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I quickly wash my own body, giving my cock a thorough rinse, before carelessly dropping the sponge. Cat is already facing me, her eyes hooded with desire. She runs her hand, with nails painted red, over my pecs, flicking my nipples before scraping them down my abs. My stomach muscles clench and my cock bounces.
“I love the feel of you,” she says with reverence, her eyes following the movement of her hands. “You’re so hard, but soft and smooth at the same time.”
Her fingers slide through the happy trail on my lower stomach, taking her time working her way down to where I want her.
“Baby, please. You’re killing me here.”
A small smile curves her lips. “Now you know how I feel when you tease me.”
“You like my teasing though.”
Her head cocks to the side, and she looks at me through thick lashes. “Are you saying you don’t like what I’m doing?”
“I fucking love it,” I grunt. “But I’d love it more with your hands actually on my cock and not just close to it.”
“You mean like this?” Her hand wraps around my shaft, causing a hiss to escape my mouth. She slides it down to the root then back to the tip.
My knees damn near buckle, so I slap a hand on the shower wall to hold myself up. “Fuck yes.”
Cat steps closer, tilting her head back so she can still look at me. “I want you in my mouth.”
A pearly drop of precum seeps from the tip of my cock. When Cat begins to drop to her knees, I let the wall go and grab her hips. As fucked up as it is, I’ve already had a mouth around my cock tonight. Right now, all I want is Cat’s tight pussy strangling me.
“You can suck me later.” Sliding my hands down to her ass, I pick her up and her legs automatically wrap around my waist. “I can’t wait, baby. I need to be inside you.”
Her hands move to the back of my hair as she stares down at me with eyes filled with so much love.
I’m going to hell, I say to myself as I slowly lower her down my cock.
ChapterNine
Caterina
Drumming my fingers on the desk, I stare at the blinking cursor on my computer screen. For the past thirty minutes, I’ve been trying to figure out how to lead to the story’s climax. I love my job. Having free rein of creativity. Manipulating readers into believing one thing when the truth is the total opposite. Building my own worlds. Influencing the emotions of others. In a way, authors are gods of their own universes.
Needing a break to let my mind rest and regroup, I grab my empty coffee mug and carry it to the kitchen. It’s almost lunch time, so I decide to make myself a sandwich.
I’m sitting at the bar in the kitchen when my eyes catch on the laundry basket on the floor just outside the laundry room door. Hunter’s shirt on top of the pile of clothes reminds me of last night when Hunter and I were waiting to shower. As I stood in front of him with my face pressed against his chest, I thought I caught a hint of a feminine scent. It was barely noticeable, but one that was oddly familiar.
If Hunter were any other man, I would doubt his fidelity, but I have complete trust in him. I know with absolute certainty that he will never cheat on me. I know how lucky I am, because a lot of women can’t say the same.
There must be another explanation as to why Hunter would have the scent of another woman on him. It could easily be Katie’s. Or any number of the other women he works with daily at Slate. I know he would never willingly touch one of them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t come into close contact with them.
Although I’m confident Hunter would never cheat on me, I still don’t like that another woman’s scent was on him. When it comes to my husband, I’m possessive. I’m not a violent person, but just the thought of another woman touching Hunter has a red haze wanting to cloud my vision. I love him more than I thought was possible for a person to love someone. He’s my heart and soul, and I’d be utterly lost without him.
My phone ringing on the counter pulls me out of my dark thoughts. I lean to the side and look at the screen without putting my sandwich down. I smile when I see the name.
I press the answer button and hit the speaker. “Hey, Megs,” I greet my best friend.
The line is quiet on her end for a moment before her voice comes through.
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you… would be available,” she finishes slowly.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m pretty much always available. That’s one of the perks of working from home.” I laugh.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you were busy writing or whatever else you authors do in front of a computer.”
“I always have time for my best friend.” I prop my chin on my hand. “So, what’s up?”
