Read Novel Full Chapter 978: Barry’s Wife Gropes the Guest
Chapter 978: Barry’s Wife Gropes the Guest
I finished the last bite, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before pushing my plate away. Standing up, I stretched my arms over my head, my shirt riding up just enough to tease the hard ridges of my abs. Kate’s eyes locked onto me, her pupils blown wide with hunger.
"That was incredible, Kate," I murmured, letting my gaze rake over her body like a physical caress. "You’ve got a real talent for... satisfying a man’s appetites."
She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the edge of the table. "Glad you liked it, Jack," she breathed, her voice husky, her nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of her blouse.
I pressed a hand to my forehead, letting my knees buckle just slightly. "Fuck," I groaned, my voice rough. "That wine’s stronger than I thought. I’m feeling... dizzy."
I staggered, my hips swaying just enough to draw her eyes to the obscene outline of my cock straining against my pants. It was thick, heavy, the fabric doing little to hide the way it twitched, hungry for attention.
Kate didn’t hesitate. She was on her feet in an instant, her tits bouncing as she rushed to my side. "Oh, Jack," she cooed, her voice dripping with false concern and real, desperate need.
She wrapped her arms around mine, her fingers digging in as she pressed her body flush against me. The heat of her tits crushed against my arm, her hard nipples grinding into my skin through the fabric. "Let me take care of you," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. "You need to lie down."
Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):
[Holy fuck, it’s working. He’s playing along—no, he’s into it. Look at him, so big, so hard, his cock practically begging to be freed. I bet it’s huge. I bet it’s thick enough to stretch me open until I scream. Barry hasn’t touched me in months, hasn’t even tried to make me feel like a woman. But Jack? He’s all man.]
[I can smell it on him—testosterone and power and something dark, something dangerous. I want him to fuck me raw, to fill me up until I’m dripping with him.]
[And when Barry walks in? When he sees his wife taking another man’s cock like a good little slut? Maybe then he’ll remember what it’s like to want something. Or maybe I won’t even care. Maybe I’ll just ride Jack’s dick until I forget Barry even exists.]
She didn’t wait for an answer. Her arms tightened around me, her fingers trailing down my chest, dangerously close to the waistband of my pants. "Come on, Jack," she murmured, her voice a sultry purr.
"Let’s get you to the bedroom." She turned her head slightly, her lips brushing the shell of my ear as she called out to Barry. "Barry, put the dishes in the kitchen and bring some water for Jack. Once you’re done."
Barry, clueless as ever, just nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a sec," he mumbled, already stacking plates like the obedient little cuck he was.
Kate didn’t give a shit about him. Her focus was entirely on me, her body molded against mine as we moved down the hallway. Every step was a tease, her hips swaying, her ass brushing against my thigh. I could feel the heat radiating off her, the wetness between her legs practically soaking through her panties. She was dripping for me.
Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):
[Fuck, he’s so big. I can see the outline of his cock through his pants—thick, veiny, the head already leaking. I bet it’s heavy, too, the kind of weight that makes your pussy ache just thinking about it.]
[I want to drop to my knees right here and take him in my mouth, to feel him hit the back of my throat while I choke on him. But no—I want him inside me first. I want him to fuck me senseless, to ruin me so thoroughly that Barry will never be able to compare.]
[ And when he walks in on us, when he sees his wife getting railed like the slut she is? Maybe it’ll finally wake him the fuck up. Or maybe I’ll just laugh in his face while Jack fills me with his cum.]
Kate led me down the hallway with a sway in her hips that was impossible to ignore — the purple pencil dress clinging to every curve, riding up just enough with each step to tease the tops of her thighs.
She opened the door to their master bedroom — spacious, dimly lit by warm bedside lamps, a king-sized bed with silk sheets already turned down, a faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
She guided me inside — hand soft but firm on my lower back — and eased me toward the edge of the bed.
"Jack... just rest for a while," she murmured, voice low and breathy. "You look... flushed. The wine must have hit you harder than expected."
I played along perfectly — letting my breathing deepen, rolling my shoulders like the room was suddenly too warm.
"I feel so fucking hot..." I muttered, voice rough, pretending the aphrodisiac was kicking in hard.
I reached up — fingers fumbling with the buttons of my black suit coat — and shrugged it off slowly, letting it fall to the floor.
Then the shirt — one button at a time — peeling the crisp white fabric open to reveal my bare chest. Sweat glistened on my skin (part real, part from the earlier activities), my abs flexing under the low light, the bandages over my "heart" adding just enough vulnerability to the display.
Kate’s eyes locked on me — pupils blown wide.
She stepped closer — blush creeping up her neck — and reached out with trembling fingers.
"Let me... let me help you remove that," she whispered, voice thick. "You’re sweating so much... poor thing..."
Her hands slid under the open shirt — palms gliding over my abs — tracing every ridge, every cut muscle. She bit her lower lip hard, eyes half-lidded, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she "helped" me shrug the shirt off my shoulders.
Her fingers lingered — stroking, pressing — nails grazing my skin, thumbs brushing my nipples and abs.
"God... Jack..." she breathed, voice shaking. "Your body... it’s... incredible. So hard... so defined... I’ve never seen abs like this up close... they’re like... carved..."
She pressed closer — her full tits squashing against my chest through the thin dress, nipples hard enough to feel through the silk. Her hands roamed lower — tracing the V of my hips, stopping just above the waistband of my pants.
"You’re burning up..." she murmured, eyes locked on mine, pupils huge. "Let me... cool you down..."
Her fingers dipped lower — brushing the bulge in my pants — and she gasped softly when she felt how thick and hard I already was.