Authors: Kenny Wright
She felt the air pressure shift in the room as someone opened the door. “David, I—”
“Shh... We don’t have much time.” It was Jack, quietly shutting the door behind him.
“How did you—”
“I snuck by him.”
He stepped right up behind her, their eyes locking in the mirror. For a moment, Sarah couldn’t gauge his mood. His face swam with emotion, but not all of it looked friendly. “Was that too much?” she said at last, biting her lip.
Jack wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight enough to force the air from her lungs. “Yes,” he whispered. “But that’s what made it so hot.”
Sarah didn’t get that, but now wasn’t the time to chat. “You’re still hard. You didn’t cum?” She reached her hand behind her and grasped him.
“No, I did. Once, anyway. But that’s why I’m here.”
“I see.” Coy smile and commanding eyes—there was the man she’d fallen for. “I think we can do something about that.”
She directed Jack to lean against the sink and dropped to her knees. She needed to be quick. They didn’t have much time before David would come and investigate and the bathroom door didn’t lock.
Sarah opened his pants just enough to get his cock out. Wrapping her hand around it, she paused. How different these two men could be. It wasn’t just about shape and size. David was all sleek, smooth lines, like a sports car with a purring engine. Jack was the muscle car, engine growling and impatient.
She wrapped her lips around it and sucked until and Jack gasped.
“My little Sarah, what a slut you were today. Did you love it? You did, didn’t you? I could tell by the way you moved against him.”
Sarah moaned around his cock. His words were making things hot and sticky. She redoubled her efforts, taking his large cock into her throat. He was close. She saw the signs.
“You loved feeling David’s cock in your pussy. You’re probably thinking about him now. Wishing you were blowing him, don’t you?”
Sarah tried to shake her head.
No, not at all
. Jack didn’t let her.
“Well, he’s not here. I’m here. Look at me.” She dragged her green eyes up and he brushed her bangs away. Despite the harshness in his tone, he looked at her softly. He smiled. “Sarah, I love you.”
Jack came, filling her mouth as they stared at one another. Things were going to be fine. Everything was going to be all right.
Sarah emerged from the bathroom, hoping she didn’t look worse than when she’d gone in. David was lingering by the doors to the boardroom—once again dark—her thong looped in his index finger.
“You don’t want to leave this behind. I may not work here any more, but I’m not sure what they’d say to you.”
“You don’t want to keep it as a souvenir? Isn’t that what guys do?”
David wrinkled his nose. “This never happened, so why would I need a souvenir?”
Sarah swiped it from him and dropped it into her purse. She had a snappy comeback. Instead, she just said, “Thank you.”
They meandered back to restaurant row, back to their cars and their normal lives. Sarah couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. What a crazy night. She hadn’t felt this alive at this late hour since she was in her early 20s, carefree and unattached.
“Good luck in California,” Sarah said when they reached her car.
They stood a foot apart, and for a moment, it felt like they would get no closer. “Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was all backwards. They’d already hooked up, yet now things felt like they were stuck on a stoop on their first date.
Sarah broke the awkwardness. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight. “I’m going to miss you, David. Thank you for everything.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Sarah.” He pulled back and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her. A car passed by, headlights bouncing off the hood of her Prius. They were cast in warm yellow.
The moment passed and he stepped away. “You’re okay to drive?”
“I’m good.” She slipped into her car, gave David one last smile, and drove home.
Jack’s journey home was a little longer. He wandered through the empty streets of downtown and let his thoughts loose. They’d done it. They’d crossed that line that was never meant to even exist outside of fantasy. He thought about what he’d said earlier in Coast:
We’re going into this with both eyes open. I want you to have fun. I want you to go crazy. Just for a day. And then come home and be my angel in the morning.
His angel in the morning. After watching her get fucked in the ass by another man, would he ever see her as an angel again?
Then he went beyond the night. He thought about her when she gave birth to their kids, sweaty and in pain and so fucking beautiful. He thought about how radiant she’d looked on their wedding day, even after the sudden rainstorm had soaked her veil and gown. And he thought about her in his everyday, lounging on the sofa in yoga pants and a loose sweater, reading her Kindle. Would he think of her as his angel after tonight? He already was.
Sarah was in the shower when he finally got home—her third of the day, but it was that kind of day. He didn’t join her other than to poke his head in to tell her he was home. She needed a little space, and he knew how she liked her showers.
He brushed his teeth in the guest room and washed his face with soap. The water cut off just as he slipped naked into bed.
Sarah emerged, a towel wrapped around her head and nothing else. Even with all the times he’d cum today, he still felt himself stir at her nudity.
She pulled the towel off and scrubbed her hair dry, sauntering to the bed. “I had the most interesting night.” She batted her lashes and Jack laughed.
“So did I. You’ll never believe who I ran into at your office.”
Sarah pulled the covers back and cuddled up against him. “So?” she asked. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”
“It was nothing like I did.” Sarah looked worried until Jack touched her face. “But it was incredible.
She blushed. That was good; after all that had happened, she could still blush. “How was it different?”
Jack was a little ashamed of the truth, but gave it. “I guess I never really thought about it from your perspective. It had always been my fantasy, you know? But tonight, watching you... You really got into it.”
He kissed her on the nose. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant... I don’t know. Like, I loved seeing you like that. You were so sexy.” He rubbed his thumb across the arch of her brow. She blinked. “Like I said, you were incredible. It was better than whatever I’d thought it could be.”
For the first time since climbing into bed, Sarah relaxed. “You’re not expecting this to be some kind of regular thing, are you?”
“Not unless you consider once every four years a ‘regular thing,’ no.”
“Someone’s a little presumptuous.”
“Hey, I think I was promised a threesome with you and another woman,” Jack reminded.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. I almost forgot. Although now that you mention it, I seem to recall bringing it up as a possibility.” She snuggled closer to Jack. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too, angel.”
Jack shut out the light. Neither of them were up for any more sex. “Never mind. I’ll explain later.”
The morning of March 1 was like any other. A little stiff and a little hard, Jack woke up in his bed next to Sarah. He rolled over and draped his arm across his wife. Her chest rose and fell, calm and steady.
He cupped her breast. Her skin was warm, bordering on hot. She stirred.
“Morning,” Jack said when she turned her head.
Sarah’s face brightened when she saw Jack. Her dreams had been confused, but now everything made sense. She asked, “What are you smiling about?”
“You, of course.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. He touched her face, tracing the round summit of her cheekbone. “Not about anything that happened yesterday?”
“Yesterday? February 28? I can’t seem to recall a whole lot out of the ordinary.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Can you?”
“Not on the 28th, no.” They laughed together. “I love you, Jack. And all your crazy ideas.”
They kissed over her shoulder, the soft touch of parched lips turning into more. They could pretend that Leap Day didn’t happen, but their bodies couldn’t forget. Sarah felt Jack grow against her buttocks. His hand tightened on her breast, squeezing the pillowy flesh. She broke the kiss, sighing as his other hand skittered down between her thighs. His lips kissed the back of her neck and the soft column of her neck.
She cried out when his hand found her sex. She grinded her ass against him. He was full and hard. She thought about what she’d let David do to her last night. Her heart flittered inside her chest when she thought about letting Jack go there. He was much bigger than David—but then, the intensity of that moment had felt so good.
Jack’s voice was a groan in her ear. “This is so hot, baby.” His thumb stroked her bare mound. She’d done it for Leap Day—no, that wasn’t quite right. She’d done it for David. But she decided to keep it for Jack.
“I thought you might like it.” She set her hand over his, guiding his fingers lower. “Yes, right there.” Together, they worked her until she was ready for him.
Jack shifted lower and entered her from behind, tightening their spoon. He loved this position. All that skin contact. All that snug friction. “God, you feel so good.”
Yesterday, she fucked. It had been fast and hard, a desperate act to squelch their desperate urges. Today, in the cozy comfort of their bed, they took their sweet time. They set a slow pace. Hearts and hips, short gasps and drawn out groans all fell into harmony. Everything clicked. Today, they made love.
Sarah came quietly, drifting into the fog of her orgasm with a hushed gasp. Jack waited for the moment to pass, holding himself still and buried inside her.
As her euphoria burned off, a naughty thought occurred to her. Something bad. Something
bad. The words bubbled to the surface, and she couldn’t stop herself. “You know, yesterday got me thinking.” She laughed, breathy and light. What an understatement. “There’s something I’d like to try, but have always been afraid to.”
“Yeah?” Jack’s gut twisted. “You know, Leap Day is over. You don’t have to do any more.”
Sarah rotated her hips forward and Jack slipped out. “But that was always an excuse, right? To be bad. To act out?” She pulled open her bedside drawer and dug into the back, where she kept her toys.
“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”
Sarah looked back at her husband and smirked. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to fuck other guys. You were right—no one can compete with you.” David had been close, she thought, but she didn’t have the same connection with him as she did with her husband.
Sarah handed him a bottle of lube, giggling as his eyes shot open.
“Well that’s good to hear.” It was a rare thing, hearing Jack’s voice without confidence. Sarah liked it.
“Anyway, I don’t think we need excuses to try new things, do you?” She rotated her hips back until his cock brushed between her plush cheeks.
Jack collected himself. Found his confidence with a grin. He popped open the bottle of lubricant and slathered it along his length. “‘New’ things. Right.” He placed his cock against her backside. Their eyes met. “Yeah, I don’t think we need excuses at all.”
This book came about because I had a crazy idea last leap day, and I had some crazy friends who encouraged me to write it:
First and foremost, my wife, who’s support for this hobby is never taken for granted;
As always, Jason and Rhiannon, the angel and devil on my literary shoulders (have you figured out who’s who yet?);
Kirsten McCurran did the initial read and helped me focus this tale a little more;
Lucy V. Morgan, my friend and editor, who not only helped me craft proper sentences and snappier dialogue, but pointed out—then helped me fix—my head-hopping problem.
Oh, and I suppose I should thank the Gregorian monks, who came up with the crazy idea of a leap day (although I’m pretty certain they never intended it to be used the way that Jack and Sarah do).
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it (whatever “enjoy” means to you). If you
want to show your gratitude, drop a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or wherever you purchased this ebook. I’ll love you forever.
About the Author
Kenny Wright is just a guy who writes what he likes to read: steamy, explicit erotica that’s just crazy enough to be true. Narrative, characterization, build-up, and tension are what make something sexy—the way the body parts fit together are just nice-to-haves (albeit
nice-to-haves). That’s what he strives to write in every story, short and long. Oh, and being a guy, he believes in a world where men read and appreciate erotica, and hopes to contribute it word by word.
Husband to his beautiful wife, father to his rambunctious daughter, and food slave to his needy cat, he squeezes writing in when he probably should be sleeping. Kenny welcomes comments from readers. He can be reached at [email protected], or if you’re more the voyeur, find him on Twitter at
Books by Kenny Wright
After School Special (A Short)
Eight Hundred Dollar Heels (A Short)
Moving Mrs. Mitchell (A Short)
While She Watches
For a full list of titles, along with their covers, synopses, and where to purchase, go to www.kennywriter.com/books.
Want even more? Don’t want to pay? Check out www.kennywriter.com/stories.