Page 51 of The Devious Husband

She climbs on and spreads my legs, making herself comfortable against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her to me. She sighs happily and tilts her head to kiss my neck, once, twice, before she faces forward and opens up her book. Looks like she got about halfway through, and the idea of sitting here with her as she reads all the little notes I left her is a little nerve-racking.

I place my chin on her shoulder and smirk when I realize the next chapter she’s about to read is a steamy one. My heart instantly begins to race when I remember the notes I left in the margins…

I imagined this to be us when I read this, and I wonder… do you do the same thing? Is it my face you see when you imagine your heroes? Don’t ever tell me if it’s not. I don’t think I could take it.

“Yes,” she whispers, grinding her ass against my rock hard cock subtly. “It’s always your face I imagine.”

I smile, pleased with her words. She squirms a little when my hands begin to roam over her body, my touches slow and leisurely. I bite back a smile when her nipples harden for me easily, the sheer fabric likely only adding to the sensations. “Xave,” she says, her voice filled with desperation.

I glance over her shoulder and read along with her as the emperor uses his magical shadows to bring the heroine to the brink of an orgasm. I might not have magical powers, but I don’t need them to have the same effect on my wife.

I keep teasing her nipples as my other hand slips between her legs, and I chuckle when I realize she isn’t wearing panties. “Were you hoping I’d do this?” I whisper into her ear as I slip my middle finger into her and coat it in her wetness before I circle her clit.

She whimpers, and I can’t help but be a little jealous of her book. She got this wet just from some words on a page? Sierra moans as she turns the page, and pure desire rushes through me as I slip two fingers into her and press against her g-spot, using the heel of my hand to caress her clit at the same time.

“Xavier,” she moans.

I nip at her ear before kissing her just below it. “That’s right, baby,” I whisper. “Your book might have made you wet, but it’s me that’s touching you. It’s me that’ll make you come.” She begins to pant, but she doesn’t put her book away, so I increase my pace, outright torturing her as I bring her to the edge and keep her there. “This pussy belongs to me, you hear me?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Yes. I’m yours, Xavier, as much as you’re mine.”

I grab her hair and kiss her as I give her what she wants, loving the way her pussy contracts around my fingers, her moans silenced by our kiss. My wife collapses against me, breathless, and I smile to myself. Take that, Felix Osiris. Fictional asshole. How fucking dare he make my wife wet when he isn’t even real? Fucking prick.

“I thought you said you were going to work while I read?”

“I am working,” I retort lazily. “Being married is hard work.” I tense involuntarily when I realize what I just said and shake my head. “No, I mean— I don’t mean that being married to you is hard work, Sierra. I?—”

My wife cuts me off by pushing her book aside and turning to straddle me. She looks into my eyes as she shoves my sweats aside and grabs my cock. “Fuck,” I moan when she aligns it and lowers herself on top of me, taking all of me in one smooth move.

I grab her ass as she begins to ride me, a beautiful blush on her face as she buries her hands in my hair. “It is hard work,” she says, “but you make it look easy, Xave.” Sierra lifts herself almost entirely off my cock, before coming down on me hard, drawing a helpless moan from my throat. “You’re mine, Xavier,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “Every thought you second-guess, every word you think is misspoken. I want it all — no exceptions.”

I grab her hair and pull her mouth to mine, drowning myself in her. How the fuck did I get to be this lucky? This kind of luck… it can’t last, can it?

Forty-Five

Sierra

I frown at my architectural drawings and sharpen my pencil, annoyed that I can’t quite get it right. “Damn it,” I mutter, leaning back in my seat at our dining table.

“Let me see,” Xavier says as he puts down a cheese platter before sitting down next to me. I stare at it wide-eyed and grab the whole platter with both hands while he reaches for my drawing.

Xavier chuckles when I take a bite of some smoked cheddar and moan in delight. “I’ve never before been jealous of cheese that I bought myself,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs my pencil. “You do the weirdest things to me, Mrs. Kingston.”

“You did this to yourself,” I murmur as I grab a cracker and slather it in brie. “You married me, weird quirks and all.”

He laughs and leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Best thing I’ve ever done,” he replies, before he turns back to my drawing. I watch him as he analyses my work and very quickly makes it better, like it comes easy to him, and I can’t help but be a little jealous of how talented he is. It’s no wonder we were rivals for so long — we’re both far too competitive.

I do a happy little shimmy in my seat as I take another bite of cheese, and Xavier rests his head on his fist, his elbow on the table as he watches me with that enraptured expression. “I may just need to take you to the restaurant in Paris that I flew this in from. I haven’t been in years, but I think you’ll like it. It’s small and quaint, but it has a gorgeous view of the Eiffel Tower, impeccable service, and the absolute best food I’ve ever had.”

I raise a brow, jealousy slowly unfurling in my chest. “Sounds romantic,” I murmur, instantly wondering who he went with. It’s clear the memory is a good one, judging by the way he’s smiling.

Xavier raises a brow, and then he chuckles. “There’s no need to look at me that way,” he tells me, seemingly amused. “I went with a good friend of mine, a male friend. His family owns that restaurant chain, along with many other things in Europe.”

I look up in surprise, suddenly realizing that he’s never mentioned any friends, or even things he’s done in the past that I wasn’t already aware of, such as visiting France. “Are you still friends with him?” I ask carefully.

Xavier tenses just a touch, but then he sighs and nods. “I’d say that Dion and Enzo are my only two real friends. I’ll introduce you someday. I think he’d love to meet you.”

He still seems to think long and hard before he tells me things, but he has started to share snippets of his past with me. Only ever good memories, and I suspect they’re heavily redacted, but I don’t really mind. I don’t need to know every single thing about him, I just want to feel like he’s letting me in, like I’m someone he trusts and wants to share his life with.

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