Stitches

I shuck my pants and shake my head, eyebrows rising. “I guess not. I just figured I send you upstairs to fuck my wife, stands to reason that my wife would get fucked. I’m not sure where in there my intent got lost—I was pretty clear with Moira.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t fuck at your behest,” Griff states.

I meet his gaze, and he raises a challenging eyebrow.

I shrug. “All right. If you don’t want to fuck my wife, then don’t. I don’t know what all this is about then.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Griff says.

“So, you don’t want to share Moira?”

“No, I do.”

I frown. “But you don’t want to fuck her?”

“No, I… Yeah, I do. Not like this, though.”

I shake my head at him and walk over to turn out the light.

“What are you doing?” Griff asks, as soon as the room goes dark. “Am I staying the night? Shouldn’t I at least go to the guest room?”

“We have a king bed. There’s plenty of room for you to stay here.”

I pull back the blanket on my side and slide in. Moira immediately comes to my side, needing reassurance. I can see the fear in her eyes even now, so I cradle the back of her neck in my hand and draw her in for a soft, slow kiss. She melts against me, wrapping her arms around me, clinging to me. Her fear ignites desire within me. I don’t make Moira worry about losing me on a regular basis—that would be cruel—but I like knowing the thought of losing me terrifies her. It’s reassurance that her little ass isn’t going anywhere.

Right now she’s desperate to make it up to me, and I like that, too. There’s nothing more intoxicating than the repentant trail of Moira’s lips along my jawline, down my neck, across my chest. Without words, she expresses her love. With the kind of raw need most healthy people can’t feel in a vacuum like this, she makes me feel like the most important man in her world.

Of course, Griff being right here on the bed with us, that’s probably not feeling so good for him. Feels great to me, though. I need to give a little back.

“It’s Griff’s turn,” I tell Moira.

She tears her lips away from my chest and looks up at me, confused. “What?”

I cock my head toward Griff.

Moira sits back on her heels and hesitates. “You want me to…? In front of you?”

I nod my head.

Moira swallows audibly, looking none too confident, but she turns and crawls over to Griff. His mouth opens to object, but as Moira straddles his lap with her naked ass, he can’t summon the willpower. She sits there for a second just looking at him, then she runs her hands up his chest before leaning in and kissing him. There’s no deepening of the kiss—just soft little pecks. There’s tenderness, but no desperation. She doesn’t kiss him like she needs him, the way she kisses me, but he doesn’t seem to be in a position to complain.

No, the tables have turned now. His hands go to her waist like he can’t help touching her. He follows the pace she sets, but he’s the one who needs her. Moira needs me, Griff needs Moira, and I… well, I guess I need Griff, because there’s really no alternative I can envision where I’d be sitting here watching another man fondle my wife.

Watching him need her turns me on. I have power over him now, because I have total power over Moira. That motherfucker isn’t going anywhere as long as Moira has him by the balls.

Relief spreads through me. I’m feeling better about life, about this decision. I’m feeling grateful for my dutiful little wife, even as she straddles someone else’s cock, as his big hands palm her breasts and trace the curve of her back.

I push up and prowl across the bed, grabbing Moira’s hips and dragging her off his lap. A startled gasp slips out of her and Griff looks immediately bereft when her mouth leaves his, but since she’s mine, he doesn’t dare object.

Oh yes, I like this already.

Moira looks back at me over her shoulder. She’s on her hands and knees. I put a hand on her back and pet her, partly to reassure her, partly to push her into the position I want her in. I grip her hips a little tighter and pull her ass up in the air. She’s accustomed to this, so she lowers her upper body toward the bed and her legs spread for me naturally. I can’t resist pushing a finger inside her sweet pussy to see how wet Griff made her. I close my eyes as my finger sinks inside her. Oh, she’s fucking drenched. Too drenched. Did he really make her this wet?

My gaze drifts to Griff and I see him watching me, watching my finger as I move it in and out of my wife. His gaze drifts to Moira, in position like a good girl. The way I have her, she’s looking right at him while I finger her.

After a few more seconds—and a strained moan from Moira—Griff clears his throat. “I’m gonna go in the guest room.”

“Stay or go,” I say casually, pushing a second finger into my wife’s pussy. “If you stay, we can fuck her together.”