Chapter 6: Wife's Regalness
The master bedroom door clicked shut, muffling the distant clatter of the caterers cleaning up. Sarah turned the lock, the sound final. She leaned against the dark wood, her cheeks flushed from the wine, her eyes bright and fixed on Ben where he sat on the edge of their four-poster bed. The soft, golden light from the bedside lamp glinted off her wedding ring as she pushed away from the door.
“You’ve been staring at my ass all night,” she purred, a slow, knowing smile playing on her lips. She took a few steps toward him, her hips swaying deliberately. Her fingers found the hem of her dress, hiking the sleek fabric up her thighs, revealing the black lace of her stockings, the delicate garter belt, and a tiny triangle of matching lace panties. “Come on. Let’s get you off before we cause a scene at dinner.”
Ben watched her, a familiar heat rising in his gaze, the stress of the evening—the unspoken tension with Matt and Andi that had hung over the table like a storm cloud—finally beginning to recede. “You’re fucking breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice thick.
She closed the distance between them, standing over him. “I know.” Her hands went to his shoulders, pushing him back until he was lying across the bedspread. Her fingers made quick work of his belt, his zipper, yanking his trousers and boxers down to his knees. His cock sprang free, already hard and eager. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly, her thumb smearing the bead of moisture at the tip. “Look at you. All for me.”
She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, still in her dress. She positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, the lace of her panties pushed roughly aside. She sank down onto him in one smooth, practiced motion, a low, satisfied sigh escaping her as he filled her. “God, yes,” she breathed, her head tipping back.
She began to move, a slow, deep, rolling rhythm born of years of intimacy. Her eyes locked with his. The room was quiet save for their ragged breathing and the soft, wet sounds of their joining. This was their sanctuary, their language. Each rock of her hips was a reaffirmation, a quiet defiance against the complications brewing beyond their door.
Ben’s hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. “Sarah,” he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet her downward strokes.
“Shhh,” she whispered, leaning forward, bracing her hands on his chest. Her pace quickened, becoming more urgent. The bedframe gave a gentle creak. “Just feel me. It’s just us. Always us.” She rode him with a fierce, possessive intensity, her inner muscles clenching around him rhythmically, pulling him deeper, pulling the release from him. She could feel his control fraying, the tension coiling tight in his body. “Come inside me, Ben,” she commanded, her voice a husky whisper against his ear. “Fill me up. I want to feel it.”
That was all it took. With a guttural cry, he obeyed, his body arching off the bed as he emptied himself deep inside her in hot, pulsing waves. She milked him through it, her own climax a softer, radiating warmth that left her trembling. She collapsed onto his chest, their hearts hammering against each other.
They lay in a sweaty, spent heap for long minutes, the scent of jasmine from the nightstand and their sex mingling in the air. Finally, Sarah pushed herself up, a thoughtful, almost grim look in her eyes as she smoothed her dress down. “They’re fucking, you know,” she said quietly, her tone devoid of judgment, simply stating a fact. “Matt and Andi. Right now. Probably in the guest room.”
Ben’s eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. The post-coital peace shattered. “What?”
“I saw the way he looked at her during the toast. The way she blushed. It’s not new, Ben.” She swung her legs off the bed, standing and straightening her dress with a practicality that contrasted sharply with the raw passion of moments before. “I’ve known for a while.”
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Across the house, in the guest room painted a soft grey, Andi closed the door and turned the old, brass key in the lock. The click echoed in the quiet space. She leaned back against the door, her gaze raking over Matt where he stood by the bed, his expression a mixture of desire and the lingering strain from the uncomfortable dinner.
“You’ve been staring at my tits all night,” she said, her voice a low, playful challenge. Her fingers went to the buttons of her blouse, popping them open one by one to reveal the black lace bra beneath, the silver necklace he’d given her nestled in her cleavage. “Why don’t you lay down and I’ll give you a titjob?”
A slow, dark smile spread across Matt’s face, the tension bleeding away, replaced by a hungry focus. He didn’t speak. He just toed off his shoes, shucked his jeans and boxers, and lay back on the floral duvet, his hard cock jutting up from the dark curls at his groin.
Andi approached the bed, a predator’s grace in her movements. She shrugged out of her blouse, letting it fall to the floor. She unclasped her bra, tossing it aside, her breasts swaying free. She climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs, her knees on either side of his hips. She leaned forward, her hair curtaining their faces, and took his cock in her hand. It was thick and heavy, the skin stretched taut. She guided it between the soft, warm swell of her breasts, pressing them together, encasing him in a slick, hot valley of flesh.
“Fuck, Andi,” Matt groaned, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders.
She began to move, rocking her upper body back and forth, sliding his shaft through the tight space. The head of his cock, purple and leaking, appeared at the top of her cleavage with every upward stroke before disappearing again. She looked down, watching the spectacle, a filthy, turned-on smile on her face. “You like that? You like my tits wrapped around your big cock?”
“Yes,” he hissed, his hips lifting off the bed to meet her rhythm. “God, yes.”
She increased her pace, the friction delicious, the wet sounds lewd in the quiet room. Pre-cum slicked her skin, making the glide easier, messier. She could feel him getting harder, thicker, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath her. “You gonna come for me, Matt?” she whispered, her voice dropping to a husky register. “You wanna cover my tits with it? Mark me up?”
“Christ,” he panted, his eyes screwed shut. His control was a thin, fraying wire.
“Look at me,” she commanded.
His eyes flew open, meeting hers. The raw need in them, the love, the absolute possession, sent a fresh thrill through her. She moved faster, her breasts squeezing him tight.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice a strained rasp.
“Do it,” she breathed, leaning forward so her nipple brushed against the head of his cock. “Come all over me. Now.”
With a sharp, guttural cry, his body bowed off the bed. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot across her chest and neck, striping her skin white. She kept moving, milking every last drop from him until he was spent, collapsing back onto the mattress, breathless and shuddering.
Andi sat back on her heels, looking down at the mess he’d made of her. She smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, and scooped up a fingerful of his cum, bringing it to her lips and sucking it clean. “Mmm. Tastes like us.”
Matt watched her, his chest heaving, a look of awe and sheer animal lust on his face. He reached for her, pulling her down on top of him, not caring that his release was smearing between them. He kissed her, deep and searching, his tongue claiming her mouth. “You’re mine,” he growled against her lips, the words a vow and a warning. “All mine.”
Down the hall, in the master bedroom, Sarah stood at the window, looking out at the dark garden. She could feel the phantom vibrations of the headboard knocking against the guest room wall, a silent confirmation of her suspicions. She turned back to Ben, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
“Well?” she said, her voice calm but firm. “What are you going to do about it?”