“Forsaking All Others,” by Galia Ryan: a Woman Turns the Tables on Her Cheating Husband

forsaking“Forsaking all Others,” ($.99, ISBN: 978-1-60381-238-2) is the second Novella-Length Kindle Single in a new series by Galia Ryan: Stories of Love, Risk, and Fate. The series began with “Perfect Stranger.” Ryan is the author of the Luxuria Trilogy: Choices, Secrets, and Desires. In coming months, Fanny Press will be publishing several of Ryan’s novellas as Kindle Singles. After all the novellas are available separately online, they will also be published in a trade paperback anthology.

**Available only on Kindle. Click the Cover Image to order**

When Jonathon confesses to having an affair, Remy thinks it is the end of her world. But then she decides to fight back. No one is going to take her enviable lifestyle away from her, nor will she let another woman steal her husband. But how can she satisfy Jonathon’s demanding libido without learning to tolerate his indiscretions? Perhaps there is a way, after all, to save her marriage and ensure he never strays again ….

Convent-educated from the age of four, Galia Ryan was brought up not to question. Perhaps because of this, she has always been fascinated by all things esoteric and “outside the square.” Originally from Sussex, England, and now living in New Zealand with her soul-mate husband and grown-up family, Galia tries to find time between her passions for writing and reading and for her other love—travel. There is always a growing list of must-see places. Click here to find Galia online.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

Remy’s call came well after ten p.m. Somehow he’d known who it was, even with the number withheld message on the screen.

“Hi.” He tried to get the balance right. Upbeat. Not blatantly enthusiastic, which he was, but not despondent either.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and beguiling.

He held his breath, waiting for her next words.

“Where are you?” she wanted to know.

“At my club.”

“What are you doing?”

“Working.” He glanced at the paperwork strewn over the narrow desk and the spreadsheet open on his laptop.

“It’s late.”

“I know.”

“You know what they say about too much work.” There was a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Uh-huh.” He was tired.

“Can you stop for a while? Take a break?”

The idea was too appealing to pass up.

“I shouldn’t, but I will. I’ll probably be more effective in the morning anyway.”

“Good.”

“So, what have you been up to today?” he asked, settling in on the sofa and spreading himself full length. He deserved a little comfort. He’d been working non-stop since breakfast.

“Oh, nothing much. A little shopping.”

“What did you buy?” The question was mundane. They were talking, and that was the point.

There was a soft, throaty laugh. “I treated myself. Some silk, some satin. You know.”

He did. She was referring to the expensive underwear she loved.

“Tell me more.”

“A slip. Not black, or white, but red. As red as rubies. And tight.” There was an electric pause. “I should probably have bought the next size up.”

“Are you …?” He closed his eyes.

“Wearing it?” she finished for him. “Yes.”

He visualised her breasts, sheathed in silky fabric, her nipples hard and protruding, and swallowed.

“What else are you wearing?”

“Stockings.”

“Black?”

“No. Tan. With a seam.”

“And—”

“Heels. So high, I can barely walk.”

“You haven’t mentioned any panties.”

“No, I haven’t, have I?”

He was getting hard.

“So …?” he needed to know.

“No panties.”

“Ahh.”

The image of her smooth and hairless slit was immediate, and he let out a long, slow breath.

The silence was almost tangible. He felt a strong connection; almost as if they were together in the one room.

“Are you in the bedroom?” he asked, wondering if she were there, or perhaps in the sitting room and draped on one of the Italian sofas, her legs open, one raised and bent at the knee, the other lowered to the floor.

“That would be telling.”

So, this wasn’t the call inviting him to come home. Assuring him that she needed him as much as he needed her. An unwelcome thought crossed his mind.

“Are you alone?”

“Again, that would be telling.”

She was taunting him, hinting that she might, just might, be with another man. Under the circumstances he had no idea if it were true. No idea of anything at that moment. But incredibly, the idea of her calling him from a bed other than her own was powerfully erotic.

He listened to the sound of her breathing. Measured, but perhaps a little fast.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Right now?”

“Uh-huh, right now.”

“Touching. Stroking.”

“Yourself?”

She laughed. Seductive and mocking at the same time.

He realised his role was to question. She would supply the answer. If it suited.

With his free hand he unzipped his trousers. Eased them down to his knees and kicked them off. God, he’d give anything for her to be there right at that moment! His hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts. Touched his hardened cock and eased it upright. He waited, lost in the sound of her breathing, then wrapped his fingers around it and began a series of gentle strokes. Words were unnecessary. They were together, and he had lurid images of her pleasuring herself whilst he did the same.

“Is it good?” he asked, tightening his grip.

“Better than good,” she whispered.

Then he heard it. A male voice. At least he thought that’s what he heard.

 

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