Chapter 6

Itake her hand to usher her from the table. "Excuse us for a moment, Frederick."

"Of course," he says, rising to his feet as she stands. On resuming his seat, he reaches for his coffee then leans back in his chair.

I escort my wife out through the patio doors and across the sun-warmed flagstones to the side of the sheltered space. There, before I have even thought through my intentions, I have her caught in my arms, my hips pinning hers against the handy stone balustrade that surrounds the patio "I need you," I say, bluntly, looking down into her eyes

"Oh! Alex!" Her eyes are perfectly round as she stares up at me. "What are you doing?"

"Bend over, love."

I steal a kiss as she gasps, and then I spin her around. I run my hands over her hips and then up along either side of her spine to gently push her shoulders and then her head down. How did I never notice this was the perfect height?

"Frederick," she hisses. "He might see us."

"He won't," I say, more confidently than I feel. I don't care if he does see us.

I have a hand on her skirts, about to lift them, when I pause at the thought—Do I want him to see us?

Perhaps. I don't know anything except that I am possessed with desire for Clara.

"I need you," I repeat.

"Oh, gods," she says, a faint whine in her voice, but she doesn't try to stop me when I lift up her skirt.

I groan to myself when I see she's not wearing any panties. "Did you forget something, wife?"

"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice muffled where I have tossed her long skirts over her head. "I put some on, and then…. Well, they were saturated. So I took them off and then... I was going to get some clean ones, and the next thing you were ushering me downstairs announcing we were late!"

"Good," I say decisively, my hands filled with the plump globes of her ample ass. "I like you without them. From now on, you shall not wear them again. It will be our little secret."

My hand is on my buckle, and then I'm shucking my pants down in a daze. My cock is hot and heavy in my hand as I line up and thrust into my wife's drenched pussy. I fucked her many times last night and again this morning, so it's little wonder she is ready for me.

I pump my hips, pounding into her, making our flesh slap together and her ass jiggle with every thrust. Fuck, I'm never going to last.

She moans lowly. "Oh gods—humph—Oh gods!" Her voice is breathy, and her words stuttered between my thrusts. "What if—huff—somebody sees?"

Somebody? She means Frederick, and just thinking about him seeing us like this is near enough to send me over the edge. "They won't." I interject confidence. "Be a good girl for me and let me fuck you how I need."

"What if…oh!"

"Keep quiet, sweetheart," I say. "Lest we stir Frederick's curiosity."

She moans loudly.

"Clara, put your fingers in your mouth if you need to."

I hear her moan around them, while I'm busy enjoying the view of her jiggling ass and the sounds of our flesh slapping together, the way she flutters around my cock, and how deliciously wet she is. Gods, why have I never done this before?

"Mun…mrmmmn…umhfff."

I believe she is complaining around her fingers at the vigor of my strokes. I know that if it were something serious, she would take them out, and so I only grin at her huffs and grunts.

"I am the master of this home, am I not? You are my wife. If I want to fuck you, I shall."

I have never spoken so boldly to Clara before this, but her enthusiastic groan and the sticky squelching noises her pussy begins to make tell me she is not averse to my possessive demands.

"It is for the best you don't have any panties on," I say, my eyes are on the place where I shuttle in and out of her, watching my cock disappear, glistening with her arousal. "When I come inside you, they will only get soaked again."

She moans again.

I reach forward and run my hands over the fabric covering her plump tits before I rip her bodice down so I can cup them and pinch her nipples as I fuck her.

She moans louder around her fingers, her body swaying as I fuck her roughly against the stone balustrade. The coarse surface is probably doing terrible things to her dress, but I can't seem to care. The only clear thought in my mind is that Clara is as enthusiastic about this as I am.

"Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my cock like a good wife should."

Her pussy clamps over my length as she emits a filthy moan, loud enough for me to be certain she has forgotten to keep her fingers in her mouth. My balls rise. My spine tingles and my mind blanks out as I shoot cum against the entrance of her womb. And, all the while, she moans and thrusts her ass back for more, crushing my dick in a series of spasms as she comes around me.

I slow my thrusts, then release her tits so that I can pull her hips tight against me as I pump into her a few last times. She shudders. We are both breathing heavily. I don't look back to check whether Frederick came to see what we are doing. I tell myself I hope he didn't. And yet... I really wish he did.

I ease out of her. A thick blob of cum drops and splats against the flagstones.

"Oh gods," she says, struggling to rise.

"Wait there, my love," I say, "and I shall help you up." I don't move to do so yet, however, for the view is compelling—her tits are out, her plump ass is on display, and her pussy is dripping cum all over the flagstones. I take my time putting myself away.

"Let me help you with your gown first," I say. I'm quite slow about this, as I enjoy playing with her body. Cupping her ass cheeks and gently pulling them apart and then squeezing them back together and watching another blob of cum drip out.

"Oh!" she gasps, as another quiver runs through her body. "Alex, what are you doing?!"

Somehow, I gain command of myself enough to lower her skirts and help her up, turning her around to face me.

My cock jerks. I am spent, and yet it jerks again at the image of her breasts spilling lewdly from the bodice of her gown. She has such glorious fat tits, with nipples that are big and so sensitive to the touch. I am a man under a spell and I cannot help but lean forward and draw one rosy tip into my mouth.

My groan as I suck on her heated flesh is one of pure sensual pleasure. It's all I can do not to toss up her skirts and bend her over the damn balustrade again.

My lips pop off with a sigh of regret.

I help her straighten her gown, and she huffs a little as she tries to set her bodice to rights. Her hair is a wild mess, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright.

I purse my lips, asking for divine guidance as I see how swollen her tits are from my mauling, threatening to spill back out.

"I think I need to go to my room and find a different dress," she mutters, with a tiny sob.

"It'll be fine, sweetheart," I say, drawing her against me, unable to help myself from running my fingertips over the swell of her breast. "You look perfectly decent."

She's not decent by a long shot. From my taller vantage point, I can see the distinct upper edge of her areola above the decolletage of her gown. If she breathes too heavily, I swear her nipple will pop out.

I believe it makes me the wickedest of husbands that I like her being in this state. "Here, let me help you with your hair."

She is distracted from adjusting her bodice any further, as is my intent, when I delve my fingers into her tresses in what is a vain attempt to detangle her hair.

"Oh, it's all knotty!"

"Only a little," I say. Her hair is the least of her concerns when she looks so thoroughly ravished. "I doubt Frederick will notice, and even if he should, he would never mention it. You know he's a very civilized man, and one might almost forget he was an alpha."

Her smile is one of relief. "He is, isn't he? I was so sad about what happened with Rebecca."

I lean down and kiss her sweet lips. "I know, my love, as were we all. But Rebecca is happy now. Her centaur mate is a little rough around the edges, to be sure, but they have found their way with each other."

"I just hate to think of Frederick all on his own. He doesn't seem to want anyone else."

"Trust me, he does not want for female attention," I say dryly.

She blushes anew and won't meet my gaze as she mutters, "Well, I'm sure he does not!"

"Come, I'm going to get you that cup of coffee you missed out on."

When we return to the dining room it is empty, and the double doors leading to the sitting room are open. "There, Frederick was not even in the room." Regardless of my words, I am struck with a certainty that he heard what we did. Maybe he lingered in the open patio door before he left the room… Or perhaps I am altogether wrong, and he left immediately when we went outside and knows nothing of what transpired. There is no denying the twinge of disappointment I feel at that last thought

I glance over Clara's shoulder, into the sitting room, and I see Frederick through the open doors. He raises both brows, smirks at me, and slowly shakes his head before lifting his coffee in salute and bringing it to his lips.

The sudden thrill that races through me whites out my mind and creates a tornado, low in my belly.

He knows what we just did.

"Maybe I should return to our room and straighten myself out?"

Hell, no. Now that I have ventured down this dark path, nothing can pull me back. "Nonsense. Let me get you a fresh cup of coffee. And then you can keep Frederick company." It would be the gentlemanly thing to do to escort her back to our room. Only, as I have discovered today, there is no gentleman in me where this is concerned.

"I would be delighted in your company, Clara," he calls from the other room as I go to the sideboard to pour the coffee for her

"Of course." She turns to smile at Frederick. When I return to her side, Clara glances back up at me, missing the heat in Frederick's deeply admiring gaze as it sweeps over her.

The hungry look is gone as quickly as it appeared, and by the time she turns back to him, the suave mask has returned to his face.

Gods, I cannot breathe. I need a moment to compose myself. "I have some business to attend to." I offer my wife an encouraging smile when she pouts prettily. "I won't be long."

With a chaste kiss on her forehead, I slip out of the room.

As the door clicks shut behind me, I plant my back against it and suck in a sharp, ragged breath.

What the hell am I doing? I just fucked my wife in front of my best friend. It's like I'm throwing her at him and can't seem to make myself stop.

He's still an alpha, and I need to remember that. I'm teetering upon a dangerous edge, only I want to plummet—I want to tumble headfirst deep down into the dark, sensual abyss.

But, most of all, I want my best friend to fuck my wife.