Rediscovering Danielle (Naughty Wife Games)

By Kenny Wright

Golden blonde hair to match her golden skin. Rich blue eyes. Tiny black dress. Legs encased in black silk that went on and on. She sat alone at the bar, waiting.

Dean’s drinking buddies thought she was hot, and as Dean watched her cross her legs and bring the Cosmo to her lips, he couldn’t deny it.

She was also his wife... Danielle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenny Wright
• Release date: Jan 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301041183

Kenny Wright

Kenny Wright is just a guy who writes what he likes to read: steamy, explicit erotica that’s just crazy enough to be true. Husband to his beautiful wife, father to his rambunctious daughter, and food slave to his needy cat, he squeezes writing in when he probably should be sleeping. Kenny believes in a world where men read and appreciate erotica, and hopes to contribute to it word by word.

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Rediscovering Danielle

Kenny Wright

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www.kennywriter.com

Rediscovering Danielle

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Rediscovering Danielle © 2012 Kenny Wright

Edited by Lucy V. Morgan

Cover design by Kenny Wright

Image licensed from veer.com

Third digital edition electronically published by Kenny Wright, April 2013

Second digital edition electronically published by Kenny Wright, September 2012

First edition published on literotica.com as Texting.

Smashwords edition electronically published by Kenny Wright, April 2013

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without explicit written permission of the copyright holder.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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The bar swam as I stood. I laughed, steadying myself on a table strewn with empty pints, and collected myself. When did I get so drunk? A quick glance at the empty pints that covered the cocktail round in front of me helped answer that question. Gentleman. I nodded at Johnny and Michael and made my way to the rest room.

My obligations at the Consumer Electronics Convention had wrapped up several hours early, and after three days filled with speakers and workshops and meandering through the maze of trade show booths, I was ready for a drink. Or three. When a group of guys I’d gotten to know suggested we hit up the hotel bar, I figured it was perfect. My wife, Danielle, wasn’t due back for another few hours, so I had the time to kill and the willingness to kill it.

My phone buzzed just as I pushed into the bathroom. A text from Danielle.

—i’m almost there

I put the phone away, almost sad that my time with the guys was coming to an end. After eight years of marriage, I’d forgotten how fun it could be hanging out with the guys. Three days ago, we were strangers. Now, at the conclusion of the conference and the introduction of booze (more the latter than the former), we were all pals—temporary pals, but pals nonetheless.

As I relieved the pressure in my bladder, I thought about the first few hours of the afternoon. When we were in that awkward stage, nursing our beers and searching for things in common, we talked about the convention: what each of us thought of it, why each of us was there. The booze flowed, our group splintered into smaller conversations. Talk ranged from sports to stocks to women.

The reflection in the bathroom mirror was smiling back at me. I splashed cold water on my face. Some of the guys had the craziest stories. Johnny, a self-professed lifetime bachelor, had finished regaling us with a story of his first threesome. Part of me envied these guys and their wild experiences, but I could hardly complain. Not with a wife like Danielle.

I loosened my tie and popped the top button of my shirt. That felt better. I didn’t mind ties until I started drinking, and then they became unbearable. Drying my face, I stared at the reflection, skipping across my Roman nose and the gray that was forming in my dark hair—and only 33 years old. How did I land someone like Dani?

Feeling a surge of drink-fueled playfulness, I retrieved my phone and sent a text back.

—hey there, stranger

It was a stupid little game I’d read about somewhere. Danielle would pretend to be a lonely single woman away on business; I’d be the stranger picking her up. We’d played it a few times in the past year, but I always