Passion island, p.36
Passion Island,
p.36
Kendall gave her a confused look. “For what?”
“For helping me see that. Had we not gone to that island for that couples retreat, I would still be living in denial, still stuck in that crazy way of thinking. And I would have never gotten the help I need.” Krista pushed out a breath. “I mean. I’m still struggling, still trying to wrap my mind around sexuality and desires and trying to tap into what my own sexual desires might be. After years of it being ingrained in me of how a woman—a Christian woman should behave sexually . . .”
Krista stopped herself. She didn’t want to rehash her upbringing with Kendall—the way her mother shamed her into thinking being sexual was dirty, that it was a sin to have desires. She didn’t want to relive, at this moment, the memories of her abuse at the hands of her mother—of being tied down or, most times, held down, and her genitalia being whipped raw by the back of a hairbrush or a wooden spoon for exploring her own body.
“Look, Krista,” Kendall said. “I’m happy for you; really, I am. But, why do you think I need to hear all this now; we’ve been separated for nearly six months. Why now?”
Krista winced. She felt her window of opportunity slipping through her fingers by the second.
“Can you ever forgive me?” She fastened a desperate gaze on him. “I’m still trying to forgive me. But I pray every day and with therapy, I’m getting better at forgiving myself.”
She bit her lip.
“Krista, there’s nothing to forgive. I guess we both hurt each other in some way.”
Father, give me strength . . .
“If you want your husband back, then fight for him . . .”
“I-I—um. Can I use your bathroom?”
Kendall gave her a strange look, then shrugged. “Yeah. Down the hall on the left.”
Krista quickly spun on her heel, nearly breaking her ankle as she tripped over her feet to make her way down the hall.
Kendall stared in part amusement and part puzzlement, wondering why she would come here now, looking for forgiveness. He decided he wasn’t going to put any energy into trying to figure it out. In another week, they’d be divorced.
And then he could finally get on with his life.
* * *
Krista stood nervously before the mirror in Kendall’s large bathroom.
She unfastened her coat, and then let the big, burly fabric drop to the floor.
Her breath caught.
And then her heart stopped.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
She stared at her reflection, taking in the strange woman who stared back at her. Twenty pounds lighter donned in a pair of black pumps and a black bustier that made her heavy breasts look like two ripe, juicy cantaloupes, ready for the plucking.
And then there was the garter belt—Dear Lord—and the skimpy red-laced panties that she’d worn beneath her coat.
Krista covered a hand over her mouth and shook her head.
This was silly—God, what was she doing?
Playing dress-up.
Role-playing, pretending to be something she knew nothing about.
She didn’t want her life to be a façade. She didn’t want to live in a make-believe world. No. Krista wanted a life that allowed her to be something she’d never been. She wanted to live in a world that allowed her to shed her old skin without shame or guilt.
Over the last several months, all she’d lived in was a world filled with regret and lots of remorse.
No. Krista didn’t want that life.
All she wanted was a do-over.
God . . . Krista gripped the edge of the vanity and shook her head. What if she failed at getting it right—this time?
Hell, she could barely walk in the pricey, clearance-marked heels she’d found at Nordstrom Rack. But here she was, standing in five-inches of pure desperation.
She wanted her marriage. She’d been missing everything she and Kendall ever shared. All she wanted was her husband back. She missed him, his laugh, his light snoring, his kisses, his touch.
Oh, God, and, and . . . that magnificent dick.
That good loving.
That, that, unforgettable . . . fucking.
She wanted it all—him.
Kendall.
This was what her therapist had been suggesting, encouraging in the last several therapy sessions. Taking risk. Throwing caution to the wind without overthinking it. She’d even had Krista reading erotica, and so she’d been ODing on the likes of Allison Hobbs and Zane and Risqué, transporting her mind to erotic places she’d never imagined existed. She’d even downloaded a few of Nairobia’s porn movies. God, that whore was such a sex goddess. She had a way of making some of the kinkiest sex look so damn sexy.
It had her curious. Had her imagining, wondering.
Yet, she was still a work in progress. Lord knew she had a long road ahead of her. But therapy was helping her, healing her. Reading erotica was helping her too. Opening her to new possibilities.
Slowly, Krista was learning to embrace her sexuality, her sensuality, and her femininity, all while staying steadfast in her religious beliefs. However, it was, admittedly, still a struggle. One Krista was determined to overcome.
Dr. Dangerfield had once told her that she could be a Christian woman and still be a freak for the man she loved. And she wanted to be.
Krista glanced at herself one last time. “Well, here goes nothing.” And then she opened the door. And flicked off the light.
When she returned, Kendall was still standing in the same spot, as still as a statue, waiting. He blinked several times trying to make sure his eyes weren’t playing some cruel trick on him.
“Damn,” was all Kendall finally managed to say as he stared at her, wondering who this woman was, and where she’d come from. He was nearly undone by the sight of her. And the thought of her sweet pussy hidden behind that patch of silk made his dick suddenly hard, forcing him to shove his hands down into the front pockets of his jeans to hide his growing bulge.
Krista found herself holding her breath as she waited for his response. She felt a moment of panic set in. An infinite amount of time passed by before she forced herself to breathe out through her nose. And when he still hadn’t moved or said anything, Krista’s knees nearly buckled.
“I screwed up, Kendall. I really, really did. And I am so, so, regretful for shutting you out. For shaming you and trying to emasculate you—my therapist’s words.” She took a breath. “I don’t want a divorce, Kendall. I want my husband back. I want you—only you.” Krista swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She felt as if she were about to be sick. She couldn’t bear the thought of baring her soul to him to only be rejected in turn.
But it would serve her right.
“I should have listened to you. I should have been more open to hearing you, Kendall. I don’t want to be on the sidelines, watching another woman take what should be mine. You beside me, inside of me, on top of me, in back of me—wherever you wanna be. So, Kendall, I stand here, half-naked, offering you me—the best and worst parts of everything I am. The broken and glued and very flawed parts of me. There is so much more to sex than I ever allowed myself to know. I know that now. Therapy has shown me that. All I’m asking . . . is for another chance.”
Yes, this whole ordeal had forced her to take a look at herself, and to learn humility.
For the first time in Krista’s life, she felt bold. Powerful. And, finally, in control of what she wanted—her marriage, her husband and lover.
Kendall stared at her, his heart nearly jumping from his chest. He’d resolved himself to the fact that it was over between them; that he could—
He cursed under his breath.
He was standing here with a hard, throbbing dick, his balls already tightening from need. And here Krista stood in his living room looking so incredibly sexy, so vulnerable, and so fucking foreign to him. She elicited a burning desire to fuck her in one stroke and then make love to her the next. Truth was, he still loved her.
Kendall watched her with sultry eyes, and a tortured groan welled in his chest and stuck there. What was a future ex-husband to do?
What was he to say?
Nothing.
He thought he had wanted the divorce up until this very moment.
Krista stalked over toward him, no longer able to stand the space between them.
“Kris—”
“No,” she said huskily, cutting him off as she slid her hand over the front of his fly. “Let me have this—you, even if it’s one last time.”
Before she lost her nerve and bolted for the door, Krista quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and then impatiently yanked them down, along with his boxers, over his hips as she sank to her knees. Kendall’s hard dick sprung upward and Krista’s mouth watered, anticipating the taste of him, the feel of his hard throbbing flesh over her tongue. She flicked her tongue over the head, and then drank it into her mouth, sucking gently as she pulled him in deeper.
His musky scent, so familiar, so intoxicating, engulfed her. Krista breathed it in like a favorite cologne before stretching her mouth wider around him (she’d been practicing on bananas and most recently a dildo) and she started to suck in long, lascivious pulls. To the back of her throat and then out again to the very tip before taking him back.
“Aah, fuck,” Kendall hissed. She quickened her speed, rewinding back everything she’d read in those novels and had watched in those videos. A shudder rolled over her body as Kendall’s dick brushed the back of her throat, causing her nipples to tighten.
Krista felt a surge of wetness between her legs and moaned over Kendall’s dick.
Unable to bear another second of this blissful torture, Kendall pulled Krista up from her knees, her mouth reluctantly releasing the suction on his dick. And, in one big scoop, Krista was up off her feet and in Kendall’s arms being carried over to the leather sectional.
He gently laid her on her back. Covered his mouth with hers. And kissed her deeply as he yanked her panties to the side. And then he peppered her skin with warm kisses, along her neck, down her shoulder, down her belly. And then, and then—oh God, yes.
Right there—over her clit.
Krista closed her eyes as tears of hope and promise streamed down her face. She didn’t know if she could ever lick Kendall in his ass, but she’d try it—once. Yes, yes, the new version of who she wanted to be would try anything once with him.
Suddenly, Kendall’s hands slid to her ass, and he squeezed as his lips wrapped over her clit. She gasped. And then she felt his tongue, swimming inside of her.
Krista cried out as he licked, sucked and then thrust his tongue back into her pussy.
Fire singed over her skin the moment his fingertip pressed into her asshole.
“Ohgodohgodohgod—please . . .” she murmured as her nails dug into the leather.
His finger slipped in.
And, for the very first time, Krista surrendered, and gave herself over to the magic of Kendall’s touch.
About the Author
Cairo is the author of Prison Snatch; The Pleasure Zone; Dirty Heat; Between the Sheets; Ruthless: Deep Throat Diva 3; Retribution: Deep Throat Diva 2; Slippery When Wet; The Stud Palace; Big Booty; Man Swappers; Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang; Deep Throat Diva; Daddy Long Stroke; The Man Handler; and The Kat Trap. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name.
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
Authors.simonandschuster.com/Cairo
ALSO BY CAIRO
Prison Snatch
The Pleasure Zone
Dirty Heat
Between the Sheets
Ruthless: Deep Throat Diva 3
Retribution: Deep Throat Diva 2
Slippery When Wet
The Stud Palace
Big Booty
Man Swappers
Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang
Deep Throat Diva
Daddy Long Stroke
The Man Handler
The Kat Trap
WITH ALLISON HOBBS
Sexual Healing
We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.
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Strebor Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2017 by Cairo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 55471,
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ISBN 978-1-59309-698-4
ISBN 978-1-50111-736-7 (ebook)
LCCN 2017941829
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition November 2017
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Keith Saunders Photos
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Cairo, Passion Island
