Page 21 of Eager Housewife

“Oh.” That still sounds dangerous.

“Finish yourself off, Blythe. I’ll be checking.”

Then he is gone, striding away before I can ask for clarification about what I’m supposed to finish. Cleaning the glasses?

He didn’t really mean my orgasm, did he?

And my heart throbs uncomfortably. The Italian mafia. He’s not in danger, is he? What if I never see him again?

I’ve never told him I love him.

I guess it’s a good thing I said nothing, because hours later when I’m in bed, he returns home. I’m not asleep, and I don’t pretend to be. And I tell him with my enthusiasm for taking his cock as hard and fast, then after that session, sweet as slow, that I love him.

But obviously, he doesn’t understand. Because I’m just his convenient free use housewife, and I promised not to expect love.

It was in the advert.A fake marriage.

So I don’t say the words that repeat in my head:I love you.

10

DUNCAN

She’s watching television when I get home after a particularly long evening of figuring out some unanticipated and bloody problems. The living room is lit by side lamps, little pools of yellow light that highlight my wife’s brown hair. It’s casually pulled back in a ponytail as she watches—I’m not sure what it is—a romcom, maybe?

The pale pink strap of her satin nightdress is slipping off her shoulder, and she’s curled so cutely on the sofa. For a while I stand in the doorway looking at her. My perfect little forbidden free use wife.

Concern scratches at me, again, about what’ll happen when my daughter finds out. Could Ainsley be able to accept her new step-mother? Will Blythe ask for a divorce to try to save her friendship?

I don’t think I could grant it. A year seemed like a long time when Ainsley was planning her round-the-world trip, but now it doesn’t. A year with Blythe will be over in a blink, and potentially—I hope—she’ll have a newborn. We’ll have a baby.

That thought calms my nerves slightly. I can’t imagine Blythe not allowing me to see my child, and that means whatever happens, I’ll see Blythe.

My wife is special and I cannae resist her.

So I give up my skulking, and walk with deliberate slowness to the sofa. A lie. As though I’m not longing to be by her side.

“Oh, hiya!” Blythe looks up and makes space for me.

I accept the invitation wordlessly, settling into the middle of the couch then pulling her onto my lap.

“How was your day?” She smiles at me expectantly.

“Shh.” I touch her chin and smooth my thumb over her lips, turning her face away from mine. It’s always easier when her big blue eyes aren’t drowning me. “Keep watching your movie.”

She obeys, and I shift her small form on my lap, so her legs are apart.

My favourite part of the day is returning home to Blythe, and fantasising that she has been craving me all day as much as I have her. That and shoving her skirt up, and touching her pussy.

“Mine,” I whisper into her ear as I cup her pink little slit. And yes… She’s slick. My good girl watches the movie, and I look over her shoulder at her tits and dig my fingers deep into her soft velveteen passage. All mine. No one else has ever touched her here. Mine is the only cock to have claimed her.

And she’s my toy to give orgasms to.

I do. Over and over, I make her fall apart. I don’t let up. I growl with satisfaction when she comes for the first time. She tries to rub herself on my cock, and while I intend to only touch her and not take for myself, I’m weak. So I pull off her scant nightdress, and free my erection, bringing her down onto my cock. I move her on me, lifting her to slam her onto my length and ramming up from beneath.

She’s so sexy. It’s the little mewling noises that most do it for me.

I hold her waist, reach around, and as I keep fucking into her, the tip of my cock hitting her cervix and my hard-on gripped in her tight wet sheath, I stroke her again. The magic as I feel her come on my cock is just as strong this time as it is every time with us. It’s special, the chemistry between us.