Filthy Vows - Alessandra Torre Page 0,63

out a happy sigh as my hand closed around his cock. He hadn’t lied. My husband was turned on, stiff to the point of steel. I flicked my gaze up to meet his eyes, and any hesitancy was gone from their depths.

He grinned, a wickedly delicious expression of pure confidence and promise. My own smile widened and I gripped him tighter, anxious for what was about to come.

“On your knees,” he ordered. “And open up your throat.”

24

An hour later, I was flat on my back in the middle of the mattress beside Easton. Wayland was sprawled on his back in the middle of his pad, snoring loudly. On the TV, a Big Bang rerun involving Billy Bob Thornton played, the volume almost too low to hear.

“You think you could actually do it? Have sex while someone watches?”

I turned my face toward Easton. “Uh—yeah. I’ve already done that.”

“But you were drunk,” he pointed out. “And you had plausible deniability that you were aware of it. It might be different when it’s arranged.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But yeah, I’ll be able to do it.” I thought of the drunk blur I’d been in in Vegas. It might be a good idea to take a few shots beforehand, just to calm my nerves. My stomach curled in apprehension and arousal and maybe I wouldn’t need any liquid courage at all. Maybe I’d be ravenous for it. I thought of the way I felt when I saw the photo he’d taken on his phone. How raw and hot it had been. The burst of confidence it had given me. How alive I had felt.

I rolled onto my side and propped up my head with one hand. “So, if a guy is watching us… where are you thinking he’d be? Outside?” I glanced at the bedroom windows, which were half-covered by bougainvillea bushes. If someone tried to watch us through them, he’d be eaten up by poison ivy, cobwebs and thorns. Which brought them into our bedroom. My gaze settled on the loveseat that was framed by the two windows and half-covered with folded clothes and shoes. I tried to picture a man sitting there, his eyes on me.

It seemed awkward. Like, really awkward. Would he jerk off? Just sit there and stare?

“They could be in the bathroom,” Easton suggested. “Looking through the cracked door.”

I wasn’t in love with that idea either. It seemed creepy for a man to lurk in the dark, his face pressed against the crack. And then I’d have to clean the bathroom. I couldn’t feel sexy with my blackhead cream screaming at them from the counter. “What about Aaron?” I lowered my voice, though if he could hear any of this, we were already fucked five different ways. “Is this guy just going to walk by him and into our bedroom? How are we going to explain that? And where are we even finding this hypothetical guy?” I sank onto my back, feeling overwhelmed by the implementation details. This was the issue with being a Capricorn. We thought through things too much.

“You realize the easiest solution to all of this, right?”

“No.” Yes, but I wasn’t going to voice it.

“We just do it with Aaron.”

A traitorous bolt of arousal sang through my body, one deeper and stronger than anything I’d experienced in the last hour with Easton. Just his name, just that forbidden possibility, and my body hummed to life. I studied the couch and pictured him sitting on the edge, his body hunched forward, his gaze hungry. Energy would fly from that side of the room. My skin would heat with just the knowledge that he was there. Everything would be more intense, each thrust deeper, each orgasm more piercing. I let out a shaky breath. “We can’t do it with Aaron.”

“We can. He hasn’t been with a woman since the last time Becca broke him off a piece, which was four months ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s stealing your Victoria Secret catalogs just to have something to jerk off to.”

“It’d be so awkward with him.”

“It really wouldn’t. Elle, you’re comfortable with him. You know Aaron. If you farted in the middle of us all fucking around, you’d look at him and laugh.”

“I never fart,” I interjected with a smile, because he was right. We would all laugh about it, and I wasn’t sure if that was more of a reason to approach him or less.

“Hey.” His hand found mine under the sheet. “With him, if it’s awkward, you