David stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of their Midtown apartment, the city glittering cold and sharp below. Behind him, Emma moved quietly in the kitchen, the black silk slip she had worn to dinner still clinging to her body. She had not changed. She wanted Marcus to see her exactly like this.
The intercom buzzed. David pressed the button without speaking. Two minutes later the elevator opened and Marcus stepped inside. Tall, broad, dark-skinned, dressed simply in a black shirt and dark jeans. He looked at Emma first, then at David, and nodded once.
“Still good?” he asked her.
Emma’s voice was steady. “Yes.”
Marcus crossed the room, took her face in both hands, and kissed her. It was not gentle. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she opened for him immediately, a soft sound rising in her throat. David watched from the window, already hard, already aching.
Marcus broke the kiss and guided Emma to the wide leather couch. He sat and pulled her onto his lap so she straddled one thick thigh. The slip rode up. He pushed the fabric higher until her black lace thong was fully exposed. His hand slid between her legs.
“Already wet,” he murmured against her neck. “Your husband get you like this, or thinking about me?”
“Both,” she whispered.
Marcus pushed the lace aside and slid two thick fingers into her without warning. Emma’s head dropped forward onto his shoulder. The wet sound of him working her filled the quiet apartment. He fucked her slowly with his fingers, curling them, spreading her open, watching David the entire time.
When she started rocking against his hand, Marcus pulled free, stood, and stripped her completely. The slip and thong fell to the floor. She stood naked in the middle of their living room while he unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding free made David’s stomach tighten.
Marcus’s cock was thick, heavy, already hard. He sat back down and guided Emma onto him facing outward so David could see everything. The blunt head pressed against her entrance. She reached down, lined him up, and sank.
The stretch made her gasp. Her thighs trembled. Marcus’s hands gripped her hips and pulled her the rest of the way down until she was fully seated, her ass flush against his thighs.
“Fuck,” she breathed.
He began to move her. Slow at first—lifting her almost all the way off, then letting her drop. Each time she took him deeper. The wet slap of her body meeting his grew louder. David watched his wife’s breasts bounce, watched the way her mouth stayed open, the way her eyes kept finding his across the room.
“Tell him how it feels,” Marcus ordered.
Emma’s voice was shaky. “He’s so much thicker… God, David, he’s stretching me open.”
Marcus’s pace increased. He started thrusting up to meet her. Emma’s hands braced on his knees. Her head fell back against his shoulder. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles while he fucked her.
She came hard, thighs shaking, a broken cry spilling out of her. Marcus did not stop. He kept moving her on his cock through the aftershocks until she was whimpering and oversensitive.
Only then did he lift her off, turn her around, and bend her over the arm of the couch so her ass was presented and her face pointed toward David. He pushed back into her in one smooth stroke. Emma’s eyes locked on her husband’s.
Marcus fucked her harder now. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed. His hands spread her open so David could see every inch of his cock disappearing into his wife. Emma’s moans turned raw. She reached one hand back and held herself open for him.
Marcus’s rhythm stuttered. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, hips locked against her. Emma trembled under him, feeling every pulse.
When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of cum followed and slid down the inside of her thigh.
Marcus looked at David. “Your turn to clean her up if you want it.”
David’s legs felt unsteady as he crossed the room. He dropped to his knees behind his wife. Marcus’s hand rested lightly on the back of David’s head—not forcing, just present. David leaned in and tasted his wife, tasted the other man on her, licked her clean while she shivered and whispered his name.
Marcus stayed long enough to fuck her one more time—this time with Emma on her back on their bed, legs spread wide, while David sat in the chair in the corner and stroked himself. When Marcus finally left, the apartment smelled like sex and cedar.
Emma lay on the sheets, thighs still open, a faint sheen of sweat on her stomach. David climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs. She pulled him into her without a word. She was still slick, still open from another man, and the knowledge of it made David come harder than he had in months.
Afterward she traced lazy circles on his chest.
“Same time next week?” she asked softly.
David kissed the top of her head.
“Yeah,” he said. “Same time next week.”