The Husband Sitter

By: Jessa Kane

“Good Lord,” Mrs. Blue singsongs as she enters the room. “They can’t even wait until we get out the door.”

Mrs. Black snorts. “Don’t mind us, gentlemen.”

Mr. Black breaks the kiss, his mouth twisting in a smirk. And then Mr. Red steps into his place, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Whatever happens tonight, just remember that I’m allowing it, young lady.”

Knowing what this man—what all of these men need—to be satisfied, I nod dutifully. “Thank you, Daddy,” I mouth. “I love you.”

He reaches around to squeeze and give a light slap to my backside, which Mr. Blue is still hard at work on with his wicked tongue. “Good girl.”

The front door opens, and I wave goodbye to the laughing wives in a daze, security and love surrounding me like a heat wave. Then I’m too lost in sensation to think. I’m carried to a bedroom and feasted on for hours by my three men, their growls of rapture echoing off the walls of the house. Later, they hold me close and kiss every inch of my fevered skin like I belong to them.

I do. I’ll belong to them forever.

Their devoted husband sitter.


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