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Rachel
I’d gone ahead and snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.
More specifically, I’d gone ahead and snatched victory from the cock-clenched fist of a chick with blue lips and sex-crazed eyes.
I followed the two of them, my husband and Miss Last Night, up the stairs. My husband leading the way. Miss Last Night between us. One hand pushing him up. One hand tugging me along, her perky ass in my face. I was pretty sure she’d had her asshole bleached.
“This is like, really good for a marriage,” she said, pushing Mason up faster at the same time as dragging me behind her. “You’ll see. It’s like spice, you know? It’s like licking someone’s tits covered in chocolate sauce for the first time. Plain tits are nice and all. But then you have the chocolate sauce and you’re like…wow.”
“Did you hear that, honey?” Mason called back to me. “Are you ready for ‘wow’?”
He stopped at the top of the stairs. His cock already hard. Miss Last Night’s ass in his palm. His other hand extended toward me.
“Do you think you can handle ‘wow’?”
He was daring me to back down. To end this. To fly off the handle. To curse. To shout. To send Miss Last Night on her way. To prove him right: that I couldn’t handle this. That it did get under my skin. That I did, after all these years, still want him.
Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I slipped my fingers between his.
“Bring on the chocolate sauce,” I said.
Mason bobbed his head from side to side.
“Her sexy talk can use some work,” he said, looking down at Miss Last Night. “Don’t you think?”
She took my other hand and smiled at me.
“We’ll work on it,” she said. “You can just start with stuff like, ‘My pussy is wetter than the Liffey’ or ‘Choke me with your cock, Daddy’. Those never fail, sweetie.”
“I’m going to choke you with your cock, Daddy,” I said to Mason.
“Yeah,” Miss Last Night purred. “That’s so hot.”
Mason and I exchanged a look over Miss Last Night’s head as she closed her eyes in the hallway and groped my tits and Mason’s cock. I was giving him what he’d given me: a chance to back down before the games really began.
I lifted an eyebrow at him which said, “Are we really going to do this?”
In the dim light of the hallway, he blew me a kiss. “Babe, we’re already doing this.”
Fine. He wanted to play chicken. I’d fucking play chicken.
Back in his bedroom, Miss Last Night hopped onto the bed and asked me where I kept my dildo.
“I don’t have one,” I told her.
“I’m plenty for you, aren’t I, baby?” Mason said with a stupid grin.
“Oh, yes,” I said advancing toward him. “All four inches of you.”
Miss Last Night was rifling through Mason’s nightstand, apparently not believing us.
“But what do you do for Double Penetration Tuesdays?” she asked, obviously disappointed when she just found a shit ton of condoms.
“Cucumbers,” Mason said.
I glared at him before saying in a monotone, “Yes, cucumbers. Sometimes zucchini.”
“Kinky,” Miss Last Night squealed, writhing a little on the bed. “We’re going to have fun, the three of us. Aren’t we?”
