My naughty little fucking wife is wearing a short dress.
A very, very short dress that shows off her long, shapely legs and barely covers her fat ass. The dress is made of some kind of thin, partially sheer material that clings to every curve she has.
Her tits. Her ass. The dip of her waist and flare of her hips.
It’s all on display thanks to the clingy fabric. Something the men in her vicinity seem to be enjoying getting a view of.
She’s wearing a full face of makeup. Dark, smoky eyes and glossy lips that further seem to symbolize her rebellion.
She’s straightened her hair into long sheets that fall over her shoulders. She looks like a fucking fantasy come to life.
Gorgeous. Sexy. Dangerous.
Every man in this club knows it. They’re all eyeing her and Chantal as if deciding when best to make their move.
My hands curl into fists.
They’re drinking and laughing when some guys in ball caps approach. Two of them. One says something to Simone, gesturing to the dance floor. She glances at Chantal, who giggles and nods.
Yes.
They say yes to the assholes and let them guide them to the floor.
The song playing changes to something with a heavy, grinding beat as they start dancing.
Simone is obviously a natural dancer. She moves to the beat, rotating her hips in circles that remind me how good she was at riding my cock.
Then the man steps behind her, pulling her up against him. Her ass to his front, his hands on her waist. On his face he’s got the biggest fucking grin I’ve ever seen.
He thinks he’s scored; he’s about to get lucky withmywife tonight.
An instant, intense, blinding rage surges through me.
My vision narrows, and I black out. I’m no longer in control of what I do as primitive, territorial urges take hold, and suddenly I’m launching myself into the crowd.
She’s mine. My fucking wife.
And she’s out here, dressed like that, dancing with another man. Letting him touch her. Letting his hands rest on her waist where my hands should be.
People notice me coming and start scrambling out my way, clearing a path. Their faces are all a blur. The one and only thing I can see is my wife dancing with another man.
They look up at the last possible second. Simone’s eyes widen in shock while the guy laughs like I must be mistaken.
“You mind? I’m in the middle of some—ARGH!”
I’ve pulled my fist back and decked him in the jaw.
My knuckles crack against his face, and his head snaps back, his balance lost as he tumbles to the ground.
Gasps ripple across the dance floor. The music keeps playing, but people around us have stopped dancing, staring in shock.
I don’t give a single fuck.
I grab Simone, my grip like iron around her wrist.
“You’re coming with me.”
TEN
