Dirty Heat (11 page)

I let out a nervous laugh, bringing my attention to Sebastian. “Oh, trust me. I would have felt you
and
it,” I say, leaning in and kissing him on the lips, setting a plate down in front of him.

“Uh, not the way you were snoring,” he says, teasing.

“The lies you tell. I was not. I don't snore.”

He chuckles, picking up his fork. “Yeah, okay. Next time I'm going to record you.”

“Whatever.” I laugh. “You do that.” I take a seat across from him. Lower my head, then say grace. But what I should be asking is, for God to have mercy on my horny soul.

“So how was Caracas?”

He chews a forkful of eggs, then swallows. “Very expensive. And flooded with robberies and murders. So we didn't get a chance to do much sightseeing on our own.”

“That's a shame.” I reach over and lift a piece of bacon from off his plate, biting into it.

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Curaçao, however, was peaceful. Got a chance to get out and tour the country a bit. I'd like to go back with you. It's a beautiful country. Besides, we're
overdue for a vacation.” He looks at me; his eyes filled with love and passion. And his heated gaze sends me skidding deeper into emotional turmoil. How can I love this man with everything in me, yet cheat on him—with our son's best friend, no less? How can I sit here—pussy pulsing and needy—looking in Sebastian's face and have the image of Kyree's hard dick still stained into my brain?

God knows Sebastian doesn't deserve my indiscretions. But when I'm with Kyree I feel powerful surges of excitement. And, frankly, I can't get enough of him.

Ping.
There's another text message. Instantly, my walls clench at the thought of it being another naughty text from Kyree. Or maybe another snapshot of his cock.

I ignore the burning urge to look at the screen.

My stomach roils as Sebastian reaches over and gently strokes my hand. “It's been a long time since we've made love on a secluded beach.”

I smile, taking my husband in. He's still as handsome as he was the day I fell in love with him. Aside from his graying edges and the sprinkles of gray in his goatee, he still has a youthful appearance. And he is still very much desirable. He just doesn't excite me with the same intensity as he once did.

God, I feel so horrible for saying that, let alone for feeling it. But I would never, ever, tell him this. Or make him feel any less loved or wanted. Loving Sebastian has always been easy. He's easygoing and has made being married to him uncomplicated. No drama. No disrespect. No second-guessing. He's always upfront, honest, and true to his words. And he's provided me with a wonderful lifestyle. And he's been a loving husband and father. Always.

Still…

Kyree—with all of his college boy charm and sexiness—has robbed me of the will to resist him. Having my panties
and
my control snatched away so quickly by him is as exhilarating as it is unsettling.

Damn him.

My mind wanders back to yesterday. Him tied to the bed. Me between his legs. And how he groaned long and low as I moaned against his balls, my tongue swathing against the ridges before sucking one into my mouth, followed by the other until I had them soaked. I swallow, remembering the way my mouth felt against his chest, trailing wet kisses toward each nipple. How I pinched both nipples. Hard. Harder. Tightening down on the chocolate peaks, causing his rock-hard abs to contract as he groaned out in pleasure. He'd been helpless to me as I've been to him. And I savored it.

Oh, God.

Shaking salacious thoughts of my sweaty, sex-filled romp with Kyree from my mind, I lean in and kiss Sebastian on the lips. “Yes, we are,” I say rising to my feet, while removing the dishes from the table. “Say the word. And I'm packed.”

He pats my ass. “You know what time it is when I get home tonight, don't you?”

Yes. Fifteen minutes of passionate sex.
“You should have taken what you needed early this morning,” I say teasingly.
Although I'm glad you didn't.

My cell phone pings again for another incoming text. This time I pull it out of my pocket and glance at it as MESSAGING lights up on the screen. I don't punch in my passcode, though, to retrieve the message.

Sebastian rises and walks up behind me at the sink. “You know, baby,” he slides an arm around my waist, kissing me on the neck, “it would have been great waking up to you all over me.”

“I know,” I say softly.

His hands slide over my breasts, where they stay. He cups them. “Your husband's been away for almost two weeks. You should have missed him.” He presses his dick into my lower back. “And this.”

I swallow. “Mmm. I do. I did.”

Guilt creeps up into the pit of my stomach as I grip my cell in my hand. Maybe he's right. I should have pounced on him. Should have wakened him to a wet mouth full of his cock. Should have had my cunt hovering over his face as an early morning breakfast treat. I should be sex-starved and eager to be ravished by him. But we all know why I'm not.

Kyree.

Damn him.

But that doesn't mean I am still not turned on by my husband's touch. Sebastian grinds himself into me; the length of his arousal presses into my lower back, thick and wanting. He pinches my nipples and I hear myself let out a moan. Then somehow—I don't know, it happens so fast—I am spun around, my back pressing up against the sink as he steps between my knees, and he gently kneads my breasts.

“I've missed you, baby,” he says, pinching my already sensitive nipples. He pulls me into him tightly, nestling my pussy against his thigh, and I can feel the thick bulge of his dick as it throbs against my stomach. “Where's Jacob?” he asks; his mouth is beside my ear, then his tongue is tracing my lobe, causing my already moist pussy to simmer in its juices.

“H-he's still asleep.” My voice is low. Then it catches as he kisses along the column of my neck.

“Good,” he mutters against my flesh.

“You b-better stop. Mmm.” I squirm. My arms wrap around him, my free hand inching up and down along his muscled back. “You'll be late…for work.”

His hands ease lower, sliding over my hips, then down over my ass. He cups it in his big hands. Squeezes it. Grinds his hard dick deeper into my belly. And instantly my pussy melts into a puddle. Yet, I'm torn. Unsure if it's because of Sebastian's smoldering gaze and his touch all over my body or if it's the lingering thoughts I have of Kyree's text messages that I am on fire. His persistent desire to fuck me, to taste me, to have me morning, noon, and night.

I feel my throat close with emotion. God, I love my husband. He is my heart. And, in spite of that, I am fucking him over. Unwilling—okay, not yet ready, to let go of my deliciously hung boy toy. His dick, his lips, his tongue, pops into my head. And I shiver, wondering if I am I really willing to risk everything I have with Sebastian for some young, hard dick?

“Work can wait,” Sebastian murmurs, pulling me out of my seductive trance as his hand slides inside my robe, then between my legs. “Right now”—his fingers find my clit and lightly pinch it over my damp panties—“I want my wife.”

I gasp.

“You're already wet.” He cups my pussy, pressing his palm inward. “Ride my hand.”

“Not here,” I push out. Breathy. “Bedroom.”

“No. Here. Now.”

Slowly, I shake my head as my legs close, capturing his hand. “B-but, Jacob.”

“He's asleep, remember?”

“But—”

“Now.” His finger presses against my lip before skimming back down my body. I swallow. I've never denied Sebastian pussy. Never. No matter where he's wanted it. So right now will be no different, no matter what internal conflicts I have going on inside my head.

“We—”

“Let's live on the edge a little.” My robe falls open. “Let's be adventurous, baby.”
The nightgown beneath rises above my hips. Sebastian's finger follows my wet seam, making me shudder.

“Oh, God, yes.”

“You're so soft, baby. So wet.”

My breath hitches in my throat, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out in ecstasy. Overlapping two fingers, Sebastian thrusts inside me and slides them in and out of my slickness.

“You're wet for me, baby.”

“Yes.” I gasp, tossing my head back. “Yes. It's all for you.”

Liar!

Slut-ass!

You're wet for Kyree.

You let that young boy fuck you senseless.

U make me cum so hard

I moan. “Oh, fucking god, baby, please.”

Sebastian presses his pelvis into me. “This dick missed you.”

He's looking at me, through me, with a force that makes me shiver. I fear if I look at him too long that I'll get lost in the intensity of his deep, brown eyes and he'll see my lies, my truths.

I love my husband.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

But I am unfaithful to him.

I want you sooo bad u jst dnt kno baby

I shut my eyes—blocking out the heated text messages burning on my phone and squeezing out the imagery of Kyree's young muscular body and the tight lacing of muscle wrapped around his frame; his wet tongue, his soft lips all over my body—and focus my energy, my attention, my needs, on the sensations brought on by Sebastian. Focus on the feeling of being filled so deliciously. The sweet way his fingers brush against my spot. Hearing my juices slosh around his fingers.

Beneath my nightgown, my nipples are as hard as pebbles. My
pussy is as wet as a river, rippling with pleasure. I want more, need more. Now. Shamelessly. More Sebastian. More Kyree. More sex. More fucking. More deceit.

My cell hits the floor as I reach for the buckle of Sebastian's belt and unfasten it.

“I can't wait to slide up in you.”

“Oh, yes,” I breathe. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes…” My hand fumbles for the button on his trousers. I flip it open, then ease down the zipper and yank open his shirt. Buttons fly everywhere. I slip my hand inside his underwear, then yank them down his hips. Veined and thick as my wrist, his luscious ebony-colored dick springs upward from tight coils of dark brown hair and heavy balls. The mushroom head is so engorged, already wet, already pulsing.

I gasp. The mere sight of it is impressively breathtaking.

“You're my everything, baby,” Sebastian says, cupping my ass, then lifting me up on the edge of the sink. My arms go around his neck as he thrusts hard, sinking deep in one lunge, wrenching a cry from me as I melt around him.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, finally staring in his eyes. Seeing him, and only him. I say it again. “Fuck me.” This time my voice is filled with more urgency. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Sebastian's eyes light up with a mixture of surprise and fascination in them. He's never heard me talk this way. Just as I've never known him to want to fuck me out in the open knowing there's a chance our son, Jacob, could walk in on us.

Twisting fingers through my hair, Sebastian tugs, and bends to sprinkle kisses across my jaw, then laps his way up toward my ear, nipping. Heat fans from his breath along the sensitive skin along my neck as his dick slices into my pussy.

“Yes, yes, yes…oh, baby, yes…fuuuuuck meeee…”

“You feel so good, baby,” he mutters against my skin. Then his mouth finds mine. He licks my lips, nips my bottom lip, enticing me to part them. I do for him.

For Kyree.

For Sebastian.

For the both of them.

Kyree.

Damn him.

Sebastian's tongue sweeps through my mouth, lingering, as if he's searching for something sweet to savor. And I let him, giving into the sweetness of his kiss.

I choke back emotions as my climax swells. I feel myself melting perilously fast.

Sebastian stretches me wide, and the heat of my betrayal rises with the tide of my orgasm.

I am on the verge of coming.

“Oh, oh, oh…”

Sebastian rasps, “Ah, yeah. Shit, baby.”

He is on the verge of coming, too.

“Come with me, baby.” He pants, covering his mouth with mine again.

Liquid fire dances through my core. Tears spring from my eyes.

I come.

He grunts.

I keep coming, my body shuddering.

Sebastian keeps grunting, his body shaking.

Inside me I feel him growing impossibly thicker, bigger, taking more of me, each stroke burning my pussy.

I dig my nails into his back. Urge him on. Beg him.

“Keep fucking me. Mmm. Mmm…yes, yes, yes…”

He growls. And comes. Flooding me with everything he is.

•  •  •

Three days later…

“We have to stop this,” I tell Kyree in a breathy whisper. The roping of muscle in his biceps, thick and hard, as he hovers over me with his now semi-erect dick still inside of me. I reach up and trace his sweaty cheekbone with my thumb. He stares at me, searching my face for contradictions. There are so many. My guilt is eating away at me. However, not enough to keep me home. Once again, Kyree and I are at a sleazy motel three towns away—sneakily, catching our breaths from a round of sweet, sweaty fucking.

He grins down at me, slowly circling his hips, stirring his dick inside of my juices.

Somewhere stuck in my muddled thoughts is the possibility of his nut-filled condom slipping off his dick inside me; his little white-creamed soldiers swimming their way to the center of everything I am. I already feel like I've given him more than I should.

Yet, he keeps taking more of me.

And I keep letting him.

Screwing him is one thing. Getting pregnant by him is a whole other level of betrayal. But I don't express my concern about the chances of his condom slipping off inside of me. I'm not ready for him or his cock to vacate the warmth and wetness.