The Devil's Lair by A.M. Madden Read Free Book Online Page A

always had issues of not being worthy. Hours of therapy couldn’t fix that. Three weeks into this tour and I’m learning more about myself than I have over the past three decades. The core of who I am remains the same. I’m a good person. I love with all my heart. I’m funny. However, I’m also selfish in many ways. I argue that my selfishness doesn’t hurt anyone, so therefore it’s ok. For instance, I’m selfish when it comes to my own sexual gratification. As long as it’s the only time I am, and as long as my wife is okay with that, then no one can fucking fault me. I’m a man.
    Speaking of sexual satisfaction, I have yet to use my new camera. It sucks. I’m busting at the seams. I haven’t pushed Mandi at all. We’ve all had so much on our minds, and so much tension to channel once we were behind our closed doors. We could use something to distract us. We arrived in Italy yesterday. We’ll be here for over a week, traveling from Milan to a beachside resort as we play shows in Florence and Rome. Mandi is soaking in the tub, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out a way to get my movie made. I haven’t mentioned it since fucking Trey last interrupted us. Of course, she hasn’t mentioned it either. She only does it to make me happy, but it’s not on her to do list. I can just set up the camera so when she emerges, there’s no need to ask the question. I can concentrate on the seduction versus the begging.
    Good plan.
    I busy myself setting it all up, I strip down to my boxers, and I sit waiting patiently for her to step into my plan. My cock swells from the visual I have playing in my head. Hoping she appears in nothing but a towel, I start the camera and call for her through the door.
    “I’ll be right out,” she calls back. Her voice sounds closer than it should, which means she is done with her bath. When the door opens, she stuns me into silence. Her hair is long and curly, cascading around her shoulders. Her face is flushed, bare of makeup and even more breathtaking. What instantly causes my cock to tent my boxers is the sheer black bra and panty set she is wearing. I haven’t seen this one. It molds over her curves like a second skin.
    A breathy, “Holy shit,” escapes.
    She smiles when she sees the camera sitting at the foot of the bed. “You ruined my surprise,” she pouts. “I was going to suggest we do this.”
    The fact that my wife thought of this on her own, without my usual begging, pleading, and downright groveling, is a complete and utter turn on. I hold my hand out to her and she walks closer to accept it.
    “You have no idea what that does to me.”
    She smirks adorably and reaches down to hold my betraying cock. “Yes, I do.”
    I shake my head, “Not him. Me. The fact you did this on your own means more to me than you realize. Thank you.”
    She kisses me slowly. “I’m sorry it took so long. I guess there’s something about being in Italy that brings out my inner minx.”
    I wrap my arms around her back before lowering them to hold the curve of her ass. “I think that’s my cue to learn Italian.”
    She laughs at my suggestion. “My dad would love that.”
    “Eww. No mention of dad when I’m grinding my hard-on into your pussy, please?”
    “Eww,” she repeats, scrunching up her nose in disgust.
    My wife and I are both half Italian. Our Italian fathers get along beautifully. They are two peas in a pod. They are also two royal pains in the ass. Each and every time we are together, the grandchild conversation occurs. They revert to their native language to ensure we have no clue what they are saying. Our moms happily fill in the blanks whenever they can. We’re blessed with awesome parents.
    Bringing them into this suite right now is wrong on so many levels. I literally shake my head to remove the visual of their smiling faces from my brain.
    “Okay, I need to taste you now,” I admit, bringing her closer still. The first place I attach my lips to is the curve