Mark watched her from the doorway of their bedroom, leaning against the frame, pretending casualness he didn't feel. A low, heavy thrum had started in his gut the moment Sarah pulled the simple white cotton panties up her legs. He tracked the movement, the way the thin fabric settled into the deep curve of her ass, clinging just enough to show the perfect roundness he knew so well, the slight dip where her cheeks met her thighs. His dick stirred against the inside seam of his jeans.
She turned, catching his eye in the vanity mirror. A small, knowing smile played on her lips, but her eyes held a flicker of something else – nerves, maybe, or just focused anticipation. She pulled a tight black tank top over her head. Mark’s gaze fixed on the swell of her breasts as the fabric stretched taut across them, the nipples already hard little points beneath the thin material. No bra. That was part of the deal tonight. Easy access. The thought sent another jolt through him, tightening his balls.
Her long, dark hair swung forward as she leaned closer to the mirror, applying a touch of gloss to her lips. They looked wet, plump. Kissable. Ready to be kissed by someone else. Mark swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet room.
"You okay over there?" Sarah asked, her voice soft, almost teasing, but the undercurrent was there. The reality of what they were about to do.
"Fine," Mark said, the word feeling thick and inadequate. He wasn't fine. He was a fucking wreck. A tightly wound knot of fear, jealousy, and a roaring, undeniable arousal that made his skin feel too tight. "Just… watching."
She met his gaze again in the mirror. "Yeah. I know." She smoothed the tank top down over her stomach, her hands lingering for a second on the waistband of her jeans – faded denim, hugging her hips in that way that always made him want to slide his hands right down into them. "Chad texted. He's about ten minutes out."
Chad. The name tasted like bile and electricity in Mark's mouth. A
