“Mmhm. Especially in the morning.” I move my fingers a bit faster now, kissing her in earnest. She moans into my mouth while I groan as my balls grow heavier, my dick twitchier, leaking precum into my boxers, wanting to fuck her hole, put some babies inside her womb, secure his best asset forever and ever. Amen, cock. I want that too.
I circle her clit and keep moving my fingers, and the noise her wet pussy makes as I finger fuck it is music to my ears. Through hooded eyes, Benny’s watching me as I kiss her slowly, sometimes moving my tongue at the same pace as my fingers.
I see the moment she’s close. Her hips lift and seek my fingers, and she starts kissing me frantically. I release the hold on her throat and let her do whatever she wants with my body.
I did tell her she could touch me anywhere, anytime. And I meant it. I want my wife to be free to approach me and not fear me or think she needs permission to get her sexy on.
Benny grabs my hair and hooks her legs around my hips. “Hudson, I need you inside me.”
I pump her with my fingers. “You will spend the night in our bedroom, then.”
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, anything.” She’s sliding her body on the counter now, chasing her orgasm. I grab her throat again, and she freezes. Inside her pussy, I stop pumping. Instead, I start flicking my fingers up and down inside her, massaging her inner walls. She’s so fucking wet, I’m gonna make her squirt even if she’s not a squirter.
Benny’s moaning loudly, and I squeeze her throat slightly, making blood rush to her face. “Come on my fingers now. Do it.” I press her clit.
Benny screams, her body convulsing, and I steady my fingers inside so I can feel her channel tremble before her shoulders slump.
I bring her to my chest as I remove my fingers. I lift them up and see a streak of blood. I smear it on my face like war paint.
Benny hugs my middle. Her small hands stroke my back first, then slide right inside my jeans. She grabs my ass, and just when I think she’ll squeeze and let go, she seems content to stay like this for a bit longer. I stroke her hair, already losing the bliss of this moment because my fast brain has already moved on to the next thing, whatever I’ll find on the security footage, which I intend to forward to a data geek. I’ll tell him to give me a summary of whatever he might consider of interest to me.
But before that, I want to ask my wife about what I’ll find in the footage. I want to ask, but I don’t. Because what’s better than that is having a bit more time with her like this, living in blissful ignorance of the fact she might actually be a faker. A liar, hereonly because she’s better off with me than with the man who almost married her.
Second best doesn’t sit well with me. I’m in want of a genuine relationship shared by two happily married people who are in love. And I want this yesterday. I want it three weeks ago when I fucked up and left for a business trip. At the time, I thought she’d appreciate my absence, sort out her feelings, and get to know the house. I regret that now.
I wish I’d stayed.
I wish I’d taken her to lunch, to dinner. Gone on a honeymoon.
“Benny?”
“Hm?”
“Get dressed, Princess. We’re leaving.”
She lifts her head. “Okay. Um, is there an emergency that just ran through your head?”
“No, but there will be if you’re not ready in one hour. I’ll wait. I love waiting.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” I step away from the counter so she can hop off, fix her hair, and look up at me.
“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” She bites her lip.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Good or bad surprise?”
I tilt my head. “What are you afraid of?”
Benny pauses, then I see the moment when she decides she’ll tell me, likely against her better judgment. “That you’ll be all great now, but in a month, you’ll surely get bored, and by then, I’m gonna be left not just alone in the house, but also heartbroken.”
“That’s not the kind of man I am.”
Benny walks away, mumbling, “Will see, won’t we?”
6
