Page 124 of Hockey Wife

“Screw that. You do it your way. Find your joy.”

This is my joy. You are it for me. She placed her hands on his chest. “You had my back in there.”

“Fuck yeah. They’re not easy, but …”

“But?”

“Some of this is on you. You need to tell them how you’re feeling. How you’ve always felt. No more ‘I’m fine’ when you’re not.”

She reached for his hand and kissed his fingertips. “I could say the same for you, Mr. I’m-pretending-not-to-be-hurt.”

“I’m not pretending. You know all about it.”

She did. He trusted her with this precious intel. “So we can’t say we’re fine anymore when we’re not,” she murmured. “Honesty in all things.”

Most things. Inside her heart was thundering. She couldn’t tell him everything, that she’d fallen in the worst way.

That she was head over Manolos in love with her husband.

Honesty in all things.

She was the only one he wanted to share with about his problems.

Except for the fact that she was his biggest one.

“The thing is, I can say it. Meaning I can say my wife is fine because she so fucking is.” His hand coasted down the front of her dress in between her gorgeous tits, claiming. Possessing. Inclining his head, he kissed her, sucking on those luscious lips, taking all that sweetness for himself.

She responded in kind, her mouth wet and greedy. She needed him. His wife needed him.

And fuck, he needed her right back.

But not here. He would take her home, even though his cock was an iron spike and he had serious doubts he would make it without coming in his pants.

Taking her hand, he led her around the pillar where the SUV was parked. Just another few steps to the safety of tinted windows, but his wife had other ideas.

“Dylan.” She pulled at his belt buckle.

“Baby, not here. I have to protect you.”

She paid him no heed. Zipper down, her small hand inside grasping him tight. His groan echoed in the cavernous space.

“I can’t wait,” she murmured. “Need you now.”

The best option was to lift her against the pillar, and while his shoulder would bitch, he would happily suffer to feel her perfect pussy wrapped around him. Or maybe lay her on the hood of his car and eat her out until she came, clamping her lovely thighs around his ears.

But she was already asserting her need and carving her own path, just as he’d advised a moment ago. Panties down, then kicked away. The little white scrap of lace lay at the back of the wheel, like a fancy society invitation.

Stunned, he watched as his wife turned from him, placed both hands on the hood of the SUV, and bent over. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled.

“I’m so wet for you, Dylan.”

Oh, fuck.

More slowly than he would have thought possible given his erection situation, he hitched up the skirt of her dress and groaned at the sight of her peach-perfect ass. Taking those sweet cheeks in hand, he palmed and squeezed, yielding a sexy little shiver.

“Let’s see if you’ve been telling the truth.”

She was.

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