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Shared: The Cuckolding Earl
An old flame from college walks back into Laura's life - and now he's come into his inheritance as Earl Somerfield. Laura's married but her husband seems distant and distracted, and when the Earl starts to seduce her, she's happy to play along. She's usually so capable and independent, but the Earl reveals a new, submissive side to her own personality that shocks and intrigues her.
Their affair should have been a one-off. Then Laura's husband reveals a secret of his own, and things begin to take a dramatic new turn. Laura and Phillip suddenly need money - and the Earl is in a position to help out. But the price he asks might be too high…
This book contains scenes intended only for adults.
I found that I didn't want to think about Phillip. He made me feel sour every time he crossed my mind, so instead, I focussed on Rhys. In contrast, he had made me feel ten feet tall, and I wanted to repay him, somehow. I caught myself swooning at odd moments, paused with a cup raised to my lips, or half way up the stairs. What would Rhys like? What would he like me to wear? What would please him? I wanted to serve him like I have never wanted to serve another human being. Maybe this is what he meant by submission, but it wasn't what I'd been led to believe in popular culture. No physical restraints - this was all in the mind.
On Monday, to my surprise, Phillip declared that he was too ill to go to work. I was concerned. He was never ill, and I could not remember him ever phoning in sick before. He did look a little pale, but otherwise, there were no other symptoms. He waved his hand vaguely at me as he sat up in bed.
"Tired, bone-tired right through. I don't know. Maybe it's a virus."
I studied his face but there was no hint of pain on his features. I hopped up on the king-size bed. I'd already showered and dressed, and I brought him a cup of coffee which was now balanced on the side table. "It's raining," I said, for want of something better to say. Christ, can I not even talk to my husband properly anymore?
"Really? I thought I heard something. About time. The garden needs it."
Socially expected responses over, I waited, picking at the embroidery on the duvet cover.
"I'm sorry, Laura."
"For being ill?" I looked up at him. "No need to apologise. I'm just kind of worried. It's not like you. Are you sure it's a virus?"
"I don't know what it is," he said tersely. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just feel all drained and washed out."
"You look it. I think you've been working too hard. Spending all that time in London. Honestly, Phillip, I know you do it for us, but you have to look after yourself too. Or else, what's the point?"
"I know."
"I wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't a reaction to stress, and not a virus at all."
He shook his head but said nothing. I pressed on. "We've got to get ourselves back on track, Phillip. Something's wrong and I don't like it. Whatever it is - work stress, whatever, we've got to move forwards. As a couple. You know?"
"I know."
I waited again, wanting him to say something other than I know or I'm sorry, but he just looked at me miserably then began to drink his coffee. I sighed in exasperation and left him to it.
Their affair should have been a one-off. Then Laura's husband reveals a secret of his own, and things begin to take a dramatic new turn. Laura and Phillip suddenly need money - and the Earl is in a position to help out. But the price he asks might be too high…
This book contains scenes intended only for adults.
I found that I didn't want to think about Phillip. He made me feel sour every time he crossed my mind, so instead, I focussed on Rhys. In contrast, he had made me feel ten feet tall, and I wanted to repay him, somehow. I caught myself swooning at odd moments, paused with a cup raised to my lips, or half way up the stairs. What would Rhys like? What would he like me to wear? What would please him? I wanted to serve him like I have never wanted to serve another human being. Maybe this is what he meant by submission, but it wasn't what I'd been led to believe in popular culture. No physical restraints - this was all in the mind.
On Monday, to my surprise, Phillip declared that he was too ill to go to work. I was concerned. He was never ill, and I could not remember him ever phoning in sick before. He did look a little pale, but otherwise, there were no other symptoms. He waved his hand vaguely at me as he sat up in bed.
"Tired, bone-tired right through. I don't know. Maybe it's a virus."
I studied his face but there was no hint of pain on his features. I hopped up on the king-size bed. I'd already showered and dressed, and I brought him a cup of coffee which was now balanced on the side table. "It's raining," I said, for want of something better to say. Christ, can I not even talk to my husband properly anymore?
"Really? I thought I heard something. About time. The garden needs it."
Socially expected responses over, I waited, picking at the embroidery on the duvet cover.
"I'm sorry, Laura."
"For being ill?" I looked up at him. "No need to apologise. I'm just kind of worried. It's not like you. Are you sure it's a virus?"
"I don't know what it is," he said tersely. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just feel all drained and washed out."
"You look it. I think you've been working too hard. Spending all that time in London. Honestly, Phillip, I know you do it for us, but you have to look after yourself too. Or else, what's the point?"
"I know."
"I wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't a reaction to stress, and not a virus at all."
He shook his head but said nothing. I pressed on. "We've got to get ourselves back on track, Phillip. Something's wrong and I don't like it. Whatever it is - work stress, whatever, we've got to move forwards. As a couple. You know?"
"I know."
I waited again, wanting him to say something other than I know or I'm sorry, but he just looked at me miserably then began to drink his coffee. I sighed in exasperation and left him to it.
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First published July 7, 2013
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