Chapter 20

Back home in the apartment, the thumping in Irene’s chest refused to slow as she lay silent in her dark bedroom. On a body kissed by more than sunlight, she wore nothing, and the chilly air was a silken wonder on heated curves. Fresh from the shower, the flowery scent of soap replaced the aromas she’d enjoyed on “Le Aurielle” all day long.

Beside her and also naked, Oscar was on his back. His eyes glittered in the darkness. They flashed as her fingernail moved once more, tracing the underside of his stiff wand.

“You want this, mi amor?” she asked.

“Si.”

“Okay.” She sighed and nodded. It would take a while to get used to their new game. “It’s so tiny. Not even a dick. Hmmm, maybe a dicklet. That’s a cute nickname, no?”

“Y-Yes, um, cute.”

“Or, perhaps, Pequeñito?”

At her speaking the word—his word—aloud for the very first time, her husband’s nostrils flared, and those shadowed pools grew so wide. The man, living a lifelong fantasy, had become so ... cute.

After a quiet giggle, she dragged the nail lower. He gulped as it slid over both tiny balls. Also hairless, they were ... yes, adorable with their pinkness rolling beneath the digit.

“You saw the pictures Conor took?” left her in a soft whisper.

“Si,” he murmured.

“Want to know what happened, don’t you?” Her finger swirled upward, making his ... dicklet twitch.

He nodded, then chewed his lips as the fingertip pressed into the knob, smearing slickness over the heated little dome. Rather than continue right away, she leaned closer to nip at his chest. He jerked, then sent a groan into her smile. Her fist gripped his shaft hard enough to make his neck pulse.

A silence stretched as she inspected his shadowed visage. Again, her responsibility soared to the front of her mind. She remained his wife. The father of her children would always be her first lover.

“D-did you—”

She cut off his breaking the quiet with a swift clench of her fist. As he huffed, her attention flicked to the closed bedroom door.

“Shhh, bebé,” she said. “The girls are sleeping.”

“Si, I’ll be quieter this time.”

“Good boy.” She again landed a playful bite on his chest. Another puff of air flew from him into the gloom. “And you are such a little boy, aren’t you?”

“Verdad. So little.”

“Hmm, where was I?”

“Um, the pictures.” He gulped. “Not the later ones from the stateroom. But, uh, the photos while you were in the tub.”

“Ah, si. Correcto.”

She leaned closer. He tensed. Instead of nipping, she placed a soft kiss on a stiff nipple. His throaty groan filled the darkness until a finger of her other hand landed across his trembling lips.

“Shush. Behave, Oscarito.”

He glanced at the door and nodded. “Um, alright. Sorry, corazón.”

“What do you believe happened?”

“Me? Uh, well, you ... Did you?”

“I asked you the question.”

“Ah, okay. I think you ... Yes, you did.”

“Did what, bebé?” She again kissed his chest.

“F-fucked them. Let them fuck you, mi amor.”

“Do you think Conor forced me?”

“No.” He gave her a swift shake of his head. “No, he would never do that.”

“Indeed. Mi Tigre is far too good with his señorita mas linda.”

He had been; watching his naughty kitten play from the other side of the expansive jacuzzi. Dios, the smile the young, dark giant had worn. As tingles of the memory raced along her spine, she refocused on the trembling, paler man before her.

With a quiet sigh, she curled downward. A swift puff from her lips made the newly christened “dicklet” twitch. She giggled while lowering her fist to its slender root.

More puffs followed, drawing groans as the wobbling stub sent strands of glinting silver to his rounded belly. Far lower than those dribbled from Conor’s massive length onto a flatter, more toned stomach. Dios, how she’d come to adore hunting saltiness with her tongue among those gently curved muscles.

“They didn’t fuck me,” she whispered.

Right as Oscar began to respond, she surged forward to land a tiny nip on the tiny mushroom. As his shaky yip filled the air, she settled back against his side. Her fist slid upward to clasp just behind the slender-rimmed helm.

“B-but,” he mumbled before smacking his lips. “Then, well, what—”

“Ah, such great fun. Both dicks in my hands. You saw how large. Not like this puny thing.”

“No, not like mine. Yes, large. Uh, very large.”

“Did you see the blonde?”

“Mm-hmm. His ... cock was the larger one, correcto?”

She laughed. “Si, but not him. The girl.”

“Oh, um, y-yes.”

“She’s pretty, no?”

“Verdad. She is.”

“Magda was fucking that other guy. Frank. An American from Chicago. He’s good with her.”