Four letters, so simple and unassuming.
Four letters that change everything.
After a decade of marriage, Quinn Faraday believes her relationship is solid. No secrets. Yet, it only takes one night to make her question it all.
The new revelation allows worries to mount and insecurities to grow. But after a candid conversation with her husband, she makes a surprising declaration in hopes of rebuilding their foundation.
She’s willing to fulfill his sexual fantasies.
She’s willing to try anything once…
However, Quinn and Ian’s sexual journey brings to light another unspoken issue lurking under the surface.
Learning to communicate honestly is key or they might just risk losing it all.
Targeted Age Group:: Adult
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I normally wrote steamy contemporary and some of my writing friends said I should try my hand at an erotic romance. I'd never written a story that was focused just as much on the sexual journey as the relationship development, but was up for the challenge.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Because I knew this story was going to be a focus on sex I went for a twist of using a married couple to help balance out the need to build up a relationship in addition to keeping it hot. I started with the husband who was inspired by a picture I saw online and it grew from there.
Quinn walked into the low lit kitchen of her suburban home, sat her purse and keys on the small side counter, and leaned against it to slip off her ballet flats. Her bare feet touched the cool hardwood floors. She flipped off the light, and pulled her hair free from its ponytail as she walked toward the staircase. After a fun dinner with her girlfriends, Quinn was ready to curl up beside her husband and sleep off all the food she’d consumed.
Her steps faltered as she neared the foyer. Moans and soft grunts. Ian wasn’t alone. The distinct sounds of sex poured from her husband’s office. A hard lump formed in her throat. All moisture drained from her mouth as she stood frozen. A soft glow illuminated from the crack of his office door.
With heart pounding against her ribs, Quinn placed one foot in front of the other, slowly closing in on the room.
“Harder! Fuck me harder!” begged some strange woman.
Quinn covered her mouth to keep from crying out. Tears burned in the back of her eyes.
“You like this don’t ‘cha, you nasty little slut.”
She frowned, that wasn’t Ian’s voice. Her hand shook as she raised it to the dark wood door. With light pressure, she pushed against it, increasing the opening. Her heart thudded in her chest, a painful ache accompanied each beat.
The glow from Ian’s laptop was the only light in the room, highlighted his face. Eyes closed, head resting back against his chair, mouth open, and though the desk hid his hand, it didn’t hide the movement. He was—she blinked rapidly, trying to process the sight before her. More vulgar talk mixed with grunts and groans sounded from the computer mixed with slapping flesh.
“Ian?” Forcing his name passed her lips released the breath she’d been holding and like an anaconda allowed the ache to squeeze her heart a little tighter.
He bolted up, his blue eyes wide as they stared at her. They darted to the computer in front of him and back again. All words escaped her.
The sounds. The sex. Her gaze went to the silver back of his laptop. The cries of pleasure that weren’t drowned out by the loud roaring in her ears.
Closing her eyes, she took a breath. When she opened them again, Ian hadn’t moved. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Those blue eyes looked at her, a mix of guilt and shame. He reached up and lowered the lid of his computer, bathing them in silence.
She pressed her lips together and diverted her gaze. Her hot hand closed around the cool bronze knob and shut the door with a quiet click.
Quinn pushed away from the table and carried her plate to the sink. After rinsing and placing it in the dishwasher, she pulled plastic containers from the overhead cabinet to store the remains of dinner. Ian’s empty, unused place setting mocked her from the counter. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she picked up the glaring reminders and returned them to their appropriate places.
She checked her phone; no messages, no missed calls. Running her fingers through her hair, she piled the strands atop her head and squeezed before letting them cascade back around her shoulders as she let out a defeated sigh.
It’d been the same thing for the last two weeks. Ian working late, not calling. They’d not seen each other more than a handful of times. Even when they had, he’d kept the conversations brief. Ten years of marriage, and they’d always been able to talk about anything, but now her husband had shut her out.
With a heavy heart, Quinn turned off the light and headed toward the foyer. She stopped in front of the closed, wood doors that led into Ian’s office. The very same office she’d walked into two weeks ago and caught him jacking off to some porn video.
That had been the first time she’d slept alone because of tension between them. The next morning he’d gotten dressed and left for the office before she’d even gotten up. She’d been prepared to talk the next evening, but he’d worked late. And done so every night since. It was now apparent; some things were off limits.
Quinn reached out to touch the door, but yanked her hand back. She shook her head and walked away from the offending space. Her fingers slid along the smooth chestnut banister as she climbed the stairs. So many scenarios had gone through her head as to why. Was he bored with her? With their sex life? Was there someone else? Each day Ian avoided talking to her added to those worries. Especially coupled with the memory of how her friend, Joanne, first marriage fell apart.
In their room, she stared at the king-sized bed. Its deep, charcoal gray upholstered headboard stood out against the soothing light blue walls. A bed that had become too big and empty without Ian. She missed her husband; their closeness. The constant emptiness and uncertainty had become a never-ending cavern threatening to swallow her whole.
Quinn dressed for bed and prepared for another night alone. Reaching over to her mirrored nightstand, she picked up her laptop and settled back against the abundant decorative throw pillows. Letting out a breath, she ran her hand over the smooth surface. The not knowing, the lack of understanding nagged at her.
She opened the lid and the screen came to life. With a quick double click, she pulled up the search engine and typed in a single word: PORN.
Her eyes widened at the flurry of options. FREE VIDEOS. XXX. NAKED GIRLS. FREE HOT PUSSY. Quinn started to close the lid, but stopped. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she scanned the search results. A rolling unease washed over her, but curiosity outweighed nervousness, and she slid her finger across the mousepad until the cursor hovered over one of the links for free videos. She doubled clicked.
The clips weren’t very long, no more than a minute thirty. She scoffed. “Yeah, right, free videos.”
Her gaze went to one: “Debbie Deep Throat Does Denver.” She snorted a laugh at the title, but clicked the link. The circle spun in the mini window before the video came to life.
Debbie, an unnaturally large-busted woman with equally unnaturally large pouty lips and midnight black hair, sat naked on her knees surrounded by ten of the largest cocks Quinn had ever seen. When Debbie took one of the meaty dicks into her mouth and pumped two others in her fists, Quinn shut the lid of her laptop and tossed it onto the bed.
She reached out for her computer before drawing her arm back as if the object would bite her. “This is crazy. Why? Why would Ian want to look at something like that?”
Quinn shook her hands and let out a long exhale. She eyed the machine, making repeated fists. Covering her face, she sucked in a sharp inhale then reached to pick it up. When she opened it, the screen came back to life, the video auto-paused where she’d left off. Moving the cursor up, she hit play.
Debbie’s head bobbed back and forth as she worked to suck off the dark-skinned guy. His large hand rested on the back of her head, guiding her along. The moans and grunts of the video echoed in Quinn’s ears as she watched the woman work. Her head tilted to the side in slow motion, trying to figure out how Debbie took such mass into her mouth. She stretched out her own jaw, phantom aches from watching Debbie radiated beneath her skin.
In the twelve years she and Ian had been together, Quinn had never once provided him with oral sex. She’d spilled that secret to her friends during the most recent girl’s night. She’d been more than a little tipsy thanks to Joanne’s strong mojitos. They’d all thought she was lying. Not just about never doing Ian, but having never done it at all.
She hadn’t understood why it had been a big deal. She and Ian didn’t have that sort of sex life. They made love. It was always a sweet and romantic encounter. Sure, they didn’t have wild and crazy sex, but it was regular, and he was always satisfied at the end. There’d been no complaints from him. No hostility or signs of discontent. Or had she somehow turned a blind eye to it simply because she was happy with how things were?
Quinn’s eyes remained glued to the screen. A warming of her cheeks, and increased breathy exhales, accompanied the familiar tingle of arousal starting between her legs.
“Oh, my!” she squealed, and recoiled as a burst of cum shot from one of the cocks.
Debbie didn’t miss a beat, continuing to suck the middle one and pump the other two with her hands. More cum shot forth until finally two of the men stepped back, their large cocks spent. The middle man pulled away, Debbie opened her mouth, and welcomed another eruption of cum.
Quinn bit her lip and pressed her thighs together watching Debbie eagerly lap it all up. She didn’t even clean her face before moving on to service the next set. The video went black, and a pop up appeared asking for a credit card to continue.
She stared at the screen before exiting the browser, closing the lid, and placing her laptop onto the nightstand. Running her hands down her face, Quinn battled the conflicted feelings waging war in her head.
Going in she’d had expectations of disgust. To be uncomfortable. And part of her was, but at the same time—taking on the role of a voyeur—she’d been fascinated. She ran her hands between her legs, her thumbs grazing across her tingling sex. More than fascinated. Aroused. She’d actually gotten aroused watching that woman do the one thing she had no desire to attempt.
That woman had been all smiles and seemed to enjoy giving that blow job just as much as the man had enjoyed receiving it. The conversation with her friends the night of her confession replayed in her head. One part stood out above the rest: their husbands would be putty in their hands. She’d never used sex to get Ian to do anything like they’d suggested, but aside from that, the girls had all talked about it fondly. They too seemed to take pleasure in the act just as much as they said their men loved receiving it. Quinn had spent the rest of that evening red-faced and feeling rather inadequate. A notion she’d pushed aside until two weeks ago.
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