Hoax Husband - Candice M. Wright Page 0,57

here in those itty-bitty shorts of yours, I just about came in my pants,” I admit.

How she managed to look both slutty and innocent at the same time is beyond me.

“It was fun. It's not something I've ever felt comfortable trying with someone else, but who better to be adventurous with than my husband?”

“Well, I, for one, am happy to be your guinea pig anytime the need to try something new hits,” I graciously offer. “And I'm glad you trusted me with that, Skittle, it means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” she tells me with a blush.

She rocked the sex goddess vibe last night, but my words still make her blush. Will this woman ever stop surprising me?

“I want to talk to you about something, okay?" I ask, biting the bullet.

“Sure, let's eat first though, I seem to have worked up an appetite,” she teases.

I move to the sitting area and grab one of the large soft gray cushions from the sofa and place it on the padded seat of the breakfast stool, knowing she might still be uncomfortable, but it won't be as bad with some padding.

She sets a plate in front of both of us before gingerly sitting on the cushion and digging in. She moans around a mouthful of bacon, making my eyes move to her mouth as I remember just how talented it is and what it feels like when she moans around my cock.

When she sees me watching her, she must know where my thoughts have gone as she laughs and shakes her head.

“Oh, no. Down, boy, I need a little longer to recover from last night's escapades before you look at me with those come fuck me eyes,” she retorts.

“Come fuck me eyes?” I muse with a wicked grin.

“See that right there. That look is hard wired to my libido. When you stare at me like that, I want to just rip my panties off and throw them at you,” she admits.

“Well, don't let me stop you.” Hell, this sounds like heaven to me.

“You are out of luck hubby of mine, I'm not wearing any,” she informs me with a wink before shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

Damn vixen.

Getting back on track, I decide to get this conversation over with. It will be hard for her to run while she’s only wearing my shirt.

“So,” I start as the buzzer for the intercom sounds.

I climb to my feet and walk over to the door, hitting the button to answer.

“Yes?” I question, frustrated with the timing.

“Sir, Mr. Morgan is here to see you. He says it's important,” Sam answers.

I sigh and look at Linda. She shrugs, shoving the last of her bacon into her mouth before standing and walking over to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“I'm going to shower and get dressed. Do what you’ve got to do,” she tells me.

I watch as she walks away, enchanted by the sensual sway of her hips before remembering Sam.

“Send him up, Sam, thank you.” This better be good.

“Fuck sake,” I mutter, unlocking the door for Graham before stomping back over to my food.

I know he wouldn't be here if it wasn’t important. I guess the conversation between Skittle and me can wait until tonight. I've finished my eggs by the time he gets up here. Without knocking, he opens the door and lets himself in like usual. I frown when I think about Linda being naked underneath my shirt. I’ll have to make sure the fucker knocks next time, just in case.

“Oh bacon, I’m starving. Got any more?” he asks as I shove the last piece of bacon in my mouth, shaking my head.

“Damn,” he grunts, heading to the coffee pot and pouring himself a drink.

“Well, if you had called first, that wouldn't be an issue now, would it?” I reprimand him.

“Yeah, well, I got a call and decided not to waste any time. Where's the wife?” he questions, looking in the direction of the bedroom.

“In the shower. What's the issue?” I ask impatiently.

“It seems that Peterson might have a favorite horse in this race, and it isn't us,” he tells me, making my stomach drop.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“That’s what I heard, but...the front runner, well, let's just say the image they portray is not necessarily the image that matches the one behind closed doors.” He smirks.

I shake my head at that. “Isn't that true of everyone, though?”

“Maybe, but not quite in the same way as Morris. See, Morris has been married for fifteen years,