The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (17 page)

The husband’s game was kinky, this hide-and-seek thing, if you could call it that.

She took his hand, laced her fingers with his, led him down the hall. There was an office on the left, then a family room through a large arch on the right, another bedroom on the right, almost directly opposite the kitchen doorway. The hardwood floors were polished to a shine, everything neat and uncluttered. She had a few knickknacks and seemed to favor cloisonné.

Walking backwards, a sexy, sultry smile on her lips, she led him to a bedroom at the end of the hall. Gone was the woman of yesterday who didn’t seem to know what she wanted. This woman exuded sexuality. It drifted off her like the perfume off the roses. Her lips were darkly painted, her makeup slightly heavier than she normally wore, perhaps in deference to the camera he knew would be hidden somewhere.

The bed was situated in front of a bay window that looked over the backyard. A door led to a deck shared with the kitchen and dining room. Mirrored closet doors filled the opposite wall. One end was slightly open, the interior dark. It was long past dusk, but she’d lit only one lamp, on the bedside table closest to the closet. The bed sat on a platform with drawers and was covered by a thick comforter of swirling blues and purples.

The stage was set. Her vibrator lay in the center, a bottle of lube on the table. There were no condoms. This time they wouldn’t need them.

Leading him to the foot of the bed, she turned, making sure their bodies were angled toward the closet. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled him close. “Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said louder than necessary.

He held her chin in his hand, brought her lips close to his. “I want to fuck the hell out of you. I want to make you come twenty-five times.” More than last Friday.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”

“Yeah. But first I want you to kiss me.”

She hesitated a moment, turned her head slightly as if she’d look at the closet, then stopped herself. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Cupping his cheeks in her palms, she pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him openmouthed, tongue searching, playing, teasing. Slowly, she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck, deepening the kiss, controlling it. He ran his hands along the waistband of her shorts, then dipped his fingers into her back pockets and hauled her as close as he could get her.

He was hard. He was ready. But the kiss was too good to let go. He could take this for hours without begging for another thing.

She pulled back, her breathing fast. He could feel the thump of her heart against his chest. “Make me be bad for you.”

“Baby, I don’t need to make you. You can be so bad without even prompting.” He reached behind, grabbed a handful of comforter and dragged it to the bottom of the bed. Then he put his hands beneath her armpits, hauled her high and tossed her into the center. She landed with a cry, then a laugh, fishing the vibrator from beneath her.

He heard a sound, a gasp or a grunt, inside the closet. Yeah, good old Keith would get off on watching his wife being manhandled.

Crawling up the bed, he straddled her legs. “We need these shorts off. Now.” She wasn’t wearing a belt, and all he had to do was tug on the button, pull, and the zipper slid down. His hands on the waistband, he knee-walked back, yanking everything down, including her miniscule panties. He threw the shorts and lacy underwear toward the closet. “Better,” he said, staring down at the triangle of hair between her legs.

“Oh my God,” she said in a loud, harsh whisper. “What are you going to make me do?”

He pushed her thighs apart, put a hand on her pussy. “You’re wet already, you dirty slut.”

She smiled, almost a smirk. “Of course I am. My husband made me masturbate for the camera. To get me ready for you.”

He eased a finger between her lips, stroked the hard bead of her clit. “You don’t need to get ready for me, baby, and you know it. Just thinking about me makes you sizzle.” Keith oughta love that, pure cocky asshole.

She hooked three fingers in the waistband of his jeans. “My mouth is watering for your cock. Don’t you want to force it down my throat?”

“Don’t rush me, baby. I want to enjoy your hot little snatch.” He circled faster, then dipped down to enter her with his fingers.

She moaned and arched her head back into the mattress. That was it, that’s what he wanted, for her to forget her husband was there, to stop playing for the camera. That was his job, heating Keith up with his cocky asshole routine.

“That’s so good, isn’t it, baby. You love my fingers inside you. You’re gonna love it even better when it’s my cock. Flesh to flesh, baby.”

She rolled her head on the pillow. “Yes, yes.”

He wanted to taste her, wanted her husband to see how much she loved it. Moving off to the side, he continued working inside her as he put his tongue to her tight clit. This time she arched right off the bed.

“Tell him how good it is,” he said softly. If the man liked to be cuckolded, let him truly be cuckolded.

“Oh God, oh God,” she cried. “Please, please, please, don’t stop. It’s so good.” She gasped, moaned, growled, grabbed his head and held him to her. They rocked and rolled together, her body undulating. She didn’t need a vibrator. All she needed was him.

He could feel her climax build in the quake of her limbs, the taste of her pussy, the sound of her cries. The moment it hit, she curled up, grabbed him, held him right where she wanted him. He didn’t let up until she collapsed against the mattress, her limbs suddenly limp.

He looked pointedly from her face to the closet door. And grinned for the camera.

Chapter Fifteen

“Take off that sexy shirt,” Spence ordered.

He was above her, gloriously naked. She couldn’t quite remember him losing all his clothes. There was just his mouth on her, then nirvana, now this. He was beautiful, all hard, compact muscles and thick, rigid cock.

“You do it,” she told him, meeting his gaze.

His eyes blazed like bright jewels in the soft lighting. “Whatever you want.” He tugged the tight, stretchy shirt past her breasts, then left it there to take her nipple. She hadn’t worn a bra. What was the point since she knew he’d have it off soon after he arrived? He sucked hard, shooting a jolt of electricity straight down between her legs. His hard cock brushed her thigh, setting her skin on fire.

He switched to the other nipple, pinching it. “You’re so sweet and hot,” he whispered. “Every part of you.” He reared up to take her lips with her own taste on his tongue. The kiss was long, drugging. Her arms were around his neck without her being aware of the movement.

When he pulled away, she held his face. “Let me taste your cock. Please.”

“Yeah, baby,” he said softly. “I want to bury my cock between your lips.”

He pulled back slowly, rising above her, setting his knees on either side of her torso. So big, so beautiful, as thick and strong and hard as the rest of him. A single drop of pre-come beaded on the tip. She raised her head to lick it off, rolled the flavors around her mouth.

He pulled her shirt off, then angled her slightly across the bed. She remembered the camera then, and Keith inside the closet. God, she’d forgotten. There’d been just her and Spence.

She was supposed to be performing for her husband. And perform she would.

Slowly she took Spence in her hand, wrapped her fingers around him, raised her head. She circled the crown with her lips, sucked, licked, swirled her tongue. Spence’s growl vibrated through his body and into hers.

He went down on one hand, bracing himself over her. She sucked him all the way, deep-throated, drawing another long, low growl from him. One hand on his cock, the other on his tensed butt, she directed him with a gentle push until he began to pump.

He stretched his neck, tipped his head back, riding her mouth. “Ahh, God, fuck. That is so fucking good. Baby, baby.”

She sucked on every outstroke, licked on the way back in, held him tight in her fist, then reached up to squeeze his balls the way he liked.

His legs trembled, and his arm shuddered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

She wanted him to come. She knew he could do it again in a very short time. But he pulled free, leaned down, his lips on hers, close enough for him to mingle his juice with hers. “I want to save it all for when I’m inside you.” He straightened. “How do you want me to fuck you, my dirty little slut?” And they were on camera again.

She knew how Keith wanted it. It wasn’t the best for her, but she rolled over and came up on her hands and knees. Eyes on Spence, she looked over her shoulder, perfectly angled to the closet. “This way. Like you’d take a whore.”

He stroked her flank and leaned over her, snugging her body close, his hand wandering between her legs. Lips to her ear, he murmured, “You’re worth the price, baby. This is for you.”

He shifted into traditional doggy style, and his cock caressed her, all smooth, hard flesh, hot to the touch.

“You’re so damn wet. You feel so good on my cock. I don’t think we need the lube, baby. That’s how bad you want me.”

“Yes, please, fuck me.” She pushed back, trying to center him, take him.

“Oh no, baby, we have to do this slow.” A hand on her hip, he held her still. “I want your sweet juice all over my cock.” He dipped down, grazing her clit.

She sucked in a breath.

He kept talking for Keith. “Will you look at that, my cock right there, do you feel it, baby, all that hard flesh?” He centered himself at her entrance. “Now you’re going to take me.” He nudged, his crown breaching her. “Christ, you’re tight.” He let out a long sigh. “That feels so good. You’re so hot and wet. Look at my cock filling you.”

He short-stroked right there, only an inch in. She curled her fingers into the sheet. Oh God. It really was so fucking good, to use his words, despite the fact that this wasn’t her favorite position. She’d forgotten what it was like to have a man inside her, nothing between them, just his cock in her flesh.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

She reared back. “Fuck, yes.”

“Dirty girl.”

He went deeper, hitting her G-spot, and everything intensified. His slow pump drove her mad. She moved against him, adding to the friction, her body contracting around him.

He groaned. “Christ, yeah, do that again.”

It wasn’t conscious, her body just seemed to flex on its own. His pace quickened, his thighs hitting hers. She pushed back, taking him deeper, all the way, straight to her core.

“Yes, that’s good, good, good,” she chanted, her breath puffing. Maybe it was his size. Maybe it was the way his whole body seemed to caress hers. Something was different, something she’d never experienced with any of the men who came before. Not even with…

She let herself go, stopped comparing, stopped thinking. He pounded into her, taking her hard and heavy, his body slapping hers.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded.

She’d do whatever he wanted, reaching between her legs, stroking herself. She could feel him against the tips of her fingers. God, she was wet.

“More, more, more.” She needed something, she needed… “Not this way.” She gasped for air. “Not like this.”

“How do you want it, baby?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg. Her need simply communicated itself. He withdrew, flipped her to her back, and plunged deep, filling her all the way to her throat. She wrapped her arms around him, held him tight, squeezed her eyes shut. All he had to do was tap her thigh and she knew what he wanted. Bringing her legs up, she locked her feet across his back.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, baby. Look at me.”

She laid her head back, opened her eyes, met his. His breath was warm on her cheek.

“You feel so good, baby. So tight around me. Never like this, you know what I mean?” He arched, pushed deep, then curled around her again. “God, yes. Reach down and squeeze me, baby. Take me.”

She loved the way he talked and talked, his words filling her as much as his cock did: how good she was, how sweet she tasted, how tight she felt, her skin like silk, her lips like fruit. He carried her away, taking her with him, higher, closer to the peak, riding her. She never wanted it to end. But she couldn’t stop the inevitable. Reaching down, she took him in her hand, squeezed his balls, pressed her fingers into the base of his cock until his thrusts became a frantic pistoning of his body into hers.

The litany of words stopped, and there was nothing but sensation, nothing but him. She fell over the edge at the first throb of his cock inside her, the heat of his come filling her. She held him tight as they tumbled into orgasm and rode it down to the very bottom of ecstasy.

When it was over, she didn’t want to let go. Couldn’t let him move. His weight on her was sweet and heavy, his skin hot, his muscles smooth.
Don’t go yet.

She didn’t want to release him. She didn’t want Keith to drink his come out of her. She didn’t want Keith between them. She wanted only this, Spence inside her, surrounding her.

* * * * *

He couldn’t move. He wanted to remain inside her forever. There was something about his flesh filling her that changed everything. Something about her body taking him, accepting him. He couldn’t live without it. He would always need the feel of her flesh around him.

Then he quivered. It wasn’t orgasmic aftershock. It was a chill. Like someone walking over his grave.

He told himself that as long as he didn’t open his eyes, he could pretend this wouldn’t end.

The closet door slide in its track, like Dorothy pulling aside the curtain to reveal the wizard of Oz. Keith, the wizard. Her husband, the puppet master.

He wanted to shout, tell the man to get the hell out. While he was inside her, Zoe still belonged to him, not her husband. But once the man drank from her, licked her clean of Spence’s essence, she would belong to him again. She would be his wife again. Not Spence’s woman.

He raised his head, took her lips, tasted the sweetness of her. And pulled out. Her arms clung for long seconds. Then she let him go, her eyes on his face as he hefted off her.