His Best Friend (A MFM Ménage)

by Vivian Ward

  His Best Friend

  Vivian Ward

  Copyright © 2018 by Vivian Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To every woman who’s fantasized about her man’s friend, this one is for you. It’s not as taboo as you think!

  Contents

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Start Risky Gamble!

  Risky Gamble

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

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  Chapter 1

  Jules

  Every woman has her secrets and I certainly have mine; though, I often wonder if my husband can pick up on some of them—like the fact that I’ve developed a crush on his best friend, Harley.

  Or maybe it’s the other way around. It’s hard to say who likes who but the fact remains that the two of us have gotten a lot closer since we started working together.

  “Hey honey! Can me and my buddies get a round of beers?” a biker from the end of the bar shouts as he waves some cash in the air.

  “What kind?” I ask, making my way toward them.

  Why they didn’t ask Harley to wait on them is beyond me. It’s not like I wasn’t busy cleaning things behind the counter, but he doesn’t have tits so I’d imagine that’s why I’m being paged as ‘Honey’ while the group of them stare at me like hungry dogs drooling over a thick steak.

  “We’ll take some Busch. We don’t want any of that fancy imported shit.”

  I would laugh at him since Busch was sold to InBev and the money is still technically going overseas even though they continue to manufacture it right here in St. Louis, but I know better than to laugh at them. These aren’t wanna be bikers. These guys are the real deal; one-percenters. I know who they are because my husband Rocco almost got caught up with them; it’s how I met my husband.

  Rocco and I have been married for the better part of five years, and we dated almost two years prior to that. We’re pretty much your average couple who work, come home, have dinner together, shower and watch a TV show on the DVR as we fall asleep.

  “Here you go,” I pass the long necks over the counter. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

  A couple of the men near the back of the group snicker and, no doubt, make some condescending remarks but the leader clears his throat and talks over them. “That’ll be all, honey, and keep the change.”

  I glance over at Harley because I can feel his eyes burning a hole through the men as he stares them down. I shake my head, hoping he’ll let it go. He’s Rocco’s eyes when we’re together since the two of them are best friends and there’ve been quite a few times that he’s taken things a bit too far. I’ve had to stop him from throwing patrons out because he didn’t like how they were talking to me or looking at me. Harley’s just as protective of me as my husband, and I think that might be when things started to change.

  Harley walks up behind me as I finish restocking the fruit containers, his muscular arm stretches around me as his hand rests on the bar in front of me and he lowers his mouth next to my ear. “I’ll go ahead and announce last call so we can get out of here on time, unless you want to stay late.”

  His hot breath dances across my neck, sending a ripple of goosebumps down my body, making my nipples rock hard. He has the smoothest, deepest voice. He should’ve been a musician or a radio personality but he was caught up doing the same shit my husband was into.

  I shake my head, exposing my neck to him as I lean back against him, letting my skin touch his for just a brief moment. I’m ashamed to say this, but I’ve allowed my imagination to run wild more times than I’d like to admit when it comes to Harley. Even though I’m a married woman and he currently has a girlfriend, Emma, and I know it’s wrong, my mind seems to wander all on its own and I can’t help it.

  Sure, I tell myself to stop it when I’m aware of my thoughts but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes it makes it worse. The thought of doing something forbidden and naughty makes me want him that much more. Having an affair is one thing, but doing it with your husband’s best friend? That’s pretty high up there in terms of forbidden.

  Things weren’t always like this between Harley and I. Our friendship started out innocently enough. He was just Rocco’s buddy, and, sometimes, the third wheel. Everything was normal in the beginning. We traded insults, competed for Rocco’s time and attention, and exchanged jokes, but things changed over time.

  We didn’t start to grow close until about a year ago. At least that’s when I found myself thinking about him more and having indecent thoughts about him.

  But as much as my mind plays tricks on me, I’ve remained faithful to my husband.

  The part-time girl, Samantha, squeezes around us to take care of an old man who’s been steadily drinking his liver away for the last twenty years. He’s a regular who always demands prompt attention. Harley’s forced to move closer to me and his hand now has a firm grip on my hip and I feel his thumb brush the bare skin of my back, making my nipples instantly perk up again. “No, I’m good. You can do last call. Let me know if you need help with any drinks,” I say.

  As our final customers settle their tabs for the night, I can’t help but wonder what goes through his mind when we work together.

  Part of me feels guilty, though. I shouldn’t have these thoughts. I’m Rocco’s wife and I love him to death but lately, he’s not been….available.

  But maybe I’m the problem.

  I’ve been wanting to have a baby for almost two years now and no matter how hard we try, it’s not happening. It’s hard. You hope that each time you have sex, the deed will be done, and then when you get your period, it’s disappointing.

  And I’m sure it’s just as hard on him, too, but he’s not the type of guy who talks about his feelings, so it’s hard to know what he’s thinking or feeling. I just wish I’d hurry up and miss my period already but that’s kind of hard when you’re barely having sex.

  Neither of us are to blame, though. There have been plenty of times where one of us has tried and the other declines, pretending to have a headache, or be sick, or too tired to make love. I try not to let it get to me because every couple goes through it, right?

  At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’ve watched enough daytime television talk shows to know that all couples eventually fall into a rut or some sort of rough patch, and I suppose that’s where we are. T
wo years of trying for a baby that isn’t coming could take its toll on anyone, I suppose.

  Our biggest problem is communication. I’ve thought about marriage counseling but Rocco’s not exactly the Dr. Phil kind of guy, so I’ve never brought it up. I can practically hear him groaning if I were to mention the idea. The thought of it makes me chuckle.

  Half the time, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation. Maybe I’m a fool for keeping my hopes up but there’s no denying that I’m still head over heels for my husband and I’d do anything to start a family with him. Sometimes, I can envision him pushing a stroller or making a bottle and it sends my ovaries into overdrive.

  I’ve gone to the doctor for a check-up but Rocco refuses. I think it’s his ego that won’t allow him to go. My doctor says that I’m in perfect health and can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t be able to conceive. He suggested that my husband go for a sperm count test but when I brought it up, he became very defensive so I dropped it.

  I’d try to push the issue harder but it’s already difficult enough to talk about the subject, so I just keep hoping and waiting. I pray that one day he’ll either go get the testing that my doctor suggested or that I’ll magically wake up to a positive pregnancy test.

  It’d be a miracle for either one of those things to happen, but a girl can hope. Right?

  “You need me to refill the ice or bring up any more beer from the basement before we lock up?” Harley asks.

  “Maybe one more case of beer but the ice is good,” I say.

  I finish counting out the register while he restocks the last case of beer. There’s no doubt that his eyes are on me the whole time he’s putting the beer in the cooler. I can always feel his eyes on me. I turn around to see if I’m right, and I am.

  A sly grin slowly spreads across his face and he winks. My cheeks heat up and I smile before quickly turning my attention back to placing the deposit inside of the bank bag.

  We bid each other goodnight as we slip inside our cars before we each head home. The sky appears darker than usual. Thick clouds hover close to the earth like a down comforter, wrapping the night in a blanket of soon to be thunderstorms.

  I race home, trying to beat the rain, and hope that Rocco’s still awake when I open the door. He’s not been sleeping well for some time and while I want him to get rest, I want a little time with him before we fall asleep. Lately, it feels as though we’ve been drifting further and further apart which is the opposite of what starting a family should look like. Trying for a baby normally brings a couple closer together but it seems the longer we try, the more it puts distance between us.

  Before I exit the driver’s seat, I check my hair and makeup before going inside. Despite being tired and working in a sticky bar all night, I want to look my best for him. I want him to know that I still care. I can only hope that my actions show him these things even if there is an invisible wall between us that I can’t seem to break through.

  Tucking my hair behind my ears, I use my fingers as a makeshift comb in an attempt to tame my unruly locks and wipe away any smudged makeup before applying a thin coat of lip balm on my lips. Satisfied with my appearance, I step out of the car and adjust my bra so the girls look more appealing to him.

  Maybe we can try again tonight.

  Chapter 2

  Rocco

  The stress of work has been taking its toll on me but not nearly as much as my marriage.

  Jules is perfect in every way—and I mean that—but things between us have become distant. Even though she’s right by my side, it feels like we’re on different planets.

  She’s beautiful, smart, sexy, and funny. A man couldn’t ask for a better wife, partner and best friend. She is my everything and I could never picture my life without her, but I feel like she’s slipping away.

  It almost seems as if there’s an invisible force pulling her away from me, tearing us apart. That invisible force is the baby that doesn’t exist. The baby that seems like it will never come. It’s the void in her womb that makes her cry every month, each time she gets her period. She tries to hide it, but I can see it even if she doesn’t think I can. I’m just not sure what I struggle with the most: the fact that there’s no baby or that she’s crying again. It’s a pain that we both endure.

  Silently.

  Together and separate.

  I’ve never been the type to write poems and buy flowers but I try to be there for her. I try my damnedest to be the best husband that Jules could ask for but each time she gets her period is another month that pushes us apart. Every tear that falls from her cobalt eyes is like another knife stabbing me, twisting its way deep inside my body.

  I want to collect all the tears of sadness that she sheds. I want to put them in a tiny vial so that I can crush the glass and make all her sadness and pain go away.

  It’s frustrating.

  She might think she’s the one who wants the baby so badly but she’s wrong—at least partially. I want that baby just as much as she does, but I don’t show it.

  I can’t.

  What kind of man would I be if I let her see me upset? What kind of husband would I be if I showed her my disappointment? It’s not her fault. It’s nobodies fault. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, but I hope that’s not the case. As much as she wants her arms filled with a soft, swaddled baby, I want those tiny baby fingers wrapped around my pinky. I want to come home at night and feel her hard, pregnant belly. When will I get my turn to feel my baby kick inside my wife?

  It’s hard to see friends and family getting pregnant, having babies while you try so desperately to have one of your own. I think that plays into some of the distance that’s been placed between us, too. Call it envy, jealousy, or resentment. I know it’s there. It co-exists with the tense desperation that we share; together and separately.

  The only outlet that I have is when I’m with the guys. Hanging out with them helps take my mind off things—until they bring up their kids or their pregnant wife or girlfriend. I think that’s why Harley and I can relate so well. We’ve always been best friends but he gets it because of what he’s been through with his ex, Shay.

  I’m not sure which is worse: to have and lose children or to never have any at all after years of trying. His situation is a bit different than ours, though. Shay’s kids weren’t his biological children but he treated them like they were.

  Harley’s a good man. He took care of Shay’s family like his own. While she was out gambling and drinking the money away, he was picking them up from school or the sitter’s house, and taking them home to feed them dinner and help with homework. My heart went out to him when their dad found out how absent their mother was in their life and filed for custody of the kids.

  Jules and I told him he’d have nothing to worry about because the courts usually want the children with their mother but their biological father was able to prove her unfit as she had no job, was never home, and did nothing to contribute to them. In fact, the man used Harley against the kids’ mom, saying how much care the children received from ‘the mom’s boyfriend’.

  There was nothing he could do about anything since he didn’t have any legal rights to the kids but it tore him up. He’d been taking care of those kids for the last three years before they had to go live with their dad.

  I’d known for a while that he and Shay were on the rocks but those kids kept him there. They were his world and when they were ripped away from him, he put up the same invisible wall that I know too well.

  We hang out quite a bit, but we don’t talk about anything of importance; just typical guy stuff. Jules is the one who told me most of what was going on because Harley would talk to her. She seemed to help him through that rough patch, and I’m grateful for that.

  I just wish I could help us through our rough patch.

  But it’s so damn hard. I don’t want her to be disappointed when she gets her period again this month if she doesn’t get pregnant. A man can only take so much of watching
his wife cry and mourn over the baby that she never conceived.

  When she comes in from work, I hear her humming the minute she walks through the door. She does that; hums songs. It’s usually a song that she’ll get stuck in her head from listening to music at the bar. Tonight she’s humming Aerosmith’s, “Walk This Way”.

  It’s a catchy tune, one of my favorites, and I almost want to hum along with her but if I do that, she’ll know that I’m awake. Instead, I roll over and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

  I know it’s wrong but if I pretend to be sleeping, she won’t try to initiate sex. Okay, that sounds bad. I love having sex with my wife, but we no longer do it for fun. We do it in hopes to get pregnant. Sometimes all I can think about is hoping one of my swimmers will find her egg. It totally kills the mood.

  The fun went out the window about 10 months after we unsuccessfully started trying. Sex was spontaneous and fun at first, but then she started keeping track of her menstrual cycle so she’d know when she started ovulating—and that’s when the fun went out the window, at least for me.

  We went from having daily sex, sometimes multiple times per day, to nothing for a week and a half, all so I could ‘save my swimmers’. She started reading books about fertility and one of them said that frequent ejaculation could lessen the probability of pregnancy because it’d weaken my sperm count.