“You can watch again, if you want.” Sam’s gaze flicked to the chair they’d left there, for exactly this purpose. Mike feigned uncertainty for a beat, then walked to it with an air of resignation, though inside, he was about to catch fire.

“The tripod seems a little unnecessary all of a sudden,” Bern said to Sam, then met Mike’s eyes squarely. “Since you’re here, grab that camera. Get a nice shot lined up. Maybe I’ll watch it later, so I can see what it looks like from your perspective – me fucking your wife.”

Mike rose to get the camera, tripod and all, arranging it between his knees with shaking hands. He’d have held it as ordered, except he didn’t want a second of this show flattened, reduced to two dimensions through the viewfinder. If this scene were an oil painting, he needed to see the real thing, not the print.

“Let’s give him a good view,” Bern said to Sam, pulling out. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs spread, erection looking obscene, gleaming from the condom’s lubricant – from Sam, his imagination supplied. “On my lap.” Sam came around to straddle his thighs. She was no wisp of a woman, but Bern clasped her hips and eased her down onto his cock like she weighed nothing. She sucked a breath, then turned to meet Mike’s gaze over her shoulder.

“Good?” Bern asked her.

Her dark eyes shut and a smug smile curled her lips. “You have no idea.”

And they had no idea what a spectacular view Mike had – explicit, as Sam rose up and dropped back down in slow strokes, aided by Bern’s hands.

“Yeah. Ride that cock.”

“You’re so fucking big, baby.”

Mike flushed – in his cheeks and between his legs. Keep telling him that.

“Want it a little faster?” Bern asked.

“Yeah.”

Of Mike he demanded, “You getting all this?”

A rhetorical question. Mike swallowed, hands antsy atop his thighs. Christ, he needed to touch himself. He’d jumped off a lot of diving boards recently in the name of his kink, but each new one still demanded a show of bravery, a leap of faith. And sometimes, a nudge from Sam. He settled a palm over his screaming cock, through his jeans, squeezing faintly. Even that had him panting. Look at me, he willed her. Tell me to.

It was another fevered, endless minute before she did. Another glance over her shoulder, another evil smile, then —

“Turns you on, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t reply, frozen when Bern’s stare met his.

“Does it get you hard, watching me fuck your wife? Or have you just forgotten what it’s supposed to look like?”

“Go ahead,” Sam told Mike.

His fingers went to his belt buckle, opening it. Then his button, his zipper… One last choked breath, and he eased his jeans and shorts to the tops of his thighs, cock springing free. He held his palm to the underside, not stroking, merely cupping – even that threatened his longevity. His entire body was pulsing in time with their motions. He was too close already, teetering on the edge, scared of the drop. He couldn’t guess if his pleasure might turn to pain, to see them together with the insanity of lust stripped away.

Bern was kissing Sam’s neck, teasing with his lips and tongue and soft bites. Mike got lost watching those subtler violations, and for a moment, anger subsumed lust. So strange, how the penetration didn’t threaten him, yet this did, somehow. He let the rage dull his excitement, then froze altogether when Bern’s eyes opened, aimed at Mike’s hand.

He wondered what on earth the man was thinking. And the authentically jealous side of him hoped the asshole was surprised. You’re bigger, but not by much. That little moment’s taste of power twisted his excitement, darkened it. And suspended in those few seconds’ intensity, Mike felt something shift between the two of them, this rivalry taking on a much realer edge, if a harmless one. Before you get any ideas, asshole, just remind yourself I only pretend not to please her. You’re the sex toy. I’m her husband. She’s mine and she’s fucking amazing.

And it was that thought that got Mike’s fingers circling his cock, caressing, if not stroking. In his line of work, there was a lot of figurative dick-measuring that went on, as colleagues jockeyed for position and as the good guys and bad guys sized one another up. Right now that clash of manhood felt literal and very, very real. And also hot in a sharp, unsettling way.

“Show him how hard you make me come,” Sam murmured, her voice cleaving the male tension.

In a breath Bern had flipped her over, onto her hands and knees. In profile, Mike watched the enemy sink deep in a smooth, long stroke. One hand held Sam’s hip, the other reaching around to tease her clit.

“Yeah, just like that.”

Her words had Mike’s hand tightening around his cock, and in a dozen strokes, he knew he’d gone too far. The pressure was tight, arousal gathering like a thunderhead, unstoppable. Come, he willed her. At least let him see that much while the lust haze kept it all safe.

“Just like that,” she groaned. “Don’t stop.”

Bern took her harder, his far arm flexing in time with his fingers’ motions. “What’ll you think about when you come, baby?”

“Your dick.”

“What about it?”

“Fuck… you’re big.”

“Nice and deep?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice and thick?”

She nodded frantically, voice lost in a groan.

“Yeah, you think about that.”

And shit, Mike was thinking about it, too. He held on until Sam’s face told him she was there herself, needy tension straining every feature. When her moans grew jagged, Mike fisted himself tight and jacked himself home. In his head he heard the things Sam would say, were it just the two of them. Yeah, come on, baby. Do it. Show me. This time she said those things only with her eyes, as her long hair swung to the beat of Bern’s punishing body. Those eyes shut just as Mike’s orgasm arrived. It rocked him in wave after wave, the crest of it nearly painful, the ebb pure white relief.

Mike came down, slowly and not completely. His cock was pulsing, only half limp, even after that revelation of a release. He’d come in his fist and on his shirt. He stripped his tee and wiped his hand and crown clean with shaking fingers.

Bern slowed behind Sam, only his gleaming skin giving away the effort. He regarded Mike carefully, it seemed, a mix of curiosity and caution on his face.

Mike dropped his shirt to the floor and hiked his jeans and shorts back up, searching his body for panic, or revulsion… but finding neither. He felt sex-drunk, and behind that, still turned on.

“Well,” Bern said. He pulled out, giving Sam’s hip a little slap, spurring her to turn onto her back. She did so with a sigh of greatest satisfaction, then let her head drop to the side to look at Mike. Her eyes widened. She’d not seen him come. And to judge by her expression, she’d not expected him to.

“I think your husband likes to watch,” Bern told her. He was kneeling astride her legs, cock in hand. “You think he’d like to watch you suck me?”

Mike sensed in an instant what that question was. It was the ball being passed to Sam, and she, in turn, passed it to Mike.

“You don’t mind, do you? After all that, I think he’s earned it,” she added, stroking Bern.

Mike could’ve shut it down then, with an unequivocal Get the fuck out of my house. He would have, if his excitement weren’t already building all over again, that curious heat gathering deep in his belly. Instead, he heard himself say, “Just make it quick.”

Sam smiled, biting her lip, and there were two layers to that grin – the one that belonged to the cold-hearted bitch, and the one that belonged to the woman who played her. Their games had survived to see the other side of Mike’s release, and it delighted her.

“Go and sit,” she told Bern, reaching back to pat the bed’s edge.