Текст книги "Crosstown Crush"

Автор книги: Cara McKenna

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“He’s in the bathroom?” he whispered, right against her mouth.

“The one in the hall.”

And he led her right there – pushed her up against the closed door, rattling the inch of wood that separated them and Mike. Oh fuck, don’t let the latch fail.

She raked his back with her nails, let go a breathy moan for both men’s benefit. The length of his body pressed against hers, his lips too high to kiss but his throat a welcome substitute, as was this pleasant, loomed-over sensation. She tasted no cologne, no aftershave, just skin and the faintest trace of his sweat. His fingers were in her hair, his mouth above her temple, close enough that his ragged sighs heated her scalp.

“Been thinking about you all week,” he said.

“You, too.” She lapped at his jugular, stroked his hard shoulders.

“What about?”

“About what I didn’t let us do last time.”

“And tonight?” he asked.

“Anything you want.”

“Tonight I just want to be inside you,” he growled, loud enough for Mike to hear. One of his palms slid down, along her shoulder blade, waist, hip, then around, knuckles brushing above her mound.

“You can certainly have that,” she said, dizzy.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

“Me, too. That, and how good you felt in my mouth.”

He made a wonderful noise, a sigh blended with a grunt, then stooped to kiss her neck, a bold hand rising to cup her breast. Hot breaths steamed at her throat. She drew her nails through his thick hair, remembering his tongue’s slick, deep caresses, the last time she’d held his head this way.

“Are you hard now?” she asked.

“Find out for yourself.” He stepped back a pace and took her hand, laid it brazenly along the fly of his jeans. Goddamn.

“We ought to do something about that,” Sam said, cupping him.

He led her up the stairs. It felt odd for another man to take charge in her bedroom – finding the light switch, kicking his shoes off where Mike’s sometimes sat.

Again, his height gave her a forbidden thrill, and his body made dark promises as he backed her toward the bed. She sat with a little huff and he stood between her knees, hands sliding down her bare calves and slipping off her shoes. Then he tugged at her hips, bringing her butt to the edge of the mattress, her crotch against his fly as he stooped. She was drunk in an instant from the bossy way he held her in place, from the greedy friction of his hard cock against her soft, sensitive folds. She wanted to hold those powerful arms but couldn’t quite reach, so she held his wrists instead, lost in the fascinating gleam in his eyes as he stared her down.

“That feel good?” he asked.

“Amazing.”

“You been missing me?”

She focused on his slow, pumping hips and the thickness of his thighs in those jeans. “You have no idea.”

“You wish you’d taken things further last time?”

She shook her head. “Only if there wasn’t a second time.”

“Lucky you, then. You wanna see me?”

“Always.”

He stood up straight, unbuckled his belt, and lowered his zipper. With a peek of black cotton and a practiced motion, he exposed himself, the cock that Sam – and Mike – had thought of and theorized over and dirty-talked about a hundred times since Wednesday night’s festivities. He stroked himself for a few beats, a little show Sam recorded for later enjoyment.

“You do that this week, thinking about me?” she asked.

“Every night.” His hand seemed to tighten, though his pulls slowed.

A floorboard creaked, the familiar noise rousing her as much as Bern’s touch might, flushing her entire body, hot as a heat wave. She knew Mike was watching now, just outside the door.

She swallowed and met Bern’s gaze. “Show me how to touch you.”

He held himself still as Sam sat up. She took his hip in one hand, his warm, stiff flesh in the other.

“Nice and tight,” he instructed, fingers closing around hers to show her the grip he wanted. “Not too fast.”

“Is that how you fuck? Slow?”

“Sometimes,” he muttered, voice all at once shallow and strained.

Mike is watching, she wanted to tell him. She tried to convey it with her eyes, somehow, but Bern’s attention was on her hand.

“I like it fast, usually,” she told him. Fast and a little rough. She liked her man wild and strong, and tonight, Bern was her man.

“I can do that, too. I can give you whatever you’ve been missing.”

“I bet you can.”

He slid her hand from his cock. “Move back. Get your dress off.”

She scooted up the mattress, then managed to peel the garment away and toss it to the floor. Bern stripped to his shorts, six foot something of toned, sexy stranger standing at the foot of her bed, erection straining at black cotton.

His weight bucked the mattress as he crawled to her, drawing her onto her side, claiming her mouth with his as he stroked her breast, her arm, her ass. In turn, Sam surveyed his hard abdomen and the curve of muscle framing his hipbone. She edged her fingertips back and forth along his waistband for a few moments before sliding her palm down his ridge.

“Mmm.”

She’d seen him before, felt his heat in her hand and mouth, but he felt so new, still. New and exciting and the best kind of wrong.

He moaned. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

She glowed at this compliment, coming from a man she objectively considered a level or two above her on the sexiness continuum. But the conspiracy they shared made her feel exotic and rare, her kink cred getting her on par with his sheer hotness.

He slipped his big hand inside her panties and she gasped. His rough fingertips shocked her bare, sensitive clit, tickled her curls. Her nerves adjusted and the touch went from alarming to intriguing to maddening in the span of a few shallow breaths.

“You’re wet,” he said, stroking the seam of her sex. “Wet for me.”

“From thinking about you before you got here, too.” And from thinking about the other man whose fantasy they were realizing.

He brought his mouth to her neck, licking and kissing her there. “Tell me what you want.”

She squeezed his cock tighter, wriggling her other hand from under his shoulder to fist his hair. “I want to use you,” she whispered, then raised her voice a bit, thinking of Mike. “And I want you to use me. And show me everything he’s been denying me.”

“Like what?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll show me.”

“Show you?” His tone was curious and she knew what he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, show me. I want the lights on so I can watch you fucking me.”

His hips bucked, thrusting his dick into her grip.

“We can move the mirror, if we want.” She nodded toward the full-length mounted to the outside of the bathroom door.

“Dirty.” It was an accusation, warm with wonder and excitement. “But maybe I’ll just let you have that wish.”

She released his cock to push his shorts down his hips and ass, exploring that firm flesh. Mirror indeed… He’d look phenomenal from the side, fucking. She said a silent prayer that this affair might continue, that the three of them would reach some level of trust where they could actually record these encounters. Mike would love that. The idea had always seemed too risky to Sam before, but that had been back when Bern was a hypothetical entity, a gamble. Now that he was a real man, hard and hot and intense, she wouldn’t mind having footage to commemorate this fun, filthy chapter of her surprising marriage.

Mike could hold the camera, she thought. That would jerk his crank like crazy, being relegated to the humiliated helper role. You getting all this? Bern might demand. Got a nice clear shot of me fucking your wife?

An order sprang from her lips unbidden. “Get on top of me.”

He did, knees planted wide between her thighs. She pushed his shorts down another inch or more, ran admiring hands over his ass as he stroked his bare cock against the crotch of her panties, hot skin dragging against damp satin.

She sensed another presence – Mike’s shadowy shape in her periphery, at the threshold. It set her heart pounding, but the nerves morphed to excitement. She’d let him speak when he chose to, let him watch for as long as he liked. Let him catch her, not the other way around. Let him enjoy the show until the desire drove him to intrude. After that, who knew what might come?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bern was going to have a heart attack if he didn’t get inside her.

He’d never felt this hot before, the need pulsing like a violent, physical urge. Like the point of a knife pressed to his throat. He had to have Samira, and soon. No, now. Now, now, now. Make her husband watch. He could sense the man already, feel his attention. It lit him up as bright as the friction.

He stared down at Sam. “I want you.”

She returned his gaze, smiling. “Good. You get me.”

It was all the permission he needed. He backed off to drag her panties down her legs and ditch his own shorts. Crawling up her body, he made a quick stop to press his mouth and nose to her folds, to smell and taste her, a final dose of anticipation before the big moment. Her nails drew hot lines across his shoulders. She wants this as bad as I do. He was that eager and more, but if she was playing it urgent, he’d play it casual.

“He’ll be home soon,” she said, tugging at his arms.

He’s already watching. Bern grinned at her and she raked her fingers through his hair.

“All this time you’ve already gone, not getting fucked the way you need it,” he said. “You can wait another minute while I enjoy myself.” To demonstrate, he gave her sex a deep, firm lap with his tongue, then another, a dozen more until he felt her heels dig into his back and heard her whimper.

He crawled the rest of the way up her soft, warm body, until he was braced with his hands beside her ribs. “Was that really so bad?”

She bit back a grin, stroking his chest. “Not so bad.”

“How did you want to…” He glanced between them demonstrably.

Her surprised expression said the formality of protection had slipped her mind, but she reached for a box on the side table. Bern watched with interest as she got herself prepped with a female condom. He’d never used one before. Of course, for the purposes of the fantasy, he knew they were supposed to pretend it didn’t exist. For all their audience was to believe, Bern would be bare inside her, desecrating that most personal of spaces. It was all about his bare cock. And Bern was all about the attention, after all.

A lube bottle stood at the ready as well, and Sam slicked a squirt of it down his shaft, drawing an involuntary grunt from his chest.

“Ready?” He whispered it, centering his ridge against her lips, teasing in long, slow drags of his heavy cock.

“Yeah.”

Again, he made her wait. He’d make her wait until she begged him. Surely their one-man viewership wanted that as much as he did.

She rubbed his arms, attention locked between their bodies. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.”

“I want you.”

He smiled. “Ask me nice.”

“Please.”

“Nicer than that,” he said, lowering to his elbows to kiss her neck and collarbone.

“Please, Bern.”

He nipped at her throat. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock. Inside me. I want you to make up for everything I’ve been missing out on.”

He pushed back up, staring down at her for a long, searing moment, watching her eyes dart to his, back between their bodies, up again. Goddamn, she was beautiful.

Finally, he angled himself and gave her a taste.

She sucked in a breath, gaze on his cock. He glanced down as well, exciting himself as the next inch disappeared inside her slick, hot folds – she wasn’t faking wanting any of this. Flushed and tight with desire. The pleasure was intense already. Dangerous, when he’d come here to give a command performance.

He eased out, then back in, the heat of her shutting his eyes. “Yeah.”

“More.”

He gave it this time, burying himself halfway then slowly drawing back out, back in again. Holy shit, he was fucking somebody’s wife. The idea had his cock aching.

“You’re so big.”

“You been missing that?”

“I’ve never had anyone as big as you.”

He decided to believe that was true – all the better for embodying his role. Then he wondered about the third party who’d be joining this game any minute. Bern had seen him across that bar, and he was bigger than his kink suggested – taller, and built. If the man took himself out and jacked off to everything that was going down, Bern might discover for himself if Sam was lying or not. Though the selfish prick in him hoped she wasn’t.

He smiled down at her. “This what you’ve been missing?”

“So much more.”

“Tell me.”

“I want it rougher than he can do,” she said. “And for longer.”

Heat flashed up the length of his body. “I can give you all that. Whatever you need.”

“Show me.”

Fuck, those words. Hot as a hungry mouth on his cock. He slid deeper – all the way – earning himself a happy, excited noise and a fresh scrape of her nails.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Amazing.”

“Nobody’s ever had you this deep before.”

“Never.”

Please, God, let that be true. “How do you want it? Slow?” He gave her long, explicit thrusts, making a spectacle of his length. “Or rough?”

“Let me get used to you first. But after that, hard and fast.”

Bern got used to her as well, savoring the feel of a new woman, her sounds and smells. And this particular woman had put on a white dress and given herself to another man for keeps, yet here they were, she and Bern. The thought made him feel too many things – guilty and excited and a hundred shades in between. And above all, wicked.

“This what you’ve been needing, honey?”

“And then some.” Those nails rasped his arms. “Fuck, you’re big.”

He didn’t think he could hear that too many times. He ought have her record it, for him to listen to when he jerked off. Maybe make it his ringtone. “Am I thicker than him?”

“Yeah. Thicker than anyone I’ve had.”

Again, that fever burned his skin. “Harder?”

She slid her hand between them to give him a squeeze, an extra sharp pulse of pleasure blooming. “Definitely.”

The time for slow savoring was over. Bern leaned back, bracing his palms on her thighs, hips speeding. What a fucking view.

For a minute or more they merely watched – watched his hard, bare cock claiming her swollen pussy in deep, greedy strokes. His breaths grew shallow, heart beating hard from the taboo as much as the effort. From the audience.

Watch me, you twisted, freaky head case. Watch me fucking your wife. It got him panting to think it.

His exhalations grew ragged, like grunts now. What did they call him in the parlance of the cuckolding scene? The bull. Fine with Bern. He felt more animal than man, powerful and reckless. And a red cape was waving in his head, thanks to Sam’s eyes and her unseen husband’s.

“You like watching me, don’t you?”

“I do.” She stroked his thighs, her gaze caressing the rest of him.

“Lemme watch you, too. Touch your breasts.”

She did as he asked, palming them, passing her thumbs across her nipples and drawing them to points.

He swallowed. “That’s good. Looks almost as good as when you sucked my cock the other night.”

“I’ll do that again, if you want.”

“Maybe.” But not yet. Her pussy felt too good. Maybe in a couple of minutes it would really feel too good, and he’d have to stall lest he give away the fact that all this crazy pleasure just might get the better of him. Already the arousal was making him dim, clever dirty talk no longer waiting on his tongue. The animal wanted out, and Bern opened the gate. Moans and grunts spilled from his mouth, spurred by the feedback burning between what his eyes saw and what his cock felt, and all of it intensifying tenfold, just knowing that a stranger was watching.

Fuck, he needed a distraction. Something to cool him to a less combustible state. Getting Sam off could do nicely.

He slowed his hips and found his balance, one hand still on her thigh, the other spread over her mound, thumb on her clit. The contact seemed to zap her, drawing small bucks from her body for the first few strokes, before she began to move with him, hips urging the friction.

“Bern.”

“Feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna come on my big cock?”

“Yes.”

He circled the spot, slow and light. “Say please.”

“Please. Make me come.”

“When I decide to let you, you’ll come. Not a moment before.”

“He’ll be home soon.” She said it breathily, like a whisper, but loud enough for their audience to hear. “You have to leave before then.”

“You think he won’t know? You think he won’t be able to smell it in his own bed?” Bern demanded, hips slowing even more, strokes growing long, making what was happening between their bodies as obscene as he could. “Think he won’t see these sheets soaked with another man’s sweat and come?”

Her eyes shut. “Bern.”

“Look at me.”

She did.

“Like he won’t smell the sex leaking down your thighs and wonder who got you so wet?” he went on.

“I’ll change the sheets,” she panted, hands rubbing his arms in a frantic, thoughtless rhythm.

“He’ll see it on your face,” Bern said, making his voice cruel. “He’ll wonder who got your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen, who had your head pushed into that pillow and your hair all messed up.”

“We have to hurry.” Her hands slid to tug at his ass, and he slowed further. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Faster.”

He dropped to a glacial pace, letting them both savor the drag of his cock as it slid from her lips, then the luxurious heat as he drove back in, filthy-slow.

He found the right rhythm, timing the thrusts with the teasing of his thumb. The hands that had once caressed her breasts for his entertainment had given up that cause, and he watched her fingers play with her nipples in subtle, small tweaks, unmistakably for her own pleasure. Sexier than any show by miles.

His voice caught on a moan and he cleared it, feeling the craziness of need descending hard and fast. “Sam.”

“Sam,” came a sharper voice from behind them.

In the moment that Bern muttered, “Fuck,” he wasn’t faking the panic. He went ice-cold, even with his cock buried in Sam’s hot body. He heard her echo the sentiment beneath him, both of them going dead still. Adrenaline pounded, his pulse ticking in his ears.

Be a dick, his mental script coached. He turned his head slowly, keeping his expression stern, annoyed. He stopped short of true eye contact, staring instead at the man’s chin. His cock throbbed, hard and loud as a gong, it seemed. He felt more naked than he’d known possible.

And it felt fucking amazing.

“Mike,” Sam said, no embarrassment or shock in her voice – more like exasperation. Unlike Bern, she was prepared for this moment, still perfectly in character.

Her husband was just as Bern remembered – tallish, built, with a no-nonsense face, honest blue eyes aimed at Sam. There was hurt in those eyes, and Bern wondered if that was acting or actual – if maybe the hurt and jealousy got the guy off.

“Sam” was all the man said. His posture was tight, an invisible holster seeming to draw his shoulders back, straighten his spine. But then he changed, all at once defeated.

Bern felt Sam’s hand on his side, rubbing. Eager to look away from Mike, he stroked her thigh in return, watching his fingers.

“I never meant for you to find out like this.” She wasn’t apologizing. Just stating facts. If anything, she sounded as though her fun had just been spoiled.

Her touch made Bern’s cock twitch inside her. He’d been so hijacked by chemicals, he’d lost track of his extremities. But there he was, still hard, still into all this. He glanced at Sam’s husband for the briefest second, just about positive the guy was hard behind his jeans.

“Why?” Mike asked, sounding far more sad than angry.

“You know why.” Her hands coaxed Bern with rhythmic tugs. He obeyed, beginning to thrust again. It was different with their audience right there. Still hot, but goddamn, he felt stripped. And goddamn, it felt good. Like he was on fire, the man’s gaze kerosene.

“In our bed?”

“I need things you can’t give me.” Sam spoke to her husband, but she kept her attention on Bern, caressing his stomach and chest.

“I try to give you everything you ask for.”

“Try and fail. I need more.”

Bern read it as a cue to take her a bit quicker, a bit rougher, in long strokes to exaggerate his length. She moaned her approval.

“And this guy can give you that?”

“He can,” she said, flashing a fond, smug grin at Bern. “If you want to know what I need, grab a seat and watch what he can do.”

The word watch electrified Bern as it always did, and he lost a few seconds, reality seeming to rematerialize as Mike returned from the hall with a desk chair.

“Right there,” Sam said, directing her husband to set it beside the bed, close to the side table so the view of what was happening between their bodies would be prime. Front row.

“Show my useless husband what I like, baby,” she said to Bern.

First things first, Bern thought. He slid all the way out of her and cupped his balls, displaying his cock. Sam stroked his length with an adoring hand, her touch and Mike’s attention massaging some pleasure center deep in Bern’s brain, making him crazy.

“You can never give me this,” she said to Mike. “And no matter what you tell yourself, size does matter.”

“Sam —”

“He feels so good. Big and thick and deep.”

She let Bern go and he buried himself to the hilt. Sam groaned her approval, and his body electrified at the sound, pride blooming in his chest. The live audience had him blazing, a zillion times more intoxicating than a girlfriend watching in a mirror had ever done. And a mirror had always done plenty, before.

“Where were we?” Bern asked, finding his voice.

She grinned, seeming to like his notion to treat her husband as though he were invisible. “I can’t remember, since we were interrupted. Refresh my memory.”

He put his thumb to work on her clit, hips pumping his cock into her, deep and steady, pulling out nearly all the way, sparing Mike nothing. “You don’t remember this?” he teased her.

Another smile. “Maybe I just wanted a reminder.”

“Greedy.”

Her smile changed as his body demanded more, lips becoming a disbelieving little O shape. Her cheeks were stained deep pink, and Bern felt another burst of pride, knowing her excitement was no mere performance.

“Good,” she murmured. If having Mike here gave her any anxiety, she didn’t show it. Jesus, where did a guy need to go to score a wife like Sam? A pang of sharp appreciation jabbed him, almost reverential, and he suddenly wanted to savor this remarkable woman, make the most of the time he got to enjoy with her. It did something intense to his desire, doubling his determination. He began to fuck her harder – primal, competitive urges driving his body.

“Yeah.” She stroked his arms and shoulders.

“You like it rough?” Bern asked.

“Yes.”

Abandoning her clit for the time being, he dropped to brace his elbows at her sides and took her, fast and wild. He felt surprise in her body for a few moments, until she caught up with the demands his cock was making. Her warm, soft thighs hugged his waist, inviting him to drink his fill.

He smiled down at her, their faces so close. “You like that?”

Wordless panting affirmed his question and she gripped his arms tight, nails biting.

“You missed getting fucked like this, didn’t you?”

He caught a “Yes” behind her gasp.

“I’ll spoil you rotten,” he promised, rising to hold himself up on his palms, hips still hammering, each thrust still long and deep, offering glimpses of his driving cock. “I can fuck for hours. Bet your husband can’t do that.”

“No,” she murmured, gaze glued right where everyone wanted it to be.

“You feel that?” Bern punctuated the words with a series of mean thrusts, the sharp slap of skin on skin.

“God yeah.”

“That’s what it feels like, getting fucked by a man.”

Eager hands ran down his sides, making a show of exploring his hips and ass in contrast to his feverish thrusts. Bern eased up, letting the scene turn slow and sensual for a minute or more. He needed the break, frankly – a chance to cool the friction that had his cock screaming, begging him to turn his promise of longevity into a bald-faced lie.

“I can fuck for as long as you want me to.” He stared her dead in the eyes.

“I bet you can.”

“I’ll make you come more times than you can count. Leave you limping tomorrow.”

He thought he caught a smile on her face for a moment, then it was swallowed by a moan as he pushed deep. Beyond the physical pleasure was the more abstract sensation of another person’s eyes on him. Bern felt it, as sure as he felt Sam’s slick heat or the pressure drawing taut in his belly. It stoked him as friction never could, making him blaze.

Watch me, asshole.

There was an aggression to the thought, one at odds with his rational feelings about Mike. In reality, he was grateful to the man. But playing this part, he gave himself over to the contempt, let himself feel a hundred feet tall.

Was he allowed to make eye contact with him? Bern was tempted to aim a cocky-ass glare at the guy, but maybe he was supposed to be ignored. He’d err on the side of caution and ask Sam about it ahead of time if he got invited back for a repeat performance.

He pondered the logistics and likelihood of the idea, to cool his body a few needed degrees.

It’d be the perfect arrangement, if they wanted Bern to come back. He’d get laid – with an audience, the thing he coveted most, and with someone he really liked, but without the complications and pressure that came with an actual relationship. Sam would presumably get her rocks off, and her husband’s mind would get blown in the peculiar way he preferred. Win-win-win. Plus, give it time, and who knew – maybe they’d want to tape it. Then Bern would get hard on a new level, thinking about them watching the footage. Watching him. The gift that kept on giving. Maybe if Mike ever traveled for work, they could cam for him, let the man pretend it was a hidden camera or something. The possibilities were fascinating when these two particular kinks collided.

Smiling down at Sam, Bern decided she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. Pretty and passionate, and goddamn, she loved her husband. Bern might only be some side dish, an amusement sourced to complement Mike’s desires and satisfy Sam’s parameters. But he felt like he’d hit the fucking jackpot, having stumbled into this chance.

With a final fond grin, he slipped out of his thoughts and back into his body, back into a reality that was as good as any fantasy he’d ever put himself to sleep with.

He held her gaze, feeling the fire smoldering in his own. “Bet you’re just dying to come on my cock, aren’t you?”

Can a man die of sexual frustration?

Mike didn’t think so, but if anyone was in a position to find out, it was him. The palms resting flat on his thighs were damp and hot. All of him was hot, like he’d caught a fever. He couldn’t stop swallowing. His right hand fought conflicting orders from his cock and his head.

Touch yourself. It’s your fantasy being acted out on that bed.

No, don’t. You’ll come in five strokes and you might feel different after.

But Jesus, he hurt. If he’d ever been this hard, he couldn’t remember it. It was so exactly perfect – Sam’s familiar body, owned by the masculine spectacle that was Bern’s. Mike didn’t want the man, himself, only the concept of him, the size and force of a built, hung man, owning what Mike’s heart knew to be his own.

There’d been an incident, years before, when he’d found out a girlfriend had cheated on him with her ex. Mike had been about twenty-two, and though the relationship hadn’t been serious, he’d been crushed. They’d broken up, gotten back together the next summer, but Mike never quite got over the infidelity. Not because of the shattered trust or the jealousy, though. Because for about six months, the only thing he jerked off to was imagining his girlfriend with some other guy. It was crazy, what that did to him – made a knot of his heart, an aching, squeezing pain that got crossed with his sexuality, and made his cock throb like nothing else ever had.

He and that girlfriend had wound up breaking up the second and final time because Mike had become “too intense, sex-wise.” Guilty as charged – he probably hadn’t handled it the best, but Jesus, his whole world had been on fire.

The fantasy had gotten put on the back burner for a long time, through periods of bachelorhood and a couple of girlfriends who simply weren’t the types Mike could imagine cheating on him. Too sweet; no naughty, selfish gleam in the eye. Then he’d met Sam.

She didn’t come off as heartless or anything of the sort, but she had that sly little smile, a touch of mischief in and out of the bedroom. She was whip-smart and analytical, and in dark moments, he’d imagined her turning that penchant for planning toward selfish scheming – deceptions. Then he’d fallen in love with her, and he’d known if she wasn’t the one, nobody was. But could he live the rest of his life never getting as hot as he had at twenty-two, when his ex ran around on him?

He’d started looking for signs, started reading too much into Sam’s late nights at the office… not to be a controlling dick, but because he was playing a game with himself. Getting worked up, imagining her fucking around on him. It wasn’t fair to her, though, letting her think he really did distrust her. It had taken him ages to find the balls to tell her the truth, and he’d been gambling with more than he was prepared to lose. But holy fuck, look what the truth had gotten him. Where it had taken the both of them, plus this stranger.

The guy was perfect. Younger than Mike, taller, and better-looking, he imagined. Bigger dick – longer and thicker, just more. It didn’t take much mental effort for Mike to diminish himself in his head, to concentrate on all the ways Bern Davies had him outmanned. Not least of which was the way Mike’s wife was moaning beneath his hammering body.

Mike knew exactly how her pussy felt, and he hoped this shithead realized how good he had it. He shoved the thought aside, focusing a hundred percent on the fantasy. It’d be a crime to waste the live show.

One thing he hadn’t anticipated was the smell. Sex infused the room, and some animal filter in his brain knew that it wasn’t the usual scent. That was some other man’s stay-the-fuck-away chemical signals. A scent that made Mike see red, except then the red blurred, rejiggering a possessive synapse in his brain, linking it to the one that got him hard – a crossed circuit he wouldn’t trade, not for anything, not anymore.