Filthy Vows - Alessandra Torre Page 0,46

had so many unwelcome thoughts about so many men—Aaron just happened to be the one who I was currently literally tripping over, the one who had stood on that dark balcony and made my first fantasy come to life. If I was start confessing my thoughts to Easton, maybe I should bring up my secret scenarios about someone else, someone who wasn’t in our house, eating dinner with us every night. Someone who didn’t feel so close.

Someone who didn’t feel like an actual possibility.

Because he wasn’t, right? Everything Easton just said, that role-play we just did…

“I didn’t mean all of that.” I broke away from the kiss, looking up to the ceiling as he planted kisses on my neck, then collarbone. “I was just role-playing.”

His hand traveled down the bare length of my body, and I let out a moan as his fingers dipped in between my legs, my folds slick, his entry wet. “Are you sure?” He turned his head, watching his glistening fingers as they pushed in, then withdrew. In, then out. My pelvis tilted up on its own accord, begging for more. “Because you seemed like you did.” He turned, his gaze pinning on mine. “Tell me what you had thought about. With Aaron.”

I sucked in a breath, aware that this was an unnecessary relationship risk, only moderately justified by the dark look of arousal on his face, the seductive play of his fingers as they hypnotically pulsed in and out of me. Had I ever seen such intensity on his features? Such need? Maybe at the beginning. Maybe during those lust-filled early nights. But not in a long time, even with the fireworks show that our sex often became.

I parted my legs wider, my thighs beginning to tremble. “Just, being between the two of you. On my knees.”

His gaze darkened, his eyes hooding as his fingers pressed deeper, curving up to scrape along my G-spot. I arched halfway off the bed. He nodded. “Keep going.”

“That’s it.”

“You aren’t a good liar, my sweet wife.” He rubbed his forefinger along my inner ridge and I began to pant, my pelvis twitching in response to his touch. “Keep going.”

“Someone behind me,” I gasp. “Not necessarily him. Just someone. While you make me suck your cock.” I twisted on top of the sheets, frantic to get to the orgasm. He eased his fingers a torturous inch or so out, then did something that felt like pure heaven.

“I like the thought of competing over you.” He placed a hand on my chest and pressed, pinning me down. “I like the idea of seeing the look on your face when someone other than me pushes inside of you.” He continued the motion and I clawed along a pillow, my eyes pinching shut as I flexed every muscle in my body and then broke.

Waves. Glorious waves of pleasure. I moaned his name as I shuddered, my body curling around his hand, my sensitivity growing as the orgasm faded, his touch softened. I exhaled and relaxed, one foot twitching as a last tendril of pleasure uncurled. I opened my eyes and found him watching me.

“But I don’t think I could let someone else have you,” he said gruffly, leaning forward until his face was just above mine. He brushed a tender kiss on my left cheek, then my right. “I think I’d kill anyone who touched you, no matter how fucking hard I get at what you just said.”

I met his third kiss with my lips and smiled against the touch. “I’m good with that.”

“Are you sure?” He carefully brushed my hair away from my face, then cradled my chin, studying me. From the front to the house, a door slammed and Wayland gave a series of loud barks, then fell silent. Chances were that Aaron, with a pizza in hand, was being attacked from a dog with an addiction to anything involving cheese, bread, or meat.

“They were just thoughts,” I said. “Thoughts that terrify me.”

“In what way?”

“What they might do to us.”

He kissed me again, then rolled off the bed and stood, the muscles in his body precisely outlined. Four years out from playing, he was still a perfect athletic specimen. His dick, big and beautiful, jutting out from between those strong thighs. His blond hair, rough from my fingers, that sunburnt nose and handsome features, with eyes that gleamed with sexual promise. There were times I saw insecurity in Easton—discussing our finances, on his way to important meetings—but in the bedroom, he’d