Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
This situation might seem immoral and wrong to some people.
To me, it’s closure.
“She loves to be kissed, your wife.” One hand stays on my backside, the other tosses his necktie over one shoulder to get it out of the way, then cradles the back of my neck, his thumb erasing any remaining tension with sure, thorough strokes. “She’s a dreamer, hence her love of writing. She needs time to anticipate, to think about what’s going to happen. To let the moment build and come to life. She needs time to feel her body’s response. And my God…” He leans back slightly to visibly marvel at the juncture of my thighs. “She responds like such a good girl.”
I’ve started to breathe harder and harder throughout Caleb’s speech, need sweeping deeper, further into my loins. Enough to make me quake openly on the desk in front of my lover, my flesh undoubtedly soaked under his watchful eye, my nerve endings on high alert. All of me on high alert.
Any part of me that might have thought this moment would be scary or feel incorrect has been silenced. If the man in front of me is the wrong thing and Waylon is right, the world itself is backwards.
The hell with some vows I was forced to recite.
Caleb leans down, momentarily taking his cautious attention off Waylon, his mouth settling over mine, his lids drifting down as if drugged while we kiss, my lips opening dutifully, gratefully, thrills racing through my blood as Caleb’s mouth fucks mine, my core squeezing and releasing in perfect rhythm with his tongue, my legs parting further, the mewls in my throat music in an otherwise silent room.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Waylon shouts.
There’s a dominant glint in Caleb’s eye when he reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hands finding my thighs, thumbs gliding up along the soft inner flesh. “She hasn’t, though, Waylon. She hasn’t had enough.” He kisses my forehead. “I haven’t fucked you yet this morning, have I, angel? Kissed you until you were restless and stopped, so you would be nice and ready for Daddy when it was time. Now is the time.”
The couch creaks sharply behind me. “What the hell did you call yourself?”
I look back over my shoulder. “He called himself the name I gave him.” I don’t look away. My eye contact is clear and unflinching, even when I hear Caleb’s zipper come down, the jostling of his belt. I watch in satisfaction as the color drains from Waylon’s face, leaving him ashen. I allow him to watch my eyes go molten when the smooth tip of Caleb’s shaft drags through my moist sex. “Daddy,” I whisper.
Caleb tucks himself home and drives deep, snarling a curse as our hips mash together. “Fuck.” He slams a fist on the table, his hips jolting forward to pin me. Grind. “I never get used to how goddamn tight your wife is.”
“Fuck you,” Waylon seethes.
Caleb ignores the outburst, his lower body flexing, reversing and plunging deep again with a satisfied grunt. “Normally, I’d lick her little pussy first, but the sounds she makes when I give her head are for my ears alone.” He shakes his head, the pattern of his thrusts accelerating, the desk groaning underneath me. “You missed out, Waylon. You should be jealous as fuck.”
There’s a loud creak and I sense Waylon has surged to his feet. “What the hell do you mean ‘for your ears alone’? And I missed out? I’m her husband!”
“Oh, didn’t I mention?” Caleb grits through his teeth, his body on top of mine now, my back arched over the desk while he pounds me, no mercy, exactly the way I’ve discovered I like it. Hard, relentless and passionate. No space to think, just slake the desire, become one with my body and my needs. “I’m not giving her back,” Caleb finishes.
“What?” Waylon shouts.
“Big mistake letting me anywhere near this angel.” He licks up the entire right side of my face, looking my husband in eye as his balls rap loudly off the underside of my bottom. Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap. “Only a man who’d never experienced Ashley could think it’s possible to give her up.”
Waylon is wheezing, stomping his feet. “Oh, she’s going to come home today and give me the same treatment she’s giving you right now. Mark my words. Or I’ll put her family out on the street.”
“First of all…” Caleb says thickly, beginning to pant, sweat dotting his upper lip. “You haven’t been paying attention. She’s only giving me this treatment because I treated her right first, you spineless coward. That’s how it’s fucking done.”
“Yes,” I breathe, well aware that I’m looking at him with pure hero worship.
That’s what he is. A hero. A real man.
“Does that feel good, little girl?” Caleb asks, going for broke now, his breath shallow.