Yes: A Hotwife Romance

Copyright 2016 Jason Lenov
Thirteenth Line Publications

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, organizations, products and events in this book, other than those that are clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, companies, organizations, events, or products, is purely conincidental.

All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

Cover characters are models. Image(s) is/are licensed from:
depositphoto.com

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Chapter 1

My stomach twisted a little at the sound of the car door slamming outside. I glanced at the time on my monitor. Midnight. That wasn't good. Too early to be home on a Friday night.

I pushed my chair away from my desk, stood up and walked toward the stairs. When I heard the front door slam shut with the same force the car door had, I said a little prayer to whatever force in the universe had made me open the bottle of Chardonnay I'd bought earlier that day. From the sounds of it, she'd had a rough day.

She didn't see me come down the stairs. I took the opportunity to watch her tearing off her jacket.

I always kind of thought she looked even more beautiful than usual when she was furious. Her normally pale cheeks burned a bright red. Thick locks of tawny brown hair fell onto slender shoulders, then further onto her very full breasts. Her sides swooped into a tight waist that flared back out into hips you could hold onto and a tight but ample ass.

There was more than enough of her to love packed into a fit, pert package.

"Baby!" I opened my arms at the foot of the stairs.

She rolled her eyes, shook her head and snarled. Kicking off her shoes, she walked past me and into the kitchen.

I took a deep breath. Running a restaurant was stressful. She could get a little worked up sometimes. I turned and followed her in.

She was leaning against the counter. Pills clicked inside plastic as she wrestled with the safety latch on the little bottle. I braced myself.

"Ugh! Fuck!" She launched the bottle and it shot across the room, crashed into the wall and clattered onto the floor.

I walked towards it slowly, picked it up and set it on the table. Walking towards her, I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Fuck Charlie, not right now!"

"Hey, relax," I soothed, letting my hand slide down her white chef's tunic and settle on the small of her back. I couldn't help but glance at the beautiful round ledge her ass made just below it. I looked back up just in time. She swung her head and caught me in her gaze. There was fire in her eyes. She was pissed.

"What can I get you?" I asked. I saw the tension in her face ease.

"Oh fuck," she muttered, "I'm being a total bitch, aren't I?"

"It's okay. Water?"

She nodded. I stepped around her, stealing another glance at the finest, firmest ass I'd ever laid hands on. The black tights she was wearing hugged it perfectly as it swept out from her back then dipped back towards her thighs.

Not touching it was incredibly difficult. The thing was like a magnet for my hands. Maybe later.

I filled a glass with water, passed it to her, then walked over and popped the top off the plastic bottle. After shaking a few onto my hand, I offered them to Angeline.

She scooped up three, pushed them into her mouth, then slammed them back with water. I watched her throat moving as she swallowed. My cock twitched. Everything about her made me want sex.

When she'd drunk the entire glass, she put it down, leaned against the counter and I watched her shoulders sag.

"Better?"

"Much..." she sighed.

I stole a glance at her breasts, pressing against the front of her tunic. They were just as large and just as round as her behind. The memory of their pillow softness made my cock lurch again.

"What now? Wine? Massage?"

"Ugh...Charlie you are fucking
perfect
. Have I told you that? You're perfect."

She turned her head and looked up at me from under her dark eyebrows. Long days didn't take a toll on her looks. Her full lips were a beautiful rosy red, her cheeks had just the slightest pink glow.

She raised an eyebrow at my attention. "Don't." The word fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence with my palms up. I tried to turn a little further away but I saw her eyes shoot down to my crotch, then back up to mine.

"That," she said, looking down at my half-stiff cock tenting my pants.

I shrugged. She smirked and shook her head.

"At least not yet. Where's my wine?"

I said another little prayer. That had been a close one. "Get on the couch. I'll bring the wine," I ordered.

Her smile grew a little wider. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Her sweat smelled the way you want a woman's sweat to smell, sweet with just enough musk to let you know she's dirty.

Angeline stood up and sauntered towards the living room. Some of the fury had left her step, replaced by a happy bounce. I watched the cheeks of her ass sway as she walked. Two mounds of toned flesh that would fit perfectly into the palm of my hand.

"Wine!" she said without turning around, then disappeared into the living room.

When I joined her, she'd already taken off her tunic and was sitting on the couch. I came up behind her, passed her the glass of wine I'd brought in. I put a salt shaker and damp tea towel on the end table and let my hands settle softly onto her shoulders. I started kneading gently. She moaned.

"Oh fuck Charlie that feels good..." she groaned as I started searching for the tightest muscles with my fingers.

I loved giving Angeline massages almost as much as she loved getting them. It was an almost guaranteed way in.

"So?" I asked after a few minutes and half a glass of wine.

"So?" she answered, sinking deeper into the couch.

"What happened?"

"Oh, fuck, everything. Fucking Tony didn't show up
again,
so we were already behind on prep. I had to run around picking up pieces and fucking chopping for chrissakes like a goddamned line cook..."

"Now, now," I chided. "I thought you were trying not to..."

"I know, I know. But seriously?!? I have a fucking Michelin star, remember?"

"I remember," I said, leaning in and adding pressure to her shoulders.

"Oh God Charlie, yes!" she moaned.

My half-erection had risen to three quarters at the sounds she was making.

"So? Anything else?"

"
Everything
else. Some ass hole sent his salmon back, like, three times then sent fucking dessert back too!"

"Dessert?" I asked, confounded. "Isn't..."

"Yes!" she screamed, jumping up and almost spilling what little was left of her wine all over the room. "Yes! Sorry that a fucking pastry by Riccardo Bertucci doesn't melt correctly in that hole you call a mouth, ass hole! The fucking queen of England didn't seem to mind them!"

"Now, now..."

"I know, I know..." she answered, calming down and sinking back into the couch.

"And you're home this early because, why exactly?"

"Oh God, I had to get out of there. Will was there anyway and things were slowing down and I had this fucking killer headache."

"How's Will?" I asked, hoping a change of topic to her favourite sous-chef would steady her nerves.

"Oh, you know, amazing as usual. That kid is
fucking
talented, you know?" She punctuated the word
fucking
with a shake of her hands that sent wine splattering onto the couch. "Fuck! Oh, fuck! Fuck, Charlie, I'm sorry..."

"Relax." I grabbed her shoulders as she tried to stand up and pressed her back onto the couch. Grabbing the salt shaker, I twisted the top off and dumped little clumps of salt where the wine had stained. Throwing the wet tea towel on top, I took her glass and put it on the sideboard by the wall.

She turned around slowly and looked at me with smiling, almond eyes. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Charlie Sampson? You are actually
that
prepared?"

"Actually," I replied, feeling a little proud.

"I'm not sure whether to be insulted or...I don't know. What's the opposite of insulted?"

I stepped towards her, leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her sultry, red lips. "Loved," I replied.

She breathed a smile and shook her head. "Right."

"Right?" I asked. It was the moment of truth. "More wine?"

"Oh, shut up. Get upstairs."

Chapter 2

I was already lying naked on the bed when she came in from the bathroom.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a little foreplay around here?" she joked, peeling off the tight, black top she'd been wearing beneath her tunic. Her heavy breasts came tumbling out. They always looked so full. Her nipples tightened at the change in temperature, bright pink buds on soft, white clouds.

I loved those nipples. She liked it when they got attention, too. When she was in the mood.

She stepped towards the bed, eyeing me with a knowing stare. She pressed her round thighs together, turned around so I could see her ass, then bent over.

My cock bounced.

She turned her head to look back at me. "I think I know what Charlie wants," she sang softly.

"Do you now?" It was best to play along and humor her.

"I think Charlie wants to see how wet his massage made me."

"Charlie...wouldn't mind that..." I replied, my voice a little hoarse with lust. My eyes raked up and down her shapely thighs as my cock came to full stiffness. She looked at it and I watched her smile widen.

Without another word, she hooked her thumbs into her tights and began to pull the stretchy, black fabric down her ass.

My heart started beating a little harder. My breathing got heavy. I watched as the tiny curve at the small of her back widened into the cleft between her cheeks. As the fabric stretched over the widest part of her thighs, I stared as I saw the skin puckering, then curling into her tight back hole.

She was watching me. My eyes darted from her pleased expression to the flesh that was being revealed.

The line of fabric moved down and as it did, the skin got pinker, softer, wetter until finally, I saw the full length of her hot, soaked gash. I must have gasped.

She giggled. "You like that, don't you Charlie? You like seeing my pussy inch by inch like that?"

"Yes I do," I whispered, not able to take my eyes off her sex and meet hers.

She pulled the tights down, revealing muscled calves, then stepped out and onto either side of them. I stared, wide-eyed, watching her slit open.

"I know what else you like."

I had nothing left to say. She turned around to face me, walked over and got onto the bed, on her knees.

I stared up, taking in every curve her body made. My eyes were drawn to her core, though and I settled my gaze on her pussy once again.

She lifted a leg over me slowly then brought it down on the other side. I felt the heat coming from her as she pressed her weight onto my chest. A trickle of her warm wetness trailed onto my skin.

"I know you like to taste my dirty little pussy, don't you Charlie?" she cooed, like a pinup model from the fifties. She slid forward. Her wetness came with her. "Come on Charlie. Ask me if you can taste it."

I'd had enough. Reaching around her, I let my hands settle on the two, tight orbs of her ass. I pulled her towards me, her juices leaving a trail along my chest.

She gasped. Then she giggled.

When the damp musk of her sex finally pressed against my lips, I couldn't help but groan. I felt her thighs flex against my cheeks.

"Oh fuck Charlie..." she moaned. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, she pulled my head up, sealing my lips against her filthy cunt.

My tongue bust into furious lapping as I tried to taste as much of her juices as I could. I pushed inside her hole, revelling in the added heat her insides held. She moaned again and twisted her hips above me.

My cock was aching for release. For now, it was time to take care of Angeline.

Pulling my tongue out of her tight, pink hole, I swept up the length of her slit until I found the engorged nub of her clit. Her eyes sprang open as I wrapped my lips around it and began to suck.