Nevertheless, I regretted my actions.
I had been weak. A broken, wicked man.
Whitleigh said there were so many women who wanted me to dom them, that I just came off to those in the know as the perfect dom. But I was careful, cautious. I didn’t want every woman who read 50 Shades thinking they had a chance with me. As the Governor, I had to guard my reputation.
Could I ever do the same things with Paloma that I did with Whitleigh?
Shewould never understand.Thiscould never be a part of our relationship.
Sully mywife’sperfect pristine alabaster bottom with my heavy hand? Put the imprints of my thick fingers on her pretty rose-leaf skin?
Never, never! That was for Whitleigh, who craved my hand. Craved all the naughty things I did to her.
I should be satisfied with vanilla sex. But I wasn’t.
The limo ride home was bleak. Brutal.
In my guilt and shame, I tore at my dark hair. What would Paloma say?
The sex with Whitleigh was just about satisfying an urge. Nothing like the precious tender times with my wife.
Sometimes I couldn’t even bear to look at Whitleigh after spanking her. Sometimes I would be so wound up my cock was practically weeping, and I’d close my eyes, turn my back, and stroke myself to completion.
But I could not,would notfool myself. It was dirty, wrong cheating. My wife had every right to be angry.
I would come to her with a plan. I had already signed up for a session of marital therapy and sex addict therapy.
I would have to count on the therapists’ discretion. After all, wouldn’t the papers love to get ahold of the Governor and his much younger wife having to go to marriage therapy?
Did it matter? That I didn’t love Whitleigh? That I only saw her as a friend. A friend with certain benefits. We had a mutually beneficial arrangement. That was all.
But it had been my sweet wife who had always held my heart. From the very moment I first saw her. I was 45 and at the top of my game, while she was 25, a blushing, stammering writer assigned to interview me about my position on animal conservation.
She’d been so sweet. So innocent, with her big blue eyes and her neat little polka-dot dress with the big white bow and the plump pink lips. Oh, I remembered how she sat across from me, her hands trembling with nerves as she modestly tucked the long skirts in neatly around her legs.
I wanted to get that perfect virginal body underneath mine.
And a man like me got whatever I wanted. By any means necessary. Power. Manipulation. Control. I didn’t care how I got it, the ends justified the means to me.
And I wanted Paloma, more than I’d ever wanted another woman in my life, even though I was hard and brutal and domineering. I wanted something cream-soft and silky to warm my bed, and to get her I was the perfect boyfriend and husband.
But now my temptations were catching up to me.
The governor’s mansion was a big pure cream building with beautiful molded arches and delicate carved flowers. It had been the ambition of my life to one day live here, and now it would be the ambition of my life to stay here.
I could avoid this scandal. All I needed was a show of perfect unity with my wife.
Behind these luxurious walls was the wife I had betrayed, not because I didn’t love her, but because of this darkness inside me, this craving to lust and cheat and dominate.
Why was I cursed with these wicked temptations? This depraved lust for my hand exploding on a woman’s bare buttocks? Why couldn’t I be satisfied with the shy gasps of my wife during sex? Her sweet and trusting kisses?
I was a deeply complex man, and these sessions with my particular friend satisfied something inside me. But I must—Imustlearn how to resist them. For my wife’s sake, I had to learn how to.
“My Paloma,” I said, my deep voice echoing in the entryway.
How could I ever explain it to her? These were words I shrank from ever uttering around her.Control. Power. Domination.
She was sitting on the couch with her laptop, and at the sound of my voice she rose to greet me.
