by Cara McKenna
“Nah. You could easily just be a friend of ours.”
“A friend who shows up and suddenly there’s loud sex coming from your place ten minutes later?”
She laughed. “Ten minutes? A girl likes some wooing, you know. Aren’t you Southern men supposed to be all about the courting?”
“Okay, okay. Twelve minutes. Never let it be said I’m not a gentleman.”
She sipped her drink. “As for the loud sex, I can’t worry about what my neighbors might think. I can’t think too hard about any of this, or it’ll pull my head out of the… well, the performance.”
“That’s fair. Forget I mentioned it.”
“So, are you excited?”
“Of course I am.”
“Have you indulged your own kink at all before?” she asked quietly, gaze on the tempting V of skin and tease of soft-looking hair peeking between the two open top buttons of the navy henley he wore. Its collar was fine but she reached up to fuss with it, just for a chance to touch him. “Being watched?”
“No more than most people probably have, I guess. Mirrors. Video camera, a couple of times when I was younger, before the Internet made that seem like the worst idea in the world. But my ex got custody of that footage when we broke up, and I’m sure she destroyed it.”
“Probably wise. Have you ever – I don’t know – done it in front of an open window?”
“Not really. Well, once on vacation we did it on the hotel balcony, but it was night and I doubt anyone could see. I haven’t ever dated a girl who was into that stuff, and I’m not so obsessed with it that I made it a requirement.”
“Maybe you should. It’s really fun, being with someone kinky. I’m glad I am.”
He smiled. “That’s pretty charming of you. Though it seems like for every kinky or kink-friendly woman, there must be like fifty kinky guys. I think it’s important to be realistic. Though I do want to explore it more. I never really let myself prioritize it before. But all that got me was sexually frustrated, and feeling like an asshole for breaking up with perfectly nice girls who just couldn’t go there. And hadn’t known what I really wanted, from the start.”
“If it makes you feel any more hopeful,” she said, “your kink is pretty easy to accommodate. Just don’t fall in love with a girl with body image issues, and roll it out early on, and I’m sure you’ll at least enjoy tons of hot mirror sex.”
“Yeah. We’ll do our wedding registry at a home goods store – full-length mirror, ceiling mirror, mirrored headboard, one of those angled three-panel deals they have in dressing rooms…”
“Cheval,” she offered. “Magnifying? Hmm, maybe not.”
“Fun house.”
Sam dissolved into giggles from the visual. “That might give a girl body image issues.”
“But it’d make my man-business look huge.”
“Then tiny. Then huge, then tiny,” she teased, imagining the effect.
Bern cracked up, and had this been a regular date, it would have been the moment when Sam thought, I could really fall for this guy. As it was, it was the moment she relaxed in her mission and trusted her desires, and set her worries free for good.
“Okay, no fun-house mirrors,” Bern said. “Oh hey, you guys should invest in a one-way mirror, if you get good at this cuckolding thing. No more peering through door cracks.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be awesome to explain to a contractor when it goes in. Or our landlord.”
He made a disappointed face. “All the more reason to become homeowners.”
They chatted for a long time, long enough for Sam to have a second glass of wine and for Bern to finish nursing his one beer. Around seven she got change from the bartender and wandered to the jukebox, downloading the signal song from the digital catalog.
She had to wait through a few queued tracks, but when the synth of that familiar opening pulsed through the speakers, it felt as though all the lightbulbs turned red, the thermostat cranked to ninety. Somewhere by the door, Mike would be leaving bills on his table, heading out into the cool night air, climbing into her Focus, and taking the short way home.
Sam smiled as the song wound down, and Bern looked to be suppressing his own grin when she shrugged into her jacket and shouldered her purse. He held the door for her as they left.
“We should take a long route,” she said.
“Sure.” He unlocked her side of his truck’s cab. “Just get me pointed in the general direction.”
She told him the street and glanced around his vehicle as he got them on their way. Pretty tidy, though clearly he worked out of this truck. There were papers and bits of hardware scattered here and there, and a parking pass with the logo of a renovation company dangling from the rearview mirror.
It was a quiet drive. Not an uncomfortable silence, but pensive.
The curtain was about to go up, and they were two actors, holding their breath in anticipation of their opening night. Sam wanted to please her audience. She and Mike had settled on another signal, for when the actual show was under way. If the plug needed to get pulled, he’d simply flush the toilet. That was Bern’s cue to get his pants on and get the hell out, and Sam’s cue to start panicking over whether she and Mike had irreparably damaged their marriage.
She hoped she’d be able to enjoy whatever Bern had to offer without her ears being perked, straining for the swirling sounds of red alert, abort, abort. Her own excitement felt skittish – hopeful but hesitant. It was one thing to get turned on kissing a good-looking stranger in a bar. Who knew if she’d feel any of that once they were in Sam and Mike’s bedroom. In their bed. Christ, she hoped she would. This was starting to feel as though maybe it could be for her as much as it was for Mike. She’d gotten into it, eager to blow his mind. But since she’d kissed the man currently sitting just to her left, she’d started to think maybe she could go there, and as more than just a wildly indulgent partner. As a plain old red-blooded woman, too.
The silence began to feel heavy. She reminded herself of her role. Tonight she was a selfish, heartless, dissatisfied wife, and Bern was the man she’d chosen to bring home and have some much-needed fun with. She reached across the cup holders and set her hand on his thigh. He cast her a quick glance, swallowed, and smiled as he looked back to the road. She gave his leg a squeeze, liking the flex of his muscle as he switched between the gas and brake, the authoritative movements of his arm as he shifted gears. Was it just her, or did he seem to be driving a bit quicker all of a sudden?
In a heartbeat, Bern yanked up the curtains and flung them headfirst into their script. “And you’re sure he’s gone out?”
She fell into the game easily after all these months of practice. “He won’t be home for a couple of hours, at least.”
“Great.”
Her palm grew damp from the heat of his thigh, the truck’s cab at once smaller and warmer. She felt guilty flirting with Bern without Mike there to witness it… but it was all in the service of the performance, so she tried to set the guilt aside.
Dear God, how did people manage to actually cheat on each other?
Think about sex, she ordered herself. She stole a long glance at Bern, his profile stern with concentration as he drove… or stern with the effort of not steering them off the road, if her hand was proving a distraction. What might Mike be hoping to see them do tonight?
A big deal had to be made of Bern’s cock. That was a given. His sexual superiority was at the heart of the scene, so she’d be praising him profusely, for both his physical attributes and his skills at making her feel good. Was she allowed to give him tips or instructions, Sam wondered, or was he meant to just be naturally perfect at everything?
Or was she supposed to fake it and act like he was utterly amazing, even if he wasn’t?
They reached Sam’s block just as the last of the daylight faded. He parked right between her Focus and Mike’s PBP sedan, apropos of everything. Sam’s heels were loud on the sidewalk. Their bedroom faced the street, and it took all her
effort not to glance up and check if Mike was watching from the window. She came within a breath of taking Bern’s hand before she realized what a scandal it would look like to a neighbor, and wrapped her fingers tightly around her purse strap.
She was steps, seconds, breaths from changing the shape of her and Mike’s sex life, forever. Whatever happened tonight, for better or worse, their marriage would never look quite the same.
CHAPTER EIGHT
S
am’s heart was pounding, thumping like a bass drum as she led Bern up the front steps. Her keys jingled as she fumbled with the lock, but she shot Bern a look of well-faked mischief just before pushing in the door.
She switched on the light and he looked around. Originally she’d hoped first and second bases could go down in the living room. It seemed a fitting setting, the bedroom such a bold leap. But there was no good place for Mike to conceal himself downstairs, and in the bedroom there was both the closet and the bathroom.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Beer or wine?”
“Are you having anything?”
“I might have a splash of wine.”
“I’ll have the same, thanks.”
She led him down the hall, and he wandered around the living room, inspecting the book and DVD shelves while Sam poured two small measures of merlot. He met her at the counter and they toasted with a clink, then took turns using the half bath.
“Would you like the tour?” Sam asked when Bern reappeared.
“Sure.”
“It’s short. Kitchen and living room, obviously.” She waved her arm around. They carried their glasses down the hall and up the stairs, floorboard creaking as they reached the landing. She led him past her and Mike’s room to the next door.
“This was the guest room that my husband turned into an office,” she said, waving limply at the space, as though any reminder of the man bored her to tears. “He spends more time in here than the bedroom, that’s for sure.”
“And is that the bedroom?” Bern asked, pointing.
She gave him a sly look and slipped into her seductress voice. “It is. Would you like to see it?”
“Yeah.”
She led him inside and turned on a reading lamp.
“Very nice.”
“Thank you.” Sam drained her wine and set the glass on the dresser, kicked off her heels by the door so everyone involved would be reminded how tall Bern was. Gently, she took the glass from his hand and set it beside hers, harnessing all her willpower to keep from glancing at the dark crack of the bathroom door – Mike’s peephole.
She ran her hands up Bern’s biceps and over the rounded balls of his shoulders, admiring. She caught him swallowing before mirroring her boldness, sweeping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. They hadn’t kissed in the bar that night, but when he lowered his mouth to hers, it felt like the easiest thing in the world.
No hesitance, like their first meet-up – he knew his role and seemed eager to play it. His tongue was bold, the kiss deep and dirty, making her brain misfire, and she wondered what else he could do with his mouth. The brush of his short beard was hot in its newness, as sexy as the taste of her and Mike’s wine on this man’s lips. She stroked his neck and shoulders and upper back, followed the gentle curve of his spine to the hard swell of his ass.
She freed her mouth, licking her lips. “You look good.” She let her gaze roam his body from feet to face. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”
He eased off his shoes in two fluid moves, suddenly holding her elbows and walking her backward to the bed. She felt her hair bounce as her butt plopped onto the mattress, and smiled up at where he stood between her knees.
Staring down at her with a smirk, he stripped off his henley and tossed it to the floor, revealing a light gray undershirt and some of the nicest arms Sam had ever had the pleasure of exploring.
She crawled back as Bern got to his hands and knees on the bed, bracing himself above her, looking down with some wonderful threat glinting in his eyes.
“When was the last time you got fucked?” he demanded.
Her pulse spiked. “Maybe a week ago,” she lied.
“With him?”
She nodded. “Dullest two minutes I’ve suffered all month.”
“You fake it for him?” Ooh, he was good at this.
“I don’t even bother. I just wait until he falls asleep and I take care of myself.”
“Oh yeah? And what do you think about?”
She grinned indulgently and stroked Bern’s braced arms. “A man like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah. Big and strong. Big all over… like I hope maybe you are.” As Mike hoped as well.
Bern slid them across second base, dropping his hips and driving up her dress to press his erection between her legs. Whether he was big or not, she couldn’t tell, but he was stiff, no mistaking it.
“Well.”
“Been hard since we first started talking at that bar.”
Though it felt like a sharp upping of the stakes, Sam spread her thighs wider and hugged them to his waist. He accepted the invitation, rubbing against her with slow, teasing motions of his hips. His breathing grew harsh just as hers did the same.
What are you thinking, Mike? She wished there were a psychic feed from his brain to hers, and that he could beam her reassurance and instructions.
She wanted to trust what was happening. It felt good and hot and right, though that was no guarantee Mike was feeling the same. Was he hard, too? Was he touching himself? Which ached worse in this moment – his cock or his heart? Cock, she prayed. And she could make it hotter by ignoring her fears and embracing her part.
She slid her palms to Bern’s rolling hips. “I bet you’re a great lay.”
“Find out.”
“I hope to… but not tonight. Save something for next time.”
“Don’t save too much,” he warned. “My cock’s so hard. I hope you’re not going to send me home hurting.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He lowered to his elbows and kissed her, his hips slowing to match the pace. She wrapped her legs a bit higher around his waist, liking the feel of him. But on the whole, it felt too tender. Without having articulated it to herself before, she’d always known Bern was here to act as Mike’s sexual rival, and though it was all just play, he shouldn’t cross the line between sex and affection. Seduction was one thing, but she didn’t want what they were doing to resemble romance.
“Keep it dirty,” she whispered between kisses.
“Sure.”
He righted himself, sitting on his heels, and peeled away his shirt.
Bern was hot in a tee and jeans, but stripped to the waist he was obscene. Big, but not beefy-big. Lean, but not slender. Just… yikes. Mike kept fit for the sake of his job, but she suspected Bern did so for more superficial reasons. Normally that might strike her as vain, but just now? No complaints. Not a single one.
She wanted to run her fingers down the trail of dark hair that ran from his chest to his navel, to cup the bulge between his thighs and watch his expression change. She wanted to touch the muscles that flanked his hipbones and feel the contours of his abdomen and the flat plane just below. Wanted to ease his waistband down and feel the crisp curls hidden there, learn a few more things about the nature of prematurely graying hair.
“You look great,” she said, admiring him openly.
“Bet you do, too. Maybe you could take that dress off. Gimme a show.”
“Maybe I could.”
He moved and Sam got up from the bed, smoothing the garment. Bern sat expectantly at the foot of the mattress as she walked around to stand before him, the scene in perfect profile to their hidden audience.
This little striptease was Bern’s show, but she objectified him in return. Damn, what a body. He was out of her league, frankly, but the way he looked at her… She’d never felt this hot in her twenties.
It was a jersey shirtdress, w
ith buttons running all the way down the front. She undid them slowly, bottom to top, then let the item fall to her feet. She was wearing a matching bra and panties – ones that Mike had picked out for exactly this moment – warm gray with black lace trim.
Bern hissed a word – “Nice,” perhaps, or, “Yes,” obscured by a heavy sigh of approval. Heat shot through Sam’s middle. Mike never failed to make her feel desired, but she’d forgotten the thrill of a new, strange man’s approval, how electric this could feel.
She took a step closer, standing between his knees and inviting him to touch her. His fingers skimmed her sides, hips to ribs, then traced the lace bordering the top of her panties. He slipped one finger just under the material but didn’t pull them down, merely drew his knuckle back and forth, back and forth, across her lower belly. A low, happy grunt answered her when she combed her nails through his hair.