The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (12 page)

“Now I need to call my husband. Don’t enter me till he answers.” She wiped a smear of lube on her thigh before she picked up her phone.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Keith said. “Always looking out for me.”

She had that night. But she’d stopped, and it became all about her and Spence.

“Hi, honey.” She was looking directly at the camera. At Keith. But that night, she’d been watching Spence, feeling Spence.

He entered her slowly, her hand guiding him. “Oh God, honey.” Her voice was singsong. “That’s so good. He’s so big. God, yes, so good.” She paused as if Keith was saying something, then added, “I thought it would hurt, but I feel perfectly filled.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Damn,” Keith cursed and crossed his legs. “I wish I’d been watching that night. I can’t even remember what I was saying to you.”

Zoe couldn’t remember either. And now, she could almost feel Spence’s cock breaching her, her body accommodating him. So good, so perfect.

“Tell him he’s going to love this video,” Spence said like a voiceover. She didn’t repeat the words, but they’d been loud enough for Keith to hear, and after a sexy little sound from her, Spence ordered her to use her vibrator.

“He’s such a cocky fuck.” Keith glanced at her, put his hand on the seat cushion between them as if he expected her to reach out to him. “He’s perfect.”

He was. Yet she’d handed his card to her sales guy today, given it away. Avoided temptation. Still, as if it were a trick of the mind, she could see his email address before her eyes. Spencer dot Benedict at the company’s domain. So easy.

She didn’t want to share this with Keith. She wanted to hold it close, keep it only for her. Walking away from Spence last night had been the hardest thing she’d done since Keith first asked her to fuck other men for him. She could still taste that last kiss, still feel his body imprinted against hers, still smell him on her skin. The video made it all vividly alive again.

God, she was in trouble.

Keith didn’t notice a thing. He kept talking about how fucking hot it was, how big Spence was, how good she looked stretched wide. On screen, she panted, chanted, spoke to Keith.

Then the camera panned up her body. She’d been afraid she’d pick on everything, but, in that moment, she’d never loved her own body more. Keith was right, it was far from porn. She was beautiful, Spence’s cock gorgeous, their movements imprinted in time like a classic painting.

She came in sixty-five-inch glory, doubling over, her body shaking, her legs quivering as she cried out, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Zoe felt the same burst of heat inside her, a tactile memory. She wanted, needed. Then the video starting rolling, tumbling, turned a fuzzy dark gray, and there was just the sound of bodies connecting, unintelligible words, grunts, groans, moans; some hers, some his.

“I could hear all that on the phone,” Keith said. Spence had tossed the camera to take her hard, turning her mindless. She didn’t even remember what she’d done with the phone. Probably dropped it on the bed beside her.

“It was so fucking hot listening to you.” Keith cocked his head. “Hear that? Raw sex,” he said with a hissing emphasis. “He simply fucked the hell out of you. I was so damn hard.”

Oh yes, she remembered how good it had been. In three years, she’d never experienced the like with all her fooling around.

“Holy hell.” Spence’s muffled voice. He added something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A moment later he muttered, “It’s still running,” and shortly after that she said, “Honey, are you still there?”

The video ended.

“Fuck, I’m hard all over again.” Keith palmed his lap.

She was wet. And it wasn’t for her husband. It should have been a terrible thought, but wasn’t this whole hotwifing predicated upon her enjoying other men? That’s all she’d done, enjoy Spence.

“It’s made me wet,” she told him. She had to give him that. She
wanted
to. He was her husband. Spence was just a fling. They’d started hotwifing to add spice to their marriage. It had worked; Keith was hard.

“I love how the guy used you. You could hear it in the video.”

It hadn’t felt like that at all. “You want me to be
used
?” She gave the word emphasis.

“Yeah. It’s hot to think of him forcing you to do whatever he wants. Like that picture of you sucking his cock, his hand fisted in your hair, making you take all of him.”

She wished now that she’d let Spence have the picture. She wanted him to remember her just like that, to remember how good his cock felt in her mouth. He’d actually looked slightly hurt when she refused. “It really wasn’t
using
.”

“I know that. It was staged.” Keith shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to see you
truly
raped. But it’s hot imagining him forcing you. I think that guy has some nasty stuff inside him.”

She remembered the lover who’d died. Yes, Spence had some painful stuff inside him, but he’d never forced her, never used her. He’d played the game for Keith’s benefit.

“He was more of an asshole to you,” she reminded him.

He shook his head slightly. “That was just male one-upmanship. It actually got me going, you know. The true cuckold.”

She’d always understood that part of what Keith liked was having his woman wrested from him. She didn’t know
why
he liked that part of it, but long before his physical problems, he’d enjoyed taking her to elegant parties and company shindigs, showing her off. He loved putting his lips to her ear, telling her softly how the VP over there was checking her out, how the CEO, with his wife by his side, was eyeing Zoe’s butt, how hot it made him to know other men wanted her. When they got home, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. While they made love, he made up scenarios where the CEO, his boss, forced him to bring her to his office so that he could fuck her right in front of Keith. Forced Keith to lick her clean after that boss had come in her. Those nights had produced some of their hottest sex.

Now, they weren’t merely acting out the old scenarios, she was making sex videos for him.

“Where’s he live?”

“Live?” She’d been lost in her thoughts.

“Yeah. Do you think you’ll see him at another one of those conferences? You could meet up with him. Damn, that would be hot, sweetheart. Flying around the country to fuck this guy.”

Her heart flipped in her chest. “But we said I’d only meet a man once. No repeats.”

“Sweetheart, that’s
your
rule. For me it would be extremely sexy to help you pack your bag with things to wear for him. I wish I’d seen his face so I could imagine you with him.”

Now was the moment. She could tell him the truth. She could gauge his reaction. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, then said, “He’s actually from the Bay Area. He works at some company in Palo Alto.”

Keith stared at her for three seconds that seemed like forever. Then his lips crooked slowly into a smile. “Jesus, that’s hot. There are definitely possibilities, sweetheart. I could watch you with him. Take the video myself. My fantasy come true. Christ,” he said, his breath puffing faster, “I could taste you after you’d had sex with him. Lick you, smell you, with him all over you.” He turned, hooked an arm over the back of the sofa, spearing her with a heated look. “He could do you bareback, and I could lick his come out of your pussy.”

She swallowed hard. “But we agreed I’d only do this kind of thing on my business trips.”

Keith snorted. “Just like having only one night with a particular guy, playing only on business trips was your rule, too. I’m willing to break it.”

Maybe it was true that she was the one with all the rules. This was why she’d insisted on playing the game far away from home. On never seeing a man more than once. Because she knew that one day Keith would want to play a role in it, one besides simply listening on the other end of the phone. He would direct it, video it, become a part of it. She’d always thought that was something she couldn’t handle, bringing the two separate parts of her life together.

One thing had changed: If she let her husband play out his fantasy, she could have Spence.

* * * * *

She was asleep. Keith sat in his desk chair, his sweats pulled down, his cock in his hand.

He couldn’t believe what she was giving him, all the dirty, filthy sexiness, the fantasy he’d had for years. He stroked himself to the image of her new beau fucking her hard. Christ, his body on fire. He wanted it bad. He could hear the man’s voice in his head, made up his words.

Look at me fucking your wife, Keith. See how she loves it, Keith. Get over here and lick my come out of her, you little worm, because that’s all you’re good for.

The video had been amazing. It was better than all those fantasies they’d made up over the years, the times he imagined that he was forced to let another man have her. But he wanted more. He had to watch it for himself. He had to lick the come out of her like the cuckold he was.

The setup was perfect. The other man lived here. He wanted Zoe, and he was perfect for the job. Keith would do anything to get what
he
wanted.

Chapter Eleven

Zoe had shunted him off to a sales manager. The guy had just called. His gut tense, Spence had dutifully written down the name and number.

Leaving his office, he headed for the factory. West Coast leased several buildings on the cul-de-sac, the two largest housing the cleanroom, their production roll coaters, and a smaller machine used primarily for R&D. He could have called David Farris, VP of Manufacturing, with the info, or given it to the production planners, who would ultimately be the ones to work with Bay Metals should they decide it was worth it. But he’d wanted some air, needed to think.

The sun was hot, but nothing like Florida. He contrasted everything with Florida now, compared every woman to Zoe. He had the rueful thought that she’d ruined him for other women, but he’d already been ruined once. After Fiona died. Losing her had changed him forever. Would losing Zoe be another life-changing event? Hell, he’d only known her five days.
What’s up with this, dude?
He’d never been serious, always remained aloof. His relationships were casual and of relatively short duration. Why the hell was she different?

It was one of those unanswerable questions. The only sure thing was that letting her walk straight from his arms into her husband’s had left a hole in him.

Crossing the factory’s parking lot, he keyed to his surroundings again, probably because the man he was looking for stood at the bottom of the concrete steps leading to the offices. David Farris was talking to a pretty woman with bobbed blond hair. The new Finance manager, Tricia Connelly. She’d started a few weeks ago, after Greg Stevens had been made controller when Jessica Murphy left. If you listened to scuttlebutt, she’d left to become Clay Blackwell’s lover. The Accounting manager diddling the CFO was a no-no.
Diddling
was a word he would have used a week ago. Now, after Zoe, he wasn’t quite so irreverent. Jessica and Clay were in love.

There was something wrong with him when he started paying attention to office gossip. But, if he did say so himself, that was an extremely intense conversation going on. He could have shouted fire, and he didn’t think either of them would have heard.

David Farris was just under six feet, but his years in the service had given him a stiff, military bearing that made him appear taller. He was lean from outdoor activity rather than visiting the gym every day. He’d always been an intense guy, but the last couple of years dealing with his wife’s cancer had been extremely hard on him. She’d died just before Christmas. Hell of a Christmas present. There were a few gray hairs in his sandy hair that hadn’t been there before, and a shadow in his eyes.

Right now, his stance could be considered rigid, even for him. Tricia talked, Farris listened. Intently. Staring down at her. Maybe she’d found something irregular in his standard costs.

The tension was broken as a forklift trundled out of the warehouse rollup door behind them. Farris looked past her shoulder, stepped back. Tricia glanced at Spence. She said something to Farris, who merely pressed his lips together and nodded, then she headed in Spence’s direction.

With Farris’s gaze on him now, Spence waved, indicating he wanted to talk to him. Passing him at the end of a row of parked cars, Tricia smiled, her high heels tapping on the concrete. She moved fast despite the four-inch spikes, presumably heading back to the main building.

“No accounting problems, I hope,” he said, coming abreast of Farris.

The man swallowed, looked past him to Tricia Connelly’s retreating figure, and hell if there wasn’t something in his gaze. Maybe Spence was hyperaware because of Zoe, but that look said more than a simple accounting discussion would imply.

“She’s got some good ideas,” Farris answered, then finally looked at Spence. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to make your day, dude.” He relayed the information he’d learned from Zoe about her new program at Bay Metals.

“The freight cost savings is enticing, but Bay totally screwed us over before.” Farris shoved his hands in his pockets.

“As I recall,” Spence said diplomatically, “they paid for all the lost material, including the substrate, plus a one-time fee for the lost labor cost.”

“Do you know how many months it took to negotiate that?”

The question was rhetorical. Spence didn’t bother to answer. “Here’s the guy’s name and number. The demonstration I saw was pretty interesting.”

Farris shrugged. “It’s worth looking at, I agree. If they can prove their quality issues are a thing of the past, it might be worth trying on some short runs.”

“You and I could let them take us out to lunch for the whole dog-and-pony show.”

Farris laughed. He didn’t have many laugh lines, but he was capable of laughter on occasion. “You just want the free lunch.”

He wanted to see Zoe, and he’d suffer through a business lunch to do it. If he made the call to Bay, he could suggest they include her since the program was her brainchild.