“Miss me? Ah…”
He caught on quickly, especially since they had been sexually separated a lot longer than usual, but Lana knew he wasn’t connected to the full story. And now was not the time to bring up her paranoia and suspicions.
Even now, her brain was churning in excuses. Reasons that she was being paranoid and there was no reason to worry about her sweet, friendly husband turning on her and fucking the maid behind her back.
And if he was…
How many other women had he seduced without Lana’s presence or knowledge?
Sometimes it was more difficult than it was worth, being in the type of marriage she was. It was the only type of marriage she would accept, having the sexual appetite that she did. A life without threesomes and swinging? Kill me. Then there was the communication. That was the hardest part. Not communicating, but dealing with her partner’s whims and own desires. It wasn’t enough for Lana to say that she wanted to have a threesome with a man, and, oh, would her husband please suck the other man’s cock for her amusement? No. Ken had to be in the mood, or at least open to the suggestion. He had to like the same man that his wife did, especially if he were the one doing most of the interaction. He had to like anyone they chose to play with. He had to understand where his wife was coming from. He had to have the energy and wherewithal to say, “Yes, Bunny, let’s gang up on some lucky guy. Or girl. It doesn’t matter.”
Lana often told him stories about the years before they met. Her high school years. Her college years. Those glorious years of her mid-20s when she fucked any man who moved enough to satisfy her. Ken was not only the first man to keep up with her, but the first man to openly embrace the type of lifestyle and marriage she wanted. I want a partnership. I want a husband. I want someone I can be a terror team with. Someone she could always count on. Someone to always be by her side, even if other people came and went, as they always did.
They didn’t have long-term girlfriends or boyfriends on the side, and the mistress didn’t count. She was an amusement for them both to enjoy. No, what Lana meant was a truly polyamorous relationship, not swinging. Ken never asked about getting a girlfriend, and Lana was never interested in being serious with another man. Until now, it wasn’t even something she considered. Why would she want another man like that when she had her husband to fulfill all those needs? It sounded bothersome.
When Ken kissed her that Christmas Eve night, Lana felt both relieved and apprehensive. A part of her desperately wanted to make love. Slow, gentle love that would open her heart and reassure every part of her that worried… and that was a lot of parts.
Yet Ken wasn’t in the mood for slow, gentle love. His wife could tell that from the way he gripped her arms, possessively, his heavy kisses pushing her back toward the bed and overtaking her lithe frame. Yeah, he was about as in the mood for slow and sensual sex as Lana was in the mood to find out he was cheating on her.
Her husband being hungry enough to devour her should have been riveting. And yet here Lana Andrews was, wishing she wasn’t… as enthralled with the idea as he was.
“I missed you too,” he said into her ear, his breath so heavy that she almost shuddered to feel it. “I hope you’re feeling well enough to let me in tonight.”
Let me in. They had many code words. Such words were necessary in the public sphere, where they loved to incessantly flirt and make plans for kinky times later on. In front of people who would be appalled to know it, no less. Let me in not only meant fucking her, but in the sort of way that most frequenters to The Dark Hour would be excited to watch.
“Kenny,” she said. “We can’t. This is my mother’s house. There are children down the hall.”
“So? You think I haven’t thought of that?” Ken chuckled, his hand going up her abdomen and brushing against her breasts. Damn you both for responding to him so readily. “I already knew I was going to ask you to be… shall we say… silent?”
Shivers went down Lana’s spine. Ah, her husband posed a challenge. The type of challenge she would normally jump in joy to take on. “Be as quiet as a mouse, Bunny. I only want to hear whimpers and little moans come from those pouty lips. That’s your goal… fulfill that, and I will give you the orgasm of your life.”