Witch Way After Forty ebook

Alys
My first thought when seeing the naked blonde riding my husband in our bed was, Of course, the selfish ass insisted she is on top. Never mind that those clearly artificial double Ds were bound to cause her slight frame serious back pain in a few years. He wasn’t much for manual labor. Not old Kyle. His idea of getting a workout involved mowing the lawn or shoveling the driveway. Which he never did well and I was usually forced to go back over it to clean up the sloppy job.

In some shadowy corner of my mind, I recognized that it probably wasn’t normal to feel sympathy for the woman boinking your spouse.
Then again, I’d known it was coming.

Just like Kyle was about to. I could tell by the way his face turned red and he bucked beneath her spastically.

The hell with that. He hadn’t respected me enough to keep his side dish on the side, well, then he could just deal with blue balls.
The bedroom door was open so I strode in, doing my best to keep from snagging a heel in the filmy bits of lace that obviously didn’t belong to me. Perhaps when I was three, I could have fit that size. Then again, I might have had a Barbie once that could wear those skivvies.

What was this woman even doing with Kyle? It seemed like a pertinent question so I tapped her on the shoulder. “You know, honey, you can do better.”

She screamed and scrambled off of him, about two seconds before Kyle was about to nut. I reached down and grabbed him by the balls and twisted. I’d boil my hand later. Or maybe chew it off.
For his part, Kyle’s groan turned to one of sheer agony. “Alys,” he gasped.

“Oh, you remember me?” My tone was even, almost bored.

“Who’s this?” Blondie asked.

“His wife. I’d offer a handshake but mine are busy at the moment.”
The woman’s big green eyes went from me to Kyle, whose skin had flushed purple. His whole body shook. “You know it costs more for another girl, don’t you?”

Her accent was clear New Jersey. That combined with the fact that I had never seen her before topped with her mention of cost had me turning back to the worm in my bed. “A prostitute, Kyle? Seriously?”
He made a gargling noise and I sank my nails in, just a little.
My sister had told me Kyle was a bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling. I should have listened.

“You ought to leave,” I nodded to the dental floss that passed for her undergarments.

“Nu-uh,” Blondie folded her arms over her implants. “Not ‘til I get my scratch.”

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