Authors: Sarah McCarty
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Short Stories (Single Author)
turbulence of the evening. Jealousy that her husband’s past
lovers had been more adventurous than she.
He came up behind her as she stood by the fire. She
shivered as he moved her hair aside, baring her neck. The
heat of his breath touched her first, moist and tantalizing,
brushing across her sensitive nerve endings in an
evocative arc.
“Ready?”
The question whispered against her neck. Goose
bumps sprang up in a silent “Hel , yes,” she couldn’t get
past her throat. She tilted her head, inviting a kiss instead,
shuddering when he gave it to her. His cock pressed
against her buttocks, rock hard and eager while his hands
slid down her sleeves until his fingers intertwined with hers.
She gripped his hands in hers. “As I’l ever be.”
He laughed into the curve of her shoulder, sending new
goose bumps chasing after the last set, the flick of his
tongue encouraging their tingling spread to her breast and
nipples. His big hands whispered across the front of her
coat, taunting both breasts with the promise of a touch she
couldn’t feel, making her strain for any ghost of sensation.
The tension in her limbs gathered in her pussy, throbbing
with an eagerness that faintly embarrassed her. As if a
woman should consider her attraction to her husband a
weakness.
“Having second thoughts?”
“I’m a little stuck in my ways.”
He turned her in his arms. “At the risk of repeating
myself yet again, I like your ways.”
No, he didn’t; he couldn’t. She didn’t even like them.
“And that’s why you always hold back with me.”
“Is that a complaint?”
She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. “I’m not the
one who should be complaining.”
Two fingers under her chin brought her gaze up. “The
reason you haven’t heard me complain is because I don’t
have any complaints.”
“You want a woman who lets go, who can let you be in
charge.”
His gaze never wavered from hers. “The only woman I
want is you.”
She dropped her forehead into his chest. The down of
his coat cushioned her landing. “I know.”
His arms came around her shoulders. “So what’s the
problem?”
“I want to be that woman, too!”
There, her not-so-secret secret was out.
His coat rustled as his lips touched her temple. “Have I
ever told you I think you’re a nut?”
She shook her head.
His smile spread against her temple. “I’m fairly sure I
have.”
“Not today.”
“My mistake.” This time it was his thumb that propped
her chin up. “You know I’l give you anything you want, in or
out of the bedroom.”
She knew that. He was a very generous lover. She
turned her head and cleared her throat. To her dismay, her
voice was stil held a betraying husk of uncertainty. “I know.”
“And you want this?”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held on.
“The one place I never wanted to be in charge was the
bedroom.”
And it was the one place where she couldn’t seem to let
go. His hand stroked her hair, pul ing her cheek to his
chest, holding her tight. “Ah, baby.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes. “I’m a nut.”
His thumb pressed against her lower lip, bringing her
eyes back open. “No, you’re my wife.”
She angled her head back wrinkled her nose. “Who’s a
nut.”
“Who’s everything I want.” His gaze didn’t leave hers.
“Just the way she is.”
That wasn’t good enough anymore. At least not for her.
“But what if I don’t want to be this way?”
“Then we change.”
She had so many hang-ups, so many reasons for how
she was, none of them worth holding onto. “What if I can’t?”
“Then we keep trying.”
She took a breath and released his wrist, clutching his
coat sleeve instead. She sighed. “You make it sound so
easy.”
“Al you’ve got to do is whatever I tel you. No right, no
wrong. No need to think.” He arched his eyebrow at her.
“How hard can it be?”
Not that hard. At least in theory. “Marc?”
He reached around her and closed the door to the
woodstove. “Right here.”
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?”
“I’m open to hearing it again.”
The familiar response given with that familiar smile took
away more of her nervousness. This was Marc. She trusted
him with her life. She could certainly trust him with her
sexuality. She linked her hands around his neck and
snuggled her hips into his, giving him a smile back of her
own. “Make it worth my while and I wil .”
His brow arched. “Is that a chal enge?”
She did her best to look demure. “Maybe.”
“That sounded like a chal enge.”
“I would never chal enge you.”
His smile spread. “Like hel .”
“Wel ,” she amended, “not without reason.”
His hands cupped her hips, his fingers stretching to the
sensitive inside of her thighs. With an easy flex of muscle
he lifted her up. Becky wrapped her legs around his hips as
he turned. This close she could see the desire darkening
the green of his eyes, feel the tension humming under his
skin, feel that side of his personality she’d always fought
surge. His gaze held hers, the blue more prominent than the
green as it always was when he was aroused. “It’s risky
business chal enging a man with my nature.”
She feathered her fingers in the hair at the base of his
neck. “Maybe I’ve just decided it’s time to see how much
bite there is to your bark.”
“Uh-huh. Know what happens to women who play with
fire?”
Her hips jostled against his as he walked to the
bedroom, the soft cotton of her sweatpants doing nothing to
protect her from the pressure against her clit. Desire
sparkled through her blood. Excitement shortened her
breath. She loved it when he went al macho on her. “Nope.”
Marc stopped just inside the bedroom door, his gaze
holding hers as he let her slide down his body, the hot
length of his cock caressing the inside of her thighs until her toes touched the floor. Her held her there, suspended in his
embrace, his cock notched between her legs, pressing
against her through his jeans and her pants as he drawled,
“Their husbands get to see how hot they can make them
burn.”
He let her go. She stumbled, caught between the king-
size bed behind her and her husband in front, daring and
dread rising with equal fervor.
Of course, he saw. He touched her cheek. “What?”
“Don’t let me ruin this.”
He shook his head, the firm line of his mouth softening.
“There’s no way you can ruin anything.”
But she could fail. She grabbed his hand. “Promise me
you’l just do it like we talked about.”
He frowned. “I can’t promise that. Not if you’re not
enjoying yourself.”
“I might be uncomfortable at first, but I swear I’l enjoy it.”
“Let’s see.”
He took her hand in his, pul ing it behind his back, pul ing
her into his arms. The touch of his lips on hers was firm
when she’d expected soft, commanding when she’d
expected reassurance, throwing her off balance. While she
struggled to find the rhythm in the kiss, he caught both of
her hands and moved them behind her back, anchoring
them in one of his, keeping her helpless as his mouth took
charge of hers. Fire streaked from her breasts, her thighs,
her lips, leaping along her nerve endings, the feeling of
helplessness feeding the flames.
The zipper of her coat rasped louder than her heartbeat
as he slid it down. His palm swal owed the smal mound of
her breast, bare beneath her shirt because he’d requested
it, pressing and massaging, stoking the burning ache,
sending it deeper, and al she could do was stand there
and take the pleasure he was giving her. The way he
wanted. Oh God. Her knees buckled. It was so good.
He caught her easily, holding her stil for more of his
touch, his desire. The pinch of his thumb and forefinger on
her nipple made her jump, except she couldn’t go
anywhere, do anything. He was in charge. In complete
control. Her lids fluttered open. He was staring down at her,
the desire burning so brightly in her mirrored in the tight set of his expression. Along with that realization came another.
He liked her like this. The knowledge settled deep, giving
her the courage to lower her lids, lick her lips, and ask, “Is
that al you’ve got?”
His laugh was more sensual than amused; the answer
he gave short and to the point. “Hardly.”
The pressure on her nipple increased to the point of
pain. His gaze never left hers as she waited, breath
suspended in her chest, womb clenched expectantly,
whether in hope or dread, she didn’t know. With a smal
smile, he released her nipple and turned her around. Becky
stood there, breath shuddering, adrenalin flowing for three
uncomprehending seconds until he said, “Bend over.”
And the conflagration started again, her mind racing
ahead of her actions, picturing how she’d look to him, her
hands braced on the bed, her rear thrust back in a purely
submissive pose.
When she would have shrugged off her coat, Marc
caught her shoulders.
“No.”
Subtle pressure bent her over. She caught her weight on
her hands, feeling awkward and vulnerable and as turned
on as she’d ever been as his hand grazed up the inside of
her thigh, pressing her leg to the left in a smooth demand
before repeating the same caress with the other leg.
His fingertips pressed lightly against her pussy. “I’ve
been thinking about this since morning.”
It was a struggle to find her voice. “What exactly is
‘this’?”
His shadow fel over her as he stood, making her vividly
aware of his size, the need to dominate he’d always kept in
check for her. The need she’d asked him to let loose. His
hands on the waistband of her sweatpants were cold. She
jumped. Her pants and underwear fol owed the shiver as it
snaked down to her toes. “Your ass.”
Which told her nothing and suggested everything.
The snap of his fingers against her right cheek had her
jumping again. “Push back.”
She did.
Another tiny slap, this one so soft it seemed to absorb
the sting of the other. In the aftermath, his palm lingered.
“You liked that?”
There was no way she could deny it, even if every
liberated bone in her body demanded that she do so.
Those betraying goose bumps were at it again,
telegraphing her delight. The zipper of his jeans rasped
loudly in the silence. She swal owed hard; the image of him
taking her ful y clothed played like a siren’s lure in her mind.
Hard, deep, his focus on his pleasure. Oh yes. She wanted
him to take her like that. To use her for his satisfaction, to
let her be nothing more than what he needed this once. Not
having to think, to worry, just being there to satisfy him
would be so good.
His fingers slipped between her thighs, cal used and
rough, sliding easily across her shaved labia. His laugh,
when he found her open and wet, held the smile she’d
missed earlier.
“Looks like you’ve been thinking, too.”
“Yes.” She always thought about him.
“Did you prepare yourself like I ordered?”
He could feel that she had, so he must just want to hear
her say it. “Yes.” Admitting that sent another quiver of
delight through her. Took her another step deeper into her
fantasy where her submissive side got free rein.
“Good.”
He eased his cock up the crack of her ass. It slid
smoothly on the lubricated skin, making her shudder and
push back. His thumbs rubbed the inside of her cheeks,
holding her open for the next stroke.
The fat head of his cock caught on the edge of her anus.
Hunger, hot and dark, shot inward. Her cry was involuntary.
He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe for a second
— and then he snuggled the broad head against the tight
opening, teasing her with the promise of the forbidden.
“Step out of your pants,” he ordered darkly, then stood
stil , letting her efforts to fol ow his order work him up and
down the crease.
As soon as she was free, she resumed her position. He
pushed her ankle with his foot. “Wider.”
She complied immediately, feeling completely exposed.
It only increased her excitement. His cock throbbed against
her. The touch of his fingers changed from caressing to
possessive as he moved her around, letting the head of his
cock probe first her ass and then lower; not entering, just
stroking like one might with a finger.
It was pure torment to stand so, bent over, exposed,
wondering where he would take her. When? Would he be
fast or slow? Would he let her come, or would he leave her
hanging, deliciously ful of his semen, pulsing with
anticipation?
He rubbed his cock over her buttocks. Despite her
efforts to stay quiet, a whimper escaped. It felt too good to
tolerate in silence. He rubbed some more. She gave up the