Free Unfaithful: An Unlocked Novella by Suzuki Sinclair

think. And not about Mr. Alex Locke. Or his chiseled body. Or the way his cock tasted so sweet in my mouth. Or that little twitch right before he shot his load. Or how much I loved the taste .
    And then, suddenly, there was another car barreling right for me like a meteorite. I’d been so caught up in thought that I’d drifted almost entirely out of my lane. But the harsh blare of their horn brought me back to reality. I looked up and screamed. A lemon-yellow Prius was headed straight toward me.
    Blinding white panic exploded in my stomach. I yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could to the side. I slammed on the brakes with all my strength. My tires squealed. The thick stink of burning rubber instantly filled the air. It was rank and heavy and it clogged my nose. All I could think as I flew forward and my seatbelt caught was Oh shit I’m going to die.
    And I’ve only got to fuck Alex Locke twice.
     
    ###

HOMECOMING
     
    I’m watching TV, something to distract me from a long, dull day at work. The kind of gray, overcast day where the train is late, where the streets are crowded. Where the boss is angry from the moment you walk in the door, and the deadlines are closing in. One of those brutal days that drains the life out of you.
    I’m drinking that red Spanish wine we bought two bottles of when we went away for the summer; savoring the light, fruity taste of it on my tongue and the memories it brings. Of the deep cold blue water of the lake, and the way the wooden steps to the front door creaked when we walked into our rickety rented cabin. Of the wood-paneled floors and the way you carried me into the tiny bedroom. Of the hot summer night air that meant we slept naked, the cotton sheets thrown in a little huddle in the corner.
    Now I need the fire burning to keep the winter chill at bay. It sends long shadows streaming out across the floor. An ember pops in the grate and one of the logs slides back down into the blaze. Its underside is alive with sparks and glowing with orange heat.
    I hear your step coming up the stairs and pretend like I’m surprised when you open the door.
    “How was your day?” I ask, acting like I care what’s on TV.
    And then I turn and see you, and I know you’re not fooled. You’re standing there, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe. You’re giving me that little smile, that I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself smile that makes your mouth go up at one side. I follow its lopsided crinkle, tracing that perfect, curving line I know so well. That I love so well.
    “Come to the bedroom,” you say, fooling with the top button of your white shirt. “There’s something I want to show you.”
    I know what it is. And I want to see it. But I want to draw our game out, want to make you work for as long as I can stand before I tear your clothes off and trace my lust into your skin with my mouth.
    This is just like you. You move fast when I want to move slow. You move slow when I’m desperate and yearning for your touch. You drive me crazy with it.
    “Show me out here,” I say.
    “Quick,” you say, easing a kink from your neck. “It’s important.” Your voice, that deep baritone, is low and clear.
    And with that, you’re gone, leaving me to scramble after you, chasing your back down the hall, watching you slip out of sight around the door to our bedroom. I breathe out, feeling the air sweep over my lips, trying to slow my steps. Trying to quell my desire until it’s back under my control.
    When I walk in, the long tallow candles we keep on the dresser are lit and before I can see where you are, your hands are around my waist, pulling me tight and close. My hands go up to your chest, feeling the strength, solid in my hands. In the light of the candles, I press my body against yours.
    Your lips are on mine and I’m falling into a dream—the dream we share together. You suck my lower lip into your mouth, slowly, gently, sucking until I feel a shiver start at the base of