Page 68 of My Wife

My heart flutters in my chest. I’ve forever been the sort of girl who felt butterflies whenever my partner showed his jealous side. It’s always turned me on, and if I’m being honest, it’s part of the reason I needed Clay and Tommy to choose. One of them had to have loved me more. They needed toproveit. To me, seeing that possessiveness, thatjealousy… to know that my murderous husband would find a knife and do just that to this stranger if I let him… it’s not just my heart that’s reacting to my husband, either.

I ignore my aching pussy. She already got worked over twice today, and while I’m always ready to welcome my husband, it would probably be better if I distract him before he marches over to the other side of the pool and snaps that guy’s neck.

I stroke his arm gently with my fingertips. “Hey. Look at me.”

Unable to resist, his eyes are on my face.

“We only just arrived at St. Lucia. You promised me Christmas here. Hard to do that if you maim another guest, babe. Or drown him.”

He scowls. “You’re mine, Cyn. I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”

“How about this?” I ask, tossing my phone to the other side of my pool chair. Then, knowing that this will return Clay’s attention firmly to me where it belongs, I rise up from my chair and, throwing a leg over his groin, I straddle my husband. “Maybe he likes this view better.”

I know Clay does.

His cock is hard beneath my ass. I’m not surprised. He always used to get like this whenever he thought another guy was paying too much attention to me. When we were newly married, he’d find whatever private corner he could just to fuck me and remind himself that I was his.

Another reason why the last five years must have been torture for him, turning him from a blackmailer to a vindictive murderer…

Good. He deserves it for what he put me through, but since I absolutely need this man to be whole myself, I’ll look past it so long as he never pulls that shit again.

Tommy had to die. I regret it the tiniest bit, but when I couldn’t be sure that Clay’s loyalty to his best friend since birth wouldn’t fuck upmyhappiness again? This man is mine. His heart. His body. His loyalty.

Hiseverything.

And as he relaxes into me, hands going straight to my hips, clinging to me as if remembering the long lonely nights when he watched Tommy have his turn with me… as Clay squeezesme tight, I remind myself that I’vealwaysownedhim—and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

He buries his nose in the crook between my shoulder and my neck. Breathing in deep, when he exhales, the rush of warm air on my skin has my nipples pebbling against his chest. “My wife.”

I thread my fingers through his hair, jerking his head so that his face is in my cleavage now. His possessive hold on my waist tightens, pulling me even closer.

Releasing his hair, I drape my arms over his shoulders. “You’re mine, Clayton,” I murmur, low enough that only my husband can hear me. “And if you try to leave me again, I’ll fucking kill you myself. No more faking it, babe. You know that. Your only way out of this relationship is in a box.”

Clay shudders.

I’ve told him that before. The night he killed Tommy. When we first left the ferry in Gullhaven and, instead of returning to my home there, immediately started to make plans to head back East. Right after I held down Marla so that Clay could shoot her up with enough heroin that she’d OD before the ‘crash’.

I might not have murdered as many as he has, but now we both know where we stand. My mother’s murder was on impulse, and Clay encouraged me to finish Chase off, but seeing how much he’s enjoying his murderous side… I’ll do it. I’ll kill him myself before he puts me through that again.

And he knows it.

Even better, knowing that I just threatenedhislife has pushed him from wanting me toneedingme.

Clay’s fingers are nimble and quick. One tug and my bikini bottoms have been shoved over my mound. He dips his pointer finger inside of me, checking to see if I’m ready for him again. Of course I am. Clay mutters my name on a heated groan before shifting his swim shorts down far enough to free his erection.

I rise up on my knees, sinking down on him, wrapping my arms around his neck to complete the connection.

Our hotel is exclusive. Private. We chose this one especially because it is an adult’s only resort, and because there aren’t as many visitors since it’s the week of Thanksgiving back in the States. Apart from us, the only one out by the pool is that man?—

I smirk down at my husband. “Is he still watching?”

“Is that bastard watching me fuck my wife?” grunts Clay as he thrusts up into me. His gaze darts to the side, eyes darkening as he grins that boyish grin I fell in love with when I was seventeen. “Oh, yeah.”

I dare a quick peek behind me. Instead of patting the pool chair, the stranger has moved his hand to his lap, stroking himself as I slowly swivel my hips, discreetly riding my husband.

“Good. Let him see what no other man will ever have again.”

To punctuate my promise, I squeeze—and Clay groans again, forever at my mercy.

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