Short Smut, Vol. 1

FOLLOW THROUGH

We had done everything over six months of dating and one year of marriage. Played with all the toys, sampled each fantasy, tried every position. My favorite combination was the elastic figure 8 cock-ring wrapping me tightly while she played high-powered executive to my fumbling male secretary.

Melissa would berate me for my poor job evaluation, and I’d swear I could make it up to her. Work harder, perform better. Maybe, she’d acquiesce, but first I must be punished. I could go to full-mast just thinking about the way she looked, spread eagle on the desk, pulling me close by my tie and telling me to get her off, quickly now.

There wasn’t any reason I should feel… just a bit bored with the whole thing.

I wasn’t stupid enough to tell Melissa that. I knew what I had. A smart, gorgeous wife who played my games, enjoyed them even. She never should have even looked twice at a washed up financial professional fifteen years her senior with pent-up kinky desires, but instead she’d given me everything.

No reason she should know. My libido may have dimmed, but I could still get hard. I could still come on her command. This strange little bout of sexual ennui would pass.

“ I’m leaving on a business trip tomorrow,” she said over breakfast.

I took a sip of scalding coffee, shook out the already unwrinkled newspaper in front of me. Leaving. Tomorrow. “Oh.”

“ There’s a big conference in New York. I may have mentioned it. My boss’s wife had her baby early so I’m taking his place. I’ll be back next week.”

A full week. Had I ever been apart from her so long since we’d gotten married? Every night a new combination, every night she’d held me after. No, never. A strange pressure wrapped around my throat, and I cleared it. “Well,” I said. And then because it seemed I should say something more, “Congratulations.”

She flashed me a smile, the kind that still made my heart thump. “I suppose. It’s a good opportunity. Sorry for the late notice. I hope it’s okay.”

I didn’t want to appear unsupportive. I didn’t want to appear needy, even though inside I was a roiling mass of doubt and anxiety. Suppose she’d figured out that she could do so much better? What if she’d noticed my dullness in bed? A body like hers, she could pick up any man in the bar. Once he got a load of her sweet disposition and intelligence, she could keep him too.

I couldn’t help but ask, “We can talk on the phone, right?”

She touched my hand, the reassurance matching her words. “You know it, hon. I’ll have workshops during the day, then some networking events in the evening, but I’ll call you every night before I go to bed.” She took a bite of toast. “I don’t think we’ve been apart this long, have we?”

“ I don’t know,” I lied.

We finished breakfast silently, or rather, I sat there miserably, watching the dainty way she ate. All too soon she got up, kissed my cheek, and gathered her things to leave. “By the way,” she said, stopping by the door. “I don’t think you should come while I’m gone.”

On the very first day, I left work early to wait for her call. Reclining in bed, I considered her absence. I missed talking to her most of all, the lack of sex a secondary concern. Recently I had been fighting this sexual blandness, but surely it could work in my favor now. The timing of this trip was perfect. If I wasn’t allowed to come anyway, then it was convenient that I didn’t care to. At least, not too much.

The phone rang, and I picked up before it rang again. “Melissa?”

“ Hi, hon.” She sounded tired.

“ I love you, baby.” Screw needy. There was no hiding it. “Missed you so much today.”

She laughed, more delighted than tired now. “I saw you this morning before I left.”

“ I know. But just knowing you were far away hurt. The house is so empty.” Like it was before I’d found her, but worse, because I knew what could be.

“ You didn’t come, did you?” Her voice was low, laced with authority.

My breath caught, my cock hardened. “No, ma’am.”

“ Good,” she said, brightening. “Now check under the pillow.”

I scrambled from the armchair in the bedroom and slid between cool sheets. My fingers fumbled around a scrap of lace, and I held it up. Her panties. Her pink and black polka dot panties with black lace trim; the ones that drove me crazy.

“ Oh baby, no no.” But it was too late. I was already rock hard and aching.

“ A little something to remember me by. You are to keep it on your pillow the whole night.”

I clutched the lace, struggling to get myself under control. Dread and excitement coursed through me, a familiar and comforting blend. She always knew exactly what I needed.

“ I’ve got to go. Goodnight, hon,” she said.

I took deep breaths and willed myself soft. “Bye, baby. Love you.”

“ Love you too. Oh, and you might be interested to know I came in those panties three times before I left.” The line went dead.

I groaned, low and tortured, as I fell onto the pillow. Desperate, I breathed in her scent and then immediately regretted it as my cock throbbed in answer.

It would be a long, hard night.

The second day went better. I only thought about Melissa once an hour, a marked improvement.

I immersed myself in work, started a big, complicated project late in the afternoon and worked until evening. The new secretary from the temp agency only screwed up twice, as if she’d joined my productivity bandwagon. I even stopped at the gym, so I’d be more tired than horny.

Pleasantly buzzed from the mixture of workout endorphins and anticipation of our phone call, I strolled through the door at 9 o’clock. I showered with the door open, so as not to miss the phone ring, but by 10:30 it hadn’t. Giving in to my restlessness, I checked the phone. That’s when I noticed the blinking light. My blood began to race, hot and panicky. I pressed play.

“ Hey, hon, it’s me. I know I’m calling earlier than last night. I was pretty tired so I turned in after dinner. I guess I’m going to hit the sack. You can call me if you want to talk. Goodnight.”

Beep.

That stupid black box got to talk to my wife, when I didn’t. Goodnight? Damn, damn, damn.

I sat down heavily. I was a grown man. I could go a whole day without talking to her. Should I call her anyway? Wake her up. Yes, please.

But I didn’t. She was tired, she’d said so. It was the epitome of selfishness to even consider disturbing her just to appease my need of her. At least I didn’t have to worry about my sexual depression, not when I had the emotional kind to weigh me down.

The secretary from the temp agency looked all of fifteen, though the paper said she had an associate’s degree. She giggled like a teenager, though, and dressed like one. How exactly did one ask a subordinate to show less skin without getting slapped with a harassment lawsuit?

So I suffered her tardiness, her generally shoddy work and the way she filed her nails at her desk without complaint. Surely to some men she’d be sexy, but to me it was too much.

Not like Melissa. She was young too, though not that young and classy besides. Sexy in that she knew all the dirty things to do me, but only if she decided I was worthy. She wouldn’t give it up easily, because with her, she wasn’t giving in. She took what she wanted.

Still though, there was something to be said for a woman with so-obvious curves bouncing around the office when I hadn’t gotten any relief in days. And that something was that it was fucking annoying. It wasn’t even her legs or cleavage that drew my eye, but her shoulders. From the back, with her wavy black hair and shoulders exposed by a completely inappropriate tube top, she could almost pass for Melissa, if I squinted.

I often gave Melissa backrubs after work. She’d head straight for the bedroom, throwing off her suit and silk blouse, rummaging for something more comfortable. She looked so incredibly sexy that way, wearing her satin underwear and bra and completely oblivious to her appeal. I’d be desperate to touch her, even to look at her for a few minutes longer before she covered up.

I’d come up behind her, that last night. “Here, baby. You look stiff. Let me give you a backrub.”

She moaned as soon as my hands settled on her shoulders. I gently guided her to the bed where she sprawled out on her stomach, and it took all my willpower not to fall on her and rut. I lay beside her instead and rubbed away her tension: her shoulders, her neck, her arms. Occasionally slipping my hands down, brushing the plump side of her breast where it peeked from the bra cup.

I was hard as a rock, touching her, being near her.

She wriggled her gorgeous ass, leaned back until she felt my erection. “I love that,” she sighed.

And then I was rutting against her, pushing my cock against her body. Even the soft, warm pressure of her through my clothes was enough to push me over, but she stopped me. She pulled away and planted a quick kiss on my lips.

“ You’re right, baby. I did have a stressful day. Why don’t you make it better?”

She rolled onto her back, her sleek limbs splayed wide with sumptuous sensuality. Her best parts were still covered by lacy lingerie, but that only made the whole thing better. Eager and wanting, I scrambled down to her feet, where I pulled at her pretty panties.

“ No,” she admonished. “No hands.”

So I put my hands behind my back and crouched over her, nudging and tugging on her panties with my tongue, my lips, my teeth. The faint earthy aroma of her sex drove me crazy, but I persisted with my task until I pulled the slip of fabric off of her feet and dropped it beside the bed. My hands still clenched behind my back, I wriggled my way back between her legs and stared at the glorious, bare mound, feeling oddly close to tears.

Maybe she knew, because she said, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ll always be here with you.”

And it was enough for me, so that I could lick tenderly at the smooth outer lips. Plant kisses on the fold between her legs and her mound. Warming her up for the true pleasure, worshipping her.

I made my way to her center, sliding my tongue through her pussy lips that were already slick. For me. She was always wet for me, ready to take me. I lapped up the moisture there, each new taste zinging straight to my cock where it pressed against the bed.

She opened to me, her sex slowly unfurling and her moans grew louder. I found her clit with my tongue, circled it, pressed against it with the flat of my tongue. My face was covered with her juices, and I pushed it farther, trying to enter her this way, push inside and join with her.

Her hips found a rhythm, and I knew she was close. I focused on her clit with fervor then, sucking it in the same beat.

“ Oh God, hon. Oh God,” she cried, which was fucking hot. But it got even worse for me when she said, “Make it a good one.”

My brain short circuited, my whole body jerking, writhing, as I lashed at her clit with my tongue, forcing her into climax, while pushing my own desperate cock against the now-damp comforter.

I held my mouth against her until the last of the spasms shook her, until she twitched with every touch of my tongue. Even then, I dared one last lick at her opening, where her wetness still dribbled out. Savored the proof of her arousal, of the pleasure I had given her.

Then I rested my damp face against her leg, waiting for her next command. Hoping she would want to finish me off, or at least let me touch myself. Anticipating it, because she always pleased me.

Today was no exception, but instead of sucking me or wanking me off, she went to the drawer and pulled out an egg vibrator.

“ Lie back,” she ordered. I fell back onto the center of the bed, my legs and arms spread, bound only by her wish. She climbed between my legs and examined my painful hard-on. It glistened at the tip, and pulsed when she bent over it.

She put the plastic egg right on the end, wiggled it around until it was covered in the wetness there.

“ Go ahead,” she said. “Touch yourself.”

My hand flew to my cock. I slowly slid it up and down, unsure if this was allowed.

“ That’s right,” she said. “Masturbate for me. But you aren’t allowed to come until I remove this.” With that, she flipped on the vibrator. It sent pleasurable pulses through my already throbbing cock. Combined with the steady stroke of my own fist, the pleasure was almost unbearable.

Up and down, and too soon I was ready to blow. But I couldn’t, not while she held the damned vibrating egg to my cock. My strokes grew jerky, almost pulling away from the vibe each time in their vehemence. Little sounds escaped me, whimpers maybe. Pleas definitely. Her eyes, though sated from her own release, twinkled at my predicament, making it harder to hold back.

She pressed the vibe down harder on the head of my cock, and my eyes rolled back. The pressure built through my balls, up through my cock like a goddamned volcano exploding, and then she lifted. For one second I thought it was my hopeful, desperate imagination, but no.

My eyes snapped to the sight of her licking the wet spot on the vibrator. “Finish it,” she said softly.

I exploded, wet bursts of cum all over the fucking place, my stomach, my own hand, the bed. Everything went black and muted and wonderful. When I came back to, I saw Melissa examining her hand, where a stray stripe of cum had landed.

“ I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ll clean it.” With a washcloth or with my mouth, however she wanted.

But she cleaned it herself, with her tongue, then closed her eyes as if to savor the taste. My cock, soft against my thigh, twitched at the sight.

She noticed. “Ready for round two?”

A grating sound pulled me from my memories. I looked up from my desk. My temporary secretary cleared her throat again. I snapped my mouth shut from where it had hung open, and tried to remember her name. Bambi? That couldn’t be right.

She peeked over my desk at the bulge in my pants then smiled smugly. She propped her hand on her hip, pushing it out and pushing up her cleavage. Clearly she thought she was responsible for this. And she was, her damn lookalike shoulder, but not the way she thought.

“ Need anything, Mr. Tripp?” She smirked.

Not from you. “No, thank you.”

“ Are you sure? I’m at your service, you know.”

“ Uh… I’m good. Why don’t you take the day off early?”

Well, I certainly wasn’t getting any work done in this condition, and she never did any work, period. Once I got my erection under control, I headed home to wait for Melissa’s call.

“ Hello?” I answered when it rang, trying to play it cool this time.

“ Oh, I’m glad I caught you this time! I missed talking to you last night, baby.”

“ Me too,” I said. “So much.”

She gave a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you’d call me, actually, whenever you got in.”

“ I didn’t want to wake you up.”

There was a pause. “I was so tired, but I didn’t end up sleeping until later. Not until I took care of things.”

My dick perked up, the idiot.

“ What things?” I really hadn’t meant that to come out low and suggestive.

“ I touched myself,” she said, and my heart stopped for a second. Apparently my dick knew better than my brain sometimes-who knew? “I guess I’m so used to getting it every day, and I had to get myself off.”

“ Yeah?” I managed to croak.

“ I thought about you.”

My hand flew to my crotch, but didn’t touch. Just hovered over it like some sort of goddamned levitation trick because up it went, imagining Melissa touching herself.

“ What did you think about?”

“ I imagined you. Remember that time we played the principal’s office? I had on those high heels, patent black leather. I made you lick them.”

“ Oh shit.”

“ And then you got paddled. While I had you jerk yourself off.”

“ Melissa!”

“ And to make sure you learned your lesson I had you write lines. Pity we didn’t have a chalkboard. You had to write them on yourself with a black marker: I will not touch myself during class. I will not touch myself during class. I don’t think the ink came out for days.”

I was rubbing myself through my pants, bucking up into my own hand, when she said, “Stop that.”

I froze.

“ Didn’t I tell you not to come?”

“ I didn’t,” I protested quickly.

“ That’s not attitude I hear, is it?”

I bit my lip. “No, ma’am.”

“ You aren’t to come. You aren’t to touch yourself except to wash and piss. Understood?”

I snatched my hand away, sat on it. My hips rocked futilely in the air, finding no friction, none. “Yes, ma’am,” came out as a whisper.

“ Now,” she said. “Tell me about your day. How’s the new secretary working out?”

On the fourth day, I kept to my usual schedule. I sat down for breakfast, even though the other chair was empty. I went to work during my normal work hours, ignored Bambi’s contradiction of slacker and seductress, and returned home at the usual time. I puttered around the house, doing laundry and cooking for one. All the things we would do together, but instead I did them alone.

The loneliness was less acute now, more like a dull ache. Even my horniness was muted, more like longing. Before she left, I had thought my desire had taken a nosedive. Now I wondered if it had been a natural smoothing out.

When I first met Melissa, I was out of my mind with lust for her. Her beauty, her willingness to explore my long-repressed kinks, the excitement of a new relationship and infatuation-fueled sex frenzy.

Now I loved her. I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. I still adored her body, enjoyed our play, but the urgency had dimmed. The taint of hopelessness, the fear that I’d never find it, was gone. Because I had found it; I had her.

Or at least I did. Now she was gone, and the impact of her absence made it clear that what I felt before was nothing at all. I was embarrassed to even have thought it was a problem.

Was it possible I had been so stupid as to mistake contentedness for boredom?

Never mind. I hadn’t broken anything yet. She’d be back in two days. I could make it up to her, even though she’d hopefully never known and never would. I would reaffirm my love to her, exercise my lust for her.

It was still too early for her to call, so I flipped on the TV. I’d found some unfamiliar sitcom to bide the time when the telephone rang. Not the home phone, but a strange number on my cell.

“ Melissa?”

“ No. Is this Mr. Tripp? Wyle Tripp?”

I turned off the TV, sat up straighter. “Yes, that’s me. Who’s speaking?”

It turned out to be one of those people with a first name, a middle name, and a hyphenated last name, who worked for the temp agency. Apparently there had been a complaint filed against me by a certain Babette Franks for creating a hostile work environment.

Since I actually paid the agency, too much money at that, the guy was polite but firm. The agency was forced to stop working with me. Liability, he explained, a hint of apology peeking through the solemnity.

“ Hell,” I said.

The air buzzed over the line. “Listen, I’m telling you this off the record,” the guy said. “I read her statement. I’ve seen her. Getting a boner at work isn’t really sexual harassment according to the law, not unless you try to do something about it. There’s no way this thing will go anywhere, but it just doesn’t look good for us to send our girls there.”

“ Do you have any male assistants?”

“ Unfortunately, we can’t allow gender-specific requests. That would be sexual discrimination.”

“ That doesn’t seem fair.”

“ Tell me about it,” he said.

I hung up the phone, taking an internal poll of my feelings on the matter. Probably I should have felt outraged to be accused of something I didn’t do. And by someone so wholly incompetent! But she probably had thought my boner was for her, damn her nosy hide for peeking over my desk anyway.

I had some concerns of a practical nature. If she really did decide to file charges, she probably wouldn’t win, but she could. And even if she didn’t, I’d still have to pay for lawyers, and the reputation of my financial services firm would suffer.

And Melissa.

How incredibly humiliating for her. Everyone would take one look at me, one look at Babette, and think I had said or done something inappropriate. I had done something inappropriate. Not dirty thoughts about Babette, nothing that trite or, frankly, uninteresting. No, I’d daydreamed about Melissa in the presence of Babette, and somehow that made it worse, as if even my fantasies of my wife were dirty.

Would Melissa even believe me? Would she stand by me if this came out in a big, messy scandal? I didn’t deserve her loyalty, but God, I craved it. I had never meant to test her love for me. I had always been happy to take it at face value, afraid to look beneath the surface, but this was unavoidable.

I’d have to tell her about this, and like it or not, live with the results. Even if nothing ever came of the sexual harassment bit, I shared everything that happened at work and this was a big one. I’d have to get a new secretary and I wasn’t about to come up with a wall of lies and betray her trust just to shield my own ego. If she wanted to leave, she could. I would just be fucking miserable, that’s all.

I would tell her when she got back, I decided. She was flying back in tomorrow, on the fifth day. That way she could see in my eyes and face that I was telling the truth and how very much I loved her. It was the only way.

And when the phone rang, I let it ring. I couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t subvert or omit the truth, not to her. All I could do was avoid it.

The phone rang again, a bit later. Rang and rang.

On the fifth and final day of Melissa’s trip, I left my empty home and drove to my empty office. Everyone was leaving me. It would be funny, but it wasn’t.

I called my tennis partner, who also happened to be the lawyer who had set up my company’s legal structure, for advice. Jim assured me that even if she were to file charges, it was hearsay. And even if the state board were to believe her, they wouldn’t levy damages for a first-time offence where she even admitted there had been no touching, crass jokes, nothing. The only thing she could possibly do was damage my reputation.

The only upside to this whole thing was that I actually got work done. Resigned to being alone and without the infernal scratching of Babette’s nail file, I managed to finish all the work I’d been slacking off on all week. I even finished early, and though waiting at home sounded like the worst possible thing, it was also the only thing I could do.

I pulled up and sat in the driveway for fifteen minutes, until the car began to cool. I entered the house and threw my briefcase onto the sofa.

A squeak brought me up short.

A shadow detached from the couch, rubbing her head. “Wyle?”

“ Oh damn, baby. I didn’t know you were home. Are you okay? Here, let me help you.”

She waved me off. “I’m fine. It bounced off the couch.”

I stood in awkward limbo, dying to touch her but restrained by the strange energy in the room. She sounded the same, she looked the same despite my baggage assault, but she was supposed to return tomorrow. Instead she sat here in the dark.

“ I can get you some ice,” I offered lamely.

“ No, don’t worry about that.”

Don’t worry about that, as if I should worry about something else. “What’s wrong, baby?”

I couldn’t see her expression beyond the lowering of her eyes, but tension prickled my skin. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

My mouth went dry. So she had noticed my sexual melancholy. Okay, come clean. Don’t panic. And don’t lie! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fuck.

“ Don’t you?” she asked. “Oh, Wyle. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sat down beside her, too afraid to touch her and face rejection but too damned scared not to be close to her. “God, Melissa. I was so stupid. I never meant for you to know.”

To my horror, a tear trickled down her cheek, reflecting the dim light peeking form under the blinds. “I wish you would have told me. If there was something I could have done…”

“ No, baby, don’t say that. You’re perfect. It was me, just something I had to go through. But it’s over now, I swear. I’m completely with you now.” I was more than that, I belonged to her. Body, mind and soul, I was hers.

She stared at me for a long moment, then wiped her tears away with a jerky motion. “Look, Wyle,” she said, clearly striving for composure, though I could hear her voice shaking. “I love the games we play. I know you were nervous about it, at first, but this isn’t just for you. You know by now how much I love it too, don’t you?”

I thought about our time together, the way she had fallen so easily into her role as mistress. I had been so sure she’d done it just to please me, but would it have worked that quickly and continued for so long?

She always had a new idea to implement, a new way to tease. That kind of imagination didn’t match someone who was ultimately disinterested. And no one knew better than I how many orgasms she’d had on my dick or my tongue.

Could it really have been so simple, to find the woman that matched me in every way? That was another thing I had mistaken; to think that something quickly won was transient.

She sat up straighter. “But I just don’t know how I can do this. It would have been one thing if you had talked to me about it or wanted to do a threesome, but cheating? That’s not kinky, Wyle. That’s just douchebag.”

“ Cheating? What the hell are you talking about?”

“ Language,” she reminded mildly.

I subsided back onto the couch. “Yes, ma’am.”

“ Your secretary, that’s what I’m talking about. I had to find out from Elaine, by the way. Jim’s wife from the Tennis Club. I think she was getting a manicure when she told me, and she sounded way too smug. Wyle, if you needed something different… someone different-”

“ I don’t!” Oh God, I really didn’t. I took a deep breath so I could speak coherently. Then I told her everything, how the agency had sent over the secretary who dressed like that and walked like that and I didn’t want her. But then she saw my hard-on for Melissa, and I turned her down. And then the phone call.

To my utter shock and relief, she seemed to believe me. But then, I never could lie to her.

“ What I don’t understand,” she said, “is what you were talking about before, when you thought I didn’t know about Babette.”

Ah right, this was exactly why I didn’t lie to her. Because I did it so incredibly poorly. So I told her all about my weird little melancholy and how I had determined it to be a natural progression of our relationship after all.

I finally couldn’t hold back any longer, took her hand in both of mine. “So what I’m really trying to say is, please don’t leave me. I know I’ve been stupid. So unforgivably stupid.”

“ But you didn’t cheat on me?” She knew the answer.

“ It’s you. Only you.”

“ You’ve been obedient?” Jerking off, she meant.

Where before I had spoken as her husband, now I gave her the deference of a lover. “Yes, ma’am.”

“ No.” She abruptly stood and went to face the wall. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.”

Fear stabbed my stomach, deflating my burgeoning erection. “Can’t do what, baby?”

“ I believe you. I do. I just spent the whole flight thinking you had done it, and freaking out and crying on the shoulder of Jed from Wyoming, and I can’t turn it off that quickly.”

She sagged against the wall, and I was there in a minute, holding her. My arms surrounded her, but they weren’t a cage-never that-but bracing her against my own weakness.

Then she whispered, “I was so afraid.”

I wanted to laugh. She was afraid? Of what, that as soon as my wife left me, I’d fall into bed with some young woman I didn’t even know… oh. Okay, fair enough.

It was how I’d met Melissa, technically, but that was different. Then my wife had left me permanently, not over the weekend. Then I had been devoid of hope and so damn lonely. Now all I had was hope; hope that I actually had an ounce of the charm that Melissa apparently thought I had.

“ Oh, baby. We make quite a pair, you and I.” I turned her around and pressed her to the wall, my forehead against hers. “Both of us afraid to lose the other. But there really isn’t any chance of me leaving you, and it has nothing to do with the way your voice gets low and sexy when you tell me what to do. I love you. Ah, I love you so much.”

“ I love you too. But what are we going to do? We can’t go on this way, lashing out at the first sign of trouble.”

“ The only thing we can do. I’m going to trust you. It may not always be easy. I’m a little crazy about you, if you hadn’t noticed, and sometimes I can’t think straight for wanting you. But I’ll just fucking do it, I’ll trust you anyway, because the alternative is unthinkable. When I doubt you, I’ll remember that you love me, that you want me. And when you doubt me, you’ll know that there would never be another for me.”

I kissed her, to seal the deal.

When we parted, she looked down sheepishly.

I squeezed her hip. “What is it?”

“ I guess I feel a little guilty about the whole thing. I wasn’t here to relieve you, that was bad enough, but then I told you not to come for a whole week. I can’t help but wonder if that wasn’t the cause of your little… indiscretion.” Of course she would find some way to heap the blame upon her sexy shoulders. And technically, that’s exactly what had set me off, but it wasn’t her fault that I was so hot for her all the damn time.

Then again, I wasn’t one to give up an advantage.

“ You might be onto something,” I mused. “Perhaps you owe me one.”

She caught my teasing tone and raised one eyebrow. “You think I deserve a punishment?”

“ No…” I hedged. “But you did mention that if I had just come to you with a proposal for a threesome-”

“ So you do want another woman,” she exclaimed.

“ Not a woman.”

Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “Wyle, what are you telling me?”

“ I’ve always had this one setup in my head. Me, tied up in the corner. You, on the bed with some hot guy between your legs.”

“ Oh my God!” That wasn’t surprise in her voice but pure delight.

I kissed her again, pushed her back against the wall. The flash of aggression surprised me; it surprised her too, based on the moan she released into my mouth. But I wanted her this way, now, quickly, and I’d keep going unless she told me to stop. Instead she pulled me closer until we both tumbled to the ground, her body a hot, sweet cradle for mine.

We wrestled with our clothes, lost in a flurry of fabric and heated skin. And then, blessedly, we were both bare. More than that we were joined, our flesh rubbing together, fusing. I pushed inside her, and this was the one constant. No matter who was on top, who was topping, there was this. Her wet heat gripping so tightly I was sure I’d never last another thrust-until I did. Again and again.

“ How does he take me?” she gasped.

I groaned as the fantasy sketched in my head. “From behind.”

“ Hard?” She panted. “Does he fuck me hard?”

“ God, yeah.” My hips pistoned faster, deeper, to demonstrate.

“ Your hands, they’re tied up?” Her eyelids were so low, her inner muscles quivering around me. She was so damn close to orgasm, but her voice was only out of breath, still underlined with steel. Even now she was invincible. “You can’t touch yourself. Can’t rub against anything at all while you’re watching?”

And I felt it; even as my cock was engulfed in her wet heat, I ached with denial. Pleasure and pain coiled together, and then she went over. Those sounds, those fucking beautiful sounds-out of breath, out of control, and finally I came too, lost. Around her, over her, owned by her.

Slowly our breathing evened out, racing hearts calmed. She ran a gentling hand along the back of my neck. I pressed a kiss to her temple, damp with sweat. This was the sweetest game: the two of us joined together with no barriers and no pretense.

I knew then that we would never run out of ideas, not as long as we had each other. But in the end, that wasn’t what would keep us together. It was trust. And sex. But mostly the trust.