“Yeah.” He was distracted, voice breathy. “But I’m glad you didn’t. Not tonight. But yeah, I wanted to see it.”

“Did you like watching me go down on him?”

He shifted and swallowed, exhaled heavily against her neck. “Yeah. That was as hot as the talking.”

“He was as big as we’d hoped.”

“I know. I liked watching you touch him. And suck him. Did you want him? Want him to fuck you?” He was speaking more quickly now, his breath growing short.

“I did, but not yet, like you said. But I loved his voice when I was turning him on. I think that was the hottest part for me.”

It was a relief to be speaking frankly about the experience, to be able to talk dirty about it with complete honesty, no cruel part to play. It told her maybe this kink really was a gift she could give to Mike, without it feeling like a burden to bestow. Steadily, she was coming to see that there was more in this for her than the simple granting of his darkest wishes.

She kissed his chin, then whispered, “I loved making him moan and knowing you were watching.” And it’d be a thousand times sexier the next time, knowing for sure Mike was enjoying himself. The next time…

“I kind of hope I get to fuck him,” she admitted, a sheepish smile probably audible in her voice.

“I kind of hope the same thing.”

“So does he. Or so he said when I walked him out.” She slid Mike’s zipper down and freed his button, stroking his erection through his underwear until he was panting. “You think you’ll be in the same room next time?”

“I think maybe we could pretend I walked in on you guys. Maybe he could be a cocky dick about it, and you could make me watch, like he was going to show me how you needed to get fucked.”

Her body jolted at the notion, Mike’s kink sinking another barb into her sexuality, reminding her it was steadily becoming her kink, too.

“He’d like that. He wants to be watched.”

“Wants to be watched while he fucks another man’s wife.”

“Lucky us.”

Mike laughed at that. “True. How about you and me, right now? You up for it?”

Sam’s turn to laugh. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m dying over here.”

He left the bed to strip naked and Sam slipped out of her dress and underwear once more. She felt another hot jolt, knowing Mike was about to find her soaking wet, and that this time it really was from thoughts of another man, just as he loved to pretend it was.

He sank inside her from above with an easy, deep push, both his body and voice shuddering from the contact.

“He did all that,” she said.

“I know. And with his mouth.”

True. She was slick with her own desire, and with Bern’s spit. Mike had never given her reason to think he wanted direct contact with the man they might find to fill the role of their bull, but he did seem to fixate on all that damning evidence.

“If he and I fuck, do you think you’d want to do what we talked about? Using a female condom so he can, you know… leave his mark in me.”

“In theory, yeah.”

She’d read plenty about the rituals cuckolding practitioners favored during the reclaiming process. Once the humiliation was done, the husband would be overcome by competitive urges and want to cleanse his woman of the other man, replace the intruder’s come with his own. Even clean it away with his mouth, in some cases. She didn’t know what Mike might want to do, but none of the popular options turned her off. And even the things she didn’t think Mike or Bern were up for – the ultimate humiliation of the defeated, outmanned male going down on his rival, tasting his wife on another man’s cock or being made to swallow his come – actually turned her crank a little.

But that stuff was the big leagues. Let them get some practice playing this game as amateurs before they tried going pro.

Still, she imagined those things as Mike took her. She studied his mouth and theorized about selfish things, about watching him service another man. About him being made to lap another man’s trespass from between her legs.

Not so selfish, considering what I’m doing for him.

Just as Mike’s jealousy warped under the heat of his arousal, the taboo, too-far aspects warped for Sam, becoming her most potent triggers. After all, Mike was never more worked up than when he was fantasizing about being demeaned by a competitor. Maybe one day she’d watch him slide his lips down a man’s cock, see another’s release glistening on those lips. The idea made her pussy clench and heat, a change not lost on Mike.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just about all the stuff that might happen, if we took things further. When we take things further.”

“Tell me.” He leaned back so he could tease her clit, also giving her a gorgeous view of his body working.

She wouldn’t tell him exactly what she’d been imagining. Baby steps were always the best practice. “Just about what you might do, after he was done. To reassert yourself.”

“There’s stuff I want to do, but I think I might have to get drunk the first time.”

“Like going down on me, after?”

“Yeah. Exactly. I want it, in my head, but it might take a couple of shots of bourbon to actually get my brain to shut up long enough for me to actually do it.”

“That’s what alcohol’s for.”

“That wouldn’t be too nasty for you?”

She shook her head. “No, I think it’d be sexy.”

His thrusts sped at her proclamation. For minutes on end they simply fucked, Mike’s taunting fingers teasing her in time with his driving hips. Eventually he broke their silence.

“Did you…”

“Did I what?”

“Did you clean yourself up, where he… you know.”

“No.” Bern was still there, basted into her skin. Mike’s territory.

He said nothing at first, just took her with a slowing, pensive intensity. Surely pondering how his thighs were pressed to the spot where another man had soiled her.

She stroked his short, soft hair, dying of curiosity. “What are you thinking?”

He grunted a wordless sound, looking overwhelmed.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I was wondering… what he’d taste like.”

So exactly the answer she’d been hoping for. “He’d probably taste like another man, violating your wife.”

He muttered a “Yeah,” body slowing ever more with distraction.

“You can find out, if you want. I wouldn’t be grossed out.”

“No?”

“No. I’d like it if you would, actually.”

He didn’t accept the invitation right away. For another minute he made steady, pensive love to her, both of them surely tangled up in the idea that had been broached. Eventually he slid from her without a word, moving not down the mattress, but to the floor, where he knelt facing the bed.

“Come here,” he said softly.

She scooted to dangle her legs over the edge, and for a long moment he stroked her calves and thighs, unfocused gaze seeming to hover at the spot where Bern had branded her. She could sense him needing a nudge of permission, so she put her hand to his ear, stroking, coaxing, inviting. Still he didn’t take the leap, so she brought them back to the fantasy.

“You going to just let some other man leave his mark all over me?” She said it tenderly, the sweetest accusation.

He brought his face close, searching for a scent, perhaps. He kissed her thigh first, two inches or more from the spot. Another kiss, closer, and then right there – a tentative glance of his tongue chased by a more forceful lap. Sam could see how he changed from the way his back tightened, tensing with pleasurable jealousy or aggression. Stroking those muscles, she imagined this territorial ritual taken further still, Mike’s tongue banishing all trace of his rival from deep between her legs.

When he’d laved her clean, she tugged at his arm and he joined her on the bed.

“He’s gone now,” she murmured, and he did as she hoped, picking up where they’d left off. He looked stern and cool as he took her, but she smiled her affection up at his face, then drew him down for a kiss. If any trace of Bern still lingered on his lips, she couldn’t find it. When their mouths broke apart, she let her hands continue the tour, stroking his powerful arms and back, palms riding his undulating hips as he claimed what was his. Only his.