Madeleine Plays (A Wife-Watching Romance): Book Two of the Madeleine Trilogy

by Max Sebastian

  “So,” Hugo said, and he caught a hint of amusement in Madeleine’s eyes, that the role-play situation required him to act like his stranger character, not like her husband, in this startling situation. To stay in character, he had to conceal his emotions. “You’re going to sleep with another guy without telling him—so that you know for sure that he wants this?”

  She shook her head. “So I know that I want this,” she said, now running the backs of her fingers down his thigh suggestively.

  It was unsaid that this situation was about testing her husband, too. Because he wasn’t supposed to be here.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll want this,” Hugo said. Play-acted alpha male confidence ran through his veins.

  “You will go easy with me?” she smiled, her nerves showing through. “I’ve never done this before. Without my husband, I mean.”

  “You could ring him right now, tell him what you’re doing. You think he’d tell you to stop?”

  She shook her head. “No. He’d probably be a little hurt I lied to him, but I don’t think he’d want me to stop.”

  “And you can’t resist the thrill of a situation like this anyway.”

  “I guess not.”

  Quietly, she was rubbing her thighs together, biting her lip. Getting into the fantasy of being with another man.

  “I like that,” he said, sipping his drink. “That you can’t control that need inside you.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s a blazing fire that can’t be contained,” he smiled, but as they finished up the last sips of their drinks, and slipped off those bar stools heading for the exit, he wanted to do more than just smile. He wanted to shout, scream, run for the hills.

  He wanted to take his wife to a dark corner, push up her dress and slide inside her.

  She said, “Would you think me awful if I suggested we should go try contain it right now?”

  *

  Why was he nervous?

  “I don’t normally do this on a first date,” she said. “Just so you know.”

  He was shivering a little as they rode the elevator up to the 23rd floor, and the air-con wasn’t even that outrageous.

  “But you are,” he replied. “So that shows that your rules have some flexibility.”

  Even though it was now confirmed as a role-play situation, and he knew no one else would be making love to his wife that evening, Hugo was shaking so visibly he had to lean against the rail to make sure she didn’t see it.

  “I guess it shows I can be tempted if the right guy comes along.”

  She was nervous too, he saw. Twirling her hair, swallowing frequently. Madeleine was apparently good at acting, at really immersing herself in a role-play situation, losing herself.

  As the floor numbers reached the end of the teens, Hugo realized what it was that was causing most of his anxiety: this wasn’t just a fantasy situation, wasn’t just fooling around on a Date Night, taking time out from reality to pretend they were something else. This was Madeleine preparing herself to embrace her husband’s fantasy. This was Madeleine doing a final road test before actually sleeping with another man.

  “Here we are,” she said, as the elevator slowed to a silent stop, and the doors opened onto a fairly narrow little corridor flanked by a vintage-style black and white flock wallpaper, in keeping with the chic design of the rest of the hotel.

  “After you,” he said, and followed her out, and along to a room just a few yards down the small hallway. It wasn’t a big building in terms of floor plan, the W hotel. Just very tall, at 587 feet. Hugo had looked it up after their first time, when they’d had a room on the 35th floor.

  As he followed her, he couldn’t help but run his eyes all over her. She looked so devastating in that dress. The way it sculpted her behind made him wince.

  “You’ll like the view,” she said, slipping the room key into the slot at the door of room 2308.

  “I like it already,” he joked, provoking a slight smile from her, though being in character she managed to contain the kind of eye-roll her husband might be afforded with such a line.

  The room was impressive. Relatively small, but cozy in its designer furniture and decor—and Madeleine was right, the view was knockout stuff. He supposed that with this tower, every room in the place had an impressive view.

  “You don’t mind if I freshen up a little?” she said, and when he nodded, stepped into the bathroom, leaving him to wander over to the windows, to take in the scenery. They were high up, though perhaps only halfway up the entire building. The people scurrying down on the corner of Times Square he could see did look tiny. The little yellow cabs drifting by looked like toys.

  Madeleine emerged from the bathroom having removed her pantyhose, and with the lust clearly in her eyes, Hugo suddenly wasn’t thinking about the view outside.

  “You look unbelievable,” he said as they approached each other. She smiled, and he saw her shiver. “You’re cold?”

  She shook her head. “Nervous, I guess.”

  “We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want.”

  “No, I want to,” she slipped her hands under his jacket, feeling his body through his shirt, and then she was helping him remove the jacket. “It’s just a big step for me, you know?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve thought about it a lot, and with my husband telling me so frequently it’s okay to flirt with other guys, it’s okay if I want anything to happen—I guess I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. But honestly, I never thought it could ever actually happen in real life.”

  Hugo said, “But now?”

  She looked into his eyes, searching for answers still. “Now I think I’m ready to really try something, and it scares me.”

  He wanted to step out of character, be her husband again, embrace her, comfort her, reassure her. Yet he felt almost a sense of duty to this carefully constructed masquerade to maintain his stance as the new date, the relative stranger.

  “We can take it slow,” he said, trying his best to be reassuring. “Stop whenever you want.”

  Thinking, if she was with a real guy, a real date, that guy might not be so accommodating about her fears about her husband.

  “Oh, I’m not sure I can go slow,” she giggled, now reaching to unbutton his shirt. “You know I’ve been eyeing you up for ages.”

  Hugo smiled, but now found himself wondering who he was supposed to be in her little performance. Someone she knew? Had to be, if she was saying she’d been after him for ages.

  “In the bookstore?” he asked, seeking any kind of clue.

  “I guess,” she said, pulling his shirt off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. “But you know I can see you from the windows of our apartment.”

  “And I can see you,” he said, feeling his hardness twitch in confirmation that he was supposed to be her crush in this scene, Connor.

  She grinned, pushing him back onto the bed. “Not when I close the blinds.”

  “No.”

  “I mean, recently I’ve shown you the odd flash of underwear…”

  Hugo felt a jab of sudden jealousy, even in this strange situation where she was imagining seducing Connor behind her husband’s back.

  “I’ve seen more than that,” he said. “I think your blinds hide a lot less than you think they do.”

  She nodded, the thought that Connor might have seen her masturbating in the window apparently left her unfazed. Perhaps she simply didn’t believe it. She said, “In that case you know you won’t be disappointed with anything here.”

  He lay back on the bed, and Madeleine straddled him, embraced him, put one hand behind his head, the other clutching his ribs as she leaned in to kiss his mouth.

  He tasted the sharp edge of gin on her lips and tongue, breathed in the sweet floral scent that had the most powerful effect of making him believe he was with another woman.

  Wasn’t he the one who should have worn a different scent for this scene?

  Her dr
ess rode up as she pressed her body down on him, feeling for herself how hard he was for her. She was wearing white thong panties, which really didn’t seem like Madeleine’s style to her husband. Not Boston Madeleine, anyway. Was this New York Madeleine, who was someone he felt he hardly knew? The tiny scrap of white hid little, but made big suggestions about the raw sexuality inside her.

  He held her soft, round behind firmly in his hands, having encouraged her dress to ride up just a little more so that it was almost no more than a shirt.

  “So your friend Lucy knows about us then,” he said, and could have been talking as her husband as much as faux-Connor.

  “It’s not worth keeping secrets from Lucy, figures them out sooner or later.”

  “Right.”

  “She knew about my husband’s fantasy about watching me flirt with other men before I ever told her about it.”

  “She did?”

  “I guess she’s squeezed a few secrets from my husband, huh? She always was the best at ferreting out a story.”

  Madeleine’s golden hair flowed over his face, threatening to get in the way as she nibbled on his lips, slipped her tongue in his mouth. Then she was shaking it out of the way of her face to watch him as he forced his head down, his mouth finding one of her hard nipples through the material of her dress and the flimsiest white cotton bra.

  More kisses, and she was smiling so broadly. That was the most beautiful thing of all, of course. For Hugo and his burgeoning obsession, that was the whole point.

  “It was her idea, actually,” Madeleine said.

  “Her idea to do this?”

  “To tell my husband I was staying over with her, so I could see how far things might go with you.”

  Hugo felt his manhood throb, and then when Madeleine pressed herself down on him, he guessed she’d felt it too through her little panties and his thin suit pants. The fact that her panties were already soaking wet also made him throb. God, she was dripping. Was this a particular fantasy for Madeleine? The illicit encounter?

  He said, “So you’ll tell your husband about it eventually?”

  She sat up, as though to apply more force still as she ground her sex down on his hardness, but took the opportunity to haul her dress up and over her breasts, then off over her head. Her bra followed soon after onto the floor.

  “Of course. But I wanted to see what it was like first—you know, trying it.”

  “Trying it.”

  “I figured if I wasn’t comfortable doing this, I didn’t want to get his hopes up by telling him it’s definitely happening.”

  Hugo didn’t care about the holes in her logic, not for now. He pulled her back down to him so he could suck on her breasts, take her irresistibly stiff nipples into his hot, wet mouth.

  “Oh God…” she moaned as he moved over to tend to her other breast, breathing in that uncharacteristic scent as he did so.

  He half wondered if she was tempting him to imagine another woman with that new perfume, if she still harbored doubts about his altruism, that he wanted her to sleep with other men, yet did not want to sleep with other women himself. From a neutral perspective, if you didn’t fully understand his voyeuristic interest in his wife, it was hard to understand the apparent imbalance in his fantasy. The thrill for him wasn’t the hope that he could some day experience new pussy.

  Nevertheless, it was nice to experience her in a different perfume, whatever her motivation. Perhaps it helped her step out of her normal character, and into that of an adulteress, which despite everything that had happened so far, was not her natural self.

  Madeleine slowly kissed her way down his chest, his stomach, her hair flowing over him like silk. When she reached his belt, she lifted her head up to double-check its mechanism. Her hands went to his crotch, cupping him, tracing out the shape of his erection through the thin material of his pants.

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little… rusty,” she said, looking up at him with a smile as she unfastened his buckle.

  “Rusty?” That was the last word Hugo would have used to describe his wife considering everything that had happened recently.

  “You know it’s only been my husband the last five years. Well, eight, I suppose.”

  She peeled his pants down his thighs, just far enough to reveal his hard cock. The little gasp she uttered as she pulled it out, held it in her hands—that was impressive acting. It really made him think this is how she’d be with the real Connor—more so, perhaps. The guy was athletic—chiseled, in fact. He was a regular visitor to that gym of Madeleine’s, after all.

  “Compare well?” he asked her.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding her face close enough to it that he could feel her warm breath, her fingers snaking around it to scope it out.

  Then he felt her tongue, hot and wet, slowly dragged up his length, from base to tip.

  “I love it,” she grinned, bit her lip, then went back to licking it as though it were made of candy.

  “I should date wives more often if they’re this easy to please,” he joked.

  She gave a wry smile, then picked up the end of his cock, slipped it briefly into her mouth. “Probably should,” she said. “You’d find us all so desperate to try new cock, we’d do absolutely anything you wanted.”

  She brushed her golden hair out of her face, then put his ‘new cock’ back inside her mouth, her lips stretching over his swollen manhood, working it, her fingers squeezing his base, pumping him.

  Oh God, what would it be like to know she was doing this to another man? Rubbing his massive organ all over her pretty face, running her tongue all over it, tasting him, sucking him into her mouth.

  Hugo nearly lost it just then. He was going to have to be careful.

  As though she sensed him getting dangerously close to his peak, Madeleine withdrew him, licked his shaft once more time, then launched forwards, sandwiching his hot erection between both their bodies.

  She reached up to kiss him, and he felt the wonderful smoothness of her belly as she dragged it over his shaft. She couldn’t resist further, however, pulling herself up so that her pussy rested on his rigid column, and leaving the thin saturated white cotton of her thong in place, he now rocked her hips to ride him, grazing her hot womanhood against his shaft, as he held her by the thighs.

  “We don’t have to go any further, you know,” Hugo teased, trying to be in character. “We can keep it to this if you like.”

  She circled her hand around it now, holding it up as she ground her sopping pussy against the base, making it look strangely as though she were wearing some kind of strap-on.

  She smiled, loving the way his hands swept all over her body, taking in those glorious curves, her breasts, her hard nipples, her soft skin, gliding back down to her waist as she continued to shuffle her crotch over his cock.

  “Oh, we’re going further,” she said. “I’ve been watching you through our windows—I know what you’re good at.”

  “You do?” he smiled, and sat up to take her breasts into his mouth again.

  Her hands slipped up to his face, held his cheeks as she kissed him again, sucking on his top lip.

  Then she said, “Yes, I do.”

  She pushed him back down, flat against the bed, so that she could slide up his body. Knowing what she was after he also slid down a little underneath her, so she could settle in a stable position, grazing her drenched panties over his mouth and nose.

  Sitting over him, she pushed her sex gently down over his mouth, her hands covering his on her hip, locking them to her body to avoid distraction.

  He breathed in her strong, dark aroma, and he very nearly lost control of himself for the second time that night.

  “Your husband doesn’t do this for you?” he asked her, before opening his mouth to taste the damp cotton.

  “Oh, he does now.”

  “You’ve told him to?”

  “He got the message. Inspired by our view across the street, you might say. I was
surprised.”

  Hugo nuzzled into her heat, and managed to push aside the saturated cotton to reveal her delectable pussy, wetter than he thought he’d ever seen it before. Her aroma was almost overwhelming, the concentrated spice of serious female arousal, while her tangy, zingy flavor only drove his hunger as he fed ravenously from her slippery folds.

  “Oh Jesus…” she gasped.

  He held her panties forcibly to the side now, his tongue dancing over her clit, quivering as it dipped into her hot slit. Madeleine seemed to let go of her inhibitions, oscillating her hips as she rode his mouth, her eyes closed. To Hugo, she really was imagining how Connor might treat her and he felt almost breathless from that knowledge.

  “Oh God, oh fuck…” she sighed, and as he looked up he saw her wincing as though in pain.

  “Oh fuck, that feels good…”

  Biting her lip as though to cope with it all, as she continued to jink her hips to rub herself over him. Then she was shaking convulsively over his face, and though he didn’t tend to believe in the myth of the squirting female, he did sense a profusion of her juices as she shook and juddered, gasping for breath as she came on his mouth.

  “My God, that was just insane,” she said, pulling herself off him to remove the sopping scrap of white cotton still clinging to her body. “I’ve been dreaming about that for months…”

  The thought of her hankering after Connor for so long, her secret insatiability, brought Hugo back up to full mast again.

  When she lifted her knee over his chest and straddled him again, her dripping pussy was still over his face, but she now faced his feet, taking in the extent of his hardness for her.

  He reached up and placed his hands on her round behind, squeezing her cheeks as he eased her down against his mouth, for another taste of her delicious nectar. It was harder to focus this time, as he felt her hot breath on his cock, then her tongue gliding over it, her mouth enveloping it in her wet heat.

  He moaned, long and deep, and felt her respond to the vibrations from his mouth against her slippery, sensitive folds. Licking around her clit as she pumped and sucked on him, he teased her labia with his fingers, stretched her, dipped a digit or two inside her, marveling at her uncontrollable wetness.