Lover

by Marni Mann

  He grabs my hands until they’re behind my back, restrained in one of his. I’m spread open, vulnerable, and so wet.

  And then, without warning, the slow torture ends, and he pushes inside me with one quick thrust of his hips. I’m so full that I bite the pillow, hoping it silences my moans. But they only make West pump harder and faster.

  With his free hand, he wraps my ponytail around his palm, tugging until I lift my cheek off the bed and release the pillow from my mouth.

  “Let it out, Piper. I want to hear how good my dick feels.”

  The door isn’t completely closed, but I can’t stop myself. I moan so loud, saying West’s name over and over. He lets go of my ponytail and presses on my clit instead. That one simple movement does me in, and my entire body shakes.

  “That’s it, baby. Give me what I want.” He reaches down and squeezes my butt. “I’m going to have this ass one day. It’s too fucking perfect not to.”

  “Anything,” I tell him.

  And I mean it. I’ll do whatever this man wants. He can have every inch of me.

  “Fuck,” he says as he flicks my clit again. “I can’t wait much longer.”

  Tilly screams from somewhere in the house the same time my body explodes beneath West. My pussy clenches him so hard; he lets go of my hands and grabs my ass again. Digging his fingers into my skin, he comes hard inside me.

  His warm breath flutters across my back, and he kisses his way to my neck. He sucks so hard, I can barely breathe.

  “You ready to play?” he asks.

  “I might need another minute.”

  “What you need is my mouth.” And then West flips me over, places my legs on his shoulders, and dives back in—this time, with his tongue.

  West

  “Mmm,” I growl as two of my fingers twist and pump inside Piper’s cunt while my tongue laps her clit. “You taste so fucking good.”

  The whiskers of my beard are dripping with her wetness, and I feel even more of it on the end of my nose.

  I want to wash my face with her.

  And I’m going to. Before I leave this house, I’ll make sure I have her all over me, so if I want a taste later, I can have it. That is, unless my wife throws me in the shower. But knowing how dirty Tilly is, she’ll probably take a sample, which might buy me a few hours before I have to soap Piper off my skin.

  “Ah,” she groans. “Yes, just like that.”

  I open my eyes and watch her grind the top of her head into the pillow, her back arching, her nipples so goddamn hard that they look painful.

  I reach up and give one a quick squeeze, and she lets out the sound I’m after.

  “I told you, it would only take a finger,” I hiss.

  She leans her head forward and glares down at me. “I’ll scream again; just don’t you dare stop.”

  Demanding. I like it.

  But she has no reason to worry; my mouth isn’t going anywhere. Besides kissing hers, this is the only other place I want to be. And, even though I’m buried in it, I still can’t get enough of her pussy.

  Of her.

  Of that feeling that consumes me whenever I’m with her.

  Each time, it gets better. Not just the sex, but also that feeling.

  I don’t know what it is. What it’s called. I don’t know what it fucking means.

  But I know I don’t want to let it go.

  And that I only want more of it.

  I pull my mouth away so that I can sweep her clit using the tip of my tongue in hard, fast strokes. Her hips lift. Her nails dig into my scalp. I’m starting to learn her sounds and movements and what each of them means. So, I know it’ll only take a few more seconds until she’s quivering beneath me.

  But there’s no reason to rush this.

  We have hours, and I intend to use all of them.

  “West…”

  “Yesss.” I drag out the word, my lips vibrating over hers, causing her to moan.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “I’m licking your pussy.”

  She leans up on her elbows, and as she shakes her head, her already sexed up hair falls into her face, making her look even more ravaged and gorgeous. “That’s not what I mean.”

  I know what she means, but it isn’t time for that conversation. I need to bring her back to the moment and away from the feelings she’s been hinting at since yesterday.

  My mouth leaves her just long enough to find my jeans. Once I locate the condoms I stuffed in my pockets earlier, I slip off the used one and roll on a new one. Then, my tongue finds her clit again, but instead of fingering her pussy, I move further around until I reach her ass, teasing just around the hole.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps.

  Her stare is so hungry; it looks like she wants to devour me.

  “Have you had this before?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I roar.

  A virgin ass. Oh hell, the things I’m going to do to it the next time we’re together, like make sure she’s reminded of me when she tries to sit for the first time.

  “Not even a finger?”

  “Not even a finger.”

  “Damn it, Piper.” I spit on her hole and continue rubbing my finger around it. “You’re more innocent than I thought.”

  Her legs shake each time I touch the puckered edge.

  “I’m going to give you a taste of what it feels like. Just a small one. We’ll start slow.”

  “I want that taste.” She pauses, and I know she isn’t done talking, but she’s struggling with what she wants to say.

  Her head’s still in that place—fighting between how good I’m making her feel and the words she wants to speak.

  When she asked me earlier why I hadn’t replied to her text, I told her that her feelings were reality, and there was nothing we could do about them. I played it careful, twisting in a semicircle, like I was trying to get out of a defensive hold.

  The truth is, we both know there’s a lot we could do about our feelings. But, for now, it’s best not to say anything.

  We just have to hold on to what we have, and that’s the hours we spend swinging, the moments I see her running on the beach, and the flirty texts she sends during the day.

  Shit, have I taken the texts too far?

  Probably.

  But neither of us has really done anything wrong yet.

  “Piper,” I growl.

  It takes her several seconds to respond, “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

  I place my thumb on her clit and hover my finger right above her hole, softly touching it and then immediately pulling back. She clenches every time my skin lands on her.

  “You mean, things can actually feel better than this?”

  I nod, but the sound that comes out of me reinforces it.

  “Then, yes, pl—” She gasps as I insert the tip of my finger. “Oh. Ohhh.”

  I start slow, working that narrow hole, going in to my knuckle and pulling back to my nail. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

  She moans during each plunge, rocking into my hand, as if she can’t get enough.

  “You like how it feels when I’m inside your ass?”

  “Yes,” she breathes. “More, West. I want more.”

  I replace my thumb with my tongue and draw circles over her clit, watching as the build begins to consume her.

  She drops her weight off her elbows and grips my hair as a demand comes bursting through her lips, “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

  I know, baby. I can feel how close you are. But what I can’t tell you is how I want your cum on my tongue every fucking day. And what I’m doing to you is the same thing you’re doing to me.

  I’m not licking some random cunt that my wife brought home to hook up with. This is a pussy I want to worship. I care if Piper gets off, if she’s completely satisfied. When I go back to my place later this evening, I want Piper to feel that sweet ache all night and think about what I did to cause it.
I want her to crave me. And, when her husband tries to get her off, I want her to remember what it sounds like when she screams my name. Why I’m slipping into her thoughts because she sure as fuck slips into mine.

  Her ass becomes even tighter, and when I drive a finger into her pussy, I feel that contract around my knuckle, too.

  “Ah!” she yells.

  I pump both holes and keep my eyes on her while I lick, so I can see the orgasm take ahold of her.

  And, Jesus, does she look beautiful when it does.

  She shouts louder than I’ve ever heard her, her whole body now quivering and her claws stabbing the hell out of me.

  “West!” she screams again, a second round of spasm shaking her. “Oh my God, West.”

  “Yes, baby,” I groan as she finally stills.

  What I just saw wasn’t enough. I need more screaming, more digging of her nails, more orgasms.

  I glance down as my cock touches the entrance of her pussy. “Don’t tell me you need a second.”

  “I—”

  I don’t wait for her to respond before thrusting straight in. She’s still clenching from coming, and it keeps me locked inside her, nice and tight.

  “Fuck, Piper.”

  She sits up and wraps her arms around my neck, and then I lift her and sit on the end of the bed with her straddling my waist.

  “You want to ride me?”

  “Yes,” she moans. “And I want to keep going until my throat is too sore to scream.”

  I grab the back of her head and pull until her lips are on mine. “Say it again. This time, in my mouth. I want to know what those words taste like.”

  Piper

  This morning, my body aches in the most delicious way. Ever since I woke up, all I’ve been able to think about is West. Hearing him tell me how much he wants my ass and how he needs to be inside me—I’ll never get that out of my head.

  His voice.

  His desperation.

  Everything about him consumes me, and all I can do is hold on and scream.

  When I roll over, Cannon’s side of the bed is cold and empty. Usually, I can’t sleep unless he’s close, but last night, I was so worn out from all the orgasms West had given me, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  It’s not like Cannon to disappear first thing in the morning though, so I pull the covers back and climb out of bed. I never had the energy to change into pajamas, so I’m still wearing only my bra and panties. I should have showered. Should have put on something that wasn’t covered in West’s scent. But I slept with him on me, in me, and my skin still tingles from his beard.

  After I grab a T-shirt out of the clean wash basket, I pull it over my head and start looking for my husband. Both guest rooms are empty, one bed left untouched, so Cannon and Tilly must have kept their night where it started—in the living room. The other bed’s still a tousled mess.

  I bite my lip, thinking about the way we christened that bed—how he shoved my face against the mattress and held on to my hands, pulling my ponytail when he wanted me to scream for him. I’ve never been like that before—so uninhibited, so free. I didn’t care how loud I was or who heard me. All I cared about was releasing the powerful orgasm pooling between my thighs.

  West knows how to hit every spot. How to build from one moment to the next with his fingers, his lips, and his tongue.

  And, when he pushed inside me, I felt that deliciously sweet stretch. Clawing at his back, I dug my nails into his skin and clenched him as hard as I could. I probably left marks, maybe even drew a little blood.

  That’s what West does to me.

  The kitchen is quiet, and the screen door’s closed and locked. Other than the bottle of wine Tilly and Cannon must have shared, nothing else is out of place.

  Flickering is coming from the living room. The TV’s on, and Cannon’s sprawled out on the couch with the remote in one hand and a half-empty beer in the other. It’s about to fall over and spill next to him. He’s sound asleep.

  I pull the remote from his hand and turn the TV off. And then I clear away the bottles littering the table but not before I spot the picture lying next to them. It’s a Polaroid snapshot of him and Tilly, completely naked and fucking.

  For a good minute or two, I stare at it. Cannon’s pounding into her ass while he holds the camera to the side to capture the moment. Her blond hair’s tucked into her neck, giving the perfect view of her naked body.

  Most girls might get hung up on Tilly’s perfect body, but all I can pay attention to is Cannon’s face. Even though it’s just his profile, his eyes are hungry, hungrier than I’ve ever seen them. I didn’t even know he liked anal sex or that he wanted it.

  My husband has never done something that erotic or dirty with me. He’s never devoured me with a single stare or wanted to capture the moment on film. But he’s buried so deep inside Tilly; it doesn’t look like he ever wants to come out.

  I don’t know who the man in that picture is. My husband has never fucked me like that. He’s never even tried.

  “Cannon,” I whisper. “Wake up.”

  He stirs, licking his lips. They’re dry, and I think about all the places they could have been.

  On her.

  In her.

  All over Tilly.

  I have no right to be jealous. West did the same to me, but I still feel a twinge of resentment and a little pang of regret that I wasn’t able to give my husband what he needed in bed.

  “Mornin’, Pipes,” Cannon says with one eye barely open. He’s hungover. “I never made it to bed, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t.” I can’t remember the last time we didn’t sleep in the same bed. Even when we argue, we always climb in beside the other. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I drank too much,” he mumbles as he looks around for all the alcohol he consumed. His voice is scratchy, and his hair’s all over the place.

  If I hadn’t known what he was doing and whom he was with, I probably would have assumed the worst about how he ended up looking so disheveled. Maybe I still should. That picture was completely unexpected.

  “Why’d you drink so much?” I ask him, genuinely curious.

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. “Tilly wanted to do body shots with a bottle of whiskey she’d brought, and then before I knew it, she had a bottle of wine uncorked and a glass in my hand.”

  “What about all the beer?”

  “That was all me,” he says. “After she went home.”

  After West left, I needed some time. Time to get my head on straight before I switched from swinging mode to wife mode. My guess is, Cannon needed the same; only he found his comfort with alcohol, and I found mine when I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  I could dwell on the reasons we avoided each other, or I could let us both off the hook and focus on today. Choosing the second option, I hand him the picture and say, “I’m going to take a shower.”

  His face pales when he sees it. I’m guessing he was either too drunk to remember he took it or too wasted to care. He cares now though, especially when he sees the disappointment on my face.

  I don’t want apologies, so I walk away.

  But Cannon reaches for my arm and stops me. “I’m sorry, Piper.”

  Turning my head, I take a deep breath. When I have the courage, I link my fingers with his and help him stand up. He wraps his arms around me from behind, and we walk down the hallway toward the bathroom, my back to his front. Little kisses pepper my neck—his spot—and as good and familiar as he feels, I notice all the ways his touch differs from West’s. How it’s softer and gentle. Less demanding and more apologetic.

  And then I wonder if he can still smell West on me. If he does, he never mentions it.

  In the bathroom, he helps me pull the T-shirt over my head and unclasps my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His thumbs hook inside my panties, and he slides them down my legs. They land on the floor with the rest of my clothes. I’m left naked with hard nipples and a dull ac
he in my belly.

  Cannon’s eyes roam over my body, and I wonder if he’s comparing my pussy to Tilly’s. Or how much smaller my boobs are than her fake ones.

  “Do you want me to help you with your clothes?” I ask him, hoping he starts undressing instead of staring.

  He shakes his head and does it himself. After he adjusts the water temperature in the shower, we step under the spray together. It’s just me and Cannon—my husband—wet and naked. But, until I wash Tilly off him, I can’t touch him the way I want to.

  Cannon must be feeling the same way because he holds out his palm, and I pour the soap into his hand. And then he rubs over my chest, down my stomach, and between my legs. I’m still so sensitive from West, but I keep quiet. Cannon needs this, and I need to replace West’s touch with new memories.

  The stretch is more of a sting when he pushes two fingers inside me, and I grab on to his shoulders to keep from wincing.

  “Nobody feels as good as you, Pipes. Nobody grips me the way you do.” As he pumps his fingers in and out of me, he kisses my neck and says, “Tilt your head back in the water.”

  I let the warmth from the showerhead rain down on my hair and face, tilting my head back as far as it’ll go, as he continues to wash and finger me. When his hands stop moving, I open my eyes, and he’s fixated on my throat.

  “What is it?” I ask him.

  He takes a step back, pulling his two fingers from my warmth, but doesn’t say a word. His jaw clenches as tightly as his fists, and his teeth grind together.

  Naked and at his mercy, I try to make sense of my husband’s sudden mood change. “Cannon? You’re scaring me.”

  “That’s my spot, Piper. That’s my motherfucking spot.”

  He slides the shower door open and steps out, dripping all over the floor. I stand under the spray for a minute longer, unsure of if I should go after him or cry.

  Once my knees stop shaking, I step out of the shower and look in the mirror. I felt how hard West sucked last night, and now, there’s an angry bruise on my skin—a hickey. It’s as shocking as that picture.

  I grab a towel from the cabinet and throw it around my body. We never talked about markings or toys or anything that could be brought into the bedroom to play. Nothing was off-limits when it came to sex, but I’m starting to think West’s mouth is too dangerous.