Page 40 of My Wife

Uh-oh.

Maybe I can’t.

He’s unpredictable. Ruthless. A killer.

I rest on my heels. “Clay?—”

“Sh, Cyn. Not right now. If you’re going to open your mouth, I don’t want to hear excuses. I just want you to suck me off. Here.” He grabs his cock, angling it so that I can bob my head down and take him between my lips. He waits until I do, then throws back his head and groans. “See? A mouth like this? It can make me forgive a lot.

“But can it make me forget you cheated?” He strokes my temple before lowering his hand, closing my jaw around him. “Suck me like you mean it and we’ll see.”

I’ve blown Clay thousands of times. I know what he likes and how he likes it. It’s almost habit, and as though five years haven’t passed at all, I do just that.

I can’t be doing that great of a job, though, because even as I cup his sac and hollow my cheeks, using every trick I have to make my husband lose him mine, all he does is degrade me for moving on.

Does he remember how much it turns me on for him to do that? Or is this how he really feels? I’m not sure, but with that knife as close as it is, I don’t rise to the bait. I let him say whatever he wants while I bob my head on his cock.

“How long was I gone before you were fucking my best friend? How long before you took his cock like a dirty little whore? Did he make you scream, Cyn? The same way I do?” He fingers the hilt of his knife before twining his fingers through my hair. “I can make you scream now.”

Fucking hell. I’m not even getting any stimulation out of this and my panties aresoaked. When we were married, we didn’t get the chance to explore alternative lifestyles like BDSM —there wasn’t enough time for us—but I never came harder than when Clay took me like I was his property. His blonde sex doll who existed to be fucked by him.

Like he owned me, and would die if he couldn’t shoot his load inside of me.

I get that sensation at this very moment, and even though I agrees to this for Tommy’s sake, I forget all about him—until Clay speaks up again.

“Did you let Tommy fuck your mouth like this?” he asks, pumping in and out of me as I relax my jaw, letting him do just that now. “Did you worship his cock like it’s your god and the fucking floor is your altar?”

Mouth stuffed full of Clay, I can’t answer him, and I also know better than to let his dick slip from my mouth while he’s using me.

I can tell myself it’s to save Tommy’s life all I want, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss this. Didn’t missClay.

“My pretty little whore.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “I know how much you like to fuck. Tell me… while I was gone, did you give him all of your holes?”

I moan around his cock. I don’t mean to, but when I remember exactly what Clay means when he says ‘all’ of my holes…

“Well? Tell me, baby.”

I shake my head.

His eyes are insane, but they’re also bright at that realization. “Ah. So there are still some things you know belong to your husband.”

He’s happy to hear that, but he’s also on the edge of coming. I can sense it in the way he’s just about touching the back of my throat, enjoying the sensation as I gag on his length, but he keeps fucking me while I cling to his thighs.

I expect him to keep going until he shoots his load into my throat. Only, that’s the old Clay. The new Clay?

He taps my shoulder, the universal sign to release a cock during a blowjob.

Confused, but not willing to push him right now, I let him slip out from between my lips.

His voice is husky and full of need as he commands:

“Take off your sweater.”

Puzzled but still willing to do what I’m told at this moment, I shrug off the red sweater.

He smiles when he sees my bra, but then his gaze dips, and his expression turns predatory. “You’re still wearing my ring, Cyn.”

Fuck. How did I forget? If I wanted to pretend I couldn’t care less about Clay, taking his ring off might’ve been a good start… and then I early choke when I notice that Clay… he still has a wedding band on his fourth finger of his left hand.

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