Filthy Vows (Filthy Vows #1)(38)

I sucked in a breath, aware that this was an unnecessary relationship risk, only moderately justified by the dark look of arousal on his face, the seductive play of his fingers as they hypnotically pulsed in and out of me. Had I ever seen such intensity on his features? Such need? Maybe at the beginning. Maybe during those lust-filled early nights. But not in a long time, even with the fireworks show that our sex often became.

I parted my legs wider, my thighs beginning to tremble. “Just, being between the two of you. On my knees.”

His gaze darkened, his eyes hooding as his fingers pressed deeper, curving up to scrape along my G-spot. I arched halfway off the bed. He nodded. “Keep going.”

“That’s it.”

“You aren’t a good liar, my sweet wife.” He rubbed his forefinger along my inner ridge and I began to pant, my pelvis twitching in response to his touch. “Keep going.”

“Someone behind me,” I gasp. “Not necessarily him. Just someone. While you make me suck your cock.” I twisted on top of the sheets, frantic to get to the orgasm. He eased his fingers a torturous inch or so out, then did something that felt like pure heaven.

“I like the thought of competing over you.” He placed a hand on my chest and pressed, pinning me down. “I like the idea of seeing the look on your face when someone other than me pushes inside of you.” He continued the motion and I clawed along a pillow, my eyes pinching shut as I flexed every muscle in my body and then broke.

Waves. Glorious waves of pleasure. I moaned his name as I shuddered, my body curling around his hand, my sensitivity growing as the orgasm faded, his touch softened. I exhaled and relaxed, one foot twitching as a last tendril of pleasure uncurled. I opened my eyes and found him watching me.

“But I don’t think I could let someone else have you,” he said gruffly, leaning forward until his face was just above mine. He brushed a tender kiss on my left cheek, then my right. “I think I’d kill anyone who touched you, no matter how fucking hard I get at what you just said.”

I met his third kiss with my lips and smiled against the touch. “I’m good with that.”

“Are you sure?” He carefully brushed my hair away from my face, then cradled my chin, studying me. From the front to the house, a door slammed and Wayland gave a series of loud barks, then fell silent. Chances were that Aaron, with a pizza in hand, was being attacked from a dog with an addiction to anything involving cheese, bread, or meat.

“They were just thoughts,” I said. “Thoughts that terrify me.”

“In what way?”

“What they might do to us.”

He kissed me again, then rolled off the bed and stood, the muscles in his body precisely outlined. Four years out from playing, he was still a perfect athletic specimen. His dick, big and beautiful, jutting out from between those strong thighs. His blond hair, rough from my fingers, that sunburnt nose and handsome features, with eyes that gleamed with sexual promise. There were times I saw insecurity in Easton—discussing our finances, on his way to important meetings—but in the bedroom, he’d 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.”