Boundaries: Boundaries

By Piper Denna

Some lines are meant to be crossed.

When Ali catches her pro golfer husband sinking putts with his personal assistant, sleeping with the sexy cable guy seems like a logical way to even the score. No emotions, no attachments, just good, hard sex. Easier said than done, when cable guy Cam has another program in mind: love. He's determined to convince her they were meant to be. But when their affair makes headlines alongside the high-profile breakup of her marriage, Ali is forced to distinguish between love and lust.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piper Denna
• Release date: Aug 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386540472

Piper Denna

Romance is sexy. And often funny, and sometimes tangled up with suspense. Let’s face it: all sorts of things get mixed up with romance in real life. Piper Denna’s stories are not cut-and-dried romance. Her characters deal with issues female readers can relate to: independence and trust, empowerment, inhibition, an unfaithful partner, motherhood. Sometimes her characters make mistakes, and often her “bad guys” are not 100% bad. She hopes to take the reader on an emotional journey to a happy ending…with enviable sexual encounters along the way. When she’s not writing, she edits, raises two teens along with her husband, and collects scrapbooking material. She enjoys books—or movies—with a comedic twist and hopefully a love story with lots of tension, too. Sexiest parts of a man in Piper’s opinion? The hands and eyes. Shoulders are nice too, and of course, great pecs are never amiss…

Book preview

Part 1

The Best Cable Package

Chapter 1

The service call was scheduled for sometime between one and three. My doorbell rang at one-o-five.

Appreciating the technician’s punctuality, I stirred from my window seat in the family room. I’d spent the better part of the day curled up there, contemplating my situation while staring out at the pool. My introspection would have to go on hold. The cable guy was here to install my husband’s latest upgrade: a high-def DVR system we could record on and watch from any room in the house.

Rather than being thankful we could afford the best picture quality available, I was simply annoyed. I needed time to myself to solve a dilemma, and didn’t appreciate the interruption Bill’s demanding taste had imposed. Actually, he’d imposed the dilemma as well, and four days of concentrating on it had brought me no solutions. Well, I was married to a man who knew what he wanted and got it. That’s how he got me, and how I’d ended up soul-searching for the last few days.

Out of habit, I fingered my wedding ring on the way to answer the door, still wondering what the hell to do about my discovery of four nights ago. With a defeated sigh I opened my front door and pasted on what I hoped would pass for a smile.

Hi. Are you, um... The tall blond technician, seeming a bit flustered, had to peek at his clipboard. ...Alison Smyth?

I nodded my head. Ali. It was what my friends called me, but why was I telling the cable guy to call me that, when he should be calling me Mrs. Smyth?

Ali. Okay. He shrugged at my familiarity, but he smiled, and oh, what a smile he had! All dimples and sparkly blue eyes. I’m with the cable company, here to install your new box. A name badge on one side of his wide chest read Moreton.

Tension over my problem began melting as I opened the door wider and he brushed past me, giving me a whiff of warm, woodsy cologne. He was tall—had to be over six feet—and not one of those gangly, tall guys, either. I could tell this guy worked out by the way his muscles strained against his clothes. Below his standard-issue khaki uniform shorts, nicely tanned, ripped quads said serious bicyclist.

Er. He cleared his throat. How many sets do you have?

I was still thinking about his legs, and the set of glutes surely hiding above them. "Um, sets?" I asked, feeling dopey and turned-on.

TVs? he prompted. He’d looked the living room over and turned back to face me.

Oh. Yeah, TV sets. Sorry. I smiled up at him, already knowing I’d like him to be the solution to my problem. Four.

He followed me back to the family room, where I’d been sulking before he came. He lowered his brows on noticing my heap of crumpled tissues.

I’d given myself fifteen minutes of breakdown time before my daily power-yoga routine and swim. But that was right after dropping off my kids at school. Since then I’d been thoughtful, but not distraught.

Too bad I hadn’t had the sense to destroy the evidence.

He set his bag of tools down next to the TV, then turned to look me over. I could see he wanted to ask me something, but professional courtesy stopped him.

So, Mr. Moreton...

CJ. His sympathetic smile didn’t include dimples.

CJ, I repeated. Would you like something cold to drink? He looked interested, so I began listing what I had to offer. Water, soda, iced tea...

His eyes returned to the window seat, where my own tumbler of tea still sat.

It’s sweetened. The tea.

I like it sweet. I’ll take that, thanks.

I felt him looking at me all the way to the kitchen, where I had to reach on tiptoe for the tall glasses in my cupboard. I hadn’t given much thought when dressing that morning after my shower. It was just my most comfy cotton shorts and a cami. Dammit, I should have spent more time putting on makeup. This guy was hot, and flirting with him would have been very therapeutic. Hell, even seeing him was therapeutic.

Maybe I’d have to spend some time on the net later, checking out hot guys, possibly unearth the old vibrator. If I had a picture of this CJ, I could probably do the job without the vibrator.

By the time the icy tumbler left my hand for his, I was out of breath from anticipating my solo encounter.

Thanks. He took a long swig. You swim a lot? He stared at my legs, the reflection of waves on the pool outside the window flashing over his face.

Every day. One of the few benefits of living in Phoenix, right? Year-round swimming without freezing your butt off. Since he was still looking at my legs, and it made my heart race, I kept talking. And year-round golf, too. That’s how we ended up here. I mean, my husband... Shit. Why did I have to bring up being married? Not the best way to start a flirting jag.

CJ closed his eyes, then turned to the huge LCD screen on the wall and began unhooking the cable from our old digital box. Damn, lost him.

Might as well keep talking. He’s a golf pro. We came from Colorado. Well, I did. But he can’t really work there in the winter, so we moved here.

I’ll go get the boxes. Be right back. He hustled out to his truck.

Good going. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough now. Like he really wanted to hear my life story.

While he was gone, I disposed of the mascara-smeared tissues and put the box away under a table.

CJ’s eyes went to the newly cleared window seat as soon as he came back in.

Sympathy eclipsed the serious, all-business expression he’d worn in. His eyes seemed a darker blue now, almost cobalt. He turned his back to start working. Somebody pass away?

Now here was my dilemma. Should I play my biggest card and tell him why I’d been crying earlier? It was a shortcut, but if it got me to the destination I suddenly wanted to reach, so what? Thursday night, I found out my husband’s been banging his personal assistant.

CJ sucked in his breath. Rough. He set the main receiver on the carpet and asked, Uh, where do the other boxes go?

I’ll show you.

He followed me up the stairs without a word. When I turned to face him in front of the bedroom TV, he raised his brows. Thursday. That’s four days ago, but his stuff’s still here.

Indeed it was. Bill’s usual string of dirty socks and pricey collared shirts had accumulated on his side of the bed, since I hadn’t felt inclined to pick up after his cheating ass.

With a shrug, I said, "It’s his house, technically. I haven’t discussed it with him, because I haven’t decided what to do. For sure."

I knew by then what I wanted to do, but it didn’t mean I would, or could. I wanted to do CJ. Repeatedly, and in every way possible. Thinking about it made me lightheaded, so I put some distance between us, closing my bedroom shades against the blinding mid-day April sun.

How’d you find out? he asked, his head in the cabinet where the old box sat.

I took a moment to check out his rear end before answering. Taut biker buns. Perfect. Thankful he couldn’t see my face, I told him what I hadn’t yet told another soul.

I was, um,—there was no delicate way to phrase it—going down on him. CJ’s head smacked the shelf above it. "And the smell of latex was incredible. You know, lubricated latex. So I started kind of looking around, and found lipstick smeared in places I hadn’t been yet."

CJ went on with business as usual, connecting an HDMI cable to the box and feeding it up to the TV on the wall above. How’d you know it was his P.A. and not some lunch-time hooker, or a rich bitch at the country club trading lessons for lovin’? He sounded not only curious, but maybe a bit pissed on my behalf. I liked that.

"Oh, I’d know that lipstick color anywhere. A friend of mine sells that lipstick to her, and she’s the only person I’ve ever known who buys Berryluscious. It’s a hideous color." It was supposed to be the longwearing, non-smearing kind of lipstick, but obviously fell short of its advertised promises.

After pulling his head and shoulders out of the cabinet, he wrapped coaxial cable around the old box. I guess the latex was a good thing. It’s better than no latex. He started hooking up the little receiver box. No idea what you’re gonna do?

Just one. I cleared my throat and started folding the load of jeans I’d tossed on my bed earlier. Still thinking. I did talk to the assistant pro at the course. He wouldn’t say the words, but he confirmed my suspicions. It’s a new thing, nothing with a long history. Well, she’s only been there a couple of months at least.

I wasn’t sure it mattered whether he’d fucked her a hundred times, or one. I’d maintained a migraine since that life-altering, mid-fellatio moment, and I was pretty sure old Bill would never catch me without a headache again. God, I couldn’t think about that—tears were threatening.

CJ had finished with the new box, jotting down the serial numbers from its sticker to a carbon form on his clipboard. The others go in the two bedrooms down the hall?

Grateful for a couple minutes to pull myself back together, I nodded and kept at my laundry-folding.

Like a good wife. Keeping the home fires burning, while Bill was off doing who-knew-what with his damn assistant. Shit. No more Ms. Behaved. It was time to get even.

When CJ came back to the bedroom door, I took a deep breath and promised myself by the end of the day I wouldn’t be feeling pathetic anymore.

He followed me back downstairs.

Sorry about dumping my life story on you, I said before I took a long drink of iced tea through my straw.

He shrugged and started hooking up the new receiver. Gotta talk about it sometime. Consider me a confidante, like a bartender. He maintained eye contact, as if offering to harbor more of my secrets.

I took a deep breath. No wedding ring on his finger. You got a girlfriend, I imagine? That breath lodged in a huge ball in the middle of my chest while I waited for his response.

He put away the pliers he was using to tighten a connection, then raised his eyes to meet mine. Broke up last week.

The breath came back out. I didn’t want or need to know more. He was available, so I wouldn’t be causing some other female the same pain I’d been experiencing.

I could feel the nerves coming on. If I didn’t make my move soon, I’d chicken out. You, um, got a full schedule booked for today? I’d moved closer, standing right next to where he knelt. Not quite enough oxygen in the air when I got this close to him, could smell his cologne, deodorant... What would his hair smell like? Did he think I was some lunatic MILF wantabe?

Looking into his dilated eyes calmed my fears. He wanted it, too. But would he do it? Could he? My heart raced. The smell of that cologne—woodsy spice—the thought of kissing him, left me hot all over. And wet. I was wet like I’d normally only be after extensive foreplay.

I didn’t wait for his answer. He sat back on his heels, and I straddled him when he pulled me down on his lap. His lips were hot, and almost immediately open so his tongue could flick out and trace over my lips. It was like an electric shock, feeling and tasting someone new this intimately.

He tasted sweet from the iced tea, but I’d bet he always had a sweet flavor. I kissed him long and hard, burying my fingers in the back of his hair. Stupid Bill’s dark hair was thinning, but CJ had nice, thick bunches of it.

Before we’d come up for air, I was grinding against CJ. Feeling him hard under me made me want him in a way I’d forgotten I could want anything. His lips left my mouth and trailed along my jaw, ’til he stopped to lick my earlobe, sending shivers down my arms and back. I arched, trusting his strong arms to hold me.

His mouth nudged aside the strap from my cami, then slid lower to nuzzle in my cleavage. He thumbed the cami down, exposing my left breast. Beautiful, he murmured. His scalding lips took my nipple. It felt like the first time my nipple had ever been touched. I could no more help pushing against him than I could help breathing. Or groaning.

His mouth covered mine again, and I got another taste of that sweet tongue while he pulled down the other side of my cami. I wanted to suck on his tongue forever. Scratch that. I wanted to suck more, much more, than that. He made slow, warm circles around my other nipple and my hands slid inside the collar of his polo shirt. God, his muscles were so hard!

I tugged the shirt to untuck it, then slid my hands up inside, until my knuckles brushed his nipples. A few hairs tickled the backs of my hands. I wanted to see him.

CJ. Your shirt. He paused long enough to tear the thing over his head, and I got even wetter, just looking at his chest, the rippled abs. Jesus. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

I held his head away with my fingers, which he took in his mouth. Judging by his sudden intake of breath, he was surprised when I licked his nipple. Mm. Firm, smooth. When I nipped it with my teeth, he moaned. I ground against him again, then backed off and slid my hand between us to cup his erection through his khakis.

You sure you want this? he panted hopefully.

In answer, I pulled his right hand between my legs, against my damp shorts.

He brought his knuckles to his nose, closed his eyes, and inhaled. His dimples told me he appreciated what he smelled.

In no time at all, he had me on my back on the carpet, peeling off my shorts with one hand while the other slid inside my panties. His fingers found my swollen bump right away, and I yelped at first, but then bucked toward him.

Ali. Is this for real? Cable guy must not be one of those jobs where he scored wild sex very often.

I pushed my underwear away and sat up to kiss him again. "Even in a dream I never wanted anything this bad. It’s real. Please," I begged, fumbling to unbutton his shorts.

He was up kneeling again, and he helped me get them off.

I pushed his boxers down too. Oh my God, was all I could say, when I saw his cock. I took it in my mouth, tasting the sweetness that seemed to be all over this guy, savoring the salty when a drop came along, sucking more, drawing enough pleasure for us both from the feel of him in my mouth.

He tensed, probably near the end. I had no plans to quit, but he pulled away.

Not yet, baby, he told me.

He must want to do some serious screwing, which was okay with me. I positively pulsed with need, throbbing to be filled. I nodded as he lowered me to my back, but instead of mounting me like I’d expected, he stuck his face between my legs and lifted my hips.

That yummy tongue of his was perfect where his fingers had been too intense. The tongue went inside for a minute, then back out to work at the clit, as his finger entered me, exploring first, then stroking back and forth over the knot I’d come to know as my g-spot. I whimpered, predicting the painful heat I was feeling would soon be...ah, yes. There it was, taking my breath away. My clit felt full, then I only knew the contractions inside, a release, the sound of the wet gush, and the feel of the hot fluid spraying all over myself and poor, unsuspecting CJ.

Oh, baby. Fuck, yeah! he breathed. Whew. He wasn’t turned off by the shower. Perfect. He knew, immediately, just how to please me. How long had it taken Jerkoff to learn how to get it right?

When CJ’s body covered mine, my wetness rubbed from his shoulders and chest to my own. His kiss tasted like me this time, which normally would have bothered me. After what it had just done, I was hard pressed to resist his mouth for any reason.

Do we need to use something? he panted in my ear, his body hot and heavy on top of me.

I have an IUD. Probably not a condom in the house. But he’d agreed Bill should be using latex. Crap. Talk about unprepared. Then again, he’d pretty much already exposed himself to anything I could be carrying. Please, please don’t say no...

At last he slid into me, and looks weren’t deceiving; he really was bigger than what I was used to.

My engorged muscles gripped him, feeling every ripple of his cock. His head pushed back and forth over my sensitized g-spot, sending me into shaking spasms again. I couldn’t breathe, almost wanting the orgasm to end so I could feel in control again, then he collapsed on me, pushing himself hard and deep inside, his moans melding with mine until I didn’t know whose voice was whose.

He was so much taller, I couldn’t see his face. But I felt it contort against my head, then his breath stopped for a few seconds and came out hot in my ear. Knowing I made this man-god feel that good made me shiver inside again, giving his shaft a little internal squeeze. Feeling him there in me was nirvana. I breathed deeply, smelling sporty deodorant and good, clean sweat. Sweat I had caused.

Might have to hook you up with some free HBO, he joked.

I giggled. Only if you have to come back another time to do it. How many times in a week could I get the cable guy out to my house, anyway?

He lay across me for a few more minutes, as I felt his heartbeat slowing against me. Well, Babydoll, I hate to run, but I have another appointment coming up. He raised himself on his elbows and deposited a soft kiss on my mouth, then got up on all fours and helped me stand. Wish I had time for another. His eyes seemed to search mine.

I decided to make it easy for him. You work in the area every day?

He sighed a little; his face relaxed. Pretty close.

If you want, come back by. Eat your lunch, eat me... I got the laugh I’d gone for.

Once wasn’t enough for revenge? His question smacked of something else. Was he fishing, hoping I wanted more from him? Unfortunately, I didn’t have more to give, so I couldn’t take it, either.

It’s a start. Besides, why would I deny myself when I know what’s driving around in that van now? I asked, slipping my hand inside the boxers he’d just tugged on.

His eyelids went to half-mast when my fingers circled his still-firm cock. The throbbing between my legs was back. He used one hand to pull mine off him, and the other to cup my chin for a quick kiss.

Feel free to use the powder room off the kitchen there if you need to, you know, freshen up. I motioned him in the right direction.

He gathered the rest of his clothes and headed that way.

I used the time to dress, too. Once he left, I’d go upstairs and shower.

When he came out a few minutes later fully dressed, nobody would ever guess what he’d been up to during this service call. Well, except maybe for the drips at the ends of his newly rinsed and finger-combed hair. So, tomorrow... Leave the porch light on, if it’s safe for me to stop.

I nodded, unable to think of a reply that made sense. Wanting to grab him for another kiss, wrestle him to the floor and... Wow. Had I really just had crazy sex with the cable guy? Crossed over to realm of a porn-cliché...and loved it?

He’d reached my front door, tool bag in hand, when I stepped into my hallway and asked, What’s CJ stand for?

He looked sheepish for a moment before he answered, Camden. Camden Jarek. Scottish.

Camden, I repeated. Cam. See ya tomorrow, Cam. Thanks.

THE NEXT MORNING DRAGGED on forever. Maybe Cam wouldn’t come back. I tried to keep my mind on the scrapbook I was working in. Normally I spent three or four hours a day writing while the kids were gone, but since finding that twit’s lipstick on Dickhead’s prick, I hadn’t felt terribly inspired.

I’d extended my morning swim, spending an excessive amount of time floating around in the water and savoring the aroused state that thinking of Cam put me in. All other benefits aside, the guy had given my sex drive a good shot in the arm.

How long would I keep enjoying sex on the side? I didn’t think I was getting the charge cheaters really get, the thrill of sneaking around. This was revenge. With a bonus of very good sex. Minus adulterous guilt. In fact, I’d allowed myself to fantasize overnight about Bill coming home to catch me in various compromising positions with Cam the Cable Guy. The look on Bill’s face...hoo boy! That would be something.

In the meantime, my gut told me to pretend I didn’t know what the little mister was up to. It wouldn’t be hard to pull off. He was so busy at work that time of year I usually didn’t see much of him anyway. Once it got too hot out to be bearable most of the day in Phoenix, he’d take time off and travel for tournaments, leaving the kids and me behind again.

This year, I wouldn’t be standing by to hop a last-minute flight should he start doing well and have a shot at winning. I wouldn’t rush off to share his moment of glory. Let him share it with Barely-Legal Brianna, his twenty-one-year-old personal assistant. See how long it took her to get sick of being the eternal wind beneath his wings.

Spending more time styling my hair and applying makeup had paid off. I felt pretty, so I’d dressed in a little bit of a sundress I hadn’t worn since the vacation in the Bahamas when I’d bought it. It probably didn’t offer me the support I needed, but Cam seemed to like my breasts the way they were.

A little snort escaped me, imagining the talk around Bill’s golf course if I showed up there in that dress. Might be worth adding to my list of possible acts of revenge.

There wasn’t an ounce of annoyance in my consciousness this time when the doorbell rang. My heart raced, pumping blood extra-fast all through me, leaving me flushing and breathless when I pulled the door open. Cam looked just like he had the day before. He’d taken the precaution of carrying his tool bag to the door. Cute. Our driveway was so long the neighbors couldn’t see who was coming to the door, but they could see his company van drive in every day. It didn’t matter a bit to me as I pushed the door shut with my bottom and he smashed against me, hot and hard and ready for action.

Well, hi, I gasped when his mouth moved off mine. His hand had already cruised up my leg, well above the high hemline of the dress. Oh, my. Oohh. His fingers worked magic in my panties.

Before we’d moved away from the door, he’d made me come. He seemed a bit disappointed that I hadn’t gushed all over his hand. He’d have to learn which part of his performance the day before had brought that on.

Hi, Babydoll, he murmured in my ear, while I was still bent over and clamped around his hand. Miss me?

I giggled and led him back to the den. Our room.

He let me strip him down, kissing and caressing different parts, then he obligingly backed against the closet door when I dropped to my knees in front of him. His hands held the back of my head while I took him in my mouth, savoring his tastes. As I moaned, he moved in and out of my throat. His moans joined mine, his hands clenched my hair. By that point, I was so turned on I wanted to take him deep, swallow just to see his pleasure completed. I wasn’t much of a swallower, but today I wanted to feel his hot cum jetting down my throat. Fuck, yeah.

He stopped himself just in time.

What the hell?

Without a word, Cam gave me a hand up, turned me around, and backed me against the door where he’d been. He raised the dress and twisted my thong aside, then lifted me and damn near skewered me with his cock.