Wife's Wedding Anniversary BBC Breeding With Hubby's Full Blessing

The penthouse suite smelled of vanilla candles and expensive champagne. Elena stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in nothing but a pair of glossy white stilettos and a sheer white babydoll that barely reached the tops of her thighs. The delicate fabric clung to the swell of her breasts, her nipples already stiff and dark against the material. At twenty-eight, her body had never looked more deliberately sexual: hips flared, waist cinched, long auburn hair cascading down her back.

Marcus sat in the deep leather armchair ten feet away, fully dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks, the bulge in his lap already obvious. His fingers drummed the armrest in nervous excitement. This was their fifth anniversary, and tonight they were finally going to cross the last line they had whispered about for years.

The soft knock at the door made Elena’s breath catch. Marcus rose, gave her one last heated look, and opened it.

Darius filled the frame. Six-foot-four of solid, dark muscle, he wore a simple black button-down and tailored trousers that did nothing to hide the heavy outline of what he carried between his legs. His shaved head gleamed under the recessed lighting. He stepped inside without being invited, eyes immediately locking onto Elena like she was prey he had already purchased.

“Damn,” he rumbled, voice deep enough to vibrate in Marcus’s chest. “You weren’t lying, man. Your wife is fucking perfect.”

Elena’s cheeks flushed crimson, but she didn’t look away. Instead she smiled, slow and filthy, the way she only did when she was already soaked.

Darius shrugged out of his shirt, revealing a torso carved from obsidian. Then he pointed one thick finger at the floor in front of him.

“Knees, baby. Now.”

Elena moved instantly, heels clicking, babydoll fluttering. She dropped gracefully between his spread feet, looking up at him with wide, hungry eyes. Darius unzipped. The sound seemed deafening. When his cock sprang free it was even more obscene in person than in the pictures he had sent: ten thick inches of veined, coal-black meat, the head already glistening. His balls hung heavy and full beneath it.