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I opened the door.
Ross jumped like he’d been shot and yanked his hand out of her knickers. “Cal! Mate, I…”
“Don’t stop,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”
Fiona held her arm out to me. I went to her, knelt on the floor beside the sofa and kissed her, deep, while Ross stared at us. She tasted of wine and of him.
“Help him,” she whispered against my mouth. “Both of you. Please.”
Ross’s hand went back between her legs, slower now, careful. I kissed her neck, her breasts, sucked one nipple into my mouth while he stroked her. She moaned so loud I worried about the neighbours.
Then Ross pulled her knickers down her legs and dropped them on the floor. He looked at me. Asking.
I nodded.
He bent his head and licked her. Long and slow, from the bottom to the top. Fiona’s back came clean off the sofa.
I kept kissing her mouth while my best friend ate my wife. Her moans poured into me. Her nails dug into my arm. I could hear him, wet and greedy, and feel her whole body shaking under my hand.
She broke the kiss, gasping. “Cal. Cal, I want…”
Ross lifted his head, lips glistening, and started unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. He looked at me again.
Something hot and sharp flared in my chest. Possessive. Primal. My wife, spread out on my sofa, about to be fucked by another man.