Page 56 of The Retreat

Why isn’t life that easy? Even my brother took his worst traits and loved them, then used them on his husband who also loves them. I was the only one who seemed to be rational about any of this.

Colin’s lips find my ear, drawing me out of my head again. “Come play with me, husband.” His words come in a sultry tone, bringing back all the fear that if I’m not here, he’s going to find somebody else.

And is that even fair? Our marriage is a sham. He deserves somebody who loves him. He deserves someone who would do this for real with him instead of just me getting out of marrying his sister. I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. My brain likes to seemingly forget he had willingly gone into this with me. But it feels like it’s under false pretenses now.

I roll toward him in the confined space and cup his cheek, bringing my lips to his. “I think it’s time I got you off.”

Colin freezes, lips pressed against mine. “What?”

“I haven’t made you come all this time, but you keep making me come. I want to get you off and give you what you’ve been giving me.” I need to make him feel good before I leave, so he thinks about my hands on him for the next two weeks.

I don’t want him to even have the urge to look for somebody else while I’m gone. Selfishly, I want to keep him completely to myself. But I’m not going to tell him that. But maybe if he’s getting constant orgasms, he’d be happy to stay in the fake marriage.

“I thought you said you weren’t into it.”

I grab his dick to shut him up. “How about you let me decide what I want to do myself.”

He quickly stiffens in my hand, getting so fucking hard. He is big, too. Almost as big as my cock. And thick. I wonder what he’d taste like. How my lips would feel stretched around him.

I’ve been curious for a while now since he seemed to love swallowing my cum. I kiss him again.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he whispers into my lips.

“Of course I am.”

TWENTY

Colin

Oh gods. Oh fuck.

“Ahhhh,” my moan is a ragged exhale. I’m already creating a wet spot in my pants.

Owen is touching me. I never thought this would happen. I may combust into fire and ash. The way my blood heats is nothing short of hellfire.

The cramped space under this chaise is not nearly enough room, not for leverage, not for movement, but right now I feel like I’m a teenage boy getting his dick touched for the first time. I’m about ready to come in my fucking pants.

“Out.” Owen pushes me, giving me no option, just shoving me across the floor and out of his hiding spot.

“What? No!” I grab onto him, disgustingly afraid he’s done with me.

He chuckles, a deeper sound than I expect, one laced with sexual promise, as he follows me and settles between my thighs.

The smirk on his face is a promise I can’t wait for him to fulfill. “I’m not going to leave you hanging.”

My crop top has ridden up, exposing more of my torso and one nipple. His hips are bracketed by my knees, keeping him where I want him while giving him room to move. The fabric of his slacks rubs deliciously against my indecently short shorts. If he isn’t careful, he’ll get a wet spot on his pants from me, too. I’m sloppy with pre-cum already.

Owen drops his mouth to my exposed nipple, sucking gently, then biting at it when it hardens on his tongue.

I arch off the floor, reaching for anything to hold on to and only finding his hair.

My feet hook behind his thighs, and I use the little bit of leverage to grind against him. “Shiiiiit.”

“Are you going to come for me so quickly? I’ve barely done anything.” Amusement colors his tone. The bastard is taunting me, but as long as he keeps touching me, he can do whatever he wants.

“Fuck, Owen,” I pant when he nuzzles my shirt higher and starts in on my other nipple. “Please.”

“Begging? I must be doing this right.” His palm finds my cock, squeezing me through the thin material of my shorts, and it’s almost too much.

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