His Favorite Mistake

Chapter 6

I answered.

“Hello? Frederick? Hello… Are you there?”

Her voice came through thin and cracked, the kind of sound a woman makes after crying for a long time and trying not to fall apart. Soft. Small. Broken.

I stared at the ceiling of the suite and let the silence stretch.

“Why the hell are you disturbing my phone at this hour?”

On the other end, I heard her suck in a shaky breath.

“I… I just wanted to know where you are,” she whispered. “Your car isn’t outside. I’ve been waiting. I don’t know where you are or if you are coming back tonight. I'm worried that something might have happened. I only wanted to know your whereabouts.”

Clara’s fingers traced slow circles across my chest. She reached for the gold chain and began unwinding it with deliberate care, her body shifting against mine as she worked.

I kept my voice cold.

“You could clearly see that my car is not parked outside… and you’re still calling me. To do what exactly?”

A small, wounded sound came through the speaker.

“I just… I needed to hear your voice,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to…”

“When did you start using your brain to mop the floor so there’s nothing left upstairs?” I cut her off. “Don’t you know that if you didn’t see my car parked outside, then I must have left?”

Clara slid the chain around my right wrist. The metal was cool against my skin. She pulled it taut, looped it through the headboard, and locked it with a soft click. Her hips shifted as she moved, keeping me hard inside her while she worked.

Esther’s voice rose again, still careful, but the cracks were showing.

“Frederick, please… I only wanted to know if you are coming home tonight. So I’ll be awake to get the door for you when you are back.”

“Listen to me,” I interrupted, voice sharp. “Where I am and when I am coming back shouldn’t be your concern. Stop acting foolish. Stop calling. Stop interrupting my night.”

A soft, throaty laugh slipped from Clara’s mouth. She was already working on my left wrist, the one still holding the phone. She kept moving slowly against me, taking her time, making sure I felt every small roll of her hips.

Esther heard the laugh.

“Who is that?”

The question came out sharp with sudden fear, but underneath it was pure, broken desperation.

I looked at Clara. She smiled down at me, slow and wicked, and deliberately let another soft, satisfied sound leave her throat while she finished securing the chain around my other wrist. The second click sounded louder than the first.

I answered Esther without raising my voice.

“Why do you care?”

Silence stretched on the line. I could almost hear her heart breaking through the speaker.

“It doesn’t concern you,” I said flatly. “Nothing about where I am or who I’m with concerns you. Go back to whatever you were doing and leave my phone alone.”

“Frederick… Please don’t hang up. Just tell me if you’re coming home. Please…”

I tapped the screen with my thumb and ended the call.

The screen went dark. Clara plucked the phone from my now-restrained hand and set it face-down on the nightstand. Then she sat up fully, straddling my hips, the gold chain connecting both of my wrists to the headboard above my head.

She looked down at me with pure satisfaction.

“That was the whole point of the chain,” she said softly, voice thick with naughty amusement. “I didn’t bring it just for show. I brought it so I could do this.” She gave a gentle tug on the metal. There was almost no give. “So I could lock your hands and take exactly what I want without you being able to stop me.”

I tested the restraints once. The headboard creaked but held. Heat rolled through me hard and fast.

Clara rose onto her knees, positioned herself, and sank down onto me in one slow, controlled glide. The feeling of her taking me again dragged a low sound out of my throat. She seated herself completely, rolled her hips once and twice, and then began to move with deliberate, rolling strokes that forced me deeper each time.

Her hands braced on my chest. She kept her gaze locked on mine, watching the way my jaw tightened and the way my arms flexed uselessly against the restraints.

“You like this,” she murmured, voice pure sin. “You like knowing she just heard me and there’s nothing she can do about it. The poor thing sounded so broken.”

I thrust up hard, meeting her next downward stroke. Clara’s head tipped back, a broken little moan spilling out of her. She rode me harder after that, the wet sound of her body filling the suite. Every time she came down, the chain on my wrists pulled taut. Every time she lifted, the metal eased just enough to remind me I couldn’t reach for her.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of my head, and changed the angle so she could grind down in tight, circular motions. Her breath came in short, hot bursts against my mouth.

“Look at you,” she whispered. “Tied up in a hotel bed while your wife sits at home wondering where you are. And you still get harder every time I move.”

I strained against the chain again. The metal bit lightly into my skin. Clara felt it and smiled, slowing her pace just to feel me twitch inside her. She deliberately rolled her hips in a long, deep stroke that made both of us groan.

She reached between us and stroked herself with two fingers while she continued to ride. Her thighs started to tremble. I felt her tighten around me in short, fluttering pulses. She picked up speed again, the wet sound of our bodies growing louder, the chain rattling softly against the headboard with every movement.

“Come on,” she breathed, voice wrecked and naughty. “Give it to me again. I want to feel it while you’re locked down like this… while she’s still sitting there with that broken little voice in her head.”

I snapped my hips up hard. Once. Twice. On the third thrust, I buried myself as deep as the angle allowed and came with a low, gritted sound, pulsing into her while she kept grinding down through every spasm.

Clara followed almost immediately. Her whole body seized, a sharp cry tearing out of her throat as she clenched around me in tight, rhythmic waves. Then she squirted, a sudden hot rush of wetness flooding between us, soaking my stomach and the sheets beneath us as her orgasm ripped through her. She kept grinding down, riding out every pulse, her body shaking hard while more wetness spilled from her.

She stayed on top of me afterward, breathing hard, the gold chain still locking both of my wrists to the headboard. Sweat cooled on our skin. The sheets beneath us were soaked. The music kept playing. Somewhere far away, my phone remained dark and silent on the nightstand.

Clara finally lifted her head and looked down at me with that same satisfied little smirk.

“See?” she said softly, voice still thick with pleasure. “No one else can make you feel like this.”

She didn’t unlock me.

She simply settled more comfortably against my chest, still full of me, and closed her eyes like she had all the time in the world.

I lay there beneath her, wrists bound, body still humming, the wet evidence of her satisfaction cooling on my skin. Esther’s cracked voice still echoed somewhere in the back of my mind. She had called looking for comfort. She had called looking for me.

And all she got was the sound of another woman and a hung-up line.

I closed my eyes and smiled.