Page 55 of Sweet Oblivion

Did she think of me?

Did she touch herself?

Touch her soft skin the way I would touch her?

Did she gasp? Did she shake the way I want to make her shake?

Scream the way I want to make her scream?

I stroke my cock, slow and hard, imagining her taste on my tongue.

The feel of her beneath me. Above me. Coming undone.

My muscles tighten, and I groan, gripping my cock harder.

Closing my eyes.

Getting lost in my wife.

And when I open them again, they lock on the fantasy.

Golden eyes staring back at me.

Her mouth open in shock.

Only she’s not my imagination.

She’s real. And she’s right in front of me.

Watching.

As I come with her name on my lips.

DELANEY

Me: Not today, Satan.

Satan: Thank. Fucking. God. Even I can’t deal with the level of depravity in your life right now.

—Delaney’s Secret Thoughts

Gingerly, I change into a tank and shorts and pull on socks, ignoring the little voice in my head that is happily singing because Ryker Beneventi, the beautiful football God who dominated that field today, is alive and well and naked in my shower. Sweet baby Jesus. This man.

I’m not a woman who gets hot and bothered, but the idea of... No. I will not go there.

Shit. Sorry Tori.

My pretty little pig squeals and darts out from under my feet when I step on her in the midst of my daydream... fantasy... Oh hell. What’s it called when you start picturing your fiancé naked before you go to bed with him, where the idea of him getting too close scares you to death? Pretty sure that’s called fucked up.

Or how about the fact that the idea doesn’t necessarily scare me the way it once would have? When exactly did that happen?

“Tori . . . No!”

She pushes her way through the bathroom door, and I try to grab her before?—

Oh . . . My . . . God . . .

Before I regret every life decision that led me here.