Page 48 of The Devious Husband

I’m feeling uneasy as I walk into Graham’s office building for our weekly meeting. Every time I see Graham, I’m instantly reminded of the way Sierra looked at him when he found out about us. I have no doubt that she’d never have told him had it been up to her, and it doesn’t sit well with me. She told me he called and apologized for his reaction, claiming he was just caught off-guard, but there was more to it. He’s been acting professional in all of our meetings since, but it’s clear he’s got a thing for my wife, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Mr. Thorne’s last meeting is running late by about thirty minutes, Mr. Kingston,” his assistant tells me as she leads me to a conference room. Every month we rotate our meeting location between our offices, and it’s his turn to host this time. “Ms. Windsor is already here.”

Mrs. Kingston, I mentally correct, irritated that I can’t say the words out loud. Sierra rises to her feet when I walk in, and pure possessiveness rushes through me as I take in that navy dress she’s wearing. She looks fucking incredible with her long hair draped over her chest like that, her dress clinging to her curves beautifully. My wife smiles at me and then looks past me, answering a question Graham’s assistant must’ve asked — something about coffee or tea, but all I can focus on is how fucking gorgeous my wife is. Damn. I can’t even blame Graham for wanting her. How could anyone look at her and not be mesmerized?

She walks up to me when the door clicks closed behind me, her hand instantly wrapping around the back of my neck. “What are you looking at?” she asks in that playful fake mad tone of hers, the one she uses when she says things she would’ve done back when we were mere rivals.

I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her flush against me. “My wife,” I answer, earning myself a sweet little smile as she rises to her tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine, once, twice, before she kisses me fully. I groan as I step forward, until the back of her thighs hit the conference table behind her.

“Xave,” she says, pulling away. “Graham should be here soon.”

I smirk as I grab her waist and lift her onto the table, positioning her so her back is facing the door. “Didn’t you hear? Graham is running thirty minutes late,” I tell her, before parting her legs to stand between them, my lips finding hers.

She threads her hand through my hair and pulls back a little, only to give in and kiss me, almost like she can’t quite resist me either. “Still,” she says in between kisses. “Maybe he’ll be done sooner.”

“What?” I ask, a tinge of insecurity taking root deep in my chest. “Scared Graham will see you kissing your husband?” I pull away from her and step back, running a hand through my hair in frustration. I never quite feel like myself around Sierra, and that hasn’t changed since we got married. I can’t think straight, can’t be as detached as I am in every other area of life. She makes me want and do things I shouldn’t, and it’s fucking maddening.

She looks at me that way she does sometimes, like she sees straight through every wall I put up, every facade I craft. “Come here,” my wife says, her tone assertive.

I raise a brow as I walk back to her, and she catches me off guard when she reaches for my tie and pulls me closer, her lips crashing against mine. I groan as I grab her hips and pull her flush against me, kissing her harder than before, my movements a little less controlled.

She moans when I move my lips to her neck, her head falling back. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she tells me, and I pull back to throw her a glare, my hands moving to her thighs.

“Baby, you don’t want to see what happens when I truly get jealous.”

She’s smiles, her eyes hooded. “I forgot to tell you that Graham asked me out for a drink after this meeting.”

I clench my jaw and look into her eyes as I slide my hands up her legs, my thumbs brushing against her tights, loving the fact that I can feel how wet she is straight through it. “Yeah? What did you tell him?”

“I told him I’d love to go.”

My hand freeze in place as my gaze cuts to hers, and I stare at my wife, my heart wrenching painfully. That was not what I was expecting her to say — at all. Does she still want him? If I hadn’t intervened when I did, she would have started dated him, and I’d have lost my chance with her forever. Does she still regret missing out on him and what they could’ve had?

“He’s taking me to The Renegade.”

My blood begins to boil as I envision her laughing with him over cocktails in a restaurant I fucking own — one that serves all her favorite dishes and drinks all because I made it so. It hurts to know that he’s exactly the kind of man she should’ve been with, the kind of man I could never be — someone with strong morals, a good reputation that isn’t built on fear and intimidation, a long-standing reputable family history. No man has ever made me feel as insecure and threatened as Graham Throne does.

Sierra grins at me in a way I know all too well, and just like that, every bit of anger drains away. She only smiles at me that way when she’s trying to get under my skin. “Little liar,” I murmur, unable to keep from smiling. My wife looks shocked that I saw through her lies, and her expression just adds to my relief. “Now, how am I going to punish you for provoking me?” I ask as I reach for her tights and rip them at her crotch.

Sierra’s breath hitches when I sit down in the chair in front of her and pull her to the edge of the table, putting her pussy on eye level for me. “Tell me why you lied,” I demand as I kiss her inner thigh, slowly inching my way forward.

Sierra buries her hand in my hair, her breathing shallow. “You said I didn’t want to see what happens when you’re truly jealous. Turns out, I do.”

I chuckle, unable to help myself. Of course she does. My wife lives to provoke me. “You’re about to find out,” I warn, before pushing her panties aside and darting my tongue out for a taste.

The way she moans is like fucking music to my ears, and I groan against her pussy as I grab her legs and throw them over my shoulders. “Xavier,” she pants, and I grin as I torture her clit, lapping it up with harsh, punishing strokes. “Oh God.”

“Not even God can save you now,” I warn her, before pushing two fingers into her to tease her further, bringing her to the brink of an orgasm with my tongue. Her grip on my hair tightens, and she begins to fuck my face, her hips moving on their own accord as she chases her orgasm, not giving a fuck that we’re in Graham Thorne’s conference room. It resolves every bit of lingering bit of insecurity I felt, and she doesn’t even know it.

“Please,” she begs. “Please.”

I use the tip of my tongue to give her exactly what she wants, and my gorgeous wife comes all over my tongue, her moans unbridled. I did that to her, and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

“I’m not done with you,” I murmur as I begin to unbuckle my belt.

Sierra bites down on her lip when I take my cock out, the sexiest moan leaving her lips when I drag it over her pussy. “I’m going to fuck you on this conference table, and every damn time you see Graham, you’re going to be reminded of the way you took your husband’s cock in his office. I’m going to ruin the mere sight of him for you.”

She gasps when I push the head in, her gaze heated. “You see that, baby? See the way your hungry pussy is fucking swallowing my cock?” I grab her hair and ball my fist as I thrust all the way into her, needing her with a ferocity I’ve never felt before. “Such a perfect fucking pussy, and it’s all mine.” I pull back, my eyes on hers as I thrust back into her, hard. She moans loudly, her gaze hazy, like she can’t think straight, like her mind is filled with nothing but me — just the way I like it. “Every goddamn inch of you is mine, Sierra Kingston,” I warn her as I fuck her with fast, hard strokes, and she takes it all.

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