“Robert texted from Phoenix: ‘Let Kyle stay the night.’ I was already face-down on our bed, filled with his subordinate’s cum, when I read it.”
Robert’s hand clamped onto the small of my back. It wasn’t a caress. It was an anchor, a heavy grip that reminded me who paid for the dress and the body inside it. I leaned back into his hold, but my attention was already gone. I was staring across the room.
Kyle Ryder stood near the bar. He wore a tuxedo that was two sizes too tight for his shoulders. He didn’t look like a guest. He looked like a problem. He was Robert’s subordinate, ten years younger and built like a laborer — thick neck, heavy chest, thighs that strained the fabric of his trousers.
“You’re staring, Ash,” Robert said. His lips grazed my ear.
I didn’t look away. My pulse hammered in my throat. I tried to turn my head, but Robert’s fingers dug into my waist, pinning me in place.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “I saw how he looked at you when we walked in. He wants to break you. I want you to look at him.”
The instruction went straight to my groin. Robert didn’t want me to hide the attraction. He wanted to curate it.
Kyle caught my eye. He didn’t smile. He took a sip of bourbon, his gaze dropping to my mouth, then my neck. He swallowed. My stomach clenched. I felt a sudden, hot gush of wetness between my legs.
“He looks dangerous,” I said.
“He’s hungry,” Robert said. He slid his hand down, cupping the curve of my ass and pushing me forward, putting me on display for the younger man. “And so are you.”
By Monday, Robert’s permission had turned into a physical itch I couldn’t scratch. I walked into the break room, heels clicking on the floor, trying to shake the image of Kyle’s eyes on me.
The room was silent.
Kyle leaned against the counter. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, blocking the only exit. Up close, he was massive. He smelled of soap and sweat.
“Mrs. Ashbury,” he said. His voice was deep enough to rattle the shelves. “You’re red.”
“It’s hot in here,” I said. It was a weak lie.
“Is it?”
He stepped closer. He didn’t touch me. He looked down at my chest. My nipples hardened against the thin silk of my blouse. He stared at them like he had a receipt for them.
“Robert talks about you,” Kyle said. He lowered his voice. “He says you get bored. He says you need handling.”
“Kyle, I — “
“I think you need to be on your knees.”
The order shut off my brain. My knees hit the linoleum before I decided to move. It wasn’t a choice. It was instinct. I looked up at him, my mouth dry, my heart thrashing against my ribs.
Kyle didn’t smile. He reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back.
“Good girl.”
The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet room. He freed himself. The smell of him — heavy arousal and skin — filled my nose. He was thick and heavy. I opened my mouth and took him in.
The size of him silenced me.
“Fuck,” he hissed. His hips snapped forward. “Yeah. Just like that.”
I worked him with greedy focus. My hands gripped the hard muscle of his thighs. This wasn’t romance. It was use. He set the pace, his hand on the back of my head forcing me down, hitting the back of my throat until I gagged, then pulling back.
“Take it,” he said. “Show me you want it.”
I moaned around him. I loved the degradation of it. Robert was slow and careful. Kyle was raw.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
I scrambled up, gasping. He spun me around and shoved me chest-first against the wall.
“Skirt up.”
I bunched the fabric at my waist. I wasn’t wearing panties. I’d left them in the drawer that morning, hoping for this specific disaster.
Kyle groaned. He slid his hand between my thighs and found the slick mess waiting for him.
“Jesus. You’re soaked.”
He didn’t prep me. He lined himself up and shoved inside in one long stroke.
I screamed. His hand slammed over my mouth, smothering the sound. He filled me completely. It felt like he was rearranging my insides.
“You’re so tight,” he grunted. He started to move, snapping his hips against my ass. “Look at you. Taking it in the office like a slut.”
The word made me shove back against him. I dug my fingernails into the paint.
“Robert needs to see this,” Kyle whispered. He bit the tendon in my neck. “He needs to see how good you look with a real cock inside you.”
The mention of my husband broke me. I clamped down around him, my body convulsing. I came hard, my vision blurring. Kyle rode out the spasms, driving deep three more times. He went rigid against my back and poured himself into me.
Robert left for Phoenix on Friday. The house felt too big without him. I paced the living room. I checked my phone every thirty seconds. A text came through from the tarmac: Have fun tonight. Tell me everything.
When the doorbell rang, my heart kicked against my ribs.
Kyle stood on the porch. The suit was gone. He wore dark jeans and a t-shirt that clung to the dense muscle of his chest. He looked relaxed. Lethal.
“Hey,” he said. He stepped inside before I moved back. He walked into the foyer like he paid the mortgage.
“Hey.” I locked the door behind him. My hands shook.
He turned, caught my wrists, and pulled me into his personal space. “Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed me. It wasn’t a greeting. It was an inventory check. He tasted like mint and intent. “Robert told me I have full access. Is that true?”
I nodded, breathless. “Yes. Anything you want.”
His pupils blew wide. He released my wrists and pointed up the stairs.
“Go. Face down on the bed. Wait for me.”
