Filthy Vows - Alessandra Torre Page 0,47

always been confident. Naked, his cockiness was at an all-time. I studied the lines and cuts of his body and tried to imagine how I’d feel if he said those same things to me.

That he was fantasizing about another woman. Multiple other women.

That he was turned on by the thought of them in our bed.

That he wanted to fuck them while I used his mouth.

I’d have stormed out of bed, pulled on my clothes, and packed a bag. I held my breath, tensing as Easton reached down and picked up his jeans. Skipping his underwear, he pulled one leg on and then the other. Palming his dick, he grimaced as he pushed it down and into the tight fit of his jeans.

I studied the level of his erection. “Did you take something?”

He stopped his efforts and gave me an exasperated look. “Really? Have I ever needed to take anything?”

“I’m just asking because of the last time.” The ‘last time’ was the one and only time he took a Cialis. A guy on the team had passed him the pill, one which had produced immediate and impressive results that lasted seven hours, despite him having three orgasms and a lot of concerned deflation efforts on our part. I’d wanted to call the ER, he had staunchly refused, and we’d had ice packs on and the team doctor on call by the time it finally started to wilt.

“Nope. This is all you.” He stretched out a white Hanes T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Bending over the bed, he gave me another kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” I pulled the sheet back over me, and watched as he zipped up his pants. His gorgeous features winced as he fastened the button. “Are you sure that’s going to go down?”

“Any minute.” He came forward and sat on the edge of the bed and I tensed. Maybe this was it. The moment of the fight. A cumulation of the Vegas and mid-sex confessions.

Twisting toward me, he leaned across my stomach, his weight pulling the sheet tightly against my breasts. I shifted, and he put the bulk of his heft on his elbow. “You can tell me the truth, Elle. About what you want.”

I wanted to say the same thing to him, given that his dick was about to pierce a hole through the front of his jeans. Maybe the idea of me being with someone else did make him furious, but it also, most definitely, turned my husband on.

He was waiting, and I tried to figure out what I truly wanted. An open marriage? Hell no. A threesome? Maybe. Yes. Maybe. “I don’t know what I want,” I said finally. “I think the fertility drugs are knocking my hormones all out of whack. It isn’t just Aaron. I’ve been thinking about a lot of men.”

It felt wrong to blame the fertility drugs, yet they had been what had brought all of this on. Prior to those drugs, I had a perfectly normal, if not slightly over-active libido, one fully centered on my husband.

He didn’t react, his palm brushing over the top of the sheet and awakening one pert nipple. “What men?”

I winced. “A lot of different ones. Too many to list. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

He stilled. “Dr. Jenthric?”

A laugh burst unexpectedly out of me. “What?! No. He’s like ninety!”

“Your boss? Please don’t say so. I know that’s a common fantasy among women.” He looked almost serious enough to sell the question, if you missed the playful twinkle in his eye.

I grabbed a pillow and swung it at his head. “I hate you. Be serious for one moment. I’m not talking about bald gay men or old pediatricians.”

He dodged a second swing of the pillow, stole it from me, and tossed it to the side. Grabbing my wrists, he pinned them to the bed on either side of my head. “How worried should I be about these fantasies?”

“Not worried,” I said honestly. “They’ve been going on ever since we started trying to get pregnant, and I haven’t done anything with anyone.”

“But this is why you didn’t want Aaron to stay with us?” He studied me from his dominant position, then eased his weight off my wrists, freeing them.

I immediately reached for his hair, threading my hands through the thick strands. “All of my other fantasies were with people I have little to no contact with. It just seems too close, having him right here. What if I mess up?”

“Mess up? You won’t.” It was