“Plenty,” I growl. “But we’ll discuss those later.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” she breathes, her voice trembling.
“Thank you for your trust.”
She bites her bottom lip, leaving it glistening and damp.
“Now,” I say, my patience snapping. “Where. Were. We?”
Without another word, she begins to undress, her movements tantalizing, the fabric sliding off her shoulders as she holds my gaze. “You know,” she murmurs, “I usually don’t allow men to speak to me this way. I’ve never let a man tell me what to do.”
“And I’m the eldest child and a leader of men,” I counter, my blood beginning to roar in my ears. “All I know how to do is take charge. To command.”
Her top falls to the floor and it pains me not to be able to yank her on top of me right now.
“You have no idea how much it has killed me to let you mouth off to me, Aspen. Let you run things around here like you own the place.”
“My husband is a control freak. I remember. But you knew exactly what you were signing up for in the pods,” she reminds me, her voice trembling just as she snaps her bra open from the front.
The lace falls away, and the sight is better than anything I could have imagined in Vegas. This isn't a scripted moment. It isn’t even a fantasy. This is her raw, willing truth spilling open just for me.
With hardened nipples.
She’s standing there in nothing but red lace panties, my favorite color, making my blood boil. “Are those for me?” I growl, reaching into my trousers and shamelessly freeing the aching hardness that is aiming straight for her.
“Yes,” she confesses, her eyes dropping, fixed on my dick as I wrap my hand around my girth. “Wishful thinking, at least.”
She licks her lips, and I spit into my palm, deliberately looking to shock her.
“Masturbation is okay. That’s what you said, right?”
She nods but doesn’t speak.
I know my wife is relatively inexperienced, and sometimes the only way to bridge the gap is total immersion.
She looks stunned, breathless, watching me stroke my dick as if I’ve forgotten she’s even in the room.
“Has anyone ever let you watch before?”
She shakes her head, her lips parted.
“Do you like to watch, wife?”
“When it’s you?” she whispers.
“That’s right. Only me. Ever.”
“Then yes.” She nods enthusiastically, her gaze never wavering even as the heat in the room turns stifling.
I can see the tremor in her hands, the lingering hesitation of a woman who has spent her life being careful, beinggood. She’s terrified to ask for the very things that are making her breath stall right now. I can work with that. I can be the one to break those chains and free her.
“Talk to me, Aspen,” I urge, my voice a dark, velvet lure. “Tell me exactly what you want to do to me right now. No filters. No inhibitions. No consequences. Just say the words.”
“I’d like to lick it,” she says, the boldness of the confession dripping from that beautiful, filthy mouth makes it jump in my hands.
“I knew it,” I growl. “I knew you’d be a deviant for me, my love. Fucking filthy.”
“Only for you,” she confirms again, a small, reckless smile playing on her lips.
