Page 49 of Power Play

“Goodnight.”

I want to ask her what’s wrong. I need to know what made her sigh. More importantly, I don’t want this night to end.

But I don’t know how to tell her that without scaring her off.

“Sweet dreams,” I murmur, ducking down and kissing her cheek. Her floral shampoo washes over me, settling my nerves deep in my belly.

Her mouth drops open in surprise, her eyes widening. She swallows, the sound loud in the quiet hallway.

“Al…”

“Have a good night.”

Wrenching myself away, I stumble back, then force myself to walk the three paces to my bedroom door.

I make quick work of undressing. My suit jacket smells like her perfume, light and refreshing, and my cock hardens in my pants. I debate taking a shower to rub one out, but I don’t want to wash her scent away.

The soft flannel brushes against my semi as I slip beneath the sheets, and I squeeze the base of my cock, trying to stave off the blood flowing south.

In the room next door, I can hear the squeaky wheels of Riley’s dresser drawers stuttering along the tracks, and the soft thud of the drawer closing. I wonder what she wears to bed. An oversized T-shirt? Matching pajamas? A satin nightie? Nothing at all?

I can’t be thinking of my wife this way.

She looked drop-dead gorgeous tonight. The way the dress I picked out clung to her curves, my necklace shining in the hollow of her throat, my ring on her finger… I was battling a semi most of the evening, and every time she touched my arm or held my hand, it took everything in me not to lean over and kiss her.

I wish I had. Wish I’d given in to the urges running rampant through me.

My cock throbs, and I might not be able to act on them in real life, but I can indulge in the fantasies in my mind. I give myself a firm stroke from root to tip, pleasure coiling deep in my gut.

We look good together. Our relationship works well as it is. We don’t need to change anything.

Even if I desperately want to.

In the next room, the old wooden bedframe creaks, the muted noise barely audible. Riley is in her bed only a few feet away. What if she came into mine? Knocked on my door, crawled into bed beside me, and wrapped her lips around my cock?

I’m rock hard now, and I reach for the lube in my bedside drawer. Can she hear me now? I stroke myself faster, fucking up into my fist. Every sense is heightened, my skin covered in goose bumps. Each breath I take punches from my lungs.

As I touch myself, I think of the way Riley felt in my arms. She fits perfectly against me, as if she were made for me, or maybe I was made for her. My hand moves faster, sensation hurtling through me while I twist my wrist at the head. Sticky precum trails down my shaft, and my gut tightens.

My wife. Mine.

I bite my fist to keep from making a sound as pleasure washes over me. Cum fills my palm, and I stroke myself through my orgasm, lightning aftershocks making my thighs tingle.

Breathing hard, I sink back onto my pillows. Did I really just do that? Did I cross eight thousand boundaries by getting myself off to the thought of my wife?

After a few minutes, the stickiness in my hand prompts me to get out of bed. Quickly, I clean myself up, then crawl naked beneath the sheets. It feels empty. Enormous. I wish Riley were beside me.

But that’s never going to happen. It’s time I accepted that.