She’s ours.
“Dad,can Sibby read my story tonight?” Tucker grins at me from the table that’s now covered in glitter and crayons.
“Oh, kiddo, I should probably head home.” Sibyl winces, as if the lie tastes sour in her mouth.
“Please? Just one time? You never babysit me at night anymore.”
“Because I have you almost every day.” She giggles, shaking her head at his puppy-dog eyes.
“It’s up to her.” I wink.
“Fine,” she sighs, letting Tucker haul her up the stairs.He chats the whole way upstairs about the book we’ve been reading together.
I load the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, then put away the craft supplies Sibyl and Tucker used for their after-supper adventure time—as Tuck called it. By the time I make it up the stairs, Tucker’s nearly asleep. His eyes drooping, one hand wrapped around Sibyl’s, his other arm tucked under his head.
Sybil’s sweet voice flows in a steady cadence, like a song. I can understand why it lulled him to sleep. His little fingers loosen on her arm, and Sibyl’s gaze moves from the book to Tucker’s face. She leans forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, wiggling out of his grip. She sets the book on the nightstand. A smile splits her lips when she catches me watching.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I murmur into her lips, pressing mine to them in a chaste kiss. “C’mon.” I tug her hand, pulling her down the hall with me.
As soon as the bedroom door is closed, I haul her into me, devouring her mouth in a hungry kiss. My hands work to get her bun down, fingers slipping through the silky strands.
A sigh brushes my lips as she melts into me. I back her up toward the bed, stopping for a second to remove my shirt, before I’m back to kissing her.
We topple over as the back of her knees hit the bed. A giggle comes from her sweet lips as I work to get her skinny jeans off.
“Shh,” I warn. “I might actually die if we get interrupted, Sibyl.”
Her giggle is quieter this time, eyes hungry beneath me.
“Shit.” I hop out of my jeans, making my way to lock thedoor, in case Tucker decides to get up and ask for water. She watches me stalk toward her, teeth sinking into her pouty lower lip.
My eyes draw down to her mouth before I rip another condom open with my teeth and climb onto the bed next to her. Covering my cock with the latex, I jerk my head toward it. “I wanna watch you ride me.”
Her eyes widen, a slow smile crossing her face. She climbs on top of me, straddling my lap. Hovering above me, she shifts forward to press a kiss to my chest, then sinks down, taking my length in one swift go.
We groan at the same time, adjusting to the feel of each other as our breath syncs. Hands on my chest, Sibyl lifts, swirling her hips before she drops back down. I nearly burst right then, hanging on to her hips for dear life.
Sibyl slams herself onto me, taking me like I was made for her. She’s barely even blinking while I feel as if I’m rearranging her insides. She settles on a rhythm, swirling and rocking her hips. I let my hands wander, touching every inch of skin I can reach.
I can’t take my eyes off her chest, watching her bounce above me. I curl myself up, capturing a nipple with my teeth. A muffled cry spills from her lips. Sybil covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes glaze over with lust as I work her nipple over. Moving to the next one, I give it the same treatment.
Muffled moans make it hard for me to concentrate on holding myself back. Sibyl reaches for my hand, pressing the pad of my finger into her clit. She covers her mouth again, her head dropping back as her inner walls pulse around me, drawing my releaseout with hers.
I watch her face, her eyes closed, lips parted in ecstasy. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
And just like that, one thought, and guilt barrels through me like a freight train.
I used to say the same thing about Lara. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. I could watch her come apart for hours and never grow tired of it.
Never wanted to be anywhere else.
And now I’m here—in her house. In her bed. With someone else. Someone who is not my wife.
Panic swells inside of me. My grip tightens painfully on her hips.
“Eli, you’re—oh.” Pain morphs into worry when Sibyl looks at me. “Oh God,” she whispers, her tone watery.
