Crosstown Crush

by Cara McKenna

  Bern echoed the sentiment, his intruder’s hands closing over her hips. The guy was in for a treat – Sam was great on top. Mike had a hell of a view, could see her face, see her breasts, see each inch of Bern disappear as she rose and fell, see the indentation of her flesh where this strange man’s fingers pressed.

  “Good,” Bern muttered. “Ride me. Ride my dick.”

  Mike’s mouth went dry and his hand twitched, cock begging.

  Sam found her pace, and after a minute or more she finally turned her attention to Mike. Her face told him everything his fantasy fed on. Scorn in her eyes, revenge in her smile. Talk to me, he begged. He might have to speak first. But as his lips parted and closed uncertainly, she took those reins, intuitive as always.

  “Like what you see?”

  He swallowed, throat tight and sore. “Sam. What the fuck? How can you do this?”

  She slowed, but didn’t stop, and to Bern of all people, she said, “Sorry.”

  “Sam,” Mike repeated. “What the fuck?”

  She went still, hands caressing Bern’s chest idly. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but he gives me things you just can’t.”

  “I’d give you anything you asked for,” Mike murmured, mesmerized for a moment, feeling almost out of his body. Christ, they’d never played their game like this before.

  “There are some things you just can’t offer me.” She raised her hips, Bern’s cock slipping free. She walked backward on her knees and Bern sat up, propping himself on straight arms, spreading his thighs.

  “You could never give me this.” She held Mike’s gaze, taking Bern’s length in her hands. Mike wondered if the man could feel her wedding band on his skin. Sam stroked his cock and balls, admiring, flaunting. Mike’s own hands were curled into fists at his sides.

  “I’d buy you toys,” he told her.

  A huff of derision. “They can never compare to a real man. A real man with a big dick, who knows how to use what he’s got.” She dropped to her elbows, taking Bern in her mouth. That in itself hijacked Mike’s blood pressure. But when he saw the other man’s fingers tangle in her hair, he thought his body might rip clean apart, leave him in a sparking, mangled heap on the bedroom floor. Somehow he held it together, even as he watched Sam’s capable lips slide up and down, watched her cheeks hollow with the exquisite sucking that had been Mike’s alone until recently.

  Startling as a gunshot, Bern met Mike’s eyes, and spoke to him for the first time. Two simple words, cocky and cruel, to reach across the room and strike him dead in the heart. “Taking notes?”

  Mike shuddered, hate and lust short-circuiting his brain and body, every impulse a hot, conflicted jumble. He wanted to kill this man… but not as bad as he wanted this man’s come slicking his wife’s sex.

  If he shot in her mouth, would I kiss her?

  The very thought was a shock – the sort of question he’d been avoiding asking himself, since that first night. Since the first time he’d tasted this man on his wife’s skin – the first time he’d ever tasted any man, period.

  In truth, yes, he wanted to. He ached for the insult of it, more than anything. But he didn’t think he could, not while the guy was still there. Not the first night. Maybe eventually.

  Maybe eventually, he’d share that kiss with her, and perhaps even more… eat her out and be forced to taste what another man had left. They’d certainly fantasized about it enough, and role-played it. Mike liked that part, the way his brain flipped, halfway through the game. He’d start out cowed by humiliation, but as the imagined seed was licked away, the dynamic would change, possessiveness kicking back in, and he’d get hot from thoughts of reclaiming her. Sometimes the role-playing stopped short and they just fucked like beasts, Sam letting him see how riled he got her.

  “Suck that cock.” It was Bern speaking, giving voice to Mike’s own thoughts. “Suck me good and I’ll make you come so fucking hard.” He gathered Sam’s hair in his hand, guiding her bobbing motions. “Good. That’s good…”

  But soon enough, he let her go. Sam sat up.

  “Hands and knees,” Bern told her.

  Sweet fucking Christ, yes, please.

  That view. Side-on. Before Sam had even fully settled into the position, Bern was taking her. If the guy liked getting watched, well, happy birthday, asshole. Mike kept his face stoic, but everything happening before him struck him as viscerally as a kick in the guts.

  Strange hands held her hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh there, and with each stroke came a flash of bare, flushed cock and dark hair, a rough grunt.

  Mike wanted to touch himself. So fucking badly. He didn’t think his dick had ever hurt like this – like a cruel hand had his balls in a fist, twisting. Add to that the jealous flames licking up and down his body, and this had to be akin to madness.

  “Goddamn, you’re hot.” Bern’s body sped, one hand resting on Sam’s lower back, the other dangling at his side as he watched, the pose full of cocky porn swagger. But it was better than any porn Mike had ever seen. His deepest desires made real, this show his alone to enjoy, with all its smells and sounds and the heat of two fucking bodies. His wife.

  “You like it hard?” Bern asked.

  “Yeah.” The second the word left her lips, the sex went from rigorous to rough. Mike’s hand twitched, begging to relieve his cock.

  Bern grasped Sam’s hips, kneading her flesh in time with his driving length. “Bet you feel amazing when you come.”

  She moaned her reply and craned her neck to watch him.

  “Maybe I’ll just find out for myself.” Bern stooped closer, riding her tighter, looping an arm around so he could touch her clit. To make his job easier, Sam pushed up from her elbows and braced herself on her palms.

  It was surreal, watching this man fucking her the way Mike might, on the nights when his kink wasn’t center stage. It stung for real, but only for a second. It was perfect, of course, the idea that this shithead was giving Sam the kind of sex Mike knew she liked most.

  “Bern.” Her voice was stilted from the motions. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, you like that? You like that nice fat cock?”

  Mike flushed hot as Sam said, “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t you come for me, show me just how much you love it?”

  “I will.”

  Will you? Really? She’d faked it that first time. Would tonight be different? He honestly had no clue if he wanted that. He wanted her pleasure, and his kink wanted evidence that he really was outmanned. But a selfish, honest bit of him still hoped Bern couldn’t get her off. Once the guy was gone, Mike would give her anything she asked for, make her tremble around his dick or against his tongue or fingers, to hell with the game for a change – let them both remember how good they were together. Just the two of them.

  You’re wasting the show, worrying about it.

  Fucking right he was.

  He pushed the self-analysis aside and drank in the scene taking place before him. For him.

  Their bodies were hugged too close for Mike to glimpse that most explicit point of contact. In its place he fixated on the sound – animals rutting. In his bed. Bern’s triceps twitched with the strokes he gave Sam’s clit, and her own hands were fisted around the covers. She looked crazy in the hottest way possible, her pretty face flushed, lips parted, wild eyes aimed at Bern over her shoulder. How he adored that look – the one she always wore when she’d had a couple of glasses of wine and dulled her inhibitions. The one she wore on the nights when she asked for it hard and fast.

  She’d claw him if they were face-to-face. Drag her nails down his back and arms, a pain Mike knew well and loved. He longed to move to the mattress, sit beside her and touch her hair, run his thumb across her swollen lip. He wanted to take a turn, take over. Take her back. As always, the uncertainty had him panting.

  Bern’s free hand shifted to the small of her back, something possessive in the way he pressed his palm to her skin, like he was pinning her do
wn, asserting his strength. Mike’s cock was on fire, screaming to assert a few needs of its own.

  “Fuck.” It was Sam who said it, and he knew what it signaled. She was close. She’d said Fuck, but what it meant to Mike was Don’t you dare stop. She probably didn’t even know she did that.

  She’s not faking it.

  He swallowed. Good. Let her come apart with this stranger inside her. Let the guy do the same, and leave Mike to scrounge for whatever pleasure was left to him. Table scraps from another man’s feast.

  “Yeah.” Bern kept his hand working, hips speeding as he surely realized she was coming. Mike could see excitement in his strained features – excitement Mike had felt any number of times himself, in this lucky bastard’s exact position.

  She muttered, “Fuck me,” but it came out breathy. She was already there.

  Bern let loose a long, low groan, a sound of satisfaction, but not release, Mike didn’t think. Not yet.

  Where will he come? And how might Mike banish him, afterward? His face and throat burned, skin flashing hot at the question.

  Their bodies slowed, and Bern stroked her back with both hands, gazing down with something approaching affection. “Good?”

  A satisfied sigh answered him, and she turned her head to grin drunkenly at him.

  He gave her butt a soft whap. “On your back.”

  She did as ordered and Bern knelt between her thighs, taking her deep and swift, bracing himself upright with his palms on her knees. “Want you to watch when I come.”

  Her hands ran up and down his belly. “Happily.”

  She wouldn’t be the only one.

  Strange, pleasurable, scary feelings gathered in Mike as he studied the scene. An insecure bit of him wasn’t comfortable with exactly how hot it got him to watch another man – a strong, built man – fucking his wife. But Sam had asked him once, Would you still be turned on if I weren’t there? If it were just a man that he was watching? And no, he wouldn’t. Not at all. The reassurance lowered his hackles, soothing an impending identity crisis. Attractive men didn’t get him hot – competition did. And the fear of failure, for whatever reason. But it was true, Sam was always there. Without her, there was no fire to stoke.

  And here she was indeed, those slender hands that had been exclusively Mike’s for all these years, caressing this stranger’s chest and sides and ass, egging him on.

  “You look good,” she told him.

  “Hope you’ll think about this the next time you let your husband fuck you.”

  Mike swallowed a moan.

  Sam smiled up at Bern. “You know I will.”

  “Maybe someday you can tape us.”

  The need racking Mike’s cock doubled at the thought. A video of Bern fucking Sam… God, he’d love that. The perfect porn, and he could watch and pretend he’d hidden a camera, caught her messing around behind his back. No copy for Bern, of course. Too risky. And recording it at all was risky in this day and age, but goddamn, some gambles were worth it.

  “Maybe your husband could help,” Bern added, his voice unmistakably more hoarse than before. He turned his head and shot Mike a second’s mean glance. “Maybe we’ll make him hold the camera.”

  Sam gave a wicked little giggle, her cruelty as hot as the smell and heat of their bodies in Mike’s bed.

  Bern dropped lower, palms set beside Sam’s shoulders. He took her roughly, flesh pounding flesh, and dragged a harsh moan from her lungs. “Bern.”

  “Yeah. You like that.”

  Yes, she does.

  She gripped his ass, following or urging the motions. “I love it.”

  “Want me to give it to you? Shoot you full of my hot come?”

  Mike held in another pained sound, teeth grinding.

  “Please.”

  “Good. Beg me. Beg me and I’ll let you have it.”

  “Come for me, Bern. Inside me. Please.”

  “I can feel it,” he said, nearly seething. “I’m gonna give you so much. Spank me.”

  Without a second’s pause, she slapped his ass.

  “Yeah. Again.”

  She spanked him again, rubbed the reddening spot, then gave him another.

  “Yeah.” His head rolled back, hips racing so fast the motions seemed to blur. “Oh fuck, here I come.”

  She slapped him again, three more times until he froze, groaning long and loud and shameless through the spasms. Mike nearly lost it himself, so close it hurt.

  Bern stayed braced above her, back rising and dropping as he caught his breath.

  Get the fuck out of my fucking bed so I can fucking come, asshole. Mike held the words in, certain he was on the brink of an aneurysm or heart attack.

  After a maddening minute, his swear-riddled prayer was answered.

  “I better let you deal with your husband,” Bern said, as if Mike were a dog that needed walking.

  Sam nodded up at him with an exaggerated frown. “Yeah.”

  They disentangled themselves, both bodies damp with sweat in the low light. Bern dressed quickly, and Sam slipped into her bathrobe.

  “Thanks for coming by.” She stood on her tiptoes and they kissed. “You have no clue how badly I needed that.”

  “Anytime,” he said, then shot a mean look at Mike. Any time you turn your back, my dick’s in your wife, his glare seemed to say. Mike would have appreciated the sentiment if his sexual frustration weren’t begging him to strangle the man to death.

  Though his fantasy had been realized tonight, Mike couldn’t wait for the door to close behind their guest. He could claw his own skin off, he was so worked up. Sam walked Bern out, and Mike was stripping his shirt before he even heard the dead bolt click downstairs. By the time Sam was back in the bedroom, he was down to his shorts, and even those felt like a straitjacket.

  They both paused where they stood, gazes locking.

  Sam smiled, eyeing his erection. “I was going to ask if it was good for you, but I guess that’s my answer.”

  Her comment killed the role-playing, but Mike didn’t care. He could appreciate her wanting to know that her real-life husband was okay with everything that had just gone down, and like the last time, he was too fucking hot to keep the games up, himself.

  Dropping her robe and crossing the carpet, she came to wrap her arms around his waist, belly brushing his cock. He planted a kiss on her forehead, wanting to do way more than that.

  “You’re not too sore, are you?”

  She smiled up at him and shook her head. Her fingers twined with his and she led him to their bed.

  “I still have the condom in.”

  “Good.”

  A little laugh answered him, but he was burning up, body in too much of a crisis to register much more than the need to come.

  Sam lay down as he stripped away his shorts. Just the swipe of the fabric against his cock made him buck. He got her thighs spread with his knees, pausing a moment with his crown poised at her lips. He felt the slickness there, knowing only a small measure was lube. That was the enemy there – for real this time – easing his way. Making him insane.

  “I’m gonna fuck his come right out of you.” The promise came out like a death threat, his voice hoarse and crazy. He shivered as he heard the words, surprised he’d uttered them. Eager hands stroked his arms and he took the plunge.

  A sound like he’d never made before ripped from his lungs, a groan of pain and fear and disbelief. The sex version of a primal scream. And why shouldn’t it, when he was fucking his mate, her sex still dripping from a rival?

  Beneath him, Sam was engaged but quiet. He hadn’t let her know what he wanted from her – which Sam his mind wanted, his kind wife or the callous actress. He didn’t know, himself. He didn’t really care. Another man had been with her tonight, and that was enough.

  “I loved watching you with him,” he said.

  Her grin was full of relief. “I’m glad.”

  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “I did. I came tonight.”
<
br />   Mike’s hips sped, unbidden. “You liked how he fucked?”

  “He’s good. He doesn’t know me like you do, but it was exciting to enjoy his body.”

  “You like his cock?”

  “I do.”

  “More than mine?” He took her slowly, calling attention to the equipment in question.

  “Honestly?”

  Shit, did he really want to know? “Yeah, honestly.”

  “I like yours more.” She stroked his chest and neck. “But he’s hot. New and different.”