Crossing the Line (2 page)

A couple of seconds ticked by before it clicked. “What…why? No, no, I don’t need that. Just you, you’re all I need.”

Ah, there it was, the importance of a single word. She didn’t
need
to be with two men at once, but she hadn’t said she didn’t
want
to be.

He circled her clit in the slow, but firm, way that he knew made her desperate for release. Had her clinging to his biceps, grinding on his hand in less than a minute. “But you’d like it, wouldn’t you? To have one big cock down your throat while another one fucks you?”

“I’d never cheat on you. Never.”

“I know that, baby, I do. But it wouldn’t be cheating if I agreed, if I was the one fucking you while you sucked another guy’s dick.” Yeah, she shook her head, but he’d heard the hitch in her breathing, felt her pulse jump at his description. He reached over to the counter and snagged a thick, sturdy carrot from the bag, brought it to her mouth. “Think about it, how good it’d feel. Better than just watching and pretending, like this.” He teased an inch of the carrot between her parted lips. Then another, before drawing it out. “That could be a real, flesh and blood cock. Forget need—I’m talking about want.”

“Derrick…”

He guided her to their table—the one she’d paid ten bucks for at a yard sale, then spent a weekend watching him sand and paint. Every time he looked at the refinished table, he thought of Hanna, her thick hair pulled into a high ponytail that grazed her shoulder as she leaned on his workbench, wide-eyed and smiling. One of hundreds—no, thousands—of simple yet amazing memories they’d made. They were about to add another to the list. He stripped her of the dress and panties. No bra under the dress, just two perfect tits with very hard nipples. Fucking beautiful, his wife.

“Over you go. Spread your legs and show me where you want my cock.” His gorgeous wife obeyed, giving him a primo view of glistening pink and just above, a tight little ring otherwise known as heaven. “Do you want me to fuck you here,” he slid a finger inside her pussy, “or in your ass?”

“Yes and yes.”

“See…you do want it all, don’t you, baby?” At her whimpered yes, he shoved his shorts down past his hips. He settled the head of his dick at her entrance and leaned over her back, the thick carrot in his hand. “Hold this and suck it like the cock you wish it was. Keep it in there nice and deep while I make you come.” It killed him not to thrust inside, to bury himself to the balls. But it’d be worth the wait—it always was. Right now, he wanted to watch.

Hanna stroked the carrot as she’d do to his cock if he were standing in front of her. She licked up and down its length, then eased the thing into her mouth. They’d done this plenty of times before with dildos. Whether his dick or sex toys or this impromptu veggie of the day, he loved watching her suck, the way her cheeks hollowed and her eyes squeezed closed when she couldn’t take another fraction of an inch. The sight made him harder than a fucking battering ram.

She loved it too. Loved getting fucked while her mouth was full of shaft. Sometimes they’d reverse things, he’d fill her sweet pussy or ass—or both—with a plug or vibrator, then watch her go crazy sucking his cock. Judging by her solo porn preferences, she craved more than just a toy at one end. And call him fucked-up, but the idea of that, of Hanna blowing another man while he fucked her deep and hard, sent every last drop of blood surging to his cock.

He bent over her again, tucking her hair behind her ear so he could nibble the soft lobe before speaking. “I want you to do something for me.” He grinned at her instant hum of compliance. “Pick somebody whose dick you’d like to suck—and mine doesn’t count—and think of him while you work that carrot. Think of both of us while you come with it in your mouth.” He straightened, then slid home. He stilled so he could watch her mouth, her face. As she fell into a sucking rhythm, he pulled out and thrust again. “Are you thinking of him, picturing him filling your mouth while I fuck you?”

A throaty
“mmmhmm”
drifted up.

Who had she chosen, who was she thinking about right now? A celebrity, one of the ultra-hung guys from the porn vids? Or somebody closer to home? Whoever it was, she was into it. Really fucking into it. Her head bobbed up and down on the make-believe dick and ten-thousand sparks shot straight to his balls. He had sixty seconds max before he lost it. He pulled out, scooped some of her juices and spread it over her ass. He reached between her legs and squeezed her clit between two fingers. At her muffled moan, he angled his cock higher and pushed inside.

“Fuck, baby, I love being in your tight little ass.” So much, he had to grind his teeth together not to come as his last inch disappeared from view. Didn’t matter how many times and ways he’d been inside her, each one still stripped him of control.

Her hips rocked against his hand. He rolled his fingers back and forth over her clit, giving her the pressure she needed. And she was almost there. He pulled back, slid home again, wanting to pound into her so fucking bad. Another time. He focused on her face instead. The would-be cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Her sounds as he rubbed her harder, as his hips smacked against her perfectly rounded ass.

Then it hit, her sexy moans filling the kitchen. Beneath him, she jerked and bucked, each grind of her hips causing her ass to tighten around his cock, nearly to the point of pain. But so hot. So fucking hot.

“Jesus, fuck…” His head fell back as he hollered, his pulse pounding in his ears, stars blinding his tightly closed eyes. “I love you, baby. So much,” he said, collapsing on her back. “You know that, right?”

“I do. Pretty sure the neighbors know it too, since I can smell their barbecue through the open window.”

He laughed against her hair, burying his face in its scent and silkiness. Wouldn’t be the first time their sex sounds had escaped the house. “Want me to wander over and tell Brian I hit my finger with a hammer?”

“I think you’ve already used that excuse—more than once. Not to mention how unbelievable it is since you work in construction.” She wiggled free of his body and headed toward the main-floor bathroom. “But if you want our hot, hulk of a neighbor to think you’re a klutz instead of a stud, go for it.”

Was that a clue? Derrick followed her, braced himself casually in the doorway and watched her freshen up. Once finished, she soaked a second washcloth with warm water, wrung it out and handed it to him. Always taking care of him. He was the luckiest man alive.

“You think the neighbor is hot?”

She rolled her eyes at his waggling eyebrows. “Well, duh.”

Of course she thought the guy was hot. Tall, loaded with muscles and charming, the type all women drooled over. “Is that whose dick you were thinking about sucking?”

“No,” deep-pink tinted her high cheekbones, “not him.”

He caged her as she attempted to scoot by him. “Then who? Somebody I know?”

* * *

Heat rushed to Hanna’s cheeks. She and Derrick had always had a fantastic sex life. Great communication, too. They talked about everything. No judgment, inside the bedroom or out. But telling him she thought the neighbor was hot and divulging the identity of the man whose cock she’d imagined sucking a few minutes ago were two different things. Doing so would push fantasy too close to reality.

“C’mon, baby. Tell me.” The pads of Derrick’s work-roughened fingertips grazed her cheek, tipped her chin upward. “Promise I won’t be mad, no matter who it is.”

Anybody could make that claim, but in Derrick’s case, a promise was the real deal. Regardless of the topic, when he promised something, not only did he mean it, he stood by it without wavering. If she named her imaginary lover, Derrick was more likely to tease her than anything else. But the name would be out there.

“Remember that singer at The Pulse a couple weeks ago, the dark-haired one? Him.” So she’d fibbed. No good could come of telling her husband she harbored lusty thoughts about his best friend. They had a very open relationship, but not
that
open.

“Yeah, I remember that guy.” He dropped his hand from the wall to cup her breast and toy with her nipple—a soft, effortless touch that sent a new round of sparks through her system. “Was it his looks or the musician thing that turned you on?” The question might have been random interest, but the wheels turning behind Derrick’s blue eyes hinted otherwise.

“Does it matter?”

“It might.” A smile tugged at his sculpted lips—he had the ‘I’m going to do bad things to you’ look she’d fallen head-over-heels for a decade ago. “Get dressed so we can talk without me getting sidetracked again.” A kiss on her forehead and he left her there, naked and a little confused.

“Talk about what?” she called after him, but he’d already disappeared from sight and, obviously, from earshot. She slipped into her silky robe and cinched the tie around her waist. Things were great between them. Solid as granite. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it couldn’t be negative, right? The butterflies in her stomach didn’t necessarily agree.

She hadn’t kept him waiting long, yet he’d managed to sprawl out on the sectional. Due to the living room’s furniture arrangement, and Derrick’s love affair with the corner spot, he faced away as she approached. Not watching TV or playing on his cellphone, just waiting patiently, arms slung over the back of the sofa, legs stretched leisurely on the chaise portion. Comfortable. At ease. Good descriptions for Derrick in general, ninety-nine percent of the time.

When she hugged him from behind, he tipped his head back, making his sexy, chin-length blond hair rumple against the dark-brown cushions. “Hey, beautiful. Come around here and sit with me.”

She did, happily settling between his parted thighs. But the butterflies remained, especially as she stared at two over-filled wine goblets on the coffee table. She’d never been much of a booze-hound. Even in her college years, she’d been a lightweight. She enjoyed having a cocktail at parties or a glass of wine with a nice dinner. But she didn’t drink for the sake of drinking. It wasn’t her thing and Derrick knew that. He never poured her a drink without asking. Well, almost never…

The scene in front of her had an uncomfortable familiarity. Three years had passed since that time, but looking at the glasses on the table took her right back to it. The day he’d given her the news about his vasectomy.

She’d known he didn’t want kids when they got married. Not that he disliked them, but the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father had left its mark, deep down. He’d been upfront about his past and his future while they were dating. It had been a serious decision for her, because she’d always pictured herself having children. But her love for Derrick had won out.

That love hadn’t prevented her from doing something stupid and selfish, though. Biology had kicked her maternal urges into high gear as she inched closer to thirty, and she’d secretly quit taking the Pill. She’d been sure he’d change his mind about having kids if she “accidentally” got pregnant. A bad idea. A lie that had almost destroyed her marriage.

After having one too many daiquiris at her twenty-eighth birthday party, she’d drunkenly confessed that she’d thrown the contraceptives away.

Derrick had been devastated by her deception. He’d explained to her—again—how terrified and certain he was that he’d turn out like his father if he had kids. God, the pain in his eyes when he voiced his fear of hurting those potential children. The look on his face when he'd realized that he couldn't even trust his own wife to help him prevent that from happening. He hadn’t said the words outright, but she’d betrayed him.

Three weeks later, he’d set out two big glasses of wine, much like the ones on the table now, and told her he’d scheduled a vasectomy.

It’d been rough for a while after that. Worse than rough. There had been anger, disappointment, loss of trust. On both their parts. But when she’d searched her heart, what she wanted more than anything was a life with the man she loved. So she’d stayed. And thank god, Derrick had stayed too.

Counseling had helped. She had learned to take responsibility for her role in the disaster. No matter how badly she’d wanted a child, deceiving Derrick had not been okay. Their relationship had healed. More than that, it had grown stronger. Ninety percent of the time, she was blissfully happy. Not bad odds for any couple after spending a decade together. And if they could weather that storm, they could get through anything. Including whatever this talk meant.

“Want your drink?” Derrick asked, reaching around her for a glass.

“No, I really don’t.” The words came out harsher than she intended. “Sorry, it’s just…the big glasses of wine and needing to talk to me about something, it reminds me of the past. Especially with my birthday on the horizon.”

“Shit. I’m an ass. I didn’t think.”

“You know I love you and I’m happy with our life, but…it still hurts sometimes.” She wasn’t the perfect princess everybody pegged her for, her husband included. She made mistakes too.

“I know. I do. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “Stupid birthday. Stupid ovaries.”

“Hey, ssshh…there is
nothing
about you that is stupid.” He returned his glass to the table, untouched, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest. “This isn’t like that time. Nothing that’ll make you sad or upset, I promise.”

With that word, some of the tension slipped away. Derrick had never broken a promise to her. Including the one he’d made while they were dating, when he’d promised fatherhood would never be for him.

“Do you trust me?” His breath tickled her ear, making her shiver as she nodded. “Good. I need that right now, so I can tell you my idea. That’s all it is, baby, an idea. If you say no, I won’t mention it again.”

“I don’t know whether to be freaked out or excited.” Though frankly, freaked out was in the lead. “Can you just tell me before my imagination runs away and joins the carnival?”

His deep chuckle caressed her soul as his hands did the same to her silk-covered breasts. “I want to take you to that little resort for your birthday. Make this birthday a celebration you’ll never forget—for good reasons.”