“Yes.”

Abandoning her clit for the time being, he dropped to brace his elbows at her sides and took her, fast and wild. He felt surprise in her body for a few moments, until she caught up with the demands his cock was making. Her warm, soft thighs hugged his waist, inviting him to drink his fill.

He smiled down at her, their faces so close. “You like that?”

Wordless panting affirmed his question and she gripped his arms tight, nails biting.

“You missed getting fucked like this, didn’t you?”

He caught a “Yes” behind her gasp.

“I’ll spoil you rotten,” he promised, rising to hold himself up on his palms, hips still hammering, each thrust still long and deep, offering glimpses of his driving cock. “I can fuck for hours. Bet your husband can’t do that.”

“No,” she murmured, gaze glued right where everyone wanted it to be.

“You feel that?” Bern punctuated the words with a series of mean thrusts, the sharp slap of skin on skin.

“God yeah.”

“That’s what it feels like, getting fucked by a man.”

Eager hands ran down his sides, making a show of exploring his hips and ass in contrast to his feverish thrusts. Bern eased up, letting the scene turn slow and sensual for a minute or more. He needed the break, frankly – a chance to cool the friction that had his cock screaming, begging him to turn his promise of longevity into a bald-faced lie.

“I can fuck for as long as you want me to.” He stared her dead in the eyes.

“I bet you can.”

“I’ll make you come more times than you can count. Leave you limping tomorrow.”

He thought he caught a smile on her face for a moment, then it was swallowed by a moan as he pushed deep. Beyond the physical pleasure was the more abstract sensation of another person’s eyes on him. Bern felt it, as sure as he felt Sam’s slick heat or the pressure drawing taut in his belly. It stoked him as friction never could, making him blaze.

Watch me, asshole.

There was an aggression to the thought, one at odds with his rational feelings about Mike. In reality, he was grateful to the man. But playing this part, he gave himself over to the contempt, let himself feel a hundred feet tall.

Was he allowed to make eye contact with him? Bern was tempted to aim a cocky-ass glare at the guy, but maybe he was supposed to be ignored. He’d err on the side of caution and ask Sam about it ahead of time if he got invited back for a repeat performance.

He pondered the logistics and likelihood of the idea, to cool his body a few needed degrees.

It’d be the perfect arrangement, if they wanted Bern to come back. He’d get laid – with an audience, the thing he coveted most, and with someone he really liked, but without the complications and pressure that came with an actual relationship. Sam would presumably get her rocks off, and her husband’s mind would get blown in the peculiar way he preferred. Win-win-win. Plus, give it time, and who knew – maybe they’d want to tape it. Then Bern would get hard on a new level, thinking about them watching the footage. Watching him. The gift that kept on giving. Maybe if Mike ever traveled for work, they could cam for him, let the man pretend it was a hidden camera or something. The possibilities were fascinating when these two particular kinks collided.

Smiling down at Sam, Bern decided she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. Pretty and passionate, and goddamn, she loved her husband. Bern might only be some side dish, an amusement sourced to complement Mike’s desires and satisfy Sam’s parameters. But he felt like he’d hit the fucking jackpot, having stumbled into this chance.

With a final fond grin, he slipped out of his thoughts and back into his body, back into a reality that was as good as any fantasy he’d ever put himself to sleep with.

He held her gaze, feeling the fire smoldering in his own. “Bet you’re just dying to come on my cock, aren’t you?”

Can a man die of sexual frustration?

Mike didn’t think so, but if anyone was in a position to find out, it was him. The palms resting flat on his thighs were damp and hot. All of him was hot, like he’d caught a fever. He couldn’t stop swallowing. His right hand fought conflicting orders from his cock and his head.

Touch yourself. It’s your fantasy being acted out on that bed.

No, don’t. You’ll come in five strokes and you might feel different after.

But Jesus, he hurt. If he’d ever been this hard, he couldn’t remember it. It was so exactly perfect – Sam’s familiar body, owned by the masculine spectacle that was Bern’s. Mike didn’t want the man, himself, only the concept of him, the size and force of a built, hung man, owning what Mike’s heart knew to be his own.

There’d been an incident, years before, when he’d found out a girlfriend had cheated on him with her ex. Mike had been about twenty-two, and though the relationship hadn’t been serious, he’d been crushed. They’d broken up, gotten back together the next summer, but Mike never quite got over the infidelity. Not because of the shattered trust or the jealousy, though. Because for about six months, the only thing he jerked off to was imagining his girlfriend with some other guy. It was crazy, what that did to him – made a knot of his heart, an aching, squeezing pain that got crossed with his sexuality, and made his cock throb like nothing else ever had.

He and that girlfriend had wound up breaking up the second and final time because Mike had become “too intense, sex-wise.” Guilty as charged – he probably hadn’t handled it the best, but Jesus, his whole world had been on fire.

The fantasy had gotten put on the back burner for a long time, through periods of bachelorhood and a couple of girlfriends who simply weren’t the types Mike could imagine cheating on him. Too sweet; no naughty, selfish gleam in the eye. Then he’d met Sam.

She didn’t come off as heartless or anything of the sort, but she had that sly little smile, a touch of mischief in and out of the bedroom. She was whip-smart and analytical, and in dark moments, he’d imagined her turning that penchant for planning toward selfish scheming – deceptions. Then he’d fallen in love with her, and he’d known if she wasn’t the one, nobody was. But could he live the rest of his life never getting as hot as he had at twenty-two, when his ex ran around on him?

He’d started looking for signs, started reading too much into Sam’s late nights at the office… not to be a controlling dick, but because he was playing a game with himself. Getting worked up, imagining her fucking around on him. It wasn’t fair to her, though, letting her think he really did distrust her. It had taken him ages to find the balls to tell her the truth, and he’d been gambling with more than he was prepared to lose. But holy fuck, look what the truth had gotten him. Where it had taken the both of them, plus this stranger.

The guy was perfect. Younger than Mike, taller, and better-looking, he imagined. Bigger dick – longer and thicker, just more. It didn’t take much mental effort for Mike to diminish himself in his head, to concentrate on all the ways Bern Davies had him outmanned. Not least of which was the way Mike’s wife was moaning beneath his hammering body.

Mike knew exactly how her pussy felt, and he hoped this shithead realized how good he had it. He shoved the thought aside, focusing a hundred percent on the fantasy. It’d be a crime to waste the live show.

One thing he hadn’t anticipated was the smell. Sex infused the room, and some animal filter in his brain knew that it wasn’t the usual scent. That was some other man’s stay-the-fuck-away chemical signals. A scent that made Mike see red, except then the red blurred, rejiggering a possessive synapse in his brain, linking it to the one that got him hard – a crossed circuit he wouldn’t trade, not for anything, not anymore.