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“I’m ready to break it.”
I’m fucking starving, in fact.
And still, Belfort still hasn’t taken a hint.
“And you are…?” He looks between me and Ari.
“Her older brother,” I provide.
Ari’s shoulders shake. A hint of laughter squeaks past her lips.
I hold her still.
She did say, just last week, that she wanted to try role-play.
Careful what you wish for, sweet wife.
Belfort’s eyes drop to where I keep a possessive grip on Ari’s waist, my fingers slipping beneath the scrap of cloth she insists is a dress. “She’s your sister?”
“Yes.”
My chin rests atop my wife’s shoulder, nose nuzzling the sensitive spot that always draws a moan.
Sure enough, it does.
She shudders at my touch, unintentionally rubbing her ass against my erection.
I flash a grin at Belfort. “My sister.”
He almost falls out of his seat. His palms meet the bar-top at the last second, sparing him a face full of hardwood.
“I—I—”
“Might I suggest a K-through-12 education? I hear it does wonders for one’s vocabulary.”
“B-but... She’s your…”
“Sister? We’ve established this.”
My fingers drift beneath the tight fabric of Ari’s dress, coming in contact with her pesky panties. She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch.
There are probably others watching, definitely people we know, but neither of us have ever cared. Probably never will.
Watching Belfort flounder for words is not nearly as entertaining as pleasuring my wife, so I decide to relieve him of his misery.
I lift a brow, sparing him another glance. “Do you intend to watch? Shall I have a server bring you popcorn?”
I nod toward a bouncer, who casts a large shadow over Belfort when he approaches him from his flank. Belfort scrambles away, leaving behind his wallet and phone.
I pinch Ari’s clit through her panties once before collecting Belfort’s wallet, discarding it in the staff tip jar, and tossing his gold-plated Blackberry into the trash.
Ari clears Belfort’s glass, hip-checking me when I block her path to the sink. “I was your cousin yesterday. What’s next?”
“Step-mother.”
An hour later, my wife and I are on Asher’s couch, watching Lucy convince him to try an unidentifiable blue triangle she insists is edible.
It jiggles on her fork as she waves it haphazardly in the air. “It’s lasagna.”
