Innocent Sins Ch. 06

She wore white.

It was the color that first drew Jake's eye. She stood out like a white flower amongst a crush of black orchids. Women in this trendy nightclub seemed to always wear black, sometimes red, but always dressed to the hilt in exotic jewelry and dosed with gagging perfume. It was like a uniform that said, "I fit in. I belong to this fast, hip crowd."

Of course, Jake wore black too - a silk shirt, designer pants, Italian shoes. These days he enjoyed the illusion of fitting in, even knowing he never again would. The sense of apartness never left him, no matter how high he climbed on the ladders he'd chosen since leaving Illinois. His word was respected, possibly feared. People sought out his company. But that didn't make him belong. It only meant he had money. Lots of it.

The woman in white intrigued him. She obviously didn't mind standing out, or else didn't know better. She carried herself like a model, tall, slim, shoulders straight to maximize the striking curve of her figure. Her long, black hair was sleek and sexy, dropping well past her bare shoulders. Oh yes, Jake's sexual interest was aroused just by looking at her, he couldn't deny that, even as he felt the bile of remembered anger rise in his throat as he watched her approach, obviously seeking him out.

It had been more than six months since he'd seen his wife - correction, his ex-wife - but she was as sexy as ever, maybe even moreso. He wondered what the slut was doing here now and how she'd known where to look in the first place.

He was sitting in a booth, Jennifer at his side drinking up the attention of their circle of fast and flashy friends. Jennifer looked as sexy as she had the day he first met her, her long, blonde hair tousled around her shoulders, the dress she was wearing revealing more than it covered. She never denied Jake anything, and that's why he kept her around. That, he supposed, as well as a nagging sense of guilt for using her to get even with Heather before he'd left his old town and his failed marriage behind. Jenny had found the idea of leaving town with him exciting, and he'd been unable to kill the light of happiness in her eyes as she'd pleaded with him to come along. Now they were living together, something he could have never imagined six months ago. He suspected Jenny might care for him more than he'd originally hoped she would, considering he was unable to return the feelings. He'd always told her that he wasn't looking for another relationship, and she had always insisted she only wanted a sexual relationship. Even so, he'd been dropping subtle hints lately that it might be coming time for them to part ways. Perhaps that's why she had been flirting with every Tom, Dick and Harry to show her an ounce of interest tonight. He supposed she was trying to make him jealous, but it wasn't working. He couldn't help but hope some dashing hunk would whisk her away from him.

Heather hesitated when she saw and recognized the woman at his side, and his eyes met hers as she struggled with her own remembered pain and jealousy over the video he'd given her. He saw her steel her shoulders and step forward anyway, and when she was close enough to speak, she simply paused then took the empty seat to his left.

"Hello, Jake."

"Heather." Her eyes pleaded for more of a greeting, but what did she expect? he wondered. For him to grab her and declare how happy he was to see her? No fucking way.

Beside him, he felt Jenny shift to see who the newcomer to their group was, and when he glanced at her, he saw instantly by the shock and anger on her face that she did indeed recognize who Heather was. She'd found pictures of his ex-wife in the stuff he'd packed when they'd left Illinois.

"Another drink, Jake?" she asked, ignoring Heather's presence completely.

"Why not? Thank you," he said, dismissing her easily. He knew she'd been requesting that he be the one to get her another drink, but what could he say? She'd walked right into that one.

Jenny shot Heather a dirty look before excusing herself to go to the bar. Jake let his gaze linger on Heather's breasts, pressing tight against the silky material of her dress. She appeared to have lost some weight, but she obviously hadn't been wasting away since he'd been gone. He couldn't decide if that made him angry or glad. He only knew one thing. He still only had to look at her to get hard.

Curious, he thought. He'd wondered how he'd feel when and if he ever saw Heather again. Maybe the passage of time had helped, because he didn't feel as violently angry as he had when he'd first found her cheating on him. The anger was still there of course, but also a sense of sadness and, if he were completely honest with himself, a sense of longing too. He smiled remembering how bitterness had driven him to pick up Jennifer and make that video to get a measure of revenge. He'd felt damn guilty afterwards though. And for weeks, he'd gone into Heather's email account to see if she and Ty were still at it. He hadn't found any emails indictating that they were, but one night when he'd been drinking pretty heavy, some perverse logic mingled with the immaturity brought on from alcohol had urged him to send Ty a dirty email posing as Heather. What sense had that made? Not much, he reflected now. He supposed he'd thought it would piss off Ty when he found out Heather hadn't really sent it, and it would aggravate Heather trying to figure out who had. He had already left town by that point, but he'd had his spies in place to tell him how Heather reacted - whether she hooked up with Ty again or told him to fuck off.

He figured one of those same spies had spilled the beans on him, telling Heather where he was. But that didn't explain why she was here...or why he was secretly so damn happy to see her again.

Heather felt heat flood through her face as Jake perused her. She'd dressed to attract his attention, and apparently it had worked a little too well. His eyes locked onto hers, hard and compelling, sizzling with sexual signals. She could sense the dangerous, ruthless edge to him, the steely will of a survivor. It completely unnerved her. That and the way he even looked different from the man she had loved for so long. Maybe it was the lighting in this bawdy nightclub, but even Jake's hair seemed to be a darker shade, almost as black as her own. It used to be a soft, sandy brown, but now it matched his dark clothes. It matched his dark gaze as he surveyed her.

"Not turning coward on me, are you?" he suddenly asked.

"What?"

"You came over here. I assume you wanted to say something."

"I..." she swallowed and braced herself for a fight, not convinced that his calm, cool manner was real. "I came all the way from home to talk to you. I want to talk."

"So talk." He wasn't going to make this easy on her.

She started to say something, but the noise of the club drowned her out. Finally, she pleaded, "Please, Jake, can we go somewhere private?"

A spark of something dangerous lit up his eyes and his smile as he considered her for several seconds. With a brief nod, he reached inside his jacket and placed two one hundred dollar bills on the table, then leaned over to ask another man to see that Jennifer- was that the other woman's name?- made it home safely.

Heather's right hand was suddenly grasped and lifted as he led her behind him through the club. Outside the valet quickly retrieved a silver Porsche, a sexy sleek sports model that looked capable of devouring whatever road its owner chose to take.

"Get in," Jake told her, and she did so without giving any thought to where he planned to take her. Once inside the car, she looked at him, thirsty for the sight of his beloved features. He caught her staring and with a soft growl reached for her. His mouth covered hers, invading it with shocking swiftness, no pause for persuasion or seduction. His tongue embroiled hers in an erotic tangle, inciting a fiercely primitive response. There was nothing loving about this kiss, but Heather didn't care. She clawed her fingers up his shirt and into the thickness of his hair, pulling him deeper against her. Finally, he pulled back and started the car.

"Buckle your seatbelt," he told her in a harsh voice which did nothing to dampen the hope Heather felt rising in her chest. Jake obviously still wanted her. Even so, she could tell she was going to have a fight on her hands getting him to admit he still loved her.

"You're right," she agreed, doing as he said. "I think this is going to be a bumpy ride."

He arrived at a sleek, well-lit condiminum that left Heather momentarily bedazzled. Did Jake really have so much money now? The thought made her happy for him. He led her to an elevator that took them to the top floor. Moving inside ahead of her, he walked over to a bar in the corner, poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp while she used the opportunity to survey her surroundings. There was absolutely no personality in his decor, which struck her as odd. Jake had helped her decorate their old home, and she knew he had good taste. The sleek navy and red furniture in this place struck her as a bit...cold. There weren't even any photos of his family anywhere. Totally unlike the man she had known and loved.

"Take off your dress."

The casual command stole Heather's breath and made her realize Jake had no plans to waste time talking. He leaned indolently against the wall beside the bar, assessing her with hot, lustful eyes. He wanted her submission, but Heather prefered to meet him as an equal.

"You take off your shirt first," she challenged. A quirky little smile gave his mouth a sensual curve as he pushed away from the wall and shrugged out of the garment.

"Maybe I should take off my pants too," he countered, and she agreed, "Yes, I think you'd better."

His shirt dropped to the floor, slowly revealing a smooth, tanned chest to her gaze, and he began working at the button on his pants. "You're falling behind," he pointed out, aiming a sizzling look at her own chest.

Heather slid the strap of her purse off one shoulder and let it fall. She half smiled, thinking of the sexy lingerie she was wearing that had been a gift from her sister before this trip. Cassie had suggested that, if all else failed, Heather seduce the hell out of Jake to get him to listen to her. Heather wasn't certain how she and Jake had ended up in this situation with barely three sentences spoken since her arrival, but she was too selfish to deny herself the pleasue of being with him again. She wanted Jake any way she could get him. The past didn't seem to matter right now.

Reaching behind her, she drew down the zip on her dress and let the material slide to her feet. She slipped out of her dress and defiantly tossed it on top of his shirt. Jake had paused to watch her. Now he was the one who'd fallen behind, she thought with a smile.

"Very saucy," he commented, his gaze taking in the provocative swirl of white lace designed to highlight her nipples. The matching panties barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy. Jake's skin gleamed like polished bronze over tightly packed muscle. He was still in great shape, and the thought of touching him, running her fingers over his magnificant chest, was so tempting she stepped toward him without thinking.

He sucked in a deep breath, her fingers digging into the waistband of his pants, her mouth homing in on his nipples as she ripped the stud apart and tore his zipper down. The art of surprise wasn't all his, she thought savagely, feeling his stomach contract, his chest expand. Damn, she had missed him so much!

She tugged and licked at the relatively small protrusions of flesh, exulting in his hardening to the stimulation. She pushed his pants and underwear down his loins, extracted the taut, hefty length of his manhood, weighing it carefully in her hand as she drew back to look at it, a mad boldnees seizing her mind.She'd rarely been the aggressive one in their lovemaking, and never like this.

"Do I measure up?" he asked half joking, but she sensed the sincerity behind his false bravado. She had never had a problem with Jake's equipment; in fact, he wasn't that much smaller than Ty, and for nine years, it had been all she had known. She wanted it back. This cock was the only one she ever hoped to experience again.

"Oh, Jake, you're perfect," she told him, rubbing her thumb over his moist tip, stroking her fingers along its full length. She started to sink to her knees and take him in her mouth, but he stopped her, pushing her away.

"Wouldn't you like a tour of my new home?" Jake asked, needing to put the brakes on before he lost control of the situation. He was the one supposed to be using her here, not the other way around. With a look of dismissal, he nodded toward the large picture window. "Why don't you take at look at the view."

"View?" She followed his gaze toward the window and then looked at him quizzically. "OK," she finally said, eager to please him, finding the cords that operated the slats and yanking them to sweep the blind to the other side of the window. A stunning panorama of the Vegas skyline gleamed at her, the huge neon architecture glittering like a beacon in the night.

The realization hit her that she was standing in what had to he a million-dollar apartment. She heard the thud of shoes landing on the carpet behind her, the swoosh of clothes being discarded, the soft pad of footsteps, the crackle of paper being torn. Paper? No, a condom packet, she realized. She was probably certifiably insane not to talk things out with Jake first, but normal rules didn't apply to this night. There was a fever in her blood that demanded a sense of completion, come what may.

Her skin prickled with anticipation. She didn't want to do anything to scare him off, so she adopted a relaxed stance and waited for his next move. She felt his presence behind her, felt fingertips grazing over the backs of her knees.

Next, she felt the suspenders of her garter belt being unclipped. Back and front, fingers trailing up the lacy leg edge of her panties. The belt removed and tossed away. A nail-thin caress up the curve of her spine. Bra unfastened, thumbs hooking under the shoulder straps, drawing them down her arms, letting them fall. A soft, silky rolling down of her stockings, ankles and feet tantalisingly caressed. It was the most erotic undressing Heather had ever experienced from her husband.

She could feel his breath on her neck as he rose up behind her, sense his heat even before he positioned his body against hers, the hard roll of his erection sliding up toward the pit of her back, his arms encircling her waist, his hands pushing up over her nipples and giving them a teasing, rotating motion that had every muscle in her body clenching up. "Jake," she breathed, trembling as he caressed her body. "Please..."

"Please what?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear. "Please fuck you now?"

She shook her head no, thinking, "no make love to me," then moaned when his fingers cruelly pinched and pulled her nipples hard. One hand slid down her stomach and burrowed between her thighs. With an expertise that was shocking, he parted her slick, hidden cleft and began a stroking that aroused almost unbearably exciting sensations.

"No? You don't want me to fuck you?" he asked casually, then removed his hands and said, "All right. Can I get you something to drink then?"

When she realized he was moving away, leaving her hot and panting, she fought through the haze of desire and confusion to reach back and grab his solid thigh, stilling his retreat. "I want..." she swallowed, then admitted, "I want you to fuck me."

She felt him sliding a hand around her hip, over her stomach. He bent, his arm pulling her to him, a knee parting her thighs, a swift, smooth guidance and he was inside her, plunging hard and fast. Heather cried out and reached down with one arm to clutch at the arm holding her up, braced herself with her other hand against the wall as she felt his cock - big, strong, pulsing with power - invade her yearning pussy where it belonged.

"Oh Jake..." she moaned, tossing her head back against his shoulder as he continued to slide in and out of her with long, steady strokes. He buried himself as deeply inside of her as he could, then asked, unaffected, "What do you imagine I feel right now, Heather?"

She didn't want to think, just feel, but she tried to draw on her knowledge of her husband and answered, "I d-don't know. L-love?"

He buried himself as deeply as he could in her and paused. "Disgust," he told her. "Disgust knowing you would react to any man this way. You would spread your legs for any man these days, wouldn't you, my sweet slut of an ex-wife. Tell me - did you like fucking Ty because he was black or was there another reason? Was he the first, or had you fucked around before?"

"No," she begged. "Don't say that. Please..."

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," he told her in a harsh voice. He rammed home his full length to prove a point, then made a slow withdrawal as he continued, "I saw the tapes, remember?" He pushed inside her again, in and out, in and out, then paused and asked, "Why aren't you still with your lover, Heather? Why did you come here to fuck up my life again? What can I give you that he can't, hmm?"

She opened her mouth to answer that she still loved him, but all that came out was a wild cry as her first orgasm broke over her, forcing her muscles to clench the cock inside her even as she rocked back and forth in his arms.

He held still, his control iron-tight after months of sexual conditioning. He'd fucked Jenny every way imaginable, all in an effort to learn as much about technique as possible. He was now a better lover than a seasoned porn star; he could last for hours, denying himself satisfaction while he prolonged his partner's. It was easy if you hardened your heart and felt nothing.

Of course, he had no intention of satisfying his ex-wife to such an extreme. He wanted her to feel used, dirty, all the better if he exorcised a few of his own private demons at the same time, and then he wanted her to get the hell out of his life once and for all. He didn't like how she made him feel, what she reminded him of.

When she stopped trembling with orgasmic bliss, he started pounding her hard again. He considered pulling out and pushing into that sweet, tight ass of hers, but he'd be damned if he'd follow that black bastard there. Heather slowly lifted her hand and slid it behind his neck, urging him down to her for a kiss. He refused to fake intimacy by kissing her while he fucked her. Refusing the gesture, he began pawing at her breasts as he hammered her from behind. She'd had her pleasure. Now he would take his. Seconds later he let himself go, pouring his seed into the condom wrapped around his cock. Coming down from the temporary high, he slowly pulled out and away from her, not bothering to support her when she nearly collapsed without his arms to hold her up.

For a long time, he leaned against her, panting, trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he told her, "Thanks, sweetheart. Now get dressed and get out. I'm done with you."

Jake didn't bother to watch Heather get dressed. Discarding the used condom and putting his pants back on, he then walked over to the bar and poured himself another drink. It briefly occurred to him that he was getting drunk again, drinking so much, but he rarely touched the stuff these days, so he figured he was allowed an occassional slip. Control had become his most prized characteristic, and he hated giving it up for anyone or anything. Tonight was proving the rare exception. Too late he realized that Heather hadn't moved from the spot he'd left her in, on her knees in front of the window. The sight of her would have made an erotic painting, her on her knees, naked against the backdrop of Las Vegas, if only it hadn't been for the tears streaming down her face. Finally, she wiped at her cheeks, reached for her clothes scattered around her and started to pull them on.