What He Wants Read online

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  What He Wants

  An Erotic Short

  (Prequel to Trusting You – a Second Chances Standalone novel)

  Copyright © 2014 by L.P. Dover

  Cover design by Once Upon a Time Covers

  Edited by Melissa Ringsted

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  For other titles by LP Dover, visit Amazon

  Title Page

  Note from the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  A Preview of Trusting You

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Other Titles by LP Dover

  HEY, EVERYONE, I wanted to give you a little insight to my short story, What He Wants. If you’ve read my novel, Trusting You, you will know who my characters are. If not, then I hope you’ll be intrigued enough to see what happens to Melissa and Brett after their one night stand. The beginning of Trusting You starts off with the morning after that fateful night. None of my readers ever got to actually see how they met, or how their night at the bar turned from innocent flirting to an all-night event of lust, passion, and hot, steamy sex. What He Wants shows you all of that and how Brett knew Melissa was what he craved … what he wanted. Enjoy!

  DO YOU EVER get that feeling that you know something is wrong, but yet you can’t figure out what it is? Well, let me tell you … I’ve had that feeling for a while, and if my suspicions were correct I’d have my answer soon.

  The only problem was that I’d ignored it for so long, praying that I was just being paranoid, and that my husband’s success wouldn’t change his views on life. I was wrong.

  As I packed up my students’ test papers and stuck them in my bag, my heart pounded relentlessly in my chest. I didn’t want to think of my husband cheating on me with another woman—our neighbor of all people—but I couldn’t ignore the warning that went off in my mind every time I saw him and her interact.

  For instance, the subtle way they would say hello every morning out in the driveway before they both left for work, or the way she would always try to find reasons to come over and borrow something. Her gaze would linger a little too long on Daniel, and his on her.

  There were many times I wanted to just rip out her dried-up, bleach-blonde hair and shove it down her throat. The problem was, I didn’t understand what she had that I didn’t. Not that I was vain, I was completely the opposite, but I considered myself an attractive female.

  I had soft, wavy red hair, emerald green eyes, and the right amount of curves that most men liked. I was a real woman, unlike the whore next door who had fake breasts, too dark skin from the tanning bed, and was the most disingenuous woman I’d ever met. All in all, she was a bitch who had no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

  Clenching my teeth together, I refused to cry over my husband or that bitch he was fucking. I was stupid to think that someone like Daniel O’Briene could be happy with one woman. He had always gotten what he wanted, and now that he had more money than he could dream of, it had gone to his head. When we got married two years ago everything was perfect; I was all he ever wanted, and even his friends made comments about how lucky he was to have married someone like me.

  Why couldn’t he see that? He obviously didn’t care anymore.

  Before I could finish packing up my things and lock my classroom door, Mrs. Hamilton—our high school’s music teacher and a friend of my mother’s—waltzed in, her expression wary. She was fifty-eight years old with short, auburn hair that was nowhere near natural looking. Her husband liked it, so she colored it that way to please him.

  The only thing that pleased Daniel was to have me hanging on his arm in a provocative dress so he could show me off at his business dinners. That was all I was to him … a trophy wife. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for his tricks so blindly.

  “What are you going to say if you find him with her?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.

  For the past couple of months, I’d confided in her and told her about my suspicions. She always listened to me with an open mind, and finally told me to find out for myself. Daniel thought I was going to be in a meeting after school, but little did he know that it was all a farce to see if I could catch him in the act. I was nervous … but I was also pissed; angry couldn’t begin to describe the way I would feel if I literally caught him with someone else.

  Sighing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and shrugged, my hands clenching the straps of my bag with brutal force. “I don’t think the question is what I’m going to say to him, other than what I’m doing to do if I catch him.”

  She nodded sadly and squeezed my shoulder; her deep brown gaze full of sorrow. “I know, sweetheart. I went through it with my first husband, so I understand how you feel. The sooner you find out what’s going on the better you’ll be. Now go before it’s too late.”

  With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I nodded once and headed out of the school to the parking lot where my red Lexus LFA sat, mocking me; it was a present from Daniel. He bought me everything I could ever want, but no amount of jewelry or pretty things would make me want to stay with him. I didn’t need material things … I needed love.

  Once in my car, I sped out of the parking lot and trudged along the back country roads—since the police always kept radar on them—until I got to Interstate 85. There I could finally let loose and speed home, reluctantly counting down the fifteen minutes I knew it would take to get there. The closer I got, the sicker I became.

  He’s there … I know it. I felt it in my blood.

  When I turned down our street, I could see the closed garage door up ahead, so I had no clue if he was inside or not. Instead of pulling into the driveway, I parked on the road off to the left of our house, not even shutting the car door for fear he’d hear it. Our bedroom was downstairs with windows in the front, so if he heard a car he could easily look out the window and see me in the driveway. The last thing I wanted to do was alert him to my presence.

  Thankfully, no one was around to see me creep around the back of my house like a psycho stalker. I reached around to the inside of the gate and unlocked it, letting it open slowly before latching it back together once I got inside. The water in the swimming pool was calm, but there was nothing calm about the storm brewing inside of me.

  My hands shook and I could barely breathe, but I knew I had to keep going even if it felt like I was going to hyperventilate in the ninety degree heat. Summers in North Carolina were definitely not mild; most of the time they were scorching with the humidity being off the charts. Nonetheless, it was my home and where I belonged.

  Carefully, I tiptoed across the back deck and quickly peered into the glass; Daniel was nowhere to be seen. Putting my k
ey in the lock, I took a deep breath and gently turned it, opening the door wide. Maybe he wasn’t there … maybe it was all just my paranoia.

  However, the second I stepped inside I wished I could turn back around and block out the noises that echoed throughout the house. What the fuck? The sound of bodies slapping together, along with the moans and grunts of two people fucking in my bed, was enough to make me sick … completely and utterly livid to the point all I could see was red.

  I was frozen in place, disgusted and in shock. I wanted to believe that Daniel wouldn’t cheat on me, but deep down I’d always known he couldn’t be happy with just me. Hell, I wasn’t exactly happy with him, but I would never have cheated. I loved him and would’ve worked to salvage what we had, if only he’d wanted to put in the effort. It was clear he didn’t want it to work.

  It was too late.

  I definitely didn’t want to work things out now … I wanted to tear off his balls and shove them down his goddamned throat. Not to mention rip all of the bleach-blonde hair off of my neighbor’s head as I dragged her out the front door of my house.

  “Oh, Daniel … harder,” she begged as I moved closer to the door. I was right, it was my whore of a neighbor.

  Clenching my teeth together, I was about to bust down the door and rip them apart when another idea sprung to mind. Turning on my heel, I choked back the tears and headed straight to the front door. Quietly, I opened it and stalked around the side of the house to where the nicely coiled water hose sat. My neighbor’s husband pulled up and waved at me as I unrolled the hose and turned on the water. Biting my tongue, I waved back and stormed to the front door with the hose in hand.

  Mark watched me with a curious eye and my heart hurt knowing he was about to find out about his wife’s treachery. He was a good looking man, maybe a little feminine at times with his pink and purple polo shirts and boat shoes, but he was cute in a boyish way. His medium brown hair was always perfect—combed over and gelled—along with his clean shaven face that never had a hint of stubble. Not the type of man who took charge, especially in the bedroom … or at least from what I could tell. He wasn’t like Daniel. Maybe that was why his wife wanted someone who knew how to dominate.

  Oh, fuck her and Daniel both. They could kiss my ass.

  I hated that Mark was about to find out this way, but it was better he found out now rather than later. At least he didn’t have to hear them fucking in my house. I was going to burn my bed … my sheets, everything that Daniel had touched. Basically I needed to burn down the fucking house. Better yet, I should invite the whole neighborhood over for a bonfire. It was going to be the largest one anyone had ever seen.

  Sneaking into the house, I pulled the hose along behind me and prayed that it reached as far as my bedroom. Under normal circumstances, what I was about to do would be funny as hell, but there was no humor in what I was about to see. My anger fueled me, it blocked out the pain ... for the time being.

  Please, God, don’t let me feel the heartache anymore. I was tired of it.

  When I got to the door, their sickening moans were all I could hear. I hated them with every fiber of my being. Taking a deep breath, I bent my knees and on the count of three I was going to put every ounce of strength I had in my legs to kick down the door.

  One … two … three!

  The moment my foot connected with the door, it flew open and slammed into the wall. My foot kicked a hole in the door, and another in the wall upon impact. I had enough time to see my whore of a neighbor on her knees, her ass in the air as Daniel fucked her from behind, before their wide-eyed expressions glanced at me in horror.

  I had the nozzle turned in the hardest spray it could deliver and aimed it straight at Daniel’s face. “What the fuck,” he shouted as he fell over on the bed. He screamed at me to stop while Angela squealed and tried to get off the bed in search for her clothes.

  “I don’t think so, bitch,” I shouted, pointing the nozzle at her, spraying her in the face. She fell on to the floor, shielding her face with her hands.

  Daniel had righted himself and started to jump off the bed, but I rushed inside and aimed the water back at him, bending down to grab his and Angela’s clothes off the floor. I wasn’t going to let them have them. Now that the water was directed at Daniel, Angela crawled toward the bedroom door. However, before she could run away, I dropped the hose and grabbed her by her stringy, blonde hair, and dragged her to the front door, completely naked.

  “Melissa, I’m so sorry,” she cried, reaching up to grab my hands. “It was an accident.”

  “Don’t you fucking touch me,” I snapped.

  I pulled her hair as hard as I could, and felt it ripping in my hands. I was so angry I wanted to rip every single strand out, but when I got the door, I opened it up and pushed her out, her hair in my hands.

  “So you’re saying it was an accident that you ended up naked in my bedroom with your ass sticking straight up in the air?” Fuming, I started toward her, but she took off for her house.

  Her husband was outside getting something out of his car when he saw her stumbling out of our yard with no clothes on. At first his eyes were wide, but then they narrowed; his once laid back demeanor changed to outright disgust. I could see in his eyes that he’d suspected she was cheating on him, just like I knew Daniel was cheating on me.

  “Melissa!”

  Clenching my teeth, I turned to see Daniel rushing toward me with a pair of boxers on, his arms outstretched like he wanted to reach for me. His blond hair was mussed and he had pink lipstick all over his skin; I was completely and utterly disgusted.

  Immediately, I stepped back, eyes wide. My body shook with rage, and when his gaze landed on my hand filled with Angela’s hair, he stopped and held up his hands.

  “Baby—”

  “Stop,” I shouted, angry tears clouding my vision. “You don’t get to talk to me that way, or even look at me ever again after today. I want you to leave … now!”

  “Melissa, you have to let me explain,” he pleaded. He tried to close the distance, but I reared back and slapped him across the cheek, the sting burning my palm.

  His head snapped to the side and his jaw clenched, but he dropped his hands and backed away. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses, Daniel. It’s over!”

  He wouldn’t look at me, but I wished he would just so he could see the disdain in my gaze … the hate. Instead, he turned around and disappeared back down the hallway to our bedroom. Screams erupted outside, so I walked out the front door to see a stream of clothes flying across my neighbor’s lawn. Angela was still outside, scrambling to put on whatever her husband tossed her way. Their shouting was so loud the rest of our neighbors came out of their houses to see what was going on. In a crying mess of shame, Angela collapsed onto the ground while Mark continuously chucked everything she owned into the grass. She deserved it.

  Daniel’s things were about to join the front lawn as well. Everything in my house that was his was going to disappear. The garage door opened, and when Daniel rushed outside to see what was going on, he took one look at Angela bawling her eyes out on the ground and shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t give a shit about her.

  He wasn’t sorry for what he did; he had no remorse. How the hell could I not see this side of him before?

  “I’m coming back tomorrow to get my things,” he claimed, staring angrily at me.

  When all I did was glare at him with venom in my eyes, he huffed and stalked over to his black Lexus LFA and bolted out of the driveway. He could try to come get his things, but I couldn’t promise that they’d be in pristine condition.

  I think Mark and I needed to have some fun first.

  Nine Months Later

  IT WAS THE last day of the school year, and my students eagerly awaited the final ringing of the bell, signifying the beginning of their summer of freedom. I was a Biology teacher at one of our local high schools and I loved it; Science was my passion.

  My students’ eyes were f
ocused on the clock and nothing else, legs bouncing underneath their desks. Silently, I laughed and shook my head. It was like that every year on the last day of school. Little did the seniors know that real life wasn’t exactly a walk in the park; it was hard and full of disappointment.

  Some of the best times in my life were when I was in college, free from my parents and in charge of my own life. I prayed my students made better choices than I had. Looking at the clock, I noticed they had ten minutes left. It wasn’t just my students getting a vacation for the summer; I was as well. It would be my first one alone and single without my douche-bag ex-husband making my life miserable.

  I was ready to leave just as badly as my students.

  Already having my things packed and ready to go, I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. “All right, everyone, you’re free to go. I hope you all have a wonderful summer before college. Try not to party too hard, okay?”

  Eyes wide, a couple of them shot up out of the chairs and halted, not taking another step. “Are you sure, Ms. Ashford? We’re not going to get in trouble, are we?” Jordan asked, glancing at his friends then back to me.

  Jordan was one of my all-time favorites. He had dark brown hair, crystal blue eyes, and the cutest dimples I’d ever seen on a young man. All of the girls loved him; he was our team quarterback and on his way to play at Appalachian State University on a scholarship.

  Chuckling, I shook my head and pointed to the door. “No, you’re not going to get in trouble, so go. Good luck at Appalachian. I’ll have to come up there and watch some of your games.”

  “You better,” he shouted excitedly, fist bumping one of his friends.

  Everyone rushed toward the door as fast as they could and disappeared just as quickly down the hall. If I wanted to avoid the chaos, I probably needed to get out as well. It was time to celebrate and I knew exactly how to start off my summer.

  Once out in the car, I took one last look at my school and started out of the parking lot. I didn’t have many single friends, but the ones I did have were fun to hang out with … on occasion. Most of them were a couple years younger than me with no divorce under their belts. I typically kept that bit of knowledge a secret when I met a new man. The men I’d met over the past couple of months were too self-absorbed to even ask me questions anyway. Needless to say, I hadn’t had sex in a long time; I missed the connection and the closeness.