Flirt with you in front of husband, getting a slight rise out of him

Jessica didn't wait. She pushed you gently back onto the sofa, the cushions swallowing you. Before you could even register the shift in position, she was in your lap, straddling you, her knees sinking into the plush fabric on either side of your thighs. The emerald dress of hers rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of pale, creamy skin. She leaned forward, her black hair creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the room, enclosing you in her world.

"You're taller than I expected," she whispered, her breath warm against your neck. She ground her hips down in a slow, deliberate circle, a friction that sent an undeniable jolt straight through your core. "And there's a... tension in you. I like that."

You could feel your body responding, a traitorous heat building in your groin. Your hands, unsure of where to go, came to rest on her hips. The fabric of her dress was smooth and cool.

Over her shoulder, you had a clear view of the other side of the room. Jacob had stopped whispering to Amy. He was watching you, his face a mask of cold, unreadable intensity. His jaw was tight. Amy, however, was looking at you and Jessica with wide, almost worshipful eyes.

You knew to had Amy attention. You could easily fuck Jessica and make Amy regret agreeing to this.

A surge of something hot and electric shot through you. Not quite confidence, not quite anger, but a potent cocktail of the two. Jessica's hips were still moving against you, a slow, maddening rhythm. Her hands were on your shoulders, her nails digging in slightly.

You brought one hand up from her hip, tracing the line of her spine until your fingers tangled in the silken cascade of her hair. You gently but firmly tilted her head, pulling her gaze away from the performance she was putting on for her husband and forcing her to look only at you.

"His loss," you said, your voice a low growl you barely recognized as your own. Then you pulled her down and kissed her. "My gain."

It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was a claim. Your lips crushed hers, your tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She stiffened for a second, surprised by your sudden aggression, then melted into it with a soft moan. Her kiss was a firestorm, a clash of tongues and teeth. She tasted of expensive wine and something sweet, like cherry.

Your other hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and you squeezed. Hard. She gasped into your mouth, her hips bucking against you with newfound urgency.

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