by Cara McKenna
“Any really crazy ones though?”
“Everyone around here’s a little crazy.” He paused, glancing at Rasul.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Rasul said.
Jeremy went on. “There’s a certain group that make me nuts. The power wives who don’t have nine-to-five jobs themselves, so they turn their kids or their homes or their charities into their careers. I had a woman who brought her eight-year-old daughter in to work out, once. Wanted me to assess her and offered to hire me to train her. I was like, no fucking way I’m taking part in that level of psychosis. That’s what I said in my head anyway. Out loud I think I said, ‘I’m not sure it’s appropriate for a child that age to undertake a training regimen.’”
“Diplomacy,” Emily sighed.
“No kidding.”
Rasul smiled, looking amused. “So glad I have one of a very few jobs in this town that pays me to be impolite.”
Jeremy laughed. “I would love to send some of my bratty clients to your office for an hour. If what you do is anything like what I picture.”
Rasul shrugged.
“I don’t think we’re cut out to do one another’s jobs,” Jeremy said. “Do you yell as much as I imagine?”
“Often. Do you kiss rich women’s asses as much as I imagine?”
“More.”
Emily laughed. “Where do you want to travel to, when you call it quits here?”
“All over,” Jeremy said. “Spain, Italy, Brazil… Anyplace where they don’t speak English, with amazing food and cheap hotels.”
“You could backpack,” she said.
He made a skeptical face. “Maybe ten years ago I could. Think I might look a bit tragic staying at hostels now that I’m in my thirties. Tragic or creepy.”
“Plus you couldn’t bring a girl back to your bunk bed,” Emily added. She made her voice flirtatious, ready to shift the mood of the evening.
“I don’t know how many girls I’ll be luring anyplace.”
“Oh come on. Handsome, single foreigner? You’ll have them linin’ up. Plus, you know as well as I do a Southern accent is a powerful thing once you leave Georgia or Texas. I swear people look at me and I can see them wanting to like, pat my head and call me ‘precious’.”
“You are sort of precious.”
“On the outside maybe. Ask the folks back home and they’ll give you a different story. I’m like the Jezebel of Boyettsville, Georgia, the way they make it out.” She shook her head.
“I can’t imagine that.”
“My two aunts, my momma’s sisters… When I was growing up they’d warn me. ‘Em, don’t you ever take no wrong steps. Town like this, stains don’t ever wash out, and everybody’s dyin’ to make it known their linens are whiter than yours.’ I thought they were just being old-fashioned, but oh my goodness, did I ever find out they were right.” She shook her head. After a sip of wine she added, “But you know what? Fuck them.”
Jeremy blinked then laughed into his napkin. “Sorry.”
“No really, fuck them,” she said. “All those folks. You laugh ‘cause you’ve never heard me swear, and believe me, I didn’t utter a cuss word ‘til I was twenty. Went to church every Sunday, polite to everybody and meant it. But you kiss one too many boys in high school and suddenly you’re packin’ for hell. Well, they’re all still right where I left them, in the slow lane to no place. And I’ll bet you hell’s a lot more fun.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Jeremy concluded.
“Yes indeed.” She looked to Rasul and a familiar fantasy crossed her mind…the stir they’d cause if she ever brought him home. But it wasn’t worth the slurs she feared she might overhear, plus she didn’t need to prove anything to those ignorant busybodies. Might be satisfying, though, showing off her husband. A very selfish bit of her would love to see him goaded into a bar fight.
As they ate and chatted and refreshed their drinks, Emily relaxed into the evening far deeper than she’d expected or even hoped to. She was about to commit a pretty heinous sin with these two men. She’d decided awhile back that there wasn’t actually any such thing as hell. There was heaven, for when you’d learned everything you needed to on Earth, and then there were do-overs. Do badly on Earth and you had to start over, repeat the whole thing until you got it right. If God wasn’t pleased about what she planned to do in her bed tonight with these men…well, screw it, she’d make up for it the next time around. For what she was getting, she’d happily join a convent in her next lifetime.
Chapter Six
Jeremy glanced at the clock as Emily cleared the plates away. Eight thirty, damn. The thought relaxed him. He’d been making small talk with his hosts for over two hours, and it hadn’t felt like that long. He watched Rasul helping his wife, accepting orders for where things went in the kitchen. Surely he’d be the one dishing out the orders soon enough. The idea still gave Jeremy an apprehensive jolt, though not as potent as before this evening. Emily had changed a little, for him—she had a bit more depth. As sweet as before, but with a tougher past than Jeremy would have guessed.
Rasul had gone from ominous shadow to flesh and blood, a dramatic transformation indeed. He was more than a concept—brutish husband—and Jeremy respected him. He was an odd person. In some ways excruciatingly traditional, but in others, such as the premise of this entire evening, downright liberal.
Once they finished organizing the kitchen, the couple approached. Suspecting it was showtime, Jeremy drained the last of his after-dinner scotch and stood from the couch. All at once, his body shifted. As Emily neared, the friend and hostess he’d been chatting to all night dissolved, replaced for a second by the face and body that occasionally distracted him so unwholesomely on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.
“That was the best dinner I’ve had in ages,” he offered.
Emily did a curtsy with the hem of her dress.
“Go and get ready for bed,” Rasul said to her.
She smiled at each of them and disappeared up the stairs.
Jeremy looked to Rasul, heart suddenly pounding. Suddenly praying he was about to be dismissed, the evening called off, his test failed.
“Let’s talk about what’s going to happen.” Rasul put a warm, bold hand on Jeremy, right where his shoulder met his neck, thumb on his jugular. Not a seduction. Jeremy’s pulse sped and he allowed himself to be steered to the dinner table, his butt deposited on a chair with a firm push.
He sat up straight, trying to look agreeable and businesslike and only half as nervous as he suddenly felt.
Rasul took a seat across from him, leaning forward with his bossy hands clasped between his knees. “Tonight is all about what Emily wants.”
Jeremy nodded.
“And I know what that is,” Rasul went on, “so you’ll be doing whatever I tell you to.”
“Okay.”
“Unless it’s something you refuse to do, of course.”
Jeremy’s throat felt constricted. “I don’t know exactly what she’s in to, but if it’s really rough, no, I won’t do that. I wouldn’t be able to… I don’t know, hit her. Or yell at her.”
“Nothing quite that harsh, but not far off.” Rasul looked thoughtful a moment. “Anything especially rough, I will be in charge of. You give her pleasure, I’ll handle any corrections that need to be made.”
Corrections? “Right. Good.”
“You and I are partners tonight, in giving my wife this experience.”
Jeremy nodded again.
“Her fantasies have much to do with getting bossed around. Sometimes with being held down, treated harshly, being controlled.”
“Okay.”
“Not always. But often. Sometimes she simply wants to do as she’s told. I can read her like a book, so I hope you’ll trust me as much as she does, and believe that whatever I tell you to do, it’s what she wants.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Good. She’s also a complicated person, with a complicated past. She was hurt when she was young, by men
. It’s made her how she is now, sexually, but that doesn’t mean she’s over it. Not completely. If you do anything without my word that upsets her, I too will be very upset.”
Jeremy suppressed an urge to swallow, not wanting to give away his nerves. “I understand.”
“And if at any point you want to run down the stairs and out into the night, do so. We don’t want you to feel like a whore.”
He laughed. “I don’t. I feel honored, really.” He nearly added “sir” then bit his tongue. “Like you said, I’m here to make Emily happy.”
Rasul nodded. “Good.”
“Any, um…any tips?” Jeremy asked.
A sly smile softened his host’s stern expression. “I suppose… She likes noises. I’m not very noisy, so you will be a treat for her, if you are.”
“I can do that.”
“Don’t call her ‘angel’. It’s a nasty trigger.”
Jeremy conjured the vague, shadowy faces of those men Rasul had mentioned and made a mental note, underlining it twice.
“Also, you’re coming last tonight,” Rasul added.
Jeremy didn’t have the first clue if the reality of the evening’s events would have him red-hot or wilting with intimidation, so he merely nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Would you ever ask her to do this for you? Bring another woman in…” He stopped speaking as Rasul grasped him once again by the shoulder, thumb pressed uncomfortably close to his throat.
Rasul blinked and stared past Jeremy’s face, seeming thoughtful for several seconds before speaking. His words were slow and cold. “I would sooner die than allow my wife to wonder for a single moment if another woman could stir in me any fraction of the desire she does.”
Jeremy swallowed, the action feeling choked. Rasul let him go and Jeremy resisted the urge to rub his neck.
Rasul’s voice returned to its relatively civil tone. “So no. No I would not.”
“Understood.”
Rasul leaned back in his chair. “Time to head upstairs, I think. I need to lock up first. Use the bathroom if you like.” Rasul nodded toward a door between the kitchen and den. “The bedroom is right across from the stairs, when you’re ready.”
Jeremy accepted the offer, wishing he’d thought to bring a toothbrush. He splashed water on his face and tried to tidy his messy hair, breathing deeply until the adrenaline dissipated. He thought of Emily, her curves in that slinky dress, and his cock grew warm and heavy. That in itself was a relief. He couldn’t honestly own sleeping with another man’s wife as a kink, but his body wanted this. He wanted Emily, and now he was being offered her, with no adulterous, guilt- or dread-inducing strings attached. And holy shit, she wanted him right back.
He finished in the bathroom and the second he shut the door behind him, his heart was hammering.
He glanced at the front door, the emergency exit, but before he knew it he was padding up the silent steps to the second floor. Their bedroom was the only source of light…dim light, so that when he gently pushed the door in, he felt distinctly like an intruder.
Emily was sitting on the big bed still in her dress, barefoot. She’d let her hair down and when she smiled, Jeremy had to remind himself firmly of that name he couldn’t call her. Rasul was standing at the foot of the bed, also barefoot, but looking just as Jeremy had imagined—like a drill sergeant. His huge arms were locked across his chest and his black eyes were glued on Jeremy.
Wanting to fit the protocol, Jeremy toed off his sneakers and socks and left them by the door.
“You two have thought about this for a while now,” Rasul said.
Jeremy glanced nervously to Emily.
“Maybe not this, exactly,” Emily said.
“What about you?” Rasul asked Jeremy. “What things have you thought about my wife?”
He nodded, mustering the courage to meet Rasul’s gaze. “I’ve thought about her. Being with her.”
“Fucking her?” There it was, that harsh coldness he’d been anticipating.
“Yeah,” Jeremy admitted. “I’ve thought about that.” He looked to Emily. She wore a small grin, bashful or scheming, possibly both.
“I know you’ve thought about him,” Rasul said to her.
“Only when you tell me to.”
Jeremy’s cock relinquished enough blood to allow him to blush at such a thought—that he’d already been a part of their sex life. That Emily may have been thinking of him when she’d been fucking Rasul, thinking about Jeremy as she’d come, maybe. Maybe coming because of her thoughts of him. His blood headed south again.
“You want to kiss him?” Rasul asked.
Emily nodded. Rasul uncrossed his arms and waved to Jeremy. She stood from the bed and approached.
She was average height, Jeremy on the tall side. So often she was standing and he was sitting, and she seemed very small here, in this unfamiliar space. She stared up at him and he realized she was just about the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Not glamorous, not crazy-sexy, but pretty. Soft in all those places his clients worked so hard to make firm. Cute, but with full lips and melancholy eyes that took the girlishness away, gave her the slightest edge. Damn, those lips. She ran her tongue over them now, and panic kicked Jeremy in the butt. Was she waiting for his move, or were they both waiting for Rasul’s command? He glanced to his left.
Rasul gave the most minuscule nod—a dip of his chin and a narrowing of his hooded eyes.
Jeremy looked back down at Emily’s face. Cautiously, he reached up to touch her neck. The most skin-on-skin contact they’d ever shared. And only the beginning, tonight. She returned the gesture, putting her palm to his chest. He could feel her warmth through his tee shirt and imagined other warmth… His cock stiffened further.
“Go on,” she whispered.
Kissing. Right. He banished dirtier acts from his mind and leaned in.
Her lips were soft, and they felt just exactly as he’d guessed. Thoughts of how they might feel wrapped around his dick tugged at him, but he fought and kept his attention on the present. She parted those perfect lips and he took the invitation, deepening the kiss. As his tongue swept against hers, he slid his fingers into her hair. It felt like high school, like his first time ever making out with a girl. He doubted his skills but at the same time, couldn’t give much of a damn. Emily kissed back. The palm on his chest slid up to cup his jaw and she angled her head, taking them from deep to dirty. More than anything else in the world, Jeremy wanted to press their bodies together and make her feel how hard he was for her. Waiting for permission was torture. Torture was a small price to pay, however.
Rasul’s voice broke through the haze. “Enough.”
They stepped apart and Jeremy caught Emily’s gaze jump to his crotch for a split second.
“Let her see you,” Rasul said.
Jeremy looked to the man uncertainly.
“Strip.”
Right. No mistaking that order.
“You too,” Rasul said to Emily. “To your underwear.”
Jeremy tugged his shirt off and tossed it toward his shoes. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans, kicking them away. Emily carefully removed her necklace and set it on the dresser. She peeled her clingy dress over her head in one slow, smooth motion, static making her long hair dance. Her panties and bra were pink and red and Jeremy took back his earlier assessment. Not merely pretty. Crazy-sexy, after all.
“Are you happy?” Rasul asked her.
She smiled as she swept her gaze up and down Jeremy’s body, lingering on his abdomen or the erection straining at his boxer briefs.
“Very happy.”
Jeremy was all at once grateful for his job. He never could have guessed she’d study him this way, so hungrily, but he felt proud that his body seemed to please her. It redoubled his lust, making him want to please her in any way she could think of. Exactly the mission he’d been recruited for.
She stepped forward, her eyes darting to her husband for some veiled permission before she touched
him, running a hand lightly over his belly.
“Wow,” she murmured.
Jeremy was tempted to laugh. He might have a couple inches on the man, but Rasul was built like a Marine. Jeremy looked more like what he was—a distance runner who happened to know his way around weight machines. Lean and toned but not jacked. But as her hands stroked his chest, his shoulders, his arms…he felt big.
She lingered at his stomach, and her touch made his breath hitch, made his muscles clench and release beneath her palms.
“I like your body,” she murmured.
“I like yours.” He prayed for an invitation to touch her, but none arrived. Not yet.
Her hands explored his hips, thumbs stroking tauntingly close to his cock.
“It’s been years since I’ve touched someone new,” she said. “Or even seen anyone naked.” She slipped her fingertips inside his waistband and drew them across his belly, not quite peeking.
Jeremy didn’t downplay the labored breath that rattled from his chest. She liked sounds, Rasul had said, and he’d let her hear every last gasp and whimper she inspired.
“You’ve been on my mind, lately,” Emily said. “When he and I…” She nodded to her husband.
“Oh?”
She smiled down at her busy, torturing hands. “Mm hmm.”
“What about me?” Jeremy asked.
“Oh, about you watching us. Since I don’t know what you’re like in bed. Yet.”
Yet. He let that word tumble around his skull as the pleasure simmering between his legs surged to a boil.
“What are you like?” she asked. “Or what do you like?”
“I’m here to please you,” he said with a glance to his left.
“Well, tell me this,” Emily drawled. Goddamn, she knew how to abuse a man with that accent. “When you’ve thought about tonight, what did you imagine?” Finally, she traced the side of his erection with her fingertip.
Jeremy twitched and fought to compose himself. “I, um… I thought about being on top, I guess. And I thought about your mouth. On me.”
The mouth in question quirked into an evil smile. “Oh?”
