by Evelyn Vox
Table of Contents
Part One: Target In Sight
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Part Two: Take Aim
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Three: Perfect Shot
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bull’s Eye
Share Me Book 2
Evelyn Vox
Copyright © 2018 by Evelyn Vox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Terms
Part One: Target In Sight
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Part Two: Take Aim
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part Three: Perfect Shot
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Vox Thoughts
Also by Evelyn Vox
About the Author
Terms
Cuckold- The fetish of men who find masochistic pleasure in watching their wives have sex with other men.
Bull- a sexually dominant male who cuckolds and humiliates husbands while servicing their wives.
Part One: Target In Sight
Chapter One
LEXIE
I hadn’t seen Derek in over two weeks. Two weeks, three days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes, to be exact, but who was counting? He was living in the Hamptons, while Brian and I were back in Manhattan until next summer, so we’d had to get creative.
And Derek was nothing if not creative when it came to toying with me.
I’d been more than occupied by scandalous video chats. He picked the outfits he wanted me to wear on the outside, as well as the devilish toys he wanted me to wear on the inside. He always included explicit, detailed instructions for when and how I was allowed to orgasm.
Despite all of that, I was desperate for Derek. I needed to see him. Smell him. Taste him. I needed to see those eyes sparking at me, to feel his presence overwhelm and intoxicate me.
I…missed him.
More than I was willing to admit.
I sighed, absentmindedly scratching Coco behind her soft, velvet ears. The pup heaved a happy little snort from where she sat on the sofa next to me. I fought the urge to look at my phone to check for messages. He should be here any minute now. He said he’d arrive at eight and it was already a few minutes past. The sound was on, so when he called to let me know he was here, I’d hear it. Still, my fingers itched to unlock it and check. Just in case I’d somehow missed his call to tell me he was waiting downstairs.
I shivered, imagining how angry he’d be if I made him wait in the lobby of our apartment building. I couldn’t stop the grin that twitched the corners of my mouth up and the way my core throbbed hot and wet at the thought.
Maybe I should “accidentally” miss his call.
Brian was more than happy to stay out of our way tonight. Derek had ordered that he not to be a part of our little reunion. No, he was going to work late and come home to the sounds of ‘me fucking your wife like a real man’—Derek’s words. Brian’s immediate erection when he heard the orders blare through my phone’s speaker was enough to tell me how much he liked that idea.
Over the course of the summer, and even the last few weeks of distance, we’d discovered that Brian was a cuckold. He derived sexual, masochist pleasure knowing I was with another man. And Derek was in total control of us both. Our Dom.
Our Bull.
I had no way of knowing this is what my marriage would become when I began this illicit affair with my contractor at the start of the summer. I’d tried to resist Derek. I really did try. But whatever it was between us—the chemistry, spark, attraction, lust—I couldn’t stop it. There was no stopping it. It was a volatile, living, breathing thing, that would not be denied.
I supposed I was one hell of a lucky woman to have my husband be into it at the end of the day. I loved Brian, but it took a tall, dark, and ruthlessly dominant slice of man to make me realize that Brian wasn’t able to satisfy me sexually anymore.
Not in the way I needed.
Derek had shown me the joys of submission, and I was hooked.
I submitted to him and only him. I let him do whatever he wanted to me. I became his toy to use, abuse, humiliate, and tease. And I loved every brutal second of it. My orgasm belonged to him. I didn’t touch myself and didn’t let Brian touch me, not without Derek’s permission.
He tied me up, spanked me, flogged me, and fucked me in every way possible. And I do mean every way. He used and abused me until I was nothing and everything all at once. And the pleasure he bestowed upon me…it was indescribable. Derek took me down his dark, evil rabbit hole, and I was more than happy to stay in his fucked-up, kinky Wonderland for the rest of my life.
As for my husband, well, Brian got off on the sheer sadomasochism of seeing me with another man. A bigger, more dominant, man. Sometimes, Derek would let Brian participate. Sometimes. Usually, we just sent him photos or videos of Derek using me in any way he saw fit.
Other times, Brian would get to watch. Watch as Derek tied and whipped and fucked me like I was nothing more than a doll. Watched as I obeyed Derek’s every word, as I eagerly opened myself to him like a common whore. Brian would touch himself, relishing in how pathetic it made him feel.
Nothing got him off faster.
He was one of those high-strung financial types (they were all true masochists at heart). Brain was wealthy, smart, talented, and handsome. He singlehandedly bought us a Hamptons house and a penthouse on Park Avenue. He was even in the running to make partner at his financial firm.
But a person didn’t get to be that wealthy and that successful without being a little fucked up. That’s where being a cuckold came into play.
When he was with me and Derek, Brian didn’t have to be perfect. For once, he didn’
t have to be in charge. In his heart of hearts, I think Brian loved that he could admit to another man being better than him and, instead of it being a weakness, it was a source of pleasure.
As for Derek, well, he loved the control. He loved dominating not only me, but Brian as well.
Fuck.
My fingers moved from Coco’s ears to trace up my thighs. My hand slipped under the silk of my robe and rubbed the outside of my lacy panties. I closed my eyes and recalled what Derek had said over the phone.
“Wear the black silk robe, the cup-less black bra, and the lace thong.”
Not even an hour ago, his voice had been husky and hard with lust when he ordered me to wear the lingerie of his choosing tonight. He didn’t have to tell me to include the black, diamond studded collar he’d given me over the summer.
He was getting me ready for our reunion. He’d be staying with us all weekend. He was also going to take me to Club Midnight.
I had to admit the distance, while painful, made the anticipation of seeing him all the sweeter. I was a bundle of nerves as I waited for him. Already, I was incredibly turned on. Wetness pooled between my thighs as I continued to rub slow circles around the outside of my panties. I moaned, but stilled my hand. I needed to be careful. I wasn’t supposed to be touching myself right now.
In fact, Derek hadn’t allowed me to orgasm in days.
The cruel, cruel man.
He’d been making me pleasure myself on video chats, commanding me to stop right before I was about to come. He’d even allowed Brian to use me, to lick and touch and fuck me, under the express command that I not be allowed to come. Not that Brian lasted long enough for me to come under those circumstances, anyways. The idea that Derek was loaning his own wife to him to sleep with sent Brian over the edge faster than I’d ever seen.
I was a mess. An overwrought, wound up mess. Strung so tight I was already trembling and ready to burst from a few quick touches through my panties. This is what desperation felt like. I was dying to wrap my hands, my lips, and my pussy around Derek’s cock.
I was so hot and bothered, I worried I’d cream myself at the mere sight of him. I wouldn’t even have to wait for those big hands to grab me, those muscled arms to envelope me, or that mouth—god, that mouth—to press against my skin before I’d break. I feared he’d walk in my door and blaze at me with those gray eyes, and I’d come on the spot.
Only to be punished.
Brutally.
Fuck.
I trembled. My juices began to soak through the rough lace of my thong. I loosed a shaking breath. I needed to get control of myself. No matter how badly I wanted to burst, I knew his wrath would be unparalleled if I disobeyed him.
Because, somehow, Derek always knew.
In the past, I’d tried, and failed, to hide the fact that I’d come without his permission, and he made me pay for it. Lord, did he make me pay for it. For laying claim to something that no longer belonged to me.
My orgasm was Derek’s to command.
Not mine, not Brian’s, and not anyone else’s. Only his. And nothing made my master angrier than when I came without his permission. So I withdrew my shaking hand from between my thighs, ignored the searing, stabbing pain that raked my clit with every heartbeat, and I waited.
Like a good girl. His good, little, slut.
My clit throbbed. I groaned, looking at the clock. Eighty-thirty. He was so late! Just like him to prolong my torture and make me wait. The bastard. Cruel, evil, demon that he was.
Waiting had never been my strong suit, and he knew it.
It was one thing to be a few minutes late, but thirty minutes? I tried, I really did, to calm down, but anger, fueled by desire, anticipation, and frustration, so much frustration, surged within me. Derek had me dangling by a thread and thought it would be funny to yank it, just to see if I’d break.
I stood up in a huff, so fast Coco snorted herself awake, and her big, Frenchie eyes filled with alarm. Even Donatella padded out from her bed in the kitchen to see what the commotion was, her little paws clicking on the hardwood floor. I grabbed my phone and punched a message.
WHERE ARE YOU?
I paced. Weeks of not seeing him, days of not orgasming, and he was late! He truly was an evil genius. He knew how to get under my skin and how to push me to my limits. It was almost like he wanted me to misbehave.
Who was I kidding? I knew that he loved to punish me for being bad.
And I loved being a little brat in need of discipline.
It was our dance, this perfect balance, that made this thing between us so much fun.
I CAN’T LAST MUCH LONGER.
I sent the last text with determination, along with a picture of the hand that had found its way back to my panties again. Only this time, my fingers slipped below the fabric into my silky folds. I groaned as they glided against my swollen bud, only to sigh when the dogs crowded around my feet, mistaking my groan for a call to play.
Laughing, I ushered them into the kitchen, where they went right to their plush little beds. I closed the door behind me on my way out, keeping them in there. I looked at my phone again, certain I’d provoked him into responding. But nothing. Still nothing.
Fine, then.
I sat down on the sofa, spread my legs, and took a video as I began to rub my pussy in earnest. My fingers were slick with my essence and I made sure to moan, loudly. I angled the camera high above me to capture the arm shoved between my thighs and the heavy lust in my eyes.
I looked right into the camera and said, my voice husky, “I won’t be able to stop myself if you don’t hurry, Sir.”
I moaned, my body wracked with pleasure as I moved my hand faster. I finished recording and hit send. My hand never left my panties. I wasn’t kidding when I told him I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I was working myself up to the point of no return. That disobedient voice in my head whispered to me, told me he’d never know if I came.
But he’d know.
He always knew.
Still, that didn’t mean I couldn’t touch myself just a little bit, right? He didn’t have to see how close I was to toeing the line. He’d have to call or buzz to get into the building before he could get in the elevator up to the penthouse. It would give me time to gather my wits about me.
Fuck, I wanted him. Needed him.
My fingers swirled and moved, going faster and faster. I gasped, closed my eyes and imagined him. His huge body and the way he commanded me. Oh god. I could feel my orgasm swelling, rushing to hit me at long last. And I worried I wouldn’t be able to physically stop myself. I could feel my body taking over, getting ready to overpower my mind, and my self-control. I cried out his name as the orgasm began to crest.
The front door beeped and burst open.
Derek Drake filled the doorframe, his shoulders wide and rigid. I froze. How the hell had he gotten up here? Those gray eyes sparked with anger and his gaze flattened me to the sofa. His phone was in one hand, my video playing on the screen. Rage rippled off him, his whole body taut with it. Full lips curled back in a snarl and canines flashed at me.
“You little, fucking, Brat,” he growled.
My fingers had stilled but, oh, oh, that look. That tone. I shuddered, trying and failing to stop the orgasm that wracked through my body. I never took my eyes from his as I came, pathetically and miserably, at the mere sight of him. He inhaled sharply, slammed the door behind him, and stalked towards me, lethal and menacing.
My heart hammered, spiking in fear, even as I grinned at the wicked gleam in his eyes. Oh, I’d missed that look. I’d missed those eyes.
My hand was still down my panties when he placed both arms on the back of the sofa on either side of me. He stared down and trapped me with his huge frame. I raked my eyes over that body. I could see the cut of his muscles through the long-sleeved black shirt he wore. A tremble of pleasure shook me as I beheld the big, hard bulge in his black jeans. I dragged my gaze up to meet those flinty eyes.
Derek c
aptured me in his stare. The heat between us flared to unbearable heights. He lowered his face so it was an inch from mine. He sneered, lips curling over those sharp teeth before he moved to my neck. He inhaled my scent in that primal, dominant way that made me crazy before he grabbed my chin.
His unrelenting grasp pulled my mouth to his and held me still as those lips tore into mine. He kissed me, fully, deeply, like he was as desperate to taste me as I was him. That wicked tongue invaded my mouth and pleasure licked through me in hot waves. I didn’t know how long he held me there. I was a captive to the mouth that plundered my own. My clit throbbed beneath my fingers.
When he pulled away, he tore my hand from my panties. I couldn’t stop staring, my heart racing, as he pulled my glistening fingers into his mouth. He never stopped looking into my eyes as he licked them clean. My clit twitched with every swipe of that tongue against the pads of my finger tips.
He groaned, smacking his lips in appreciation when he finished. Derek pulled my hand to his cheek and allowed me to cup his face. He closed his eyes, savoring my touch. The gesture was unexpectedly tender and sweet, but so necessary, as I brushed a thumb across his sharp cheekbone. My heart lurched.
I needed this. This contact and re-grounding of our bond. I brought my forehead to his and closed my eyes, soaking in the feel of his stubble under my fingers, the calloused hand that held mine to his face, and the shared breath between us.
