Page 118 of Buckled in Barbwire

“You have to wear this and nothing else.” I pinch the front of my white undershirt.

“Is this some fantasy?”

“Big time. Ever since the cabin.” I strip off both top layers and begin undoing my jeans.

After removing her tank top and bra, my wife accepts the tee and tugs it over her head. The hem nearly touches her knees, almost bringing me to mine at the sight. Then she goes and shucks her silky thong, flinging it at me.

I catch the scrap in one hand while ditching my pants. Her panties get tucked in the pocket. She won’t be needing any on this trip if I do my job right.

Once we’re ready, I yank open the patio door and usher her outside. The summer evening offers a slight chill compared to the heat of the day. Paisley cuddles into my side as I guide her up the short staircase. Our private section of the roof spreads out in front of us.

My wife ignores the intimate layout, heading straight for the lofted whirlpool. It’s built into a small deck that grants us an even better view of the busy street below. Steam rises off the surface when we remove the cover. I get the jets going while Paisley steps onto the wood ledge. She moans while sinking into the bubbling water, causing me to falter with the controls.

My mostly naked ass is quick to follow her into thewarmth. I relax into the corner seat until the froth touches my chin. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Mhmm.” Paisley stays where she is, which is opposite of me.

“If you think you’re sitting all the way over there, think again.”

She rolls her eyes but scoots to where I’m sprawled out. Before she can try cozying up beside me, I haul her onto my lap. A squeak escapes her, but then she molds into a straddled position astride me. Just the way I planned.

The white fabric clings to her skin, exposing her pebbled nipples. I thumb at the points and she jerks against me. The heat rushing through me has nothing to do with the whirlpool. My cock jerks in the confines of my boxers, begging for escape.

Paisley’s lips part to say something but she stops. Head tipped to one side, concentration strains her features. “Do you hear that?”

I do, but that would spoil it. “Traffic?”

“It sounds like…” Her voice trails off as she listens closer. “The Rhett Taylor Band.”

“Interesting,” I muse.

Paisley gasps. “It’s totally their song. They’re my favorite.”

“Did you know they own a bar down there?” I point at the country chaos below us.

“Yeah, but it’s just their album name. I’m sure they rarely step foot in Booze and Bad Decisions.”

My palms coast along her outer thighs, slipping under my shirt that she’s wearing. “Wanna bet?”

Her eyes narrow. “What do you know?”

“They’re performing live right now,” I reveal.

Her jaw drops. “For real?”

“And they’re putting on a private concert for us tomorrow night.”

“Shut the front door!”

I chuckle, the jovial noise grinding her into me. “Found out you like them and made it happen. The fact their home base is Nashville felt like a sign. Unlike Riley Green, which was who my sister suggested.”

“Forget Riley. I get to meet Rhett, Aiden, Nick, and Lyle. Will their wives be there too?”

“Probably.”

She looks star-struck from the thought alone. “There are romance novels based on them. Heather M. Orgeron wrote them to feed our fantasies. All of the guys are pierced and tattooed and very well hung.“Pour Judgment”is a personal obsession.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet the band,” I grumble.

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