by Cara McKenna
Bern set aside his glass as she rounded the counter. She stroked one hand over his arm, sipped her wine with the other. “This is very nice,” she said, gaze moving all down his front.
“It’s Chilean.”
She grinned. Neither of them really believed she was speaking about the vintage. His warm palms slid down her sides to her hips, the sheer size of them thrilling her.
“You look great.”
“Thanks. A bit overdressed, maybe.”
“I don’t mind.” His eager gaze moved down her body and up again. “You look like a present, waiting to get unwrapped.” He looked exactly like what he was – an electrician sent to rewire her with his rough, capable hands.
Their mouths came together, hers eager and his hungry. She felt the glass being coaxed from her fingers and heard it find the counter, then he was walking her backward into the hall.
Between deep laps of his tongue he growled, “Goddamn, you smell fucking amazing.”
She squeezed his arms. “You feel amazing.”
“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
B
ern 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.
