The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (5 page)

He’d always liked sex dirty, a little name-calling, a taste of debasement; it was one of the things his first wife had hated. She refused to fantasize, thought it was disgusting and demeaning. But Zoe had always loved the games they played.

They’d never had truly rough sex. He’d never abused her. It was all illusion. He liked to imagine her lovers taking her hard and ruthlessly. It got him going. With his problem, ED or whatever you wanted to call it, he needed that extra kick to feel something. Honestly, he was providing for her needs, too, when he sent her out on these missions. He couldn’t keep her tied to a man who was no longer capable of getting hard enough to make love to her.

In return, he got this, vicarious sex, and it was hot. This guy made it even hotter. Keith had gotten off on the cuckold thing.
I’m going to take your wife. I’m going to fuck your dirty slut wife.
Yeah, that had always been one of his hottest fantasies. Like the guy was humiliating both of them. Who knew why he reacted this way? He didn’t care. It was too damn good to care.

He never thought about the morality of it. They were consenting adults. He wasn’t sure he and Zoe would still be married if he hadn’t come up with this solution. His lovely wife needed sex. A vibrator wasn’t enough. No, he was giving her exactly what she needed. And it wasn’t like she’d fall for one of these guys. They weren’t her type, not mentally at least. They were just guys who fooled around behind their wives’ backs when they were on business trips.

No, Keith was secure in the knowledge that letting her play like this gave her an outlet for her desires but kept her from looking for a real man with whom she might actually fall in love.

* * * * *

They were on the carpet, side by side, a sea breeze blowing across their bodies.

“Fuck.” The word was just a breath on his lips.

Her skin was warm against his. They were both slick with the humidity. She didn’t answer, and Spence wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Or passed out. He cracked an eyelid. Hers were open, and she was staring at the play of shadow across the ceiling.

“Shall we send your husband the photo?”

“It won’t be very good. There wasn’t enough light.”

He reached over her, retrieved the phone from the carpet where he’d dropped it when he’d lost himself in the pleasure of her mouth.

His fingers poised to punch buttons to retrieve the picture, he stopped. Playing with the phone was an invasion of her privacy. “Here.” He held it out. Just as he had when he’d spoken to her husband. The man had definitely been hot to hear the details.

For a moment, she didn’t take it. When she did, she flicked her thumb over the keys, then handed him the phone so quickly he doubted she’d had a chance to look at the photo.

“Christ,” he whispered.

The moonlight had captured the side of her face and her fingers wrapped around his cock, the color of her nails a deep crimson against his flesh. Her lips surrounded his crown, and they, too, were crimson, though he’d long since kissed her lipstick off. Her dark hair seemed to gleam with blue highlights, a trick of the light. Her eyes gazed up at him, deep, fathomless. He found himself falling into them as if hypnotized. His cock between her lips was a thing of beauty. This wasn’t pornography. It was a work of art.
She
was a work of art.

Without a word, he handed it back, waited for her to see what he saw.

She stared a long moment, then spoke in a soft voice. “It’s too dark.”

“It’s perfect. Send it to him,” he urged.

“He’ll just complain about the lighting.” She was fighting him, but she hadn’t stopped staring at herself. Perhaps she was in denial of her beauty in that moment.

Her husband would see it. He
needed
to see it. Once he did, he’d never be able to give her to another man again.

“Send it,” he insisted. “It’s what he wanted. It’s what you came here for. To get him that picture.” A part of him wished she’d come for so much more.

She hit a few more buttons, then he saw the small blue screen indicating the photo was being sent. He wanted to kiss her, but like the woman in that photo, she was a work of art, untouchable.

“I’ve never had a woman make love to my cock in quite that way.” He intended the words to lighten a moment which had suddenly become as heavy as the humid air around them.

She rolled over, rose to her haunches. “I better go.”

“But we haven’t finished.”

She was putting on her dress before he’d even finished the protest. “We both had magnificent orgasms. Let’s not spoil it by expecting more.”

There was so much more. But he was down on the floor looking up at her.

“Thanks. You were perfect,” she went on, a little too quickly, reminding him of her story about the first time she’d done this, when she couldn’t wait for the guy to finish so she could leave. “My husband will love the picture.” She grabbed the vibrator, tossed it in her purse. “He loved it when you called him. So thanks.”

She slipped into her sandals.

“Wait.” He couldn’t run after her with his cock bobbing. He made a grab for his pants.

She was already at the door. “Don’t bother to get dressed.” She waved a hand at him, like a woman leaving early from a girls’ night out at a bar.

The door closed. He was alone and naked, with an unused box of condoms and a bottle of lube on his side table.

“Fuck,” he muttered, flopping down on the edge of the bed. They hadn’t even made love.

Making love. Those weren’t his words, but that’s what she’d called the thing she’d done to his cock. Not a blow job. Not cocksucking. Making love to his cock. According to her, they’d already made love. It was heaven.

But making love was something he didn’t do. He hadn’t made love since he was eighteen years old. Not since Fiona. Not since she’d died and he swore he’d never love again.

So that wasn’t what he’d done with Zoe Hudson, married to Keith Hudson. But he’d sure as hell done something. And they weren’t finished.

* * * * *

Zoe couldn’t believe she’d run out. It was the photo. It was those words. She couldn’t stay.

Her phone rang when she closed her hotel room door, as if Keith tracked her movements.

“That is one fucking hot picture, honey,” he said when she answered.

“You liked it?” She knew it was good. That was the problem. The look on her face. As if that was the only cock she’d ever wanted, ever would want.

“It’s good enough to jerk off with, sweetheart. You’re one hot mama.”

She’d tried not to let that bother her. It wasn’t that Keith didn’t feel anything sexual, but he never truly got hard, certainly not hard enough to make love to her, and he had to work at having an orgasm. The problem was he didn’t seem to be able to work at it with her. She’d suggested he jerk off while she used her vibrator. That was certainly dirty enough for his tastes. But he’d shied away from it, as if it exemplified his problem. Being with her was pressure; he couldn’t perform. Things only worked for him when she was away, when she was with another man, when she made her phone calls and sent him pictures. She told herself it didn’t mean he no longer wanted her. Performance issues were as much mental as physical. She was repeating the doctor’s words.

“That was a hot idea having him call me. I almost came listening to you. Was he good? Did you get a pic of him fucking you?”

Usually the aftermath with Keith was better than the act itself. When she told him all the details, when he talked her through another orgasm. That wasn’t true this time.

“With what he did using the vibrator, then sucking him, I was exhausted. Couldn’t handle anymore.” She sank down on the bed and flopped backward, one arm over her head. She’d left the curtains open and, just as in Spence’s room, moonlight spilled across the carpet.

Keith didn’t mind they hadn’t gone all the way. “He was big. Could you take him all?”

“No. I could only manage about half.” He’d been thick and hard, his come more sweet than salty. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of him between her lips, the taste, the overpowering scent of man dizzying her.

“Are you going to fuck him tomorrow night for me?”

Her eyes snapped open. “We have a rule about only one night. I don’t want them to start pestering me.” She was afraid to go back to him. What he’d done to her had been too good. She hadn’t even needed to speak to Keith. She didn’t want to share it with him now either.

Let me make love to you with my mouth.

Seeing Spencer Benedict again was not a good idea. Not good at all.

“Only having one night was your rule,” Keith said. “I’d love it if you fucked him every night you’re in Florida. The more the merrier. I’ve never seen a cock that big take you. I want it. I want a pic of his cock breaching you, filling you.” Keith’s voice seduced her. “Video it for me.”

Her breath quickened. She imagined watching Spence take her over and over. Shuddering with renewed need, she slid her hand down her thigh, pulled up her dress.

“Give me another night, sweetheart,” Keith cajoled. “Just one. I want it bad. I want to put the video on the big screen and watch it with you.” He dropped his voice low. “I want to watch you masturbate to it, to come at the same time you come up on the screen.”

God, it was the first time he’d suggested anything like that. The images Spence had painted for her down in the bar came back to her now. “He said he wants to have me with another man there, too. He wants to shoot a video while the other man’s fucking me and call you, describe every second of it.”

“That’s too fucking hot.” Keith’s voice was deep, guttural. “I like this guy. He’s perfect.”

Yes, he was. That was the problem. She hadn’t even been nervous taking off her clothes for him. He’d completely seduced her.

“You want two men, sweetheart?”

She shook her head as if Keith could see her. “It’s better as a fantasy. But I knew you’d like the idea.” She probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. Now Keith would pester her.

“I love it. Fuck him tomorrow night. I want him to call me when he’s inside you and tell me how it feels when you milk him dry.” His breath puffed. He was stroking his cock.

She wanted to touch herself, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to examine why. She was sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

But she’d give Keith the words he needed. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Baby
. It was what Spence had called her. “I’ll fuck him so good for you.”

It was an excuse to say she was acquiescing to Keith’s demands. She’d search out Spence tomorrow because
she
wanted to.

Chapter Five

There was something completely sexy about standing on the other side of a crowded room ignoring a woman while harboring the secret that you’d fucked her nine ways to Sunday the night before.

All right, he hadn’t fucked her. But he’d had her so good. And she’d had him. He knew her flavors, the fullness of her lips, the hunger of her kiss, how good her mouth felt around him.

At eight-thirty in the morning, he was already gun-metal hard. Zoe Hudson nibbled a muffin as she listened dutifully to a forty-something guy with a florid complexion whose plate was piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes.

So what was it they were supposed to do? Pretend they didn’t know each other, that nothing had happened last night?

Sure, he’d play her game, but he’d decided the second time he’d woken in the night with a hard-on that he’d have her again tonight. They needed to finish what they’d started. He wanted inside her bad. Which was why he carried his bagel and coffee to her table. Sticking his hand out, he introduced himself to the florid man. “Spencer Benedict, great to meet you.”

“Winston Arnold.” Winston’s smile was big and his palm sweaty. “This is Zoe Hudson. She’s with Bay Metals in California. She did a great presentation on target accounting.”

“I was there. Ms. Hudson gave a great presentation. I’m definitely taking home notes for my production planning guys.”

“She’s looking for beta testers, aren’t you, Zoe?” Winston pointed at her.

Spence smiled at Zoe’s slightly shell-shocked expression. “I’m game, Ms. Hudson. Are you free sometime today to discuss exactly what you’re looking for in a beta tester?”

She almost choked on a bite of her muffin top. Covering her mouth with her hand, she chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of coffee. “Well, um, yes. Let me see.” She reached down to her side, rummaging in her bag as if she were looking for an appointment book or her workshop schedule.

“So glad I could hook you two up,” Winston said brightly. “She’s going to beta me, too.”

She damn well wouldn’t give Winston the same beta test Spence would receive. “Fantastic.” He beamed for Winston, turned back to Zoe. “Why don’t we meet for a drink after dinner to discuss the issue?” Or in his room for a nice quiet fuck.

“Well, um”—she shot a look at Winston as if the man would start spreading rumors about them—“that would be fine, Mr. Benedict.”

“Please, call me Spence.” Especially since his cock had been in her mouth. “What time would be convenient?”

“How about seven?” Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he gave her an effusive “Perfect,” then tucked into his bagel. Tonight, she’d be his for a very different kind of beta testing.

* * * * *

“I can’t believe you did that at breakfast.” Zoe glared at him, but she couldn’t help the inward smile.

“What? I pretended I didn’t know you.”

The man was incorrigible. God, he was even adorable. “You weren’t supposed to talk to me at all.”

He leaned in close despite the fact that they were in a bar crowded with conventioneers whose laughter, backslapping, and boisterous voices were rising after a full day of activities. “Admit it, you were hot and bothered and dying to kiss me right in front of Winston Arnold.”

She’d been dying for a lot more than a kiss, and hot and wet best described her condition. Keith wanted her to indulge herself with a second night. That’s exactly what she intended to do. Last night had been the best sex since she and Keith had started the whole hotwifing thing, and she wanted to know how much better it could be when they went the whole way. She was not going to ruin this by overthinking and analyzing every thought. She would jump in with both feet and take what she wanted.