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Kyree grabs my hips, flips me over, pulls my legs up over his shoulders, and responds with a low growl, then begins to coat the walls of my pussy with warm semen.
• • •
Several days later, I’m curled up on the sofa reading Allison Hobbs’ latest novel with a glass of white wine, unwinding from my day while Sebastian’s upstairs taking a shower. We spent the early part of our Sunday working in the yard, before driving into the city for a bite to eat at Taramind Tribeca, an Indian restaurant with towering windows and Brazilian teak located in the heart of Tribeca. I really enjoy my husband’s company, so spending the day out with him was a nice treat. I even surprised myself, and him, when I leaned over in his lap, unfastened his jeans, then fished out his dick and sucked him deep into my wet mouth. He was so taken aback by my brazenness that he’d climaxed within minutes, coating the back of my throat and filling my mouth with his thick seeds.
“Damn, baby,” he said breathlessly. “Whatever you’re reading in those nasty books, please keep reading it.” He took his eyes off the road, and grinned. “I love this new nasty you.”
I said, “Me, too.” Then slid my tongue over my teeth for any remnants of his man milk, and settled back in my seat, fastening my seatbelt, smiling inside.
It was a nice way to end not only the evening, but the weekend as well.
Now all I want to do is read a few chapters of this book, then crawl into bed and lie in my husband’s arms until sleep claims me.
Ping. An incoming text. I reach for my phone. Swipe my finger across the screen. And open the message. I want u tonight
I smile, staring at the message. Slowly, my insides come alive.
Mmm. I want you too, I type back.
A minute later: I wanna tongue u
My walls clench.
I want u sooo bad u just dnt kno baby. Sneak out?
Heat sweeps through me. I swallow hard, glancing over at the crystal clock on the end table. It’s a little after ten p.m.
My shaky fingers itch to type back to tell him yes. But I stop myself. The rational part of my brain screams for me not to do it. This thing between us has gotten out of h
and. It has me lying to my husband. Has me pretending to be someone I no longer am.
Faithful.
Trustworthy.
Grounded.
Worthy.
Of my life with Sebastian.
Deserving.
Of his love.
Yet…
In a matter of one heated text message—I wanna tongue u—my pussy aches and pulses, and I am contemplating defying every logical reason as to why I should turn off my cell and ignore Kyree’s texts. I am literally sifting through a laundry list of rationalizations as to why I shouldn’t hop in the shower, then crawl into bed with my husband, where I belong. There is no need for me to sneak out to be with anyone else when all the hard dick I need is right upstairs waiting on me.
But the moment I climb the stairs, step into my bathroom, squeeze a dollop of Dial Coconut Water Refreshing Mango body wash onto a rag, then run it under warm water, I am aware of my decision, certain of my destination. I slip into a short skirt and tank top. Slide my feet into a pair of sandals. Then clip my hair in a haphazard twist that leaves skeins of highlighted tresses caressing the sides of my face.
Let’s meet, I quickly text.
Less than a minute later, Kyree texts back. Fuck U outdoors?
My mouth waters as I read the text. Yes, I type back. Where?
A few moments later, my cell pings. Eagle rock?
