She didn’t look at him. “Sure. Thanks.”
Well, it was a start.
He headed into the kitchen, pulling up short when he saw the open cabinet, the empty beer bottle, and the bottle of tequila on the counter.
Shit.
Okay, not just walking on eggshells then, but walking on eggshells covering a minefield full of IEDs.
He wracked his brain to remember what she liked, how Scott had made her sandwiches in the past, and made hers first before making his. He was turning to carry it out to her when he pulled up short at the sight of her standing in the kitchen doorway, the now-empty mug in her hand.
He offered her the plate. “If it’s not right, I’ll make you another one.”
Okay, those were words he never thought he’d say to someone, but sometimes being a Dominant meant knowing when not to push someone.
She stared at the plate in his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks.” She walked over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out another bottle of beer.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “You might want to go easy on those,” he said, wincing as he said it.
She stared up at him, defiant. “Why?” She stepped in close, her mouth inches from his. “You going to stop me?”
He’d set the plate on the counter, his other hand clenching as he struggled to retain control of himself. What he wanted to do was snatch the mug out of her hand, bend her over his fucking lap, and spank the crap out of her ass.
Again, not productive.
Despite his brain searching for the safest answer, the most instinctive one popped out of his mouth first. “If it was up to me, there’d be a lot of things different around here.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Like what?”
He went toe-to-toe with her, staring down at her. “Like for starters, I’d take away you having to pretend you’re a Dominant when you spend time with Scott when I damn well know that’s the last fucking thing you want to be.”
He knew he didn’t imagine the beer-and-tequila-scented gasp of surprise from her. Her eyes widened, and before she could respond, he pressed forward.
“I know it hasn’t been very fair to you, what’s happened. Being forced to be someone you’re not and watch the man you love go be happy. I know it takes an incredible woman, an incredible amount of love to let go the way you have. I have the highest respect and admiration for you because of it. I don’t know if I could have been as magnanimous as you’ve been. I just wish there was something I could do to make this easy on you and make it not be painful for you.”
For a second, her eyes looked a little too bright. Then she seemed to catch herself. That, or the alcohol did. “I guarantee you I can give you a better fucking blowjob than he can.”
He blinked. Oookay, that was out of fucking left field.
“What?” he finally asked.
She stepped in, making him step back, the edge of the counter now pressing into his back. “I can suck the chrome off a goddamned trailer hitch,” she said, leaning in, her finger poking him in the chest and accentuating every syllable. “I don’t think it’s very fair that my husband gets to have you and I don’t even get a chance. Any time you want to fucking take me up on that, I can guarantee you I’ll put my husband’s oral talents to goddamned shame.”
That last poke was the hardest. And on that note, she turned on her heel and headed back to the living room.
Keith stood there, rubbing the sore spot on his chest where she’d been poking him, shocked, speechless.
Mostly because his cock had stirred at the conviction in her tone. No, he wasn’t a stranger to women. He’d fucked several women in his life, before he finally admitted he was more into guys than girls.
Noel was not an unattractive woman.
The conviction in her tone, despite the alcohol’s influence, had worked through him.
His phone buzzing in his pocket startled him. A text from Scott.
Everything okay?
Keith stared at the phone, at first going to ignore it, then typing a reply.
No. Your wife is drunk and wants to give me a blowjob.
Scott’s reply rattled his world even more.
Good! Let her! She gives fucking amazing blowjobs. No offense, even better than you. Definitely better than I do.
Keith heard the dry click in his throat as he swallowed, reading and re-reading the text, not quite sure he was believing what he was reading.
You’re kidding, right? Keith finally texted back.
Not kidding at all, Scott replied. Maybe if she does that, it might make things easier. Unless you don’t want to. If not, I understand. But I’m cool with whatever happens between the two of you. Wouldn’t be very fair of me not to.
Keith had to re-read that reply a few times, too.
Shit, he thought.
Then he stared through the doorway. He could see her sitting on the couch, occasionally rubbing her eyes against her shoulders.
She was crying, or trying not to cry.
Dammit. He’d basically rejected her, when he knew she already had to be hitting her upper level of rejection as it was.
He carefully considered his reply to Scott.
You’re saying you’re okay with me and your wife having sex?
After a moment, Scott’s reply. Blowjobs, sex, cuddling, whatever. It’s only fair. I know she’s attracted to you. Whatever you and her are okay with, you have my full blessings.
Keith read that reply several times, too.
Well, okay, then, he thought.
He set the phone on the counter and walked out to the living room to stand directly in front of her, blocking her view of the TV.
She stared up at him, the defiance in her glare a fragile, damaged mask for the pain behind it.
“Did you mean what you said in there?” he asked.
“What?”
He reached down and took the TV remote and beer mug from her and set them on the table. Then he stepped closer, forcing her to have to spread her legs as he stood there in front of her.
“Did you mean it when you said you’d give me a blow job?”
“Why? Want a comparison?”
Without thinking about it, his hand shot out and grabbed her ponytail. He knew this was a dangerous game, one that could blow up in all of their faces, but it was time to shake things up. Either they’d all fall into their proper, happy places—finally—or he’d end up having to move out.
Either way, it wasn’t healthy to continue doing what they were doing.
He pulled her face close to the front of his shorts, but kept her head tipped back so she had to look up at him.
“Here’s the rules,” he said. “I do the driving. I’m a Dominant, not a switch. You will not be pegging me, unless I’m ordering you to do it. You won’t be in charge, of me or of Scott. That’s my job. I absolve you of that responsibility. If you are really serious about wanting to do this, then you need to understand a few things. My rules, my way. I might ask you what you want or like, but I’m the final authority. I’ll never make you leave, never make you divorce Scott, but I’m in charge. Is that something you can deal with?”
He never expected the words that fell from her lips. “Yes, Sir,” she said, almost sounding relieved, her whole body language changing.
Actually trying to nuzzle the hand fisting her hair.
Two years. For two damn years, since his revelation to her, Scott had kept her in a role she hadn’t wanted, hadn’t enjoyed, hadn’t been comfortable with.
But what did that say about the love she had for Scott, that she desperately tried to be that for him, to fulfill that role for him?
“Scott told me he’s okay with anything we want to do together,” Keith told her. “What do you want to do?”