Chapter 11

As she stood in the hall, Anna again pressed the doorbell. But once more the only reply was echoing chimes. Draped in one of Aiden’s long-sleeved white shirts, her heart thumped. With damp hair smelling of his masculine, menthol-tinged shampoo, a lengthy sigh escaped her. He’d offered her breakfast, and to walk her home.

Or keep her.

His lingering hunger continued to tug at her.

She could return to him. But right as she turned for the elevator, soft footfalls approached beyond the closed door.

At each bolt’s retraction, her pulse ratcheted higher. By the time the entrance cracked open to reveal Rory’s red-rimmed eyes in dark circles, the hall had dimmed into a blurry crimson haze. Beneath disheveled hair, her husband’s gaze swept over her. Would he slam the door in her face? It’d been his idea. His fantasy, but he’d wanted to watch. When the door wavered, her breath hitched.

“Good morning.”

At his murmur as he stepped back, pulling the door wider, she exhaled. “Good morning, Rory.” Her throat still raw, her voice was hoarse.

With a wince while swallowing, she stepped inside, tracking her husband’s exhausted eyes. While pushing the door closed, he stayed focused on her. The universe slowed as images from the night before tumbled into her mind. What to tell him? How much? How little? But when the shiny tip of his tongue flicked around his mouth, time sped once more.

Oh, he was eager to know. With a slight grin, she leaned forward to place her cracked, sore lips against his. Though his eyes widened, he remained motionless until she pulled away.

Before she could speak, a beep sounded. Then another. A third. Fourth. After spotting her phone on the kitchen counter next to her half-empty glass from the night before, the cascade of beeping continued. With lips pursed, she faced him while dragging shaky fingers through her sodden tresses and walking towards the bedroom.

“I’ve got to get to the office.” She flashed a grin as more beeps arrived. “New sales manager meeting.” When his eyes went to the phone, she let a low chuckle slip from her. “Aiden said you may enjoy some, uh, evidence.”

After dressing and readying for work, she click-clacked into the kitchen. As she filled a tall white porcelain mug with coffee, she peered at Rory, watching her from a barstool at the counter. Before him was a half-eaten bowl of cereal. In his hand, a spoon quivered, sending droplets of milk plopping into the bowl. His eyes flicked to her phone, at last motionless and silent but still in the same place.

“What? You didn’t check ‘em out? We took a lot of photos. Eventually,” she said, while moving closer. Though her chest tightened, she forced a slim smile. “And it was your fantasy, right? What you wanted?”

Rather than speak, he only nodded before looking again at the phone. When his breath hitched, she eased around the counter and glanced into his crotch. Tented, his shorts were throbbing. As her hand settled on the pulsing hardness, a lengthy hiss escaped him.

“Been like this all night, baby?” she whispered into his ear.

“Yes.” Her husband’s voice was low. Distant.

“You poor thing.” As she pressed her lips against Rory’s cheek, she sank her fingers beneath his waistband. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” His gaze flicked to her before returning to the phone.

As her fist wrapped his vibrating flesh, she took a slow sip of coffee. Under a thin ivory blouse and thinner lace bra that still teased her battered nipples, her heartbeat sped. A long twisting stroke brought a moan from his lips and left a sticky smear on her palm. When his gaze returned to her, Rory’s jaw was trembling. While smacking her lips, she lowered the mug and lifted her phone.

When she displayed the first photo, air hissed from Rory. But his cock jumped in her gliding fist. In the dark image, she was in bed, curled between Aiden’s spread legs. Still semi-hard and glistening with their fluids, his massive shaft lay across her hands. God, it had been so heavy in her palms. The way it throbbed. Thundered more like. Beneath her twinkling eyes, its enormous bulb was stretching her lips. Anna leaned to her husband’s ear, tapping it with her flicking tongue.

“That was after our first fuck, baby.” Rory’s rod swelled in her stroking fingers. “But I was still so wet. Mmm, I needed him again.”

At the next picture, a winding groan erupted from her husband. In it, she was on her hands and knees. Kneeling behind her, a hand wound in her hair, Aiden had taken it in the mirror at the foot of the bed. With her tits in mid-swing and glistening mouth wide, she was staring at the flash.

“Oh, God. That one. He’d just flooded me again, baby. Mmm, fuck. He was so deep.” With shudders rippling through her, she stroked her husband faster. “You should’ve heard me. My scream lasted fucking forever.”

As picture after picture appeared, Rory’s trembling became forceful pulses under her ceaseless fist. In a soft voice, she narrated each, pulling louder groans from her husband’s ever more shaky mouth.

When the last image appeared, she swallowed. It wasn’t a still. The play button hovered in the middle of the screen. With her gaze locked onto her husband’s white-rimmed pools, she halted her stroking to grip his pulsating shaft.

“Before I start this, I need to know.” She smacked her lips and gulped. “I need to know you’ll still love me, Rory.” With her hand frozen, his pulse hammered her tight fist. “No matter what.”

“N-No matter, um, what?” her husband murmured in a shaky whisper while looking at the frozen image.

In the picture, with her back arched into his chest, she was impaled and splayed across Aiden’s front. As he stood in the middle of the dark bedroom, her legs dangled alongside his. Mouth wide, Anna’s fingers were reaching over her head to claw at his hair. With his hands around her waist, he was shoving her skyward.

“Yes,” she whispered, while staring at Rory. But his eyes were locked on the image. After a swift purse of his lips and flick of his tongue, he met her gaze and nodded. “I’ll always come home to you,” slipped from Anna as her finger hovered over the play button. “I promise, Rory. Despite what it looks like. Okay?”

As soon as he bobbed his chin, her nail tapped the screen.

When her winding, high-pitched wail erupted from the phone to fill the room, Rory’s mouth widened. At the sound of Aiden’s low, growling voice, Anna trembled while squeezing her husband’s rod.

“Can your husband do this to you?” Aiden said while smiling into the camera and pumping her writhing frame up and down on his glimmering stiff shaft.

A lengthy hiss of air left Rory as her tight fist resumed stroking. Transfixed on Aiden’s smile, her hand sped. She could again feel that thick, long fleshy pole. Her pole. Impaled. Used. She was nothing but a toy. For him. As Rory’s frame swayed, the chair creaked.

“No!” In the film, Anna drove her shaking hands through Aiden’s hair while slapping along his sweat-slick torso. Then froze as she shuddered. “Oh. Oh, Jesus. Oh. Fuck. No, he can’t.”