A woman betrayed…
When Kate finds her scumbag husband putting it to a lowly barmaid in their bed, that is the last straw. It’s time to leave, and leave she does.
A woman determined…
Kate isn’t going to let this setback colour her life. She’s better than that…she’s a sex goddess…and she’s going to prove it.
But where to start?
The road to happiness sometimes begins with one simple misstep. Now Kate has to find her own path, hopefully to a better man. And somewhere along the way, hopefully she can find herself…
Slowly, but surely, I started to wake from a deep, but happy, sleep. The bed was warm, comfortable, and welcoming. I stretched my arm out and came into contact with the smooth skin of a man’s back.
I was not alone.
“I love you, you are so beautiful,” this strong, attractive, male voice whispered in my ear. His lips placed small kisses on my neck, descending down my back and onto my bare arms. All the tiny hairs on my body became erect in response. Finally, the kisses reached my left hand. A diamond ring nestled on the third finger.
I was still half asleep. Then I understood. This was not a dream—the man in my bed was real.
His pleasant musky scent hit my nostrils and brought with it a range of emotions—deep security, peace, and the satisfaction of knowing I’d achieved my ultimate goal.
Feelings of love and happiness overwhelmed me. I opened my eyes, turned around and placed a tender kiss on my fiancé’s lips.
My fiancé—the phrase seemed to vibrate in my head, throwing rays of happiness all over me. I looked at my beautiful diamond engagement ring and then turned my attention to the man in my bed.
“Good morning, darling.” I smiled, the memory of our ecstatic lovemaking the previous night still fresh. “Would you like some coffee, or some kisses, or both?”
His handsome face lit up, and he smiled. “Kisses first, coffee later,” he decided, bringing me close into his arms, rolling me around and clasping my breasts in his soft, but strong, hands.
I could feel that, despite last night’s exertions, he was already aroused, his hardened cock pressing against my bare bottom. I knew there would be another session of our wonderful lovemaking. A strong desire for this man overwhelmed me. He was The One, and he was perfect.
It seemed that my long quest was now complete. After a lot of trial and error, and many mistakes, the man now in my bed was the perfect husband-to-be. Strong, intelligent, sexy—he was perfect in every way.
So my husband hunting days were over—the hunter had her gorgeous prey.
And it had been a very long hunt. Many false starts, much heartache, some great sex, some bad sex, and a lot of frogs kissed to no avail.
And although the final frog had turned into my handsome prince, I recalled that the whole thing had begun many months previously, with Betrayal by another man.
I practically dragged myself to my car. The pain of leaving was intense. But drag myself I did. Finally, as I reached the door and clicked the remote, I turned around for the last time and looked at the house in which I’d spent most of my married life. The house I lovingly chose. The house financed and furnished by my efforts and my money. The house in which I was going to live for many years to come and raise my children.
The house of my failed dreams…
“These are the keys,” I said curtly. I handed them to the estate agent, who patiently waited on the street, next to his posh-looking BMW.
“Katherine, I really appreciate—” I heard him say.
He was trying to make polite conversation, but I wasn’t prepared to listen to any sort of polite conversation. Not now. Now I wanted to run away and hide.
This was my life’s failure—the failure of my marriage, the destruction of my dreams and my hopes for the future.
The scene of my husband fucking the barmaid on our marital bed was still firmly etched in my memory. The sound of her climax as she responded to him, enjoyed him, as his back arched upwards and his eyes bulged. She had him…my husband, the man to whom I’d been, foolishly, faithful for so long. But no, I didn’t want the picture to go away. I wanted it to be stuck there forever. I wanted that picture to erase any remaining love for my former husband I might still have in my heart.
I shook the agent’s hand.
“Thank you for your help. I really need to get back to work now.”
I wasn’t in the mood for any more pleasantries. He was handsome but already married with three children. This was a business transaction, and I was relieved the house had been sold, and this part of my life was over.
I got into my car and started driving towards London.
Did he feel sorry for me? He must be used to couples splitting up and selling their marital houses. Good business for him, I suppose. At least someone has benefited from my misery.
Yes, I was a betrayed woman. My husband had crudely and cruelly betrayed me with a local young slip of a thing, a girl of easy reputation. If I were a better woman, I might have forgiven him—but I did not.
I could not. The recollection of my beautiful and expensive antique iron bedstead moaning and groaning under the strain of their dreadful coupling came to mind. I could neither forgive nor forget.
As a result of his affair, I was now single, the divorce awaiting the decree absolute. In one week’s time, I would fully be a free woman once more.
Was that anything to celebrate? It didn’t feel that way.
I moved out of our lovely cottage in Essex and stayed with my older sister in London for two weeks until I rented a flat and moved in.
