Crosstown Crush

by Cara McKenna

  “He’s bigger than me.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the man that matters, not the size. And both of you turn me on. Did you want me to pretend I liked him more?”

  “Maybe.” Yeah, he did. The assurances were appreciated, but his body wanted to get back to the conflict that’d had him burning up, watching the two of them.

  “In that case, I was only trying to make you feel better.”

  “Oh?”

  A sly smirk. “He’s way better than you. And bigger.”

  Another hot jab in the arousal synapse of Mike’s brain. “I’m gonna fuck you till there’s nothing left of him inside you.”

  And he did. He owned her like a beast, screwing until the friction shifted, lube burned up and the condom began to drag on his skin. He pulled out, fumbled with the lip of the thing until Sam intervened and did it for him. He made a hurried trip to the bathroom, to soap and rinse his throbbing erection, then he was back with her, above her. He sank deep in nothing but Sam’s own slick folds.

  “What got you this wet?” he demanded.

  “Him.”

  Mike’s climax rose, the point of no return looming close on the horizon. She felt so fucking good – warm and swollen and slippery, familiar. Bern hadn’t felt her like this, he told himself. Only Mike got this.

  For now.

  Just as he was about to rush headlong into the final stretch, Sam slipped a hand between them to play with her clit. Shit, he should have offered to do that. But he’d gone nuts with lust. He prayed he could hold off long enough for her to come.

  “I’m close,” he admitted.

  “Me, too.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She didn’t answer right away, pursing her lips on a reply as she remembered they were playing again. “Just about how good he felt,” she said. “Big and rough and strong, and how he made me come so easy.”

  He had, too. Another man had felt her climax, felt that hot little hug around his cock. Made her shudder, and maybe recognized that fleeting glimpse of momentary crazy in her eyes that Mike loved so much, and maybe even appreciated it as much as he did. Jealousy nudged him ever closer to the edge, his hips pounding, dick aching. But he couldn’t beat her to the punch, not knowing that Bern had gotten her off. No fucking way.

  “And how good he looked when he came,” she added. “When he shot inside me.”

  “Come for me,” he ordered.

  “Mike.”

  He’d slipped them from their games without even realizing it, but it was exactly where he wanted to be.

  “Jesus, Sam.” If it weren’t for her busy hand, he’d have dropped to his elbows, slid his forearms under her back and held her tight as he hammered himself home. She’d cradle his head as she always did, and there’d be nothing left of the world except the two of them, Mike and Sam. Mike and the most wonderful woman he’d ever met.

  “Come for me, baby. Please.”

  The hand gripping his shoulder was hot and damp, the other racing between their bodies, between her legs. He gave her his cock the way she liked best, fast and hard and controlled, though the friction was dangerous. He felt his own orgasm coming, already in motion and impossible to stop, a train bearing down with its whistle shrieking. Then he felt it – the tug of her body around him, the subtle squeeze of her climax. The second her fingers left her clit, he shoved his arms beneath her back and chased his own release – bolted down the track and let the momentum demolish him.

  “Sam. Fuck.”

  Pleasure had never come so near to pain – a searing, screaming rush that swallowed him whole, a rush so intense it left no room for relief, only obliteration.

  Mike came back to reality blinking, panting, reeling, as though from a punch.

  There was Sam, beneath him, her hands grazing his back. There was her smile, and all around and against him, her warmth. He buried his face against her neck, smelled her skin, tasted it on his lips between gasping breaths.

  He felt her tremble, followed by a tiny laugh.

  Unsteadily, he pushed up to his elbows to stare into her eyes. “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “You’re so sexy.”

  He laughed himself, and flopped to his side. Here they were in their room, though it would never be quite the same, would it? Strange new memories had taken root, and they’d have to either choose to tend and harvest them, or else tread amid the dead husks of regret. But what was there to regret, if this kink really could serve the both of them? It had grown on Sam, he knew that much. And now that she really was getting off with another man, not merely pretending she had…

  He rolled onto his hip and kissed her cheek, her shoulder, her arm.

  She stroked his hair. “Happy?”

  “Incapacitated.”

  “That’ll do.”

  He nestled his chin on her shoulder and studied her face. “Are you happy?”

  She nodded against the pillow. “Did I earn my Wife of the Year trophy tonight?”

  “Tell me it wasn’t that much of a hardship.”

  “Yes, such a trial. Two guys, two orgasms… I’ve got it so bad.”

  “And I do dishes and laundry,” he said.

  “Yes, you’re a very complex man.”

  “A man with a complex, you mean.”

  She smiled, tracing his ear with her thumb. “Being kinky isn’t a mental illness, you know. If anything it’s a superpower.”

  “And you’re definitely happy we went through with it?”

  “Very. Are you?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think so.”

  She frowned.

  “No – I mean, I don’t regret anything. It’s just hard to say it makes me happy, since… you know.”

  “Since it’s the ugly feelings that get you off?”

  “Yeah. Happy’s like… contentment. Security. I can either choose happiness or being out-of-my-mind horny, where this thing’s concerned.”

  “Are you satisfied, then?”

  “Yes.” He could say that with certainty. He was deeply, utterly satisfied. And in the dark little cracks where the happiness couldn’t shine, those were the shadows he’d dig around in, stoking the strange flames that flickered in his body and brain.

  “Good,” Sam said with a lazy sigh. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

  “I wonder what he thinks of us.”

  She laughed. “From what I’ve gleaned, he thinks we’re like some crazy old rich person who keeps throwing fistfuls of money at him. He doesn’t get it, but he’s not complaining. I suspect he’s perfectly happy playing tourist.”

  “Think we’ll do this again?” he asked.

  “That’s all up to you.”

  “Actually, it’s all up to you.”

  “I think we’ll have to disagree on that one. But if you want this again and he’s game, I’m honored to oblige.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “It’s awfully fun. Why shouldn’t we keep doing it until it’s not fun anymore? I mean, it might take ages to find another guy I – or we – have the right chemistry with.”

  “True.” Goddamn, she spoiled him.

  “And if the chemistry keeps working for all of us…”

  “There’s lots of other things we could do.”

  She nodded. “Ditch the condoms. Maybe tape it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Infinite other “maybe” scenarios. Maybe a real three-way, with Mike allowed to enjoy her while she sucked Bern’s cock. So many options. So many that he better not start drafting his wish list and jacking up his hopes. Plus, something just as good was right here in his arms – his wife, all to himself.

  He squeezed her tightly, sad their time off was coming to a close. Though luckily he’d snapped a thousand mental photos, each a perfect postcard of their vacation.

  The thought put him to sleep smiling.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  W

  ith everyone’s work schedules back in full swing and no meet-ups possible for two weeks, creativity was re
quired to keep the three-way embers stoked and glowing. So with Sam’s permission – and by proxy, Mike’s – Bern took to texting her. Quick, incendiary missives, typically between dinner and bedtime. Some that welcomed her reply, and some merely to keep her edgy for him, she bet.

  Can’t stop thinking about you. Ask me over.

  That had been the first one. Mike had been lying next to her in bed. She’d answered, He’s home. Wish I could. Same as the next evening —

  Tonight?

  No, not tonight. Soon, baby. It’s killing me, too.

  And the night after that —

  Is he home? I’m dying for you.

  Mike had been home, of course, lying right next to her as usual. The issue at the moment was actually that Bern was going away – leaving for a big construction job in the middle of the state for a week – otherwise he’d surely be fucking her brains out that coming weekend while Mike watched. As soon as he returned, Sam’s period was due to arrive, so sadly nothing epic was happening until the weekend. They’d arranged the next time, though, Sam and Bern, in a text exchange full of real, giddy urgency, instead of pantomime conspiracy.

  In all seriousness, he’d texted, when can we get together again? I’m not dying but I AM eager :-)

  She’d replied with a smile on her face. Us, too. And they picked a date, one that no one was all that pleased with.

  Man, that sounds like forever from now, she’d told him.

  Christmas wouldn’t be as special if it happened every week, he’d written back.

  You don’t actually believe that, do you?

  Not for a minute. I could fuck you every night and it wouldn’t be enough.

  She’d grinned. Filthy man.

  Sam marked their upcoming rendezvous on the calendar on the fridge with the loaded code name Girls’ Night, and she bet Mike got hard every time he glanced at that square. These scandalous texts were mere treats to tide them all over.

  Mike was in on the texts, of course – in fact, he probably enjoyed them the most of everyone. When he asked who was messaging Sam, she’d lie, then find some reason to leave the bed and give him a chance to grab her phone, to “catch” her.

  Is he home? Bern had asked, that one night. I’m dying for you.

  He is, she’d replied, pulse quickening. Are you hard?

  You have no idea. Want to see?

  Show me.

  Five minutes later, he’d sent the first photo – so much more erotic than Sam ever would have guessed. Sexting had always struck her as tacky before, so often manifesting as harassment, or the jurisdiction of impulsive kids. But when Bern sent her a photo of his hand wrapped around his cock, other thumb tucked under the waistband of his shorts, holding them down… her first reaction had been a shocked suck of breath, chased by a wave of arousal. Her gaze had jumped between his ready cock and that gruff fist, and she couldn’t say which was hotter. Her next reaction had been to wonder how he’d taken the thing, with both hands occupied.

  Don’t wonder how, just be glad he did.

  A new text had pinged a moment later, drawing a sigh from Mike – feigned annoyance. Sam knew that sigh for what it was – impatience. And excitement.

  “Sorry. It’s Michelle. She’s chatty.”

  I should be inside you, she read.

  She typed back, How?

  In your pussy. Deep.

  Yes, you should be. But what will you do instead?

  Stroke myself. Tell me how.

  She bit her lip and wrote, Slow and tight.

  She’d left the covers to brush her teeth, and been all but jumped by Mike when she came back to bed. He’d given it to her rough and fast and wordless, a smile hiding just behind his lips.

  And so it had gone, all through the time while Bern was away.

  He was due back in Pittsburgh tonight, and had mentioned he wasn’t getting home until late, so Sam wasn’t holding her breath on getting another digital gift. They’d be seeing him on Saturday night. She could wait four more days, as much as she’d come to savor those little teasing tastes of him. To say nothing of the resulting trouncing from Mike.

  Though considering whom she was dealing with, she ought to have known better.

  Ping.

  She grabbed her phone from the bedside table just as she was undressing, Mike’s curious – and warming – attention not lost on her.

  Hey beautiful.

  Hey yourself. Uncanny timing – I was just getting undressed. Did the Wang Signal go off?

  Undressed? You driving over here naked? That’s awful bold.

  She smiled.

  Cute. It’s late and he’s here. Afraid you’ll have to take care of yourself.

  Afraid so. Tell me how, he wrote, the words now a familiar refrain.

  Any way you want… as long as you tape it for me.

  No reply came, and though Sam got under the covers wearing a coy little half smile, her nerves hummed. That was a loaded challenge she’d just laid at his feet, and she was as jittery as she was excited to find out if he ran with it.

  “Michelle again?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah.” She kept her voice airy – distracted and distant.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Mm-hmm…”

  “Okay.”

  Sam grabbed her book and moved her eyes across the same page a hundred times, taking nothing in.

  Half an hour later, a chime shot her pulse into overdrive.

  Check your e-mail.

  The video was in her in-box, the attachment labeled, What You Reduce Me To.

  She swallowed, face hot. Her phone was on mute, and she hit PLAY with her heart thumping in her throat. On the little screen, Bern’s body loomed large, his skin lit brightly against a dark room. He must have used his computer, and she squinted into the shadows, curious what his home looked like. All she could really make out were dark covers and light pillowcases, and of course Bern, kneeling wide before the camera, on his bed. Her belly clenched and heated, and her cheeks burned to be watching this, lying just a couple of feet from her husband. She hit PAUSE and leaned over to find her earbuds from the side table drawer.

  “What are you doing?” Mike asked.

  “Just a thing I want to watch. I won’t make you listen while you’re trying to read.”

  “I don’t care. What kind of thing?”

  “A Daily Show segment.”

  “Oh, I’ll watch with you.”

  She ignored him, plugging in the cord, angling her screen away from him with a very real bolt of guilt, and hit PLAY.

  She turned up the volume, and at first there was no sound, not aside from the faintest hush of Bern’s breathing. He was shirtless, wearing either workout pants or drawstring pajama bottoms. With both hands he touched his chest, abs, hips, thighs, before bringing them back up to trace the shape of his erection behind the fabric. Sam swallowed. If this had been some anonymous, hot guy on the Internet, she doubted she’d have registered more than a passing, reflexive thrill. But he’d taped this for her. And there was no doubt in her mind, this man was hard from thinking of her, excited to perform for her.

  He eased his bottoms down, exposing himself. For nearly a minute he taunted them both, grazing his length with measuring fingertips before fisting it. She watched his face, and his gaze as it moved between his hand and the lens, his stare hot and edgy, aimed right at her. He had to be out of his mind with excitement, knowing he’d be seen doing this.

  He stroked himself, slowly, then quicker, grip looking tight, biceps clenched. Breathing turned to panting, turned to moans; his voice roused her as much as his body. He murmured things, things she could only catch snatches of, hot little tastes like, “Yeah,” and “Watch me,” and “You missing this?” His free hand was restless, cupping his balls, rubbing his belly, circling his chest. As he got closer, it settled in the crease of his thigh and hip, seeming to press there, rubbing with distracted, thoughtless motions. Sam’s mouth was dry, breath short. Arousal was humming hot and hungry between her
legs.

  “Fuck.” On-screen, his eyes shut, lips a tense O. “Yeah. Fuck.”

  And he came – came for her, it felt, right on his clenched belly, shaking fingers making a mess of him.

  Despite everything he’d just shown her, despite how personal, how intimate it felt… watching his face as he came down from the insanity of the lust felt twice as raw. He tugged his bottoms up to cover his cock, then leaned to the side to grab a hand towel. He smiled at the camera, chest and stomach still rising and falling fast as he wiped his skin clean. “Hope you enjoyed that little show. Hope you can’t get to sleep now, wishing you were over here with me, instead of stuck there with him. I hope —” The distant barking of a dog cut him off, and he doubled over for a moment, abs hitching with a silent chuckle as he straightened. Another bark, and he turned to laugh-shout, “Molly. Shut it.” Then to the camera, “Anyhow, that’s what you’re missing, Samira. Call me when he’s gone some night, so you can get me there yourself, okay? Sweet dreams.” And that handsome face went blurry and bright, leaning in close to the glowing computer, killing the camera.