Walsh buries his face into my neck, and his mouth is on me. He gives me a sharp bite before he mutters, “Going to fuck your ass next.”
So wrong. So sexy.
The thought of him doing that to me, in my marital home, makes me explode again.
So fucking wrong, but I scream out his name again.
A noise penetrates the fog of lust… a clear squeak that seems to come from the door behind me. Then the slap of mail hitting the wooden foyer floor shocks me silly.
Walsh’s hips slow down, and we both look at the mail the mailman just pushed through the slot.
While Walsh was telling me he was going to fuck my ass, and then while I screamed as I orgasmed.
We lock eyes, his cock now gently plunging into me but never stopping.
Then we both burst out laughing. I drop my forehead on his shoulder, and laugh while Walsh continues to grind into me. But the laughs give way to chuckles, which gives way to more panting as Walsh starts going faster again.
His breathing is labored, his cock batters me, and all I can do is hang on for the ride, knowing I’m going to have to deal with the fallout later.
Walsh suddenly plants deep, and I look for the signs of his orgasm. But his eyes don’t close, instead locking on to me. He groans out his release while he says, “I fucking miss you, Jorie.”
Then he crashes his mouth on mine again. My hands go back to his hair, and I hold him tight to me as we make out while he comes down off his orgasm.
When he finally goes still inside me, he puts his forehead against mine and murmurs, “I love you, Jorie.”
Every cell in my body seems to quiet over his words before pure joy bursts out of each one. The feeling is so climactic, I start to cry.
“Shh,” he says as he pulls back to look at me. “It’s okay.”
I shake my head. “It’s not.”
Walsh’s lips press tight, but he nods some sort of understanding to me. I’m immediately terrified he’ll give up, but before I can say a word, he lowers me to the floor.
Before he tucks himself into his pants, he’s immediately kneeling before me. He takes my panties and has me step into them. After he pulls them up my legs, he comes to a standing position before me as he adjusts the elastic waistband and pulls my dress down.
“You have lunch plans with him?” he asks as he takes care of himself and zips back up.
“Go meet him,” he says quietly. “Then you and I are talking after.”
I glance at my watch and curse. “Shit. I’m going to be late. I’ve got to go get a shower.”
“Uh-uh,” Walsh says as his palm presses me into the door. “You go eat lunch with him with my cum inside you. Let it keep your panties soaked the entire time so you don’t forget about me.”
Jesus… my eyes glaze over from the lust his words provoke. He gives me a knowing smile and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“I’m going to go get a hotel close by,” he says when he pulls back. “I’ll text you the information. Come see me after you finish lunch.”
“Walsh,” I say with uncertainty. “This isn’t right.”
“Wrong,” he says gruffly. “Everything’s been right between us from the moment I walked into that hotel bathroom and saw you bleeding. I’m not giving you up. If I have to compete with Vince, so be it. But I tell you right now, Jorie… if you come to my hotel after lunch, we’re going to fuck again before we talk. My balls have two weeks of misery to overcome.”
I can’t help it. I snicker over that, getting a pinch to my ass in return.
With that, I immediately start to fret over what I need to say to Vince.
Vince already has a table when I arrive at Cristo’s, and I’m relieved it sits in a relatively private corner. He stands when I approach and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
I choose the chair that sits adjacent to him for more private conversation. The moment we sit, I tell him the truth. “Walsh came to see me a bit ago.”
Vince freezes in place, his napkin halfway to his lap as he watches me with a stunned expression.
“We had sex,” I add softly, hating to hurt him but knowing I can’t keep that secret. He deserves full honesty.
The air comes out of Vince so forcefully, it’s like he got punched in the chest. “You had sex with him? In our house?”
I nod guiltily. “I’m sorry. It’s just… what Walsh and I have is very physical. It’s very different from what you and I had.”
“And you love him?” he asks glumly.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “But I also love you, and you’re my husband.”