She ran her hands up Bern’s biceps and over the rounded balls of his shoulders, admiring. She caught him swallowing before mirroring her boldness, sweeping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. They hadn’t kissed in the bar that night, but when he lowered his mouth to hers, it felt like the easiest thing in the world.

No hesitance, like their first meet-up – he knew his role and seemed eager to play it. His tongue was bold, the kiss deep and dirty, making her brain misfire, and she wondered what else he could do with his mouth. The brush of his short beard was hot in its newness, as sexy as the taste of her and Mike’s wine on this man’s lips. She stroked his neck and shoulders and upper back, followed the gentle curve of his spine to the hard swell of his ass.

She freed her mouth, licking her lips. “You look good.” She let her gaze roam his body from feet to face. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”

He eased off his shoes in two fluid moves, suddenly holding her elbows and walking her backward to the bed. She felt her hair bounce as her butt plopped onto the mattress, and smiled up at where he stood between her knees.

Staring down at her with a smirk, he stripped off his henley and tossed it to the floor, revealing a light gray undershirt and some of the nicest arms Sam had ever had the pleasure of exploring.

She crawled back as Bern got to his hands and knees on the bed, bracing himself above her, looking down with some wonderful threat glinting in his eyes.

“When was the last time you got fucked?” he demanded.

Her pulse spiked. “Maybe a week ago,” she lied.

“With him?”

She nodded. “Dullest two minutes I’ve suffered all month.”

“You fake it for him?” Ooh, he was good at this.

“I don’t even bother. I just wait until he falls asleep and I take care of myself.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you think about?”

She grinned indulgently and stroked Bern’s braced arms. “A man like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah. Big and strong. Big all over… like I hope maybe you are.” As Mike hoped as well.

Bern slid them across second base, dropping his hips and driving up her dress to press his erection between her legs. Whether he was big or not, she couldn’t tell, but he was stiff, no mistaking it.

“Well.”

“Been hard since we first started talking at that bar.”

Though it felt like a sharp upping of the stakes, Sam spread her thighs wider and hugged them to his waist. He accepted the invitation, rubbing against her with slow, teasing motions of his hips. His breathing grew harsh just as hers did the same.

What are you thinking, Mike? She wished there were a psychic feed from his brain to hers, and that he could beam her reassurance and instructions.

She wanted to trust what was happening. It felt good and hot and right, though that was no guarantee Mike was feeling the same. Was he hard, too? Was he touching himself? Which ached worse in this moment – his cock or his heart? Cock, she prayed. And she could make it hotter by ignoring her fears and embracing her part.

She slid her palms to Bern’s rolling hips. “I bet you’re a great lay.”

“Find out.”

“I hope to… but not tonight. Save something for next time.”

“Don’t save too much,” he warned. “My cock’s so hard. I hope you’re not going to send me home hurting.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He lowered to his elbows and kissed her, his hips slowing to match the pace. She wrapped her legs a bit higher around his waist, liking the feel of him. But on the whole, it felt too tender. Without having articulated it to herself before, she’d always known Bern was here to act as Mike’s sexual rival, and though it was all just play, he shouldn’t cross the line between sex and affection. Seduction was one thing, but she didn’t want what they were doing to resemble romance.

“Keep it dirty,” she whispered between kisses.

“Sure.”

He righted himself, sitting on his heels, and peeled away his shirt.

Bern was hot in a tee and jeans, but stripped to the waist he was obscene. Big, but not beefy-big. Lean, but not slender. Just… yikes. Mike kept fit for the sake of his job, but she suspected Bern did so for more superficial reasons. Normally that might strike her as vain, but just now? No complaints. Not a single one.

She wanted to run her fingers down the trail of dark hair that ran from his chest to his navel, to cup the bulge between his thighs and watch his expression change. She wanted to touch the muscles that flanked his hipbones and feel the contours of his abdomen and the flat plane just below. Wanted to ease his waistband down and feel the crisp curls hidden there, learn a few more things about the nature of prematurely graying hair.

“You look great,” she said, admiring him openly.

“Bet you do, too. Maybe you could take that dress off. Gimme a show.”

“Maybe I could.”

He moved and Sam got up from the bed, smoothing the garment. Bern sat expectantly at the foot of the mattress as she walked around to stand before him, the scene in perfect profile to their hidden audience.

This little striptease was Bern’s show, but she objectified him in return. Damn, what a body. He was out of her league, frankly, but the way he looked at her… She’d never felt this hot in her twenties.

It was a jersey shirtdress, with buttons running all the way down the front. She undid them slowly, bottom to top, then let the item fall to her feet. She was wearing a matching bra and panties – ones that Mike had picked out for exactly this moment – warm gray with black lace trim.

Bern hissed a word – “Nice,” perhaps, or, “Yes,” obscured by a heavy sigh of approval. Heat shot through Sam’s middle. Mike never failed to make her feel desired, but she’d forgotten the thrill of a new, strange man’s approval, how electric this could feel.

She took a step closer, standing between his knees and inviting him to touch her. His fingers skimmed her sides, hips to ribs, then traced the lace bordering the top of her panties. He slipped one finger just under the material but didn’t pull them down, merely drew his knuckle back and forth, back and forth, across her lower belly. A low, happy grunt answered her when she combed her nails through his hair.

She was secretly pleased when he didn’t ask her to strip naked or do the job himself. Instead he stood, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. A deep kiss, a handful of sensual, needy laps that did the job of twenty minutes’ foreplay.

The room seemed to spin as he stepped back, his mischievous smile returning. She admired his body as he stroked her hair, neck, shoulders. What’s Mike wanting to see? she wondered, curious if Bern was wondering the same thing. If either of them could guess, it was her.

She sat on the mattress, tugging Bern close by his belt. He smiled down at her, running a hand across his hard belly. The hand slipped lower, over his buckle, then lower still to cup his straining erection.

“Show me.” She tugged at the waist of his jeans, her eagerness no act.

“You wanna see?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his bulge with a slow, lazy rhythm. “Say please.”

“Please.”

“Say it again.”

“Please. Let me see.”

He unbuckled his belt with a practiced motion, freed his button, and lowered his zipper. For a taunting minute he kneaded himself through the dark cotton of his underwear, the long, explicit strokes showing her that yes, he was as big as they’d hoped for.

“Please. Show me.”

First he showed her a smile, dripping with cockiness. Then he pushed his waistband down and let her see him, bare and hard and thick, his head flushed, his scent potent and exciting.

For a long moment she merely stared, frozen in the knowledge that she was being presented with a cock that didn’t belong to the man she’d married. Then Bern spoke, breaking the spell.