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.”<
br />
“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.
“I’ll give them a call.” Farris stuffed the slip of paper in his pocket. “Start at the top. Get some assurances. Then we’ll see. If there’s a free lunch in the offing, I’ll let you know.”
Spence grinned. “Right. You never share your free lunches, dude.”
Farris laughed one more time. Most people would have been left with a smile, but the moment the laugh died, his face fell into its immobile lines. He stood a moment at the bottom of the stairs as Spence retraced his steps across the parking lot, and Spence had a feeling the man wasn’t thinking about targets or freight costs. He was contemplating the new Finance manager.
* * * * *
Keith’s words from this morning still echoed in Zoe’s ears. Call him. Make a date.
She could simply call West Coast and ask for Spencer Benedict. If he didn’t answer, she’d leave a polite, businesslike message. She could send him an email. Something equally innocuous. She didn’t have to write My husband wants you to fuck me again so he can watch.
She didn’t really want Keith directing. With him watching, she couldn’t be the way she was in Florida. She’d be inhibited. Honestly, she couldn’t imagine sticking her legs in the air in front of Keith and using her vibrator while Spence drilled her to a fabulous orgasm. Besides, if he wanted her to do it without a condom, she and Spence would have to be tested. Pregnancy wasn’t an issue, though, since she was on birth control pills.
So now it was four o’clock in the afternoon, her office door closed while she was supposedly approving a mountain of purchase orders on her desk, and she’d neither called Spence nor sent him an email.
She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to close her eyes and let him seduce her over the phone. She wanted to exchange dirty, sexy emails and texts.
Do you want it or don’t you? she asked herself.
Yes, yes, yes, she did. So badly, she ached with it.
Then let your husband watch and you can have it all.
That’s all Keith wanted. To watch, to clean her up afterwards. He’d given her carte blanche to do anything she wanted with Spence.
She opened her email, entered his address, then typed the subject line: Beta Testing.
Tapping her fingers lightly on the keys, she ran through several opening lines. Nothing suggestive, it was a work address, after all, just something to let him know she wanted more than beta testing.
It was nice interacting with you at the Florida convention. As I mentioned, I would love to bring you on board as one of my beta testers.
Interacting stood for fucking and my beta tester made it personal. But anyone reading over his shoulder would simply think it was a business exchange.
God, it sounded stupid. It was nice interacting with you? Lame.
She changed it to I enjoyed our interaction. Then she added her cell phone number and asked him to call her.
Please, please, please.
She sent the message without giving herself another chance to think. She’d dithered far too long already. She wanted him. She’d take him any way she could get him.
Her cell phone rang three minutes later. Her head didn’t recognize the number, but her heart did, beating hard. “Hello?”
“Yes,” he said.
She bit her lip, faint with relief and desire. “Who is this?”
“You damn well know it’s your beta tester.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, a hint of need. “Exactly what do you want me to test?”
Her breath seemed to come faster, to the point of feeling lightheaded. With desire. With yearning. “Everything. I need to make sure all my parts are in working order.”
“Believe me, they are. But they need to be used regularly to keep them in shape.”
“Yes. Use me.” It was Keith’s word. He wanted her to be used. “My parts, I mean.”
“When?”
Now, right this minute. Do me on my desk. On my chair. On the floor. Stake your claim.
“My husband has some very specific things—”
He didn’t let her finish, and his even tone indicated little. “I’m not fucking your husband.”
“What I meant was that he’s got some ideas about what he wants you to do to me.”
“So you told him all about me, and he’s fine with you seeing me again?”
“Well, yes.” Of course, she had left him with the impression that their interlude was over.
“Who suggested it? You or him?”
Did it give away too much to say Keith had suggested but she’d jumped on it? “It was a mutual decision.” She couldn’t help adding, “You know I want it.” Which told him everything.
He exhaled loudly as if he’d been holding his breath. “We need to meet to discuss it. Tell him I want to hear all his terms in detail during a dinner date with you. Alone.”
“A dinner date?” Her blood raced. They’d had dinner together in Florida. She thought about eating Chinese food out of the cartons while they sat naked on his bed. About breakfast and the whipped cream he’d licked off her. Was dinner really just dinner?
“Yeah. Dinner. Then I’ll decide if I’ll agree to his demands.” A note of teasing crept into his voice. “You’ll have to give me some sugar to sweeten the pot.”
She laughed. “Give you some sugar? You sound like a southern gentleman.”
“Dahling,” he drawled, “I’m not a gentleman.”
“My husband thinks you’re a cocky asshole.”
“He’s right. I want what I want. So tell him dinner on Friday will last at least six hours.”
“We’re going to eat for six hours?” She was begging for his double entendre.
“Oh yeah, baby, we’re both going to feast.” His voice fell to a husky pitch. “I need to taste you again. Real bad. I want your mouth on me. It’s all I’ve been dreaming about.”
She was faint with desire and wet between the legs, but she didn’t acknowledge how badly she wanted it, too.
Spence returned to his authoritative, cocky asshole voice. “So tell him that’s what I expect.”
“I’ll tell him. What time on Friday? And where should I meet you?” She wanted all the details, the plans ready-made so that all Keith had to do was agree.
“Seven o’clock. Come to my house, and I’ll drive us to the restaurant.”
His house. Where they could return for an after-dinner feast. “A hotel would be better.”
He was silent a long moment. “Tell him I’m making the rules this time.”
She wanted to see his house. She wanted to know how he lived. She wanted to be able to dream about him there, and oh, how dangerous those desires were. “I’ll ask him.”
“Tell him,” Spence emphasized.
She tried to sound amused. “You’re very pushy.”
“I told you I want what I want. I make no excuses about that.”
She realized he was also taking it out of her hands. Whatever she asked for, all she had to do was blame it on Spence. But this is what he demands, Keith. If you want me to say no, I will. But Keith wouldn’t make her say no. Because he also wanted what he wanted. She had no doubt, though, that he’d make his own demands as well.
“All right. I’ll tell him.” She wanted to
talk about them, about how badly she wanted him to touch her, but somehow Keith was between them even on the phone.
“I’ll email you my address.”
“Okay.”
“Zoe,” he said before she could hang up. “I want you in my bed. I want to memorize you there. I want to lie in my bed and stroke myself every night smelling you on my sheets.”
Warmth suffused her body. “You’ll have to wash them sometime,” she quipped to ward off the emotion.
He snorted a laugh. “I’m being romantic and you think about laundry.”
“I thought you were talking about sex, not romance.”
“Sex is romance.”
God yes, it was. His desire for her was romance. Most women wouldn’t think that way, but for her, that was truth. She was totally seduced. “Friday at seven. You can romance me.”
No matter what she had to do, she would make sure Keith agreed to the date.
* * * * *
“He’s a demanding asshole,” Keith said mildly that night after she’d told him what Spence wanted. They were eating dinner in the family room, trays on their laps, the TV on mute.
“I thought you like that he’s cocky.”
“I do.” He tipped his head to look at her. “The guy intrigues me. But what intrigues me more is what you see in him.” There was something more than mere curiosity in the question. Almost as if he needed reassurance.
She tried to give it to him with a sultry smile. “You looked at those pictures and the video. Size does count for something.”
“You dirty bitch.” He smiled, the trace of something in his tone gone. “I love that about you, how filthy you are. It’s sexy.” He chewed the spinach tortellini she’d made for dinner. “The older you get, the dirtier. I wish…” He trailed off, the rest unsaid.
She knew what he wished, that he could take advantage of the woman she’d become. At twenty-three, sex had been secondary to her. She’d been consumed with marriage and settling down and having children. Now, years later, she truly was all about the sex itself, the physical sensations, the emotion of being desired, of desire itself.
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 10
