Still A Hotwife Birthday: an age gap, first time hotwife romance (Hotwife Hot Life) by Dilana Rose

Author:Dilana Rose [Rose, Dilana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-08-10T00:00:00+00:00

As we started our first course, I almost jumped at Jake’s caress.

Hell, I jumped each time he breathed deeply. Mid-thirties and sexy as all fuck, after his earlier comment, I hadn’t expected my husband’s nephew to take chances with his family watching.

Then again, we’d taken chances in the wine cellar.

Jake had bent me over a bench and fucked me so hard the shelving rattled.

I closed my eyes, remembering how his hands had held my hips in place, how he’d taken almost no time to get me wet, and how he’d rocked against me until …

“What?” I looked down the table to Val who was staring at me in open disgust. “I’m sorry, Val. I was listening to John and Barry talk about their quarterly profits and didn’t hear what you said.”

Davis smiled and mouthed, nice recovery.

“You’re not touching your meal? Don’t tell me you are on one of those crazy diets?”

“Thank you for your concern. I don’t need to diet.” Should I push it just a little? Why not. “I get quite enough exercise.”

“Lucky bastard,” Jake fake coughed into his fist again.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, loud enough for Davis to hear.

“I’ll second that. I am a lucky bastard and if you don’t behave yourself, I’m going to insist on swapping seats,” he told Jake.

“Oh, my!” Val almost fucking fainted. I wished Davis had warned me so I could have filmed the moment. “But you’re the head of this household. This is your seat.”

“And mother, you are sitting in Kara’s seat. But we can all act civilized, can’t we? After all, we are family.”

I took a leisurely sip of my water, swirled it around my mouth before swallowing. I could almost hear Jake sigh in frustration.

But then I felt his soft leather shoe rub against my bare ankle. No one could see us. No one would know.

I stroked the glass with the tip of my fingernail and he did it again. A soft, sensual stroke from my ankle, up my leg and only stopping when the angle became too hard for him to manoeuvre without being seen.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t reach my thighs. With each slow stroke, it felt as if he was gently stroking all the way from my toes to my clit. Slow. Steady. Sensual.

As conversations continued without me, I felt deliciously wicked. Was it only me who could taste the sexual chemistry between Jake, my husband and I? Were the rest of their family truly oblivious about what I’d done in the wine cellar? What Davis and I had done while they waited for us at the table? What I was intent on doing again?

Did anyone know or care?

Knowing my husband’s eyes hadn’t left me, I carefully flaked away the honey-crusted salmon, bringing it to my wetted lips before inhaling the scent. I turned my head to obviously face Davis and only after his Adam’s apple bobbed with desire did I close my eyes and savor the taste.

By the third mouthful, I noticed Jake’s foot matching me stroke for bite.

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