“Gideon!” his wife screamed, her lush, supple body hot and writhing beneath him, her fingernails digging furrows into his shoulders, her thick legs wrapped around him, holding him to her, inside her.
Moaning, his large body shaking, he dragged in a trembling breath and looked down at her, taking in the sensual and erotic picture she made.
That ever-present beast rising, he forced it down, refusing to let it loose, to let it have its way, to give it what it wanted.
Kendra.
Swearing, he shook his head, desperate to clear away the foolishness, the useless yet dangerous thoughts that had been coming more and more often over the last three years.
Instead, he focused on the then and now.
He’d fucked her. Seed dispensed. Job done.
At least she isn’t bad in bed.
It wasn’t a waste of his Sunday morning.
Pushing himself upright, he slowly withdrew, slipping from the cradle of her thighs to plop down beside her, his chest heaving.
He closed his eyes, willing the image of his wife, replete and well-pleasured, to disappear from his mind.
He didn’t want to see that, to remember that. To allow the beast to wallow in its own pride at pleasuring its woman.
The beast, a part of him for too long, seemed to have a mind, drive, needs of its own, but it was simply him at his most basic, most primal…most vulnerable.
The man, the higher reasoning, the one driven by goals, logic, and efficiency, cared little about what the beast wanted, only allowing it even a sliver of freedom when there were enemies to tear to shreds.
The beast was driven by instinct. The man was driven by the need to control, to conquer, to never be weak again.
The beast enjoyed sex, the primal need to plant seed, to continue the bloodline, to claim a mate in the most elemental way.
The man also enjoyed sex, but his need was practical—he needed an heir. And so he fucked his legal wife.
A scheduled “meeting of bodies” every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday nights.
Wanting more from Kendra was foolishness; it gave her too much power, too much control, allowed her access to the deepest parts of himself, the parts where that goddamn beast dwelt. So, offering Kendra more of him was impossible.
Sex was sex, though, a means to an end.
An end his wife wasn’t fulfilling.
Sure, the sex was good—fucking out of this world—but he could find that anywhere. Women were a dime a dozen in his world. They all wanted the sexy, wealthy, powerful Gideon Maddox to pound them into splinters in his bed. He could have that whenever he wanted, had been tempted to do so on many occasions, but one thing kept him from taking that step.
It was boring.
At forty, he’d had more than his fair share of women, empty encounters with fame-chasers, gold-diggers, and bored socialites looking for a quick thrill. And it had grown old. As he had.
And he had nothing to show for all that fucking around other than a reputation for leaving them wanting more, and having a big, fat cock.
That, though, held no value to him or the empire he’d built with his brothers.
But a wife…she supposedly added value because she provided the wholesome image of the family man, the loyal, caring, adoring husband. And she was capable of providing him a legitimate heir, someone to mold into his image and, one day, take over as head of the Maddox empire.
At least that’s what he’d believed three years ago.
Now, however, he was rethinking his choice in wives.
Kendra, for all her potential, was becoming a liability rather than the investment he’d chosen, charmed, and consummated.
