Hot to the Touch by Cole Riley

Author:Cole Riley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hot to the Touch
ISBN: 9781627785105
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2020-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

HIM

Sommer Madsen

Adam likes to dress me for my dates. He roots through my closet while I shower, he digs through my drawers while I dry my hair. It’s not uncommon to come out and find a full ensemble, including accessories, laid out on our neatly made king-size bed.

“I see you chose red,” I say.

My hair is still damp and I’ll leave it that way. It encourages my subtle curl.

“I did. A nice dinner deserves a nice dress, don’t you think?”

I nod as I run my fingers along the silk. “I do.”

He snags my wrist and pulls me closer. He runs his hands down the curve of my ass, the flare of my hips, and then kisses me. The kiss is gentle at first, then rougher.

“Have a good time tonight before you come home to me,” he growls in my ear.

The wetness between my thighs, already there due to anticipation, increases tenfold.

“I will.” I can feel myself blushing.

I roll my thigh-high stockings on slowly, knowing he likes to watch. How I point my toes, how the muscle in my calf flexes, how they come to rest snugly at the top my thigh. And, as always, he comes closer and runs a fingertip below the elastic-and-lace band at the top. His hand dips briefly between my thighs and brushes over my mound. His finger expertly darting out to drag across my thumping clitoris.

I take a deep breath, shut my eyes, and stand, pulling on panties and then fastening my bra. He helps me with the dress and then fluffs my hair once it’s been pulled over me.

Another kiss, another skate of his hands along my curves, and then he’s handing me a pair of black strappy sandals and I’m fitting my feet into them.

“Call when you’re headed home,” he says and then kisses the back of my neck.

The fine hair at my nape tingles, my nipples go tight.

All the way over to John’s I’m thinking about Adam’s hands on me.

Then John greets me at the door and his hands are on me and my mind goes blank.

He traces the outline of my hard nipples with his fingertip. “Did he choose this? Your husband?”

They don’t know each other’s names. There’s no real reason other than I like it like that. It forces them to refer to the other as “him” and the word holds a significance, so there’s an inflection that turns me on.

To John “him” is my husband, my partner, the man I swore to have and to hold.

To Adam “him” is the other. The man I fuck. My side piece. The man who I meet a few times a month to let my hair down and be good and thoroughly unattached to a vow or another person.

I always come home to him, and that’s all he cares about.

I nod even as John’s fingers pluck along the flare of the dress. He lifts it a little, drops it, lifts it again.

“Is it weird?” he asks, walking me back briskly until my ass hits the broad back of his sofa.

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