A hush settled over the room. I could feel my wife's anticipation.My hand spread wider on her thigh.
“I've read about women who taste like sin. Decadent. Dark. Deadly.Irresistible. You're addictive like that. You cause the same kind of obsession, dangerous because you embody what a man would risk it all for.”
A soft exhale escaped my wife as my fingertips traced random patterns on the inside of her thigh.
“Targen,” she whispered.
“Shh.”
“But sin?” Rielle continued. “Nah. You don't set me on a path to ruin like sin. You saved me in places you never saw, in times you never knew, in ways I can't speak. If I could imagine the ways sin tasted, it’s like something made fast, so you fall before you have time to think, to regret. And you taste....” Another pause. “You taste like something God made slow.”
Theory’s breath caught. My hand slid higher. Her thighs pressed together. I smiled against her ear.
“Open,” I murmured.
She inhaled sharply. “You better not.”
“I better not what?”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the tablecloth.
But those thick thighs opened more.
“You taste like warm honey when it's slipping from that wooden spoon. You taste like golden sunlight on my tongue. You taste sweet enough to make a man like me forget every ugly thing he’s ever done and remember why he'd do them again.”
I tapped the seat of her panties, smiled at the dampness I found there. My shorty was always wet for me, open when she didn't even want to admit it.
“Your skin looks like it, too. Warm, soft, golden... like it glows from the inside. How could a man keep himself from reaching for you twice?”
Theory shifted in her seat.
I knew that movement. Her legs spread. My fingers slipped below the silk to something infinitely softer. Rielle continued calmly while I sat there beside my wife pretending I wasn't doing filthy things to her.
“And your eyes… when you look at me with those honey-brown eyes, I finally understand obsession. I understand why men ruined kingdoms and started wars. I understand what can make a man who is feared kneel.”
Theory’s lashes fluttered once. My fingers slid up, rubbed gently. Her breathing changed.
“Targen,” she whispered without looking at me.
I ignored her, let my fingers work as Rielle read.
“I love it when you're sweet as honey,milaya,when you laugh and tease and melt all over me. But when you're angry? When you argue and pretend your mouth wasn’t made to be kissed slow?”
I whispered the last line against her ear. She bit her lip against a moan, fought to stay still as her breathing and pulse quickened.
“You breathing hard,milaya.”
“'Cause you acting up in public,” she hissed under her breath.
Rielle spoke the next line. “I love showing you that it is. But just when I feel like I win?—”
I felt the soft tremors of her coming orgasm, hid a smile at the thought of making my woman, mywifefall apart in a room full of people.
“Targen, please,” she whispered. “Baby... don't.”
Fuck. I wanted her to cum, but I wanted her to want it more than that.
I moved in my seat. My thumb stroked one more time along the inside of her thigh, slower this time.
