They traversed the expansive marble lobby to the waiting crowd by the bank of elevators. He recognized conference attendees by their badges, but couldn’t place any of the faces. Still, she pulled her hand from his.
The only obstacle had been the ring on her finger. She’d blown that one out of the water with her tale of hotwifing. She was one hell of a hot wife. It was almost unfathomable that a man could send his wife out to have sex with other men while on business trips. He had so many more questions, most of them too personal to ask on such short acquaintance. Still, he was going to be the other man anyway, despite that same short acquaintance.
His blood was pumping fast, the beat of his heart a staccato rhythm in his chest. Oh yeah, he was going to have her, call her husband, do everything the man wanted, everything she wanted. It was too hot to resist.
An elevator car came, disgorged its occupants, and they shuffled on, pushed to the back by the crush of bodies entering behind them. He ran a hand down her side, settled his palm proprietarily on her hip, leaned close to breath in the sweet flowery scent he would associate with her forevermore. And something more, the hot, sizzling perfume of a sexy, aroused woman.
One night. She’d implied that’s all he’d get. He was for damn sure going to make the most of it.
The occupants of the elevator thinned the higher they climbed. By the eighteenth floor, they were alone. The doors closed, and he was on her, his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head.
“You smell good,” he murmured. “How do you taste?”
Before she could utter a word, he swooped in to kiss her. No, he devoured her, forcing her lips open, tasting the tartness of the wine she’d drunk, falling into her, plundering the sweet recesses of her mouth.
Until the car lurched slightly and the doors opened with a whoosh. His equilibrium readjusted itself. She stared up at him, mute, as if she’d also lost her equilibrium in the kiss.
This time he wrapped her beneath his arm, held her tightly. The elevators were in an alcove, rooms along hallways to either side.
“Down here.” His was the fourth door on the ocean side. He fished the card key from his back pocket.
She still hadn’t said a word. Maybe nerves were starting to get to her.
“Shit. Your vibrator.” He kept his voice low so the words didn’t travel the length of the hall. “I forgot about it.”
For the first time since they’d exited the bar, she smiled. Sultry, sexy, secretive. “I’m always prepared.” She patted the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Now unlock the door.”
Suddenly the aggressor, she pushed him inside.
The room was a standard layout, bathroom and closet to the left of the short hall. He’d forgotten to turn off the bathroom light when he left. He didn’t do so now, letting the illumination guide them to the interior. A combination desk, bureau, and entertainment center lay ahead along the right wall, with two chairs and a small round table positioned in front of the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, while dominating it all was the king-size bed.
With the sun setting, the room was bathed in deep shadow. The furnishings were plush, the carpet thick, and the bedclothes soft.
Without preamble, she shoved him flat onto the end of the bed, climbed on top and braced herself on her hands above him. Her take-charge attitude made him harder still.
“Here are the rules.” Her dark hair fell like a curtain around him. “We use condoms. I don’t spend the night. And tomorrow in the exhibit halls, we pretend this never happened.”
He wrapped her hair around his hands. “I can pretend. I’m not sure you’ll be able to.”
“Aren’t you the cocky one.” She smiled, her lipstick gone. He’d eaten it off.
“Very cocky.”
“Then you’ve got a lot to prove.” Her legs spread over him, she pushed down, rotated her hips, mimicked the act they would soon perform. “Oh my. I think something’s happening down there.”
“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, pulling her down by her hair, taking her lips again. This kiss was slower, gentler, more exploratory. He released her hair to run his hands up her thighs beneath the sundress.
“Jesus,” he uttered. “Where are your panties, woman?”
She laughed. “I left them in my room.”
“So you were hunting tonight?”
“More like I was allowing myself to be hunted.” She rocked on him. “I was hoping you’d come into the bar.”
“And if I didn’t?”
She gazed at him a long moment in the relative darkness of her cascading hair. “I knew you’d come.”
He didn’t deny it.
“So,” she said, leaning close to caress his cheek with the tip of her nose, stopping to whisper in his ear. “What are you going to do to me first?”
With little effort, he rolled with her, trapping her beneath him. “The vibrator. I want to make you come.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He stood, pulled her with him. “Vibrator and phone on the bed. Does your husband have a speed dial?”
“Number three,” she said, rummaging through the purse. The vibrator bounced in the center of the comforter. Her phone was in a separate side pocket for easy reach. The woman was certainly organized. Then she handed him a small box of condoms and a bottle of lube.
“You are definitely prepared.” He stepped sideways to lay the package and lube on the table next to the head of the bed.
“I have to count on myself.”
That stopped him a moment. “Aren’t you ever afraid?”
She reached once more into her magic bag and pulled out a can of pepper spray. “I carry every kind of protection.”
“Good girl.”
“I’ve never had a problem.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.
He used it as a signal to slip his finger into her cleavage and tug on the bodice of her sundress. “Strip.”
She stepped out of her sandals. “What about you?”
He smiled wolfishly. “Baby, I’m working you over first.” He pulled the hem of her dress up.
He expected her to be shy, but she gripped the sides with both hands, yanking it over her head to send it flying across the room. Standing unself-consciously in front of him, she brought his hands to her breasts.
She left him speechless for one long moment. Her nipples were the size of half dollars, dusky and dark, tips beaded. She filled his hands. Her hips and belly were curvy, the apex of her thighs covered with trimmed black curls. With her long, flowing hair, she was a renaissance painting come to life.
“You’re beautiful.” His awe resonated in the hushed tone.
She blushed at the compliment where she hadn’t at her nakedness.
“In front of the window,” he managed to say. Grabbing the vibrator, he followed, moving up behind her.
The sun was almost down, the ocean turning inky in the impending gloom. Below them, the waves crashed on the shore, a strip of beach visible. He detected movement, walkers, runners, but with the balcony separating them from the outside, no one would see despite the bathroom light. He liked the idea of touching her with the curtains wide open, and he loved the vague outline of their reflection in the window.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he whispered at her ear, “Spread those luscious thighs.”
She steadied herself by leaning her head back on his shoulder.
He fiddled with the toy a moment. “How the hell do you turn this thing on?”
Her laugh vibrated against his chest. “You’re useless.” She twisted the base, bringing it to life.
“Yeah, you’re going to see how useless.” The banter eased the atmosphere between them, though she seemed to have lost her nerves the moment they stepped into his room.
He slid the tip between the lips of her sex. She quivered. “Ooh. Yes. That’s good.”
He tightened his arm around her waist, the vibrator slipping and sliding. “You’re wet, dirty girl. And I haven’t even
touched you.”
She moaned, a delicious sound that rumbled against his chest. “I was wet down in the bar. When you made me tell you all the things my husband wanted me to do.”
“Do you always follow his instructions?”
“Yes.” She gasped, rolling her hips against him.
“Have you let a man fuck you like this, in front of the window with your vibrator between your legs?”
“No. But God, it’s so good.”
Full darkness had fallen, and their reflection undulated in the window glass. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her breasts bobbing.
“We’re going to have a lot of firsts, baby.”
Putting her arms up, she clamped the sides of his head. “Yes. More.”
The warm, salty, sexy scent of her arousal rose to fog his mind. He danced with her in the reflection, swaying to the gentle swirl of the vibrator around her clitoris, dipping deeper, sliding back out. Her skin was soft, warm, fragrant.
“Faster. More. Yes.” She chanted words, held him tight against her with a hand at his nape.
Suddenly the reflection wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her spread out before him, needed to push deep inside her, even if it was just a toy.
Pulling back despite her protests, he picked her up, deposited her in the center of the bed, and wrapped her fingers around the vibrator.
“Don’t stop,” he ordered as he toed off his shoes, then yanked his shirt over his head.
Beyond caring, she spread her legs in a diamond, placing her feet heel to heel, and worked herself. He knew instinctively this was her position when she was alone. She pushed her head back against the mattress, and her body jerked lightly, arching into the vibrator as it entered her.
He tore at his belt buckle, the button on his slacks, the zipper, shoved everything down, including his briefs. Then he was on the bed beside her, taking over, doing the things she’d done.
The vibrator glistened with her juice. He couldn’t help bending his head to taste her. Ah God, sweet, salty, an ambrosia of flavors. He flicked her clit, sucked it, circled the nub.
She moaned deeply.
He backed off to watch, once more letting the vibrator do the work, alternately pumping it inside her, then sliding out to circle her clit.
Her hips moved in time. She panted, tossed her head, stretched her arms out to brace herself on the headboard as she bore down on the device. Her skin was like silk against his, the lips of her pussy plump and pink, her clit burgeoning.
Propped on an elbow, he reached beyond her for the cell phone, withdrawing the vibrator long enough to switch hands. She growled her need, and, once again in position, he worked her with the toy in one hand, pushed the speed dial for her husband, and put the phone to his ear.
“Honey?” The man’s voice was deep. It was three hours earlier. He was probably eating dinner.
“Do you want to hear me make your wife come?”
A sharp intake of breath, a pause, then, “Hell, yes. What are you doing to her?”
“Just what you asked. Fucking her with her vibrator.”
Zoe opened her eyes, held his gaze, fully in the moment. Then she lay back, moaned loudly. “Please fuck me, God, please.”
“Hear how she loves what I’m doing to her?”
Breathing on the other end, faster, harder. “Tell me. Describe it.”
“She’s sprawled on my bed, her legs spread wide for me.” He leaned down to smack a kiss on her inner thigh as he vibrated her hot button. “Naked. Her pretty little bush is all trimmed. Her nipples are hard. Do you want to hear her beg for what I can do to her?”
“Fuck. Yes. Do it. Fuck her hard.”
“Beg, baby,” Spence ordered. “Beg me to make you come.”
“God, please, please, please,” she sang out. Her body went into a frenzy, as if the knowledge that her husband was listening to their intimacy set her free.
She bucked. He held her down with his body, tortured her with the vibrator. “She fucking loves it. Listen to her. She’s wild. She’s coming hard.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted.
“Christ,” the husband rasped in Spence’s ear.
“Man, she’s hot for it. She needs it, wants it. Your wife is a dirty fucking slut.”
The words seemed to drive her over the edge, free-falling into climax, squirming, crying, shattering. The husband breathed hard, swore, panted. Spence could almost believe he was jerking off.
It was the most amazing thing he’d ever been a part of. And she hadn’t even touched him yet.
Chapter Four
“Here. Talk to your husband.”
From somewhere out of the fog, her phone wavered in a disembodied hand. She couldn’t move to even grab it.
Spence put it to her ear.
“Hell, sweetheart, that was so fucking hot.” Her heart beat twice. Then she recognized the voice. Keith. Her husband. She was in a hotel room. Spence Benedict hovered over her.
“God.” It was all she could manage before she had to breathe again. Nothing had ever been that good, not ever. It was almost frightening.
“That’s the best so far, honey. He was good. Did you like it?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t handle more than monosyllables. Her body was still quivering, her ears humming.
“I want photos,” Keith said, his voice harsh, unlike himself. “Lots of them. Fuck him good. Make him scream. Okay?”
“Sure.”
Spence moved the phone from her ear. “Now I’m going to be busy fucking your wife. So leave us alone for a while.” He punched the End button and tossed the phone to the bottom of the bed, out of her reach.
She breathed a sigh, closed her eyes, stretched her neck.
He nuzzled the bared flesh. “Did I play the good cuckolder?”
A laugh welled up inside her. “Oh yeah. He said that was the best so far.”
Suddenly he grabbed her chin. Her eyes flew open. Even in the darkness, she could see the bright gleam of jungle green in his gaze. “Was it?”
“Was it what?” There was nothing but his hand on her, his body between her legs, the humidity of the sex-filled room caressing her limbs.
“The best so far.” Each word was clipped.
He hadn’t struck her as a man who needed his ego stroked. Reaching up, she trailed a hand over his cheek, pushed her fingers into his thick, wiry red hair, and pulled his face down to hers. “The best ever,” she whispered before touching her lips to his.
He immediately seized the kiss, sucked her deep. Her mind raced, her body trembled. He was a vein of gold waiting to be mined. All night long.
Or at least until she crept back to her own room.
“What do you plan as an encore?” she said against his mouth. “He wants pictures.”
“Then you need to be down on your knees sucking my cock, you dirty little wench.”
She pulled back a moment. “How did you know he’d like it when you called me a slut?”
“A dirty fucking slut,” he enunciated. “You said he liked humiliation.”
She paused a beat, then whispered, “Yes, I want to suck you.”
Climbing off the bed in a flash, he grabbed her phone, set it on the table by the window, then threw the sliding glass door wide open.
He held out a hand to her. “Come here.” Shooting her a cocky smile, he added, “My dirty fucking slut.” Yet there was something in the term that made her feel special and desired, as crazy as that sounded.
“I think you like that word too much.” She rose slowly, taking him in. His compact body was in silhouette, his muscles defined by the moonlight. He was not a big man, but no less beautiful. She’d been in a near fugue state when he undressed, unable to fully appreciate his form. Naked, bathed in moonlight, he could have been posing for Michelangelo.
Coming to his side, she ran a hand down his taut flank. “Force me,” she whispered. She had no great need to be abused, that was more Keith’s fantasy, but she wanted to feel his power.
The breeze through the open door, though still carrying the warmth of the day, cooled her heated skin. Gaze holding hers, he wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled down, forcing her down to her knees until his cock bobbed in front of her face.
Zoe sucked in a soft breath. While he was of average height, or even slightly less, there was nothing average down here. He was long, broad, and hard, thrusting out from a thick but short bush of curly red hair a few shades lighter than that on his head. She wrapped her fingers around him, looked up. “I don’t think this exceptional tool is going to fit inside me.”
“That’s what we have lube for.”
“I might choke on it when I suck you.” Her mouth watered for a taste of him.
Shadows masked his features. The night turned him into the devil above her. “And that’s exactly what your husband wants.”
She’d done this before, met a man, gone to his room, indulged Keith’s fantasies, her own, climaxed, enjoyed. But this man had added something she couldn’t define. He’d made it about her and Keith, the way it was supposed to be, but he’d somehow made it better, too, enhanced everything, the sensations, the orgasm, made her feel completely alive in a way she hadn’t for more than three years. Gazing up at him, she wanted what he wanted, not just Keith’s desires.
“What do you need?” she asked softly.
His hand loosened in her hair, letting it fall down her back. He cupped her face. “Your mouth on me. I dreamed about you last night. I came thinking about you.”
The words were as powerful as his hands forcing her to her knees. “Then let me make love to you with my mouth.” She never used that word with one of these men. It was fucking, screwing, a variety of terms. But somehow they weren’t appropriate for this moment.
Taking him in her hand, she kissed the tip of that gorgeous cock. She opened her mouth, engulfed his crown, rimmed him with her tongue, and sucked.
His groan was deep, vibrating through him, through her. A salty bead of pre-come burst against her tongue. She worried him lightly with her teeth. When he didn’t protest, she took him deep, grazing him softly. He was big, almost too much, but she sucked hard on the way back up.
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 3
