Brett

 

It was the way she looked at me. Nervous but needy.

The way her fingers trembled in mine, even as I held them tight. The way her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at me across the bar, seeking reassurance, strong words. Strong everything.

And it was about more than that. About more than her. About more than the hope of a big, fat payout to see us through our troubles. About more than the most fucked-up ray of light in the darkness of our shitty venture.

It was about him.

That smug asshole Thomas Heath and the way he wanted my fucking wife.

My. Fucking. Wife.

Mine.

Grace was mine. My ring on her finger. My name at the end of hers.

My heart in her hands, for all fucking time.

And my fucking cock that belonged in that tight little pussy, for now and for fucking always.

She let out a gasp as I took her pretty curls in my hands and guided my mouth to hers. My lips pressed hard and my tongue pressed harder, hunting hers down before she’d even managed to compose herself. Her hands took a moment to find my arms and squeeze, sliding up to my shoulders and along to my collar where her fingers fizzed and fumbled at buttons.

It had been too long coming.

This.

Us.

The wine glasses went tumbling and wine spilled without care as I tugged her body with mine along the bar top to the hatch at the side.

She’d dipped underneath and into my arms before I’d even sprung the catch, pressing her body tight to mine as I tugged her pretty dress up from the hem.

“We should go to our room,” she whispered, but there was no way we were going anywhere.

No lights off. No hiding. No sensibility of love under the covers.

She was mine.

Anytime. Any place. Any-fucking-how.

Not least in our own fucking bar in the middle of the night.

Not least where he’d been.

It was unspoken between us, but it was there, loud and clear as our bodies clashed and ground and sought out the familiarity of her curves against my ridges. Her thighs were clammy and her knickers were soaked, and in one vile flash of jealousy I wondered if that was all for me.

“You’re wet,” I grunted, my eyes on fire as they found hers. My fingers were fierce as they curled inside the lace between her legs and found her wanting.

Her mouth was open as she parted her legs for me, but the flush was there on her cheeks, more guilty than any words could have made her.

I was rough, my thumb balling her clit until she gasped, two fingers plunging deep as she rocked for more.

“I want you,” she rasped. “Only you.”

She believed her own words, but her body didn’t. Her body didn’t believe a scrap of it, shuddery and ragged at the thought of another man wanting her enough to throw an obscene amount of cash at her.

Natural.

I told myself it was natural.

But fuck, how I raged in the pit of me.

My grip on her hair was harder than she was used to, her eyes opening wide as I tugged her head back to feast on the pale skin of her throat.

They were barely kisses I planted there, sucking and nipping with a ferocity I hadn’t known in years, not since the opposing team wolf-whistled and jeered obscenities at her from the side of the football field back in high school every Wednesday evening. I’d felt it then.

I’d felt it at one of her early work Christmas parties when her letch of a boss ran his hand down her back and landed it on her ass during a load of mindless office chatter.

She shivered as I sucked a mouthful of flesh between my teeth and nipped hard.

“Ow, Brett,” she whispered, but her hand hooked behind my neck and held me close, her breaths short and wanting more.

It was primal, this crazy need to mark her all over. I could’ve bitten my name across her tits and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Her flesh bloomed pink as I pulled away, my lips tingling from the pressure. My dick pulsed as I pulled my fingers from her sopping pussy and forced them into her mouth.

“This better be for me,” I grunted as she sucked them clean. She nodded as she slurped, eyes honest and desperate as she hitched against my thigh.

My fingers were wet with her spit as I trailed them down her throat and down further to the tight neckline of her dress.

I heard a tear as I tugged it down to free her tits, caring little for the fabric as I forced it to a gathered ruffle at her hips. She arched her back, trusting my steadying arm to take her weight as she offered herself up to me.

Her nipples were pebbled tight, dusky pink and ripe under the bar lights. I forced her back further still as I took one in my palm and pressed hard, rolling her flesh against her ribs as she whimpered.

“You’ll always be mine,” I told her.

“Always,” she breathed.

“No matter what.”

“No matter what,” she confirmed.

I flicked my tongue across her nipple and she squirmed like the girl I knew way back when.

Nervous. Desperate.

All for me.

“Fuck me, Brett,” she breathed, and my own breath hitched.

Her eyes were dark and hungry, driven by a wildness at odds with the memory of sweet girlish Grace from way back when.

This Grace was all woman. Her body demanded all of mine, and all the years between us.

I’d give it to her gladly. All of it. All of me.

We moved on instinct, her body yielding without question as I spun her in my arms and shunted her forward over the bar top. I pushed her flat, her bare tits tight to the wood as I bunched her dress up around her waist and tore her wet knickers clean off at the hips.

I kicked her legs nice and wide at the ankles, loving how taut her muscles were in heels.

My breath was in my throat as I admired the view of my beautiful wife splayed out for me. I freed my dick and worked it hard in my hand as she waited, wide, wet, and wanting.

The look she shot me over her shoulder was needy enough to tense my balls.

“Fuck me, Brett,” she hissed, and I’d stepped up and thrust my cock inside her before she’d even grabbed a breath.

Her moan was frayed and mine was deep. I slammed hard. Deep. Brutal enough that her whole body thumped against the bar.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” I groaned, and she pushed right back at me, wanting rough on top of rough.

“I’ve missed this so much,” she whimpered, and I knew it. I’d missed it too.

“Every night,” I promised. “I’ll fuck you every fucking night until you beg me to stop.”

She shook her head hard enough that her curls rippled against her bare shoulders. “Never. I’ll never beg you to stop. I’ll never get enough.”

And then I said it.

“When he fucks you, you’ll be thinking of me. Wanting me.”

Her intake of breath was sharp and loud. Her pussy clenched tight enough around my dick that I almost shot my load right then and there.

“It’s only you I want,” she hissed.

“You’re mine,” I said, loud in the quiet of the room. “You’ll always be mine. Only mine.”

“Yours,” she moaned. “I’m yours.”

I spread her ass cheeks wide and my hands looked so big against her tiny curves. I soaked in the sight of my dick buried to the hilt in that gorgeous cunt of hers, craving more depth than in any way fucking rational. I wanted to be all the way inside her. Filling her up more than she’d ever known.

I spat on my thumb before I sank it deep in her puckered asshole, loving how she gasped and squirmed, clenching that dirty little hole so tight it sucked me in deeper.

I wondered if he’d take her there, balls deep from behind.

I wondered if she’d like it.

“Please,” she called, and her voice was louder this time. “It’s been too long…”

And it had been. It’d been months since I’d slammed my way into that tight little ass the way I should. Months since she’d turned feral and clawed my skin and begged for more.

I usually took my time, opening her nice and slow with a couple of fingers to loosen the blow. But not tonight.

My dick was slick with her juices as I pulled out of her pussy, but her ass was still tight enough that I gritted my teeth as the head popped past her clenched little ring. Her hiss was pained but still she begged for more.

“Yes, Brett, yes! Please!”

Sinking deep was pleasure enough to roll my eyes back in my head, my whole body thrumming with the need to consume every fucking part of her.

My thrusts were deep and savage, but slow enough that I savoured every inch of that delicious fucking hole. She snaked her hand down between her thighs and rubbed at her clit as she took me. I watched her shiver, listened to the beautiful fucking sounds of her body.

“You’re gonna take another man’s cock,” I said out loud, and she twisted a glance back at me.

“Only if you say so.”

I should have said it, then and there.

You’ll never take another man’s dick. Not now. Not fucking ever. Not for all the money in the fucking world.

I should have drawn a line under this craziness and let this whole sorry place tumble into the sea.

But there was something there in her eyes, behind the fear and the love and the way she needed my cock.

A thrill.

A want.

An excitement that sizzled deep, kept under wraps by her desire to keep me happy until she was sure I wanted the same thing.

I’d seen it often, but never like this. Never reined so tight.

Viewing this place, moving cities for another job, seeking out a wedding venue she loved but I thought was too pomp and circumstance.

And now.

Wanting another man’s dick for fifty grand while I watched.

“Brett,” she urged, pushing back against my dick so hard I groaned. “Tell me no. Say we won’t do it. We won’t do it, not if you say no.”

But I didn’t. I didn’t say no.

“I won’t…” she began again, but my body silenced her, my weight pressing hard on her back as my lips found her ear.

“You will,” I snarled, and brushed her fingers aside to circle her clit with my own. “You’ll take his dick for one fucking night, and I’ll watch every fucking second. We’ll take his money and we’ll make this place everything you ever wanted. Better than that shithole down the road. Good enough that people will say fuck it to the budget basement and pay over the odds to come to us.”

I knew then that I had her.

Her knees gave in, her body quivering in climax as I pinned her hard and kept those fingers fucking circling.

“You’ll take his dick,” I barked. “And you’ll be watching me every fucking second while you do it. And then, when he’s done and gone, I’m gonna pound your pussy every fucking night until you don’t even remember his fucking name.”

I closed my eyes as my balls unloaded deep, spasming in her asshole as her ripples of climax sent me over the edge right along with her.

We grunted. Squirmed. Sweaty bodies shuddering in the quiet as we came down, knowing full well the deal had been sealed.

We were really doing it.

He would really fuck my wife.

And I’d let him.