My Woman His Wife

by Anna J. Forrest

Genres: African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

In this risqué and unforgettable novel, a couple’s bold move to add another person to their love life burns them with totally unexpected results.

Many women are not willing to go the extra mile to please their men. For most couples, inviting someone into their bedroom is totally out of the question. Any normal woman would flip if her man even thought about trying a threesome with another woman. Jasmine is that woman, and more. It’s not until her husband James pressures her into having a threesome that their once happy lives get turned into nothing but drama.

Release date: November 4, 2014

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 224

Sample

Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine...

At 5’2”, 136 pounds, dark chocolate skin, and almond eyes, sexy Monica was standing over me topless, in a red thong, and giving me one hell of a show. My girl was popping it like she was trying to get rent money and only had two days left to scrape it up. You would think there was a pole in the center of the bed the way she was rotating and grinding her body to the beat of the music.

My eyes were fixed on hers as she did a sensual butterfly all the way down until the lips of her tunnel kissed my stomach, leaving a wet spot where they landed. She bent over and a tattoo spelling her name in neat cursive peeked out over the band of her thong. She took her right nipple into her mouth and caressed the other as she continued to move to the beat of the music. Her body seemed to shimmer as light from outside landed on her skin.

Stepping off the bed, she bent over to remove her thong, afterwards hooking it onto my foot. A dildo magically appeared as she crawled toward me. My legs spread invitingly when her lips made contact with the space behind my right knee. I heard R. Kelly hyping it up with the guitar, making the love of my life sweat just a little.

Well, the second love of my life. While I was laying there, legs spread eagle and playing with my clit, I can’t even get into it because I knew I should be at home with my husband and two kids. I could just get up and go, but I didn’t feel like the drama and tears I had to see every time I was ready to leave. I knew in my heart that I had no damn business being there in the first place, but I was thinking with my pussy in anticipation of all the wonderful orgasms I would have. Shit at home died down a long time ago, but it wasn’t until I found myself lying there looking up at another woman’s breasts did the guilt set in.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I knew I should be at home making love to my husband, but he wasn’t producing multiple orgasms like Monica. She does things with her tongue no one has written about yet. She has ways of making me explode that my husband has no idea on how to find that spot, and I can forget about him lasting all night. The five minutes he gives me I can do myself. I need satisfaction that my own hands don’t produce, and Monica gives me what I need without any questions.

I don’t want to have to tell my partner what I want. After all these years, he should already know what makes me cum. If you’re going to hit it from the back, put a finger in my asshole or leave a handprint on my ass cheek. Take it with one of my legs on your shoulder while you use your thumb to play with my clit. While I’m riding, take both of my nipples into your mouth at the same time. Do something besides pound me all hard for five minutes then roll over and fall asleep.

Then, if that wasn’t enough, this fool wanted to invite company into our bed. And that’s why I’m in this mess now.

It all started about two months before the twins’ fourth birthday. It had already been eight months since my husband and I had so much as fondled each other, let alone had any actual sexual contact. He had been on my last nerve about having a threesome with some hoochie he’d met, and I was about tired of hearing it. All I got was five minutes. What was he gonna do? Break it down to two and a half minutes between the both of us? He must have been suffering from too much radiation from sitting up in that news station all day or something. And what the hell was this girl and I supposed to do? She could munch all the carpet she wanted to, but I DON’T GET DOWN LIKE THAT!!!

Back in the day, my husband and I made love constantly. It was nothing to be bent over the kitchen counter getting served from behind. He would be stroking me from the back with one finger playing with my clit and the other in my ass-hole, while kissing my neck and talking dirty to me all at the same time. I would ride him in the dining room chair until my legs hurt, and he would then pick me up and lay me on the table, devouring me from feet to head, and not necessarily in that order. He liked for me to hold my lips open so my clit stood right out as he simultaneously sucked on it and fingered me with three fingers the way I liked it.

All of that stopped for one reason or another, and I didn’t feel like him or this girl he was trying to sell me on. It got to the point where this fool started leaving notes around the house, practically begging me to jump on board. One night he tried to show me a picture of the girl, and I just snapped. What part of “no” didn’t he understand, the “n” or the “o”?

“Babe, just hear me out,” he said, pleading on his knees at my side of the bed. “You won’t even listen to what I have to say.”

I remembered the days when he would be on his knees on my side of the bed, only my legs would be thrown over his shoulders as his lips and tongue would have me squirming and begging for mercy. But right then, the sight of him was contributing to my already pounding headache.

“James, I done told you fifty thousand damn times that I’m not doing it, so why do you keep asking me?”

He didn’t even realize that I was ready to bust him in the head with the alarm clock. Why wouldn’t he just go to sleep?

“Because you’re not keeping an open mind.”

“Would you want me to bring another dick into the bedroom?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was crazy and got up to go lay on his side of the bed.

That shut his ass right up, if only for a second. I was so damn tired of hearing about this Monica chick, I was ready to just go ahead and get it over with. This entire scenario was making me sick to my stomach. What his dumb ass didn’t realize is I might have gone along with it just to please him, but I’d be damned if I would be pressured into doing anything I wasn’t down for.

“So, is doing it in the bedroom the problem?” he asked in a desperate voice.

“What? Didn’t I just tell you I didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I’m just saying that if your concern is bringing her into our home I could easily get us a room over at the Hyatt or the Marriott.”

“James, how do you even know this girl? What kind of shit are y’all into over at T.U.N.N.?”

I’m guessing this fool couldn’t see the big-ass pile of salt on my shoulders. If we were in a cartoon, steam would’ve been coming out of my ears at that point.

“My buddy Damon hooked it up for me. It’s his wife’s sister or something like that. They do it all the time.”

That only made me wonder what kind of freaky shit her family was into. I don’t know too many people just putting their own flesh and blood out there like that.

“What do you know about her, James? This chick could be HIV positive for all we know. There is no cure for that!”

“We would all be using protection,” he said as if he was offended. Shit, I was offended he wouldn’t let it go.

“Will she be putting a condom around her mouth?” I asked. “Semen and saliva can carry the same shit.”

“Here you go taking the conversation to another level. Why can’t you just relax and enjoy life for once? It’s only this one time.”

“What I’m about to do is enjoy this six hours of sleep. Good night!” And with that, I turned my behind over and went to sleep.

Of course it wasn’t over. When I woke up, James was in the shower. As much as I hated to go in the bathroom while he was in there, I figured if I could at least brush my teeth, I could shower real quick and be out the house before he had a chance to come at me with some bullshit. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring this Monica shit up at 6:37 in the morning because I would hurt him.

By the time I was done brushing my teeth and cleansing my face, James was stepping out of the shower. Through the mirror I peeked at his toned body and semi-erect penis. At the age of thirty-two, standing at least six feet three inches, he still had the body of a college football player. He’s definitely well endowed, but what difference did it make if he was only good for five minutes? He caught my eye as he was drying off and a sly smile spread across his face as he covered his midsection with the towel and went into the bedroom. I hopped in the shower and lingered a little longer because it was his morning to get the kids ready.

When I stepped out of the streaming water and into our room, I could still smell his Cool Water cologne. That made me wet instantly, but he’d never know. I’d just as soon please myself than waste my shower on a few minutes with him. After putting my outfit together and plugging in the electric curling iron, I was finally able to sit on the bed and moisturize my skin. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a single yellow rose on my pillow and a piece of heart-shaped chocolate with “I Love You” printed on the foil resting next to it. I smiled but continued to rub my Happy by Clinque body lotion into my skin.

I loved my husband, and maybe we could talk about this entire threesome thing later.

Surprisingly, he had nothing to say at breakfast. He smiled a lot, and that just pissed me off. Not that I had any conversation for him, but his being quiet made me nervous. At least if he was talking I’d know how to vibe off him. He just sat there smiling the entire time, and that just made me suspicious.

When I started gathering my stuff up to leave for work, he already had my briefcase and files along with my lunch stacked all nice and neat in the passenger seat of my 2003 Blazer. I got a kiss on the cheek, and he even offered to take the kids to childcare for me. Something was definitely up, and I wasn’t at work for five minutes before I figured it out. I was looking through the files that I was supposed to be working on over the weekend when a hot pink folder that I didn’t remember having before caught my eye. When I opened it, a 5x7 photo of Monica was pasted to the left, and a three-page printout about her was on the opposite side. I was too shocked to be offended.

The pages included her date of birth, zodiac sign, likes and dislikes, a copy of her dental records, last HIV test results, and the results of her gynecologist exam, which I was glad to see were all negative. Her address and phone number were also included, along with directions on how to get to her house from my job off Map Quest. I had to laugh to keep from being pissed because I was sure my husband was going crazy.

If that wasn’t enough, further inspection produced a key card from the Hyatt and an invite to meet him and Monica at the hotel restaurant for dinner. A note, handwritten by James, said the kids would be at his mother’s house, and I should be at the hotel by seven. I put everything back in the folder and went to my first meeting of the day. I didn’t even want to think about that right now, and I had a few choice words for James later on.

When I returned to my office for lunch, I opened my door to at least three hundred yellow tulips crowding my space. On my desk sat a bouquet of tulips and white roses mixed in a beautiful Waterford crystal vase. My secretary informed me that they were delivered only ten minutes before I got there, and the card could be found next to the vase on my desk. I was too overwhelmed to think clearly and mechanically walked over to my desk to retrieve the card. It was in a cute yellow and white envelope to match the flowers, and was written with a gold pen. It read:


In that instant, I knew I would be at the hotel later. I figured this one time wouldn’t kill me, and it might spice up our love life so that it would be like it used to. I hoped I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life. After gathering my thoughts, I went on with the rest of my day, trying not to think about what I would be getting into later. I had a trial at two o’clock that I had to go to, and on my way there I mentally checked my schedule to make sure I would be out of the office by five and chillin’ in the suite by five-thirty. That way I could freshen up and put on something sexy for dinner.

I got out of court at four-thirty, having had my client’s charges dismissed. That made me feel great, and I planned to take the next two days off to celebrate. When I got back to the office, my secretary was smiling at me and holding a vase with at least two-dozen powder pink roses accompanied by another card. She gave them to me and offered to open my office door because my arms were full. When I walked in I almost dropped the bouquet I was holding because I was totally surprised. As if all the yellow tulips weren’t enough, my office was now crowded with just as many powder pink and white roses.

“Someone is either madly in love with you or is apologizing. Whatever it is, let me know your secret,” my secretary said as if she really wanted an answer. I just turned to her with a smile on my face, stepped to the side, and closed my door. Me and her weren’t cool like that, and then wasn’t the time to start.

I set the bouquet on my desk next to the one I received earlier. There was nowhere for me to sit, so I walked over to the picture window so I could gather my thoughts while I looked down onto the city from the twenty-third floor. The envelope holding the card smelled like Ralph by Ralph Lauren. That puzzled me for a second because I didn’t own that particular scent. When I opened the envelope and pulled the card out, little gold hearts and stars fell from it. The card was from Monica requesting my presence at the hotel later. I was flattered and speechless. Maybe she wasn’t that bad after all.

Deciding to head on over, I left my secretary with directions to have all of the ladies in our department come get a bouquet to put on their desks. I wanted my office cleaned out except for the two bouquets on my desk. On my way to my Blazer I called to check up on the kids before stopping at Victoria’s Secret for something sexy.

I decided on a cranberry spaghetti strap one-piece with matching thong. The gown was ankle length with thigh high splits on both sides, and the front dipped down all the way to my navel. The back opened to the middle of my back, showing off my curvaceous size ten, even after a set of twins. I purchased a bottle of Breathless perfume and a pair of sandals to match, and then made my way to the hotel.

When I got to the suite, pink and white rose petals decorated every inch of every room and floated in the Jacuzzi on top of rose-colored water. Yellow tulips sat in crystal vases around the living room and bedroom, and Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite played softly in the background from invisible surround sound speakers. A mixture of pink and white rose petals and yellow tulip petals covered the California king-sized bed. A bottle of Alize Red Passion sat in a crystal ice bucket accompanied by three wine glasses on the end table closest to the bathroom door. On the other table was a glass bowl was filled with condoms of different textures and colors.

A note was tucked into the mirror in the bathroom with instructions to meet my dinner guests in the dining room at seven o’clock sharp. It was already six-thirty judging by the clock on the bedroom wall, so I stepped up the game as I showered, dressed, and did my hair in record time, all while not disturbing the romantic setup. I was walking into the dining room at five of seven. The waiter sat me in a cozy booth away from the other guests with a glass of Moet, a yellow tulip, and a powder pink rose courtesy of my husband and Monica. At exactly seven, my dinner guests walked in.

James was sharp, dressed in cream linen slacks with dark chocolate gator shoes that perfectly matched the button-down shirt with different shades of browns and tans swirled through it, compliments of Sean John fashions. His wedding band glistened and shined from the door, and the light bounced off it from all the way across the room. I could smell his Cool Water way before he reached the table.

Monica was equally impressive in a short, champagne-colored one piece that showed off perky breasts and fell just above her knee. The bottom of her dress had that tattered look and it accented her long, chocolate legs. Her toes peeked out of champagne stiletto sandals, and her soft, jetblack curls framed her face. Her makeup was flawless, and she smelled sweet.

I st. . .