Their mouths came together, hers eager and his hungry. She felt the glass being coaxed from her fingers and heard it find the counter, then he was walking her backward into the hall.

Between deep laps of his tongue he growled, “Goddamn, you smell fucking amazing.”

She squeezed his arms. “You feel amazing.”

“He’s in the bathroom?” he whispered, right against her mouth.

“The one in the hall.”

And he led her right there – pushed her up against the closed door, rattling the inch of wood that separated them and Mike. Oh fuck, don’t let the latch fail.

She raked his back with her nails, let go a breathy moan for both men’s benefit. The length of his body pressed against hers, his lips too high to kiss but his throat a welcome substitute, as was this pleasant, loomed-over sensation. She tasted no cologne, no aftershave, just skin and the faintest trace of his sweat. His fingers were in her hair, his mouth above her temple, close enough that his ragged sighs heated her scalp.

“Been thinking about you all week,” he said.

“You, too.” She lapped at his jugular, stroked his hard shoulders.

“What about?”

“About what I didn’t let us do last time.”

“And tonight?” he asked.

“Anything you want.”

“Tonight I just want to be inside you,” he growled, loud enough for Mike to hear. One of his palms slid down, along her shoulder blade, waist, hip, then around, knuckles brushing above her mound.

“You can certainly have that,” she said, dizzy.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

“Me, too. That, and how good you felt in my mouth.”

He made a wonderful noise, a sigh blended with a grunt, then stooped to kiss her neck, a bold hand rising to cup her breast. Hot breaths steamed at her throat. She drew her nails through his thick hair, remembering his tongue’s slick, deep caresses, the last time she’d held his head this way.

“Are you hard now?” she asked.

“Find out for yourself.” He stepped back a pace and took her hand, laid it brazenly along the fly of his jeans. Goddamn.

“We ought to do something about that,” Sam said, cupping him.

He led her up the stairs. It felt odd for another man to take charge in her bedroom – finding the light switch, kicking his shoes off where Mike’s sometimes sat.

Again, his height gave her a forbidden thrill, and his body made dark promises as he backed her toward the bed. She sat with a little huff and he stood between her knees, hands sliding down her bare calves and slipping off her shoes. Then he tugged at her hips, bringing her butt to the edge of the mattress, her crotch against his fly as he stooped. She was drunk in an instant from the bossy way he held her in place, from the greedy friction of his hard cock against her soft, sensitive folds. She wanted to hold those powerful arms but couldn’t quite reach, so she held his wrists instead, lost in the fascinating gleam in his eyes as he stared her down.

“That feel good?” he asked.

“Amazing.”

“You been missing me?”

She focused on his slow, pumping hips and the thickness of his thighs in those jeans. “You have no idea.”

“You wish you’d taken things further last time?”

She shook her head. “Only if there wasn’t a second time.”

“Lucky you, then. You wanna see me?”

“Always.”

He stood up straight, unbuckled his belt, and lowered his zipper. With a peek of black cotton and a practiced motion, he exposed himself, the cock that Sam – and Mike – had thought of and theorized over and dirty-talked about a hundred times since Wednesday night’s festivities. He stroked himself for a few beats, a little show Sam recorded for later enjoyment.

“You do that this week, thinking about me?” she asked.

“Every night.” His hand seemed to tighten, though his pulls slowed.

A floorboard creaked, the familiar noise rousing her as much as Bern’s touch might, flushing her entire body, hot as a heat wave. She knew Mike was watching now, just outside the door.

She swallowed and met Bern’s gaze. “Show me how to touch you.”

He held himself still as Sam sat up. She took his hip in one hand, his warm, stiff flesh in the other.

“Nice and tight,” he instructed, fingers closing around hers to show her the grip he wanted. “Not too fast.”

“Is that how you fuck? Slow?”

“Sometimes,” he muttered, voice all at once shallow and strained.

Mike is watching, she wanted to tell him. She tried to convey it with her eyes, somehow, but Bern’s attention was on her hand.

“I like it fast, usually,” she told him. Fast and a little rough. She liked her man wild and strong, and tonight, Bern was her man.

“I can do that, too. I can give you whatever you’ve been missing.”

“I bet you can.”

He slid her hand from his cock. “Move back. Get your dress off.”

She scooted up the mattress, then managed to peel the garment away and toss it to the floor. Bern stripped to his shorts, six foot something of toned, sexy stranger standing at the foot of her bed, erection straining at black cotton.

His weight bucked the mattress as he crawled to her, drawing her onto her side, claiming her mouth with his as he stroked her breast, her arm, her ass. In turn, Sam surveyed his hard abdomen and the curve of muscle framing his hipbone. She edged her fingertips back and forth along his waistband for a few moments before sliding her palm down his ridge.

“Mmm.”

She’d seen him before, felt his heat in her hand and mouth, but he felt so new, still. New and exciting and the best kind of wrong.

He moaned. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

She glowed at this compliment, coming from a man she objectively considered a level or two above her on the sexiness continuum. But the conspiracy they shared made her feel exotic and rare, her kink cred getting her on par with his sheer hotness.

He slipped his big hand inside her panties and she gasped. His rough fingertips shocked her bare, sensitive clit, tickled her curls. Her nerves adjusted and the touch went from alarming to intriguing to maddening in the span of a few shallow breaths.

“You’re wet,” he said, stroking the seam of her sex. “Wet for me.”

“From thinking about you before you got here, too.” And from thinking about the other man whose fantasy they were realizing.

He brought his mouth to her neck, licking and kissing her there. “Tell me what you want.”

She squeezed his cock tighter, wriggling her other hand from under his shoulder to fist his hair. “I want to use you,” she whispered, then raised her voice a bit, thinking of Mike. “And I want you to use me. And show me everything he’s been denying me.”

“Like what?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll show me.”

“Show you?” His tone was curious and she knew what he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, show me. I want the lights on so I can watch you fucking me.”

His hips bucked, thrusting his dick into her grip.

“We can move the mirror, if we want.” She nodded toward the full-length mounted to the outside of the bathroom door.

“Dirty.” It was an accusation, warm with wonder and excitement. “But maybe I’ll just let you have that wish.”

She released his cock to push his shorts down his hips and ass, exploring that firm flesh. Mirror indeed… He’d look phenomenal from the side, fucking. She said a silent prayer that this affair might continue, that the three of them would reach some level of trust where they could actually record these encounters. Mike would love that. The idea had always seemed too risky to Sam before, but that had been back when Bern was a hypothetical entity, a gamble. Now that he was a real man, hard and hot and intense, she wouldn’t mind having footage to commemorate this fun, filthy chapter of her surprising marriage.

Mike could hold the camera, she thought. That would jerk his crank like crazy, being relegated to the humiliated helper role. You getting all this? Bern might demand. Got a nice clear shot of me fucking your wife?