"Then why don't you show me how a pro does it."

The man former wife took the bait. She wanted to show that she is better than the younger woman at sucking cock.

The ex-wife's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. She looked from Harry to Richard, a flicker of old, complicated history passing between them. Her lips curled into a smile that was all teeth and no warmth.

"Get up," she said to Harry, her voice laced with command.

Harry complied, rising to her feet with an unhurried grace. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze unwavering.

The ex-wife knelt where Harry had been moments before. She didn't feign adoration. She went to work with the cold, precise efficiency of a surgeon. There was no worship in her actions, only a desperate need to prove her dominance. She was a master technician, but she lacked the one thing Harry had in abundance, the ability to make a man feel like he was the center of the universe.

Richard watched, his expression unreadable. He was getting exactly what he wanted, a competition, a performance, a public spectacle of his own importance.

Harry didn't watch the ex-wife. She watched Richard. She saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened. He had wanted to be worshipped, not serviced.

Harry stepped forward, positioning herself behind the ex-wife. She ran her hands down the woman's back, her touch light and teasing. The older woman flinched but didn't stop.

"It takes more than just your mouth," Harry murmured, her voice a low, hypnotic whisper. "It takes devotion. It takes wanting him so much you're willing to beg for it."

She reached around, her fingers finding the ex-wife's nipples, pinching them hard through the silk of her gown. The older woman gasped, her rhythm faltering.

"Look at him," Harry commanded, her lips against the ex-wife's ear. "You miss him. You miss his cock. Show him how you used to worship him. I'll help."

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