by Anne Lange
He heard her swallow. “What about it?”
“I think we should try a few of them.” Keeping his body still, his attention tuned to the TV, he sneaked a glance in her direction.
“You do? Why?” Her focus remained attached to the pages in front of her, but a red flush began to creep up her neck, and she turned back a page.
“Why not? I think it would bring an element of excitement into our relationship.”
Angela bit her lower lip, tugging it between her teeth, but she didn’t look up. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not…happy?”
Tyler almost gave himself whiplash swiveling his head to the side so he could look at her. “What? God, no. Of course not, honey. I’m not saying that at all. I’m simply suggesting that kicking things up a notch might be fun. I’d love to see you embrace your wild side.”
She raised her head, relief bright in her eyes. “My wild side. Ha. I don’t have a wild side, Tyler.”
“Of course you do. I see how those stories get you all hot and bothered.”
She squirmed and dropped her gaze again. “That’s just pretend.”
“But what if at least some of it could happen for real?”
“Now you’re talking silly.” She moved to rise from the couch, but Tyler grabbed her hand and held her in place. When their eyes met, hers sparkled with disguised excitement.
“No, I’m being serious. Would you like to try something new? You must know, babe, there isn’t a fantasy you have I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to try to make happen for you.”
“Tyler—”
“Hear me out. What if you were tied up? Or spanked? Does the idea of either of those turn you on?” She blushed, and a tiny whimper escaped. “What if you could have sex with a stranger?”
The dishwasher kicked into the wash cycle, startling her. “Umm, sure. I guess. It would turn me on. I think. But…but Tyler, it’s all hypothetical. We’re married. I’m not about to have sex with somebody else. That would feel like I’m cheating on you.”
“It’s not cheating if I support it.”
She gasped. “You mean you’d let me pick just any person off the street and use them for sex.”
Tyler snorted. “Of course not. I’m talking about devising safe scenarios where both of us are aware of what’s happening. Would that interest you? I would never put you in a situation where you’d come to harm. You do know that don’t you?”
Tyler knew he couldn’t promise comfort—the excitement of the moment would be sure to make her uncomfortable—but he’d kill anybody who hurt her.
“Yes, I do. I know that. And I trust you.”
“Have you ever wondered about a threesome?” He paid close attention to her body language, needing to capture every nuance of her state of being. With every possibility he mentioned, her eyes widened, and her face flushed. But she didn’t seem repelled by his suggestions. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true if the way she shifted her legs, and rubbed her thighs together were any indication.
Tyler decided to take a small chance. “I’ve been in a threesome before, Angela.”
Her jaw dropped. “You? When?”
“Back in school.”
“And you liked it?” She fidgeted. Her pupils dilated, and her gaze darted all over the room, avoiding him.
“I’d love to watch another man touch you, make you come.” He caught a whiff of her scent and suppressed his smile. She liked the idea. “So, what do you think?”
“Well…umm…I don’t know.”
“Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. Will you do that for me?”
“Ah…OK…sure. But—”
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of everything. Just promise to let me know how you feel before I leave for my trip.” He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek, then turned his focus back to the news.
He imagined it would be all she’d think about.
Chapter Three
Angela had stayed awake until well past midnight working on her document for work. She missed Tyler, and working late meant she fell asleep faster, which meant she didn’t lie in an empty bed staring up at the ceiling, missing the warmth of her husband’s body. Now she was ahead of schedule. Working from home had its advantages—especially when she could take a Friday off.
The sun shone brilliantly, as it did only in the early-morning hours. Not a cloud marred her view of the beautiful robin’s-egg-blue sky in any direction. From her chaise by the pool, she heard birds singing in the trees and could see two fat bumblebees flitting from flower to flower in lazy meandering paths, looking for their morning meal.
She should feel guilty for lazing around, sipping coffee, and enjoying the warmth of the sun. But mornings such as this were meant to be savored. The occasional car passed by on the road, intermingling with the drone of a neighbor’s lawn mower.
Tyler would be home in a few days. They spoke on the phone each evening, but it wasn’t the same as having him tucked close beside her when she slept.
Angela’s mind tripped back to their conversation the previous night, when he’d brought up the topic, once again, of fantasies. When he’d asked her to read a scene from one of her books, she’d happened to be at a point in the story when the female character experienced double penetration for the first time. As she’d read the words aloud, snuggled under her covers in bed, her back propped up by pillows, she could hear his breathing grow heavier over the phone. She’d pictured him stroking his thick cock, his abdominal muscles tense, his eyes hazed with lust. He didn’t utter a word through the entire monologue, but she’d been certain a muffled grunt covered his climax near the end. Afterward, she’d used her favorite vibrator, and with no lube necessary, a few deep strokes brought her the release she’d needed.
Ever since, it was like a recurring song in her head. Before he’d left, he’d kissed her good-bye, and suggested he might arrange a surprise for her, but he didn’t say what or when she would receive it. She’d tried again last night to pry it from him, but he’d been steadfast in his refusal to give anything away.
The same book she’d been reading last night lay in her lap now—a ménage story, her ultimate desire. Two drop-dead gorgeous hunks pleasuring her. Her mouth watered. Two sets of hands, one familiar, the other new, skimming over her flesh. Two sets of masculine lips plucking her nipples, two hard cocks filling her. She shivered. For that to happen, Tyler needed to be here though. So unless he jumped out from behind a tree, shouting “surprise,” that particular fantasy was off the table.
She’d never admit it to Tyler, but after seven years of marriage they’d settled into a familiar routine—oral sex for her, maybe a blowjob for him, and then sex. Great sex, but still just sex. Every so often they switched it up, and he’d take her from behind. That night on the couch, when he’d wrapped his necktie around her hands, was the wildest thing they’d done in ages. Did he feel the same way? Maybe her husband was right and the time had come to indulge, to add a touch of naughtiness to their lives.
Her gaze dropped to the book again. She loved to read—considered it her drug of choice. Each new book provided her with a fictional getaway, new sets of characters, new locations. Reading allowed her to dip into somebody else’s life for a short time, and to pretend all those hot, wicked, wonderful things were happening to her, Angela O’Neil.
She imagined the horrified looks on her parents’ faces if they ever got wind of the not-so-missionary ideas running through her head. They’d probably disown her. Not that they were prudes. But, they were her parents. She could only image what she’d think if she had a son or daughter who confessed to having erotic thoughts. She even had difficulty being that honest with her own husband, the one person she should feel comfortable talking with about such things. Oh, please honey, tie me up, spank my pussy, fuck my ass. Ah…no.
She had no problem telling him to lick her pussy or to fuck her harder or faster. But each time Tyler brought up the discussion of kinky fantasies, she managed to smile, nod her
head, and blamed her recent novel for the sudden wetness between her legs.
Instead, she turned to sexy, dangerous, romantic, and erotic stories. Where the men were tall, dark, and sinful. They were handsome, had plenty of muscle, fabulous wit, and always knew how to make a woman scream in the throes of the most delicious orgasm. Angela grinned to herself. In the throes of orgasm. She was even beginning to think in the language of her books.
Angela liked to superimpose herself over the female character. She anticipated the element of physical or emotional danger and, of course, the great sex part. In fact, she often skipped ahead to the great sex part. Some of the best stories left her so hot she pounced on Tyler, more than ready to eat him alive. If he only knew. When he wasn’t around, she took matters into her own hands. Her toys burned through batteries almost as fast as she burned through books.
Angela shook her head. Things like that didn’t happen to real women. Tyler seemed so anxious to dive into her sinful thoughts, but what about his? Other than admitting he’d had a threesome once before, he’d said nothing more.
She lifted her left wrist to check the time and was startled to discover mid-morning had passed. Lunch beckoned. Crap. Tyler would be home late Sunday, and she still hadn’t done any of the garden work she’d planned. But sitting outside on such a gorgeous day, lost in her stories…oh, what the hell? One more hour wouldn’t hurt.
The far-away mumble of voices, then the deep chuckle of male laughter reached her ears. Mr. Peterson had been out cutting his lawn earlier before the heat settled in. The young kids from a few houses down splashed and squealed in their turtle pool. They’d be prunes with rosy cheeks by the time they called it quits, and probably sleep all afternoon for their mom.
Angela rolled the edges of her denim shorts a tad higher to expose a little more skin to the sun’s rays and returned to her book.
“Hello,” somebody called. “Is anyone home?”
She looked up. The voice seemed to be moving closer. She didn’t respond, waiting until a large man walked around the side of the house. He hadn’t spotted her yet, but she sure spotted him. Wow.
He strolled toward her. He was big in height and body structure, but not in a bad or intimidating way—in a delightful, let-me-dribble-chocolate-and-lick-it-off-your-body way. From a distance, Angela didn’t recognize him, so she remained quiet while he approached, allowing herself the pleasure of assessing him from behind her Prada sunglasses. She raised her hand to wipe the drool she felt certain trickled from her lips.
At about twenty paces, he spotted her and called out. “Hi there. Are you the lady of the house?”
He was tall and buff with thick, dark hair that flipped up at the ends and settled around the base of his neck. Angela’s heart hammered while she ogled his confident swagger.
He came to a stop a few feet from where she sat. The beginnings of a five o’clock shadow covered his chin and lower portion of his cheeks. She wanted to assign a label of cute to this male specimen, but cute seemed to be far too girly a word for this man. Talk about mouth-watering. Until now, she believed these guys existed in print alone.
He cleared his throat. “Hi.”
Oh, yeah. He’d said that already. Words found their way up her throat, formed and tumbled from her lips. “Hi. Can I…ah…help you?”
“My name’s Connor. Connor Jones. I’m new to the area and was out for a walk, trying to acquaint myself with the neighborhood. While I was talking with your neighbor across the road, I mentioned I did some carpentry work. He said you recently moved in and may have some work I could help with while I’m waiting to start my next job.”
“Ah yes, we did…move in recently, that is. My name’s Angela O’Neil.” She stood to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.” Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She knew for certain they’d never met before.
“Please, call me Connor.” His hand swallowed hers, his warm fingers wrapping around her damp ones. She gulped.
“Connor. If you just moved in, why not relax for a couple weeks? The summer goes by too quick as it is.” He released his hold, and she felt a sense of loss.
He shrugged. “I don’t know many people in the area, and I prefer not to sit idle. My hands start to itch when they can’t play with something.”
Angela could think of a few things he might do with those very large, very masculine hands. She pictured rough, callused fingers stroking over her skin.
“And it’s a good way to make a little extra money on the side,” he added.
“What types of jobs do you do?” An idea popped into Angela’s head, and it had nothing to do with what she’d like him to do. Since they’d moved in there’d been so little time to do the renovations she and Tyler wanted to complete. They had a hot tub just sitting, ready to be installed, but Tyler hadn’t had time to finish building a deck for it.
Connor stared at her, a small, sexy smile tipping the corners of his mouth up. “I’m pretty good at just about everything when I put my mind to it. I have a great attention span. And I can go for hours.” He winked. “Remodeling, carpentry, decking, you name it. Whatever you need done, I’m your man.” His voice dropped a little lower, and his grin turned a little sexier. “I come cheap. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement we’d both be happy with.”
Angela swallowed. She couldn’t remember the last time somebody, other than Tyler, had flirted with her. “My husband has been trying to get some jobs finished around here before winter. Unfortunately, he also has a busy day job that’s not giving him the time he needs to get much done. He’s away for a few days right now. I’d love to surprise him with at least one of them finished when he gets home.”
“What would you like done?”
Angela paused. Tyler’s words about a surprise entered her head. Could this be it? Would he do that? Simply pick somebody and send him over? No, her husband wouldn’t put her at risk without him here. Would he? One way to find out. A deck was a big job. If he were here to have sex with her, he wouldn’t be willing to do actual labor, as well.
“How about finishing that deck over there for us?” Leading the way, Angela wandered to the area in question, a small alcove tucked around the back corner of their home.
Connor followed behind. Was he keeping tabs on her ass? She injected a little additional swing in her hips in case he paid attention.
“As you can see, my husband finished the framing for the deck itself. But, the boards need to be placed and the privacy fence up before we can put our hot tub on it.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Does your husband have all the wood he needs and the wiring for the tub? And does he have a certain style in mind for the fence panels or the gate?”
OK, so the man knew enough to ask reasonable questions. “Yes. Wiring’s all done, and the wood is sitting inside the garage. I’m pretty certain he had drawings for the panels, and the gate too. I can look for them. And I think he bought some lattice for the top.”
“Perfect. Sounds like he’s already done all the hard work. When does he get home?”
Now what? She hadn’t expected him to agree so fast.
Connor grinned, his eyes never straying from her face. They were a dark, interesting shade of blue, like denim, and sparkled with humor and mischief, as if he harbored as secret.
Confusion swamped Angela, along with a teeny bit of disappointment. OK, a whopping load of disappointment. Why would somebody volunteer to do this type of work on a hot weekend, unless he was exactly what he claimed to be? Clearly, he wasn’t here to fulfill her fantasies.
“Sunday night,” she replied at last. It was Friday now. Maybe she could satisfy herself by watching him work for two days. There were worse chores. The weather report promised a hot, humid weekend. Perhaps she could entice him to take a few dips in the pool if it got too sticky.
Wait. She flinched and gave herself a mental slap. She couldn’t just hire some guy off the street to work without checking him
out first. Check out his references that is—she’d already checked him out, and he’d passed that inspection with flying colors.
“Um, do you have a business card? And the names of a few people I could call to verify your work?” Tyler would kill her if she hired some stranger and got screwed in the process. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to get her mind out of the gutter.
“Sure.” Connor’s grin widened into a full smile. The man had beautiful, straight, white teeth. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. “Here’s my driver’s license, to confirm who I am.” From one of the slots, he slid out a business card. “Call my cell. The number’s on the card.” He flipped it over so she could see the back side, where he’d written a couple of names and phone numbers. “These are two of my clients. The last one and the current one. They’ll answer any questions you have.”
Connor handed her the card, his fingers swiping across hers in the handover.
“You come prepared.”
“Always.”
Angela shifted her weight, a sudden dampness between her thighs making her uncomfortable.
“I’ll give them a call and get back to you as quick as I can.” She’d call him back in the next hour if possible.
“Sounds perfect,” Connor said. “I’m heading home now for lunch. I’ll get my tools ready so I can start right away.” He turned, started to walk away.
“OK.” Angela looked at the card gripped in her fingers. “Wait, what about the fee? I have no idea what you’ll charge me.”
He stopped and turned around. “Like I said, we’ll work something out. My rates are very competitive.” He winked, spun on his heel, and strode back the way he came, whistling. Then he stopped abruptly and turned back to face her once more. “If I get the job, you don’t mind if I cool off in your pool, do you? It’s supposed to be a hot weekend.”
Angela felt her cheeks burn. “Um, no. No. Not at all,” she choked out.
* * *
