship, had loved her unconditionally, had been mourning her since the prognosis became what it was. A momentary indiscretion threatened to send his wife out of this world with this as the last image of her husband. Not the loving, caring husband he had tried so hard to be, but the deceitful and adulterous cheater he now was. He thought back and hated himself for not lying to Susan earlier some weeks ago, and telling her that Melia had never showed up to her interview.

But that would have required that he lie to himself and not admit that he had started to fall for her the moment she walked into his office.

* * *

The next morning, Susan woke up in high spirits. “I want to go to La Jolla Cove, Luka.”

“After what happened last night?”

Susan waved her hand impatiently, throwing off her blankets. “I want to go to La Jolla Cove.”

“Susan, you’ve been a bit weaker than usual. I don’t think going to the Cove is such a good idea.”

“Luka.” Susan looked at him pointedly. “I’m dying.”

Luka began to protest but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. “That’s the truth. Whether you want to accept it or not, this is happening. Iamdying. I don’t want to spend the last of my days in this bed, under these covers — and outside there is so much going on. I want go to La Jolla Cove. Either you take me, or I’ll find a way to go by myself.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What will happen if you start to feel ill?”