← Back
“Come here,” I said. “Me first.”
Her smile could have lit the street. She put the wine down, walked over and climbed into my lap in the armchair, knees either side of my hips, her dress riding up her thighs.
“Hello, husband,” she whispered.
She kissed me. Deep and hungry, more than she’d kissed me in months. Her hips started rolling, slow, grinding down onto my cock through my jeans. I groaned into her mouth.
“He’s watching,” she breathed against my lips. “Ross is watching us. Can you feel how wet that makes me?”
I could. Even through her knickers and my jeans, I could feel the heat of her.
She reached down and pulled the tie on her dress. It fell open. Underneath was a black lace bra and knickers I’d definitely never seen, sheer enough to show her dark nipples. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.
Ross made a sound behind her like he’d been punched.
Fiona kept her eyes on mine. She ground on me harder, took my hands and put them on her tits, squeezing them through the lace with her own fingers over mine.
“I love you,” she said. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m more than okay.”
“Tell me to go to him.”
My heart thudded. Over her shoulder, Ross was sitting forward on the sofa, jaw slack, palming himself through his jeans.
“How far, Cal?” she whispered. “Tell me how far.”