Page 33 of Entrapped
“Last night was quite the show,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Watching you with him… God, Josephine, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You’re sick,” I hissed, backing away until I hit the wall. “How dare you!”
“How dare I?” Vaughn cut me off, stepping closer until there was barely an inch between us. “How dare you, Josephine! You knew I was there, watching. You kept looking at me. Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to see.”
I shook my head, the denial automatic, but his words struck a chord. I had seen him. I had locked eyes with him. And I hadn’t stopped Colson. The realization sent a wave of disgust crashing over me—disgust at Vaughn, but more so at myself.
“Why didn’t you say something to Colson?” Vaughn’s voice was a taunting whisper. “If you’re so disgusted by me, why didn’t you tell him his son was standing there, watching?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Vaughn’s smirk widened, sensing my hesitation.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice laced with triumph. “You didn’t say anything because you were embarrassed. Not by me, but by how much you enjoyed it.”
My cheeks burned with shame, the truth of his words slamming into my chest. I had been embarrassed. Not just because Vaughn had seen me, but because, in some twisted way, it had excited me. I hated myself for it, but there was no denying the thrill that had shot through me when our eyes met.
“Get out,” I managed to say, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and humiliation.
Vaughn’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You can pretend all you want, but I know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. And so do you.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I slumped against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself as if I could hold together the pieces that were threatening to come apart. Vaughn’s words echoed in my mind, taunting me, refusing to be silenced.
What had I become? And how much further was I willing to fall?
The Sunday before Thanksgiving began like many others, with Colson waking me at an ungodly hour, pulling me from sleep with his insistent need. By now, I had grown accustomed to his early morning desires, but today felt different—more intense, more intimate.
He had me face down, my belly propped on a pillow, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered into my ear. "I have a surprise for you," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release.
I could barely form a thought, let alone words, as my own climax built to a fever pitch. “Can it wait until after we finish?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling.
Colson’s hand snaked around my waist, his fingers finding my clit with practiced ease. He knew exactly how to push me over the edge, and within seconds, I shattered around him, crying out his name as he followed, thrusting deep and hard until he was spent. He collapsed against my back, his heart pounding against my skin, his breath ragged in my ear.
"Colson?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice as he took longer than usual to recover.
"I'm fine," he murmured, pulling out and turning me to face him. "Just tired."
I chuckled softly, still riding the aftershocks of our lovemaking. "Maybe you shouldn’t wake me at 3 a.m. anymore."
He cupped my face in his hands, his eyes locking onto mine with a tenderness that was still so new, so unexpected. “I like waking you at 3 a.m.,” he said, his voice low and serious. “You make me feel alive again.”
Over the past few months of our marriage, moments like these had become more frequent. Colson was warming up to me, and though he’d never admit it, I could tell he was starting to care—maybe even love me.
“What’s the surprise?” I asked, curious now that the haze of lust was clearing.
A small, proud smile tugged at his lips. “Your parents’ home is complete.”
I blinked at him in confusion. “I thought you said no to the purchase.”
“It wasn’t a purchase,” he corrected, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “It’s a new build in my Whittington Development. A thirty-five hundred square foot, four-bedroom, three-bath home with everything they could ever want.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. Of all the things Colson had done for me, this was by far the most meaningful. I had been prepared to fight him on this, to convince him to let me buy a home for my parents. But he had gone above and beyond, gifting them something far greater than I could have imagined.
He wiped away my tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle. “You’re welcome, Joey. I was wrong. Family is everything. We’ll present them the deed on the holiday.”
I was still trying to process the enormity of his gesture when Colson winced, a flicker of pain crossing his features.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately concerned.
“It’s nothing,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “I strained a muscle while working out. We should get a few more hours of sleep if you want to be fresh for Vaughn’s party.”
