Page 90 of The Illusion
Not a question. Not a request. A statement. A command. I stare at the message for three seconds while someone drones on about quarterly projections. My pulse is through the roof.
She's not asking permission. She's telling me where she is and what she expects. I stand abruptly. Six pairs of eyes turn toward me.
"I need to go," I say, already moving toward the door. "Family emergency. We'll pick this up tomorrow."
No one argues. I'm out of the room before anyone can ask questions. The drive to my father's house is torture. Every red light is an annoyance. Every slow driver makes me want to lay on the horn.
I think about yesterday. About Julie sitting in Amanda Reeves’ office. I never told Julie that I know Amanda, which makes it even sweeter. I think about Devon playing her role perfectly—vulnerable, honest, just hurt enough to be sympathetic.
It was beautiful to witness Amanda systematically dismantling Julie's world. It worked exactly the way I planned it. Julie is trying to hide it, but she’s struggling. This morning she left for work before I woke up. I bet she's destroyed. Demoralized. Exactly where I need her to be.
Devon knows I’m done with Julie. That's why she texted me like that. Not tentative or uncertain. Confident. That therapy session proved I'm all in and made it clear I'm not in love with my wife.
What I want now is Devon. So much so that I’m hard as fuck as I pull into the circular driveway at the mansion and park next to her car. The house is massive and silent. My father's been dead for almost nine months. I use my key to let myself in. The alarm beeps and I punch in the code.
"Devon?"
"Upstairs."
Her voice echoes down from the second floor. I take the stairs two at a time. My heart is pounding. My cock is straining against my pants. I find her in my father's bedroom. Weird. But not a turnoff. How fucked up is that?
She's sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a white silk nightgown that barely reaches the top of her thighs. No bra. I can see her nipples through the fabric. Her hair is down and loose around her shoulders. She looks up when I walk in and her expression is pure sin.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey."
"I've been thinking about you," she says. She reaches out and puts her hand on my chest. I can feel the heat of her palm through my shirt.
"Good," I answer, my voice gruff.
She slides her hand down my chest. Over my stomach. Lower. When she cups me through my pants, I stop breathing.
"See?" she whispers. "You're always hard for me now."
I am. God help me, I am.
"I fuck my little pussy thinking about you every night while you're down the hall sleeping," she whispers. "I did it last night, after we ruined Julie's day. I was so fucking wet and I kept thinking about how badly I want to ride your cock. It's all I can think of sometimes. I came so hard, Asher. I almost screamed your name."
Fuckkkkk. I'd have burned the house down around us all to hear that. I grab her and pull her to me. She gasps. I kiss her hard, my hand sliding into her hair, gripping tight. She opens her mouth and I taste her. She tastes like vanilla and sex.
Her hands go to my belt. She unbuckles it with practiced ease and unzips my pants. When she slides her hand inside my boxers and wraps her fingers around my cock, I groan into her mouth. "Fuck," I breathe.
"I want to taste you," she says. And then she drops to her knees.
I should stop this. I should pull her up and tell her we can't do this. This is dangerous given the current circumstances. But I don't. Because I want this more than anything else.
I watch her pull my cock out and stroke it slowly. She looks up at me with those wide, innocent eyes and smiles. "You're perfect.”
"All for you, baby girl."
She licks her lips. "Good, because I want it all." Then she takes me in her mouth.
The sensation is overwhelming. Hot and wet and perfect. She works me with her tongue, her hand stroking what she can't fit in her mouth. I thread my fingers through her hair and guide her rhythm. "Jesus Christ," I mutter.
She hums around me and the vibration nearly makes me come right there. I pull her off before I finish. She looks up at me, confused. "Not yet," I say.
I pull her to her feet and kiss her again. My hands go to the hem of her nightgown. I pull it over her head. Her tits are fucking perfect. I cup them, thumbing her nipples until they're hard. She moans into my mouth.
