Revenge Sex: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 1

by Jasmine Haynes

  “Ah,” Mitch said again, then drained his drink. “Well, this has been extremely interesting. I’m meeting a client for dinner.” He raised that cocky brow of his again. “Perhaps you’ll be here later.”

  She smiled, tipped her head coquettishly. “You never know.”

  Then Mitch wended through a few tables and hit the lobby floor, heading back toward the bank of elevators.

  That was easy. There hadn’t even been an awkward moment where she’d had to get rid of him. Lucky girl. After a last sip of wine, Jessica picked up her purse, winked at the bartender, then went straight to Clay’s table, sidling in beside him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

  She sighed. “I’m picking up a man.”

  “Liar,” he said mildly.

  “I am not. But here’s the problem. He’s staying at some dumpy motel down the street, and I don’t want to go there. So I need a room.”

  “Jessica,” he started.

  She leaned in close. It was a bold gambit, but this felt like her one-and-only chance, and she was willing to do anything. “Isn’t this what you like your women to do? Be with other men. Then come back to you.” She waited a beat, let it sink in, until his nostrils flared, and she knew she had him. “Give me your key. I want to use your room.”

  He swallowed. She’d rendered him speechless. But then he pulled a card key from his shirt pocket. She took it and slid him Holt’s drink napkin. “Write the room number on here. I’ll call you when I’m done.” She leaned close, her lips almost touching his cheek. “Then you can come up and fuck me.” She licked the shell of his ear. “If I’ve got enough energy left over for you.” She bit his lobe, climbed out of the booth with both the key and the napkin and sashayed across the bar.

  When she glanced back at him from the entrance, she was sure the man was shell-shocked.

  * * * * *

  She’d been so close, Clay could smell her arousal on her. Jessica never sashayed. His heart did a slow roll in his chest simply watching. It had taken nothing more than that and her husky voice to enslave him.

  He’d been going crazy the last forty-eight hours, wanting her, yet telling himself it was crazy. Her scent clung to his clothes, lingered in his office, drove him absolutely mad.

  It had never been like this with Ruby. Sexy, hot, exceptionally fun, yes, but not frantic, not raging lust. His pulse raced. He could actually feel his heart beating against his chest. His balls ached. His cock throbbed. He needed, wanted, could think of nothing else. It had been good with Ruby, but this was completely explosive.

  As he waited, he’d almost finished the second beer he’d ordered. He wasn’t drunk on alcohol. He was drunk on her. How did she know where he was staying? He’d told no one but Holt.

  What the fuck did it matter? She was here. Upstairs. With the guy she’d picked up right there at the bar. He honestly couldn’t believe it of Jessica.

  But then he’d never have figured her for having a fuck buddy either.

  So much for the professional distance he’d wanted to maintain. He couldn’t have walked away even if he knew this was the biggest mistake of his life, which it very well could be. Everything was wrong. It didn’t matter one goddamn bit that this was what Ruby had told him to do. Have a fling. Pay her back. A little revenge sex.

  He’d seen Jessica the moment she entered the bar. The lady in black. He’d had to do a double take; it was a good thing Holt hadn’t noticed.

  Christ, he’d gotten hard right then. He watched her flirt with the bartender, his heart pounding in his chest, his blood thick in his veins. There was a potent mix of desire, jealousy, and need. It was never just one thing, wanting her to fuck. It was about all the other emotions that were rolled into it, hoping she wouldn’t do it, praying she would, needing to bury his face between her legs. All this crazy stuff that drove him absolutely mad until all he could think about was taking her, claiming her. It was elemental, like stags fighting, yet it was humbling as he was forced to wait. The insane concoction of emotions exploded in desire and need and unbelievable sex.

  He’d enjoyed sex with Ruby. But Christ, he needed it with Jessica. He couldn’t live without it. Not through this night, not through this moment.

  Then his phone rang. He knew it was her without even looking.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clay had gotten a second room card. The door slid open silently. There was only the ratta-tat-tat of his heart against his chest. Light spilled out of the bathroom door, illuminating the hallway and her high heels on the carpet, along with lacy black panties, as if the guy had started on her right there without even making it into the bedroom proper. Steam from a recent shower still fogged the bathroom mirror, a towel tossed aside in the corner.

  A combination of soap and sex scented the air. His head felt as clouded as the mirror. His fingers itched to touch her. Need was an ache in his balls.

  Ahead lay the room, the curtains still open, lights glimmering through the window. The fluffy white robe that had hung on the bathroom hook now lay across the desk chair. Only one bedside lamp was on.

  Her legs slightly splayed, one knee crooked, Jessica was the picture of a woman who had just been thoroughly taken. She wore thigh-high stockings, the only bit of clothing remaining. Her cell phone lay beside her. Her eyes were closed, her tousled blond hair spread out across the thick pillow. More pillows were scattered around her, tossed every which way, the rumpled comforter pushed to the bottom of the bed. Foil wrappers, lubricant, her vibrator, and an open box of condoms littered the side table. Another foil packet lay on the floor, unopened, next to her pile of clothing, which had been dropped right where he must have stripped her down. A bra hung over the lampshade on the far side of the bed.

  Cataloguing each item, Clay trembled with desire even as his belly roiled with envy. The man had tasted her, sucked her, fucked her. He’d used two condoms to debauch her, showered, and left, all in exactly one hour. In her prone position, she was sated, relaxed. Asleep? She hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word.

  He didn’t fall on her like a wild beast. He simply savored her scent, her beauty, the creaminess of her skin. She’d hidden so much perfection beneath her daily work suits and blouses. Her breasts were small yet her rosy nipples were succulent, still beaded and begging for his mouth. Her legs encased in black were strong and firm. The dew of her orgasms pearled on her pubic curls, which were trimmed but fuller than Ruby’s.

  Orgasms, yes, she would have had more than one.

  His gut actually twisted knowing the other man had fucked her before he’d even been inside her, yet his cock throbbed with the images. Christ, he should have begged to watch.

  She stretched then, raising her arms over her head, swishing her legs on the mattress, a sweet little mmm of pleasure escaping her. Then she opened her eyes. They were dark, almost a slate blue. “Weeell,” she said, stretching out the word and punctuating with a sigh. “I just don’t know if I can take care of you, too.” She made another of those sexy hums, then rolled in the bed, pulling up one knee and tucking a pillow along her stomach, hugging it like it was a man. “He wore me out.” She snuggled deeper into the pillow.

  The smooth lines of her flank made him crazy. He wanted to lick her, kiss her, bite her, spank her. But her teasing put him over the edge.

  He climbed onto the bed. “Bitch,” he muttered just before he fell on her.

  She wriggled beneath him. “Get off.”

  He rolled her, pinned her, held her arms over her head. “Tell me what he did to you.”

  Her gaze was blazing. She couldn’t have known, even he didn’t know how badly he wanted a battle, but the fight sizzled between them, firing all his neurons, turning him concrete hard.

  He pushed her legs apart, rode her center.. “Tell me everything.”

  Her tight nipples brushed his chest. “Why? Is that the only way you can get it up?”

  “Oh, I’m up, sweetheart.” He thrust hard against her.

  She g
asped, but managed to hold back the moan he knew hovered on her lips, dying to break free. “He was superb,” she whispered, closing her eyes, tipping her head back, arching into him. “I can’t count the number of times he made me come.”

  He swelled, wanting to crush all thoughts of the other man out of her mind, but needing the words, too. The clash of contrasting emotions made him tremble with need as he braced himself above her.

  “He was on you the moment you unlocked the door, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. No kissing, no preliminaries. Just his hands up my skirt like he was dying for me.” She tossed her head, as if the memory made her wild all over again.

  “And you loved it like a bitch in heat.”

  She parted her lips, sucked in a breath. “God, yes.”

  “With all that teasing in the bar, I’m surprised you didn’t let him put his hand up your skirt then.”

  She opened her eyes, glared at him. “Somebody needed to, because you certainly haven’t taken care of me.”

  He rocked and rolled against her, feeling her heat through his slacks, her sexual musk intoxicating him. “I made you come so hard you wouldn’t have been able to stand up if I wasn’t holding you.”

  She smirked. “Right. But you didn’t finish it either time, and you gave me that crap about maintaining our professional relationship.” She suddenly clawed down his arms with her nails, leaving her mark on him without breaking skin.

  The pain was so fucking good, he groaned with it. She was putting him through the wringer, and he deserved it. He’d hurt her. She’d confessed her fantasies, but when he finally touched her, he’d ended it before fucking her and cited all the reasons they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. But he had touched her, twice, and he’d wanted her, and fuck if he could continue to breathe if he didn’t have it all now.

  “Screw professional,” she muttered, then latched onto him with her fingers as if they were talons. “Take me now. Or I’ll call him back”—she smiled maliciously—“and have him finish what you can’t.”

  “Fuck if you will.” He reached down between them, found her damp center. “You need this, you need me. He was just an appetizer, but he wasn’t man enough to take you the way you need it.”

  She moaned and writhed beneath him. Her body was slick, hot, delicious. He had to taste her. Trapping her chin in his hands, he took her lips. She was so fucking sweet. Their mouths melded, their tongues caressed, and she shivered with his touch still deep between her legs.

  “He couldn’t kiss you like that,” he murmured against her mouth. “He couldn’t kiss you like he’d dreamed of doing it for three fucking years.”

  She laughed at him. “You didn’t dream about it. You didn’t even really see me.”

  He trailed kisses across her cheeks, until his lips were at her ear. “Oh, I dreamed. I wanted. I just couldn’t have. Did he kiss you like this?” He swiped his tongue along her ear and felt her body’s tremble deep inside his own.

  “He didn’t kiss me.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, held him close against her neck for a long moment, then she fisted her hand and yanked him away, snarling at him like a lioness he was trying to subdue.

  Again, the sharp pain ratcheted his desire higher. He wasn’t a masochist, but he loved the battle.

  “But he licked me,” she said, “and sucked me until I screamed.”

  She was goading him. He slid down her body, trailing his lips along her skin. Then he tasted it, the salty sweetness of come on her chest. “He came on you.” Jesus, she would make him mad. He sucked her nipples, licked them clean.

  “I made him.” She lifted his head by the hair. “So you’d know how much of a man he is. All that come.”

  “I’ll make you come until you scream.” And louder than her previous lover.

  “Ho hum,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Been there, done that tonight already.”

  A challenge. He crawled down her delectable body, her skin quivering beneath each kiss he laid upon her. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he pushed her legs wider.

  “My God, you’re beautiful.” He’d touched her, he’d even licked her to a orgasm, but he hadn’t taken enough time to appreciate her sweet scent, her plump folds, or the tight button of her clit swollen with need.

  “Don’t be silly.” She was on her elbows, watching him as she had that first time. Christ, that need of hers to see made him crazy.

  “He didn’t tell you what a gorgeous pussy you have, did he?”

  She blushed, then rolled her lips between her teeth to hide the smile so he wouldn’t know how much she liked the compliment.

  “You are beautiful,” he affirmed. He’d never allowed himself the fantasies, but they’d been waiting for him just below the surface, first with that quick punch to the gut when he saw her, wanted her, followed by the inevitable tick of guilt.

  But tonight he’d have everything. “I need to taste you or go completely insane.” He touched his tongue to her, worried the bead of her clitoris.

  She gasped sharply, then held her breath as she watched him. As he licked, teased, and suckled, he watched her: eyes slate blue, teeth biting into her lower lip, breasts plump and beckoning, the slight flutter of her heart visible beneath her flushed, rosy skin.

  Her taste burst on his tongue, and he relished each droplet of moisture. She was so wet, so sweet. Her body undulated against him. He grabbed her butt cheeks in his palms and took her with fervor.

  She whispered only one word. “Yes.” Then her breath sighed out with a moan of pleasure. She put her hand on his head, fingers playing lightly in his hair as if she had to touch him while he pleasured her.

  He slid a finger into her pussy as he played her clit with his thumb. She rocked. He grazed her G-spot. She was small and tight around him. He imagined the feel of her around his cock.

  Each time he felt her body on the edge of release, he pulled back, slowed down, then pushed her higher on the precipice. Over and over, until finally, she cried out his name.

  “Please, oh God, please, Clay.”

  Then, with two fingers inside her, his tongue and lips driving her, he pushed her over the edge.

  She screamed. Then she begged. “Clay, please. I need you. Now. Inside me.” As he moved over her, her hands clutched him close, her arms smothered him. He took her lips, letting her taste herself, taste him. Locking her legs around his hips, she mimicked sex, rocking with him. “Please, please, please,” she chanted on a mere breath.

  Her needs fueled his. Her cries dragged him under with her. He had to be inside her, and with the last working brain cell, he reached to the side table for her box of condoms.

  Pulling back on his haunches between her legs, he unzipped and pulled his cock out. “Help me put it on.”

  “Look at you,” she whispered. She licked her lips, then she looked up at him. And smiled. “Oh, Mr. Blackwell, I’ve decided we shouldn’t rush this.”

  She wrapped her hand around him, and he knew she was going to kill him with pleasure before she was done with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He was big, beautiful, thick, and rock hard. He filled her hand, pulsing against her palm.

  “You’re killing me her, Miss Murphy.”

  He was playing into her fantasy. She loved it. Her body was still wet and trembling from that orgasm, better even than the ones he’d given her in his office. Certainly better than the few she’d warmed herself up with before he got to the room.

  “I’m not going to waste this, Mr. Blackwell.” Not letting him go, she twisted her legs beneath her, and leaned down to the slit of his cock.

  He jerked at the small swipe of her tongue over him. “God.” Then he sucked in a breath as she engulfed the head of his cock. “Fuck.”

  She glanced up to see his head drop back. How often had she dreamed of this? Reality was so much better. The drop of come was salty-sweet. She wanted more. She didn’t want this night to end.

  Holding him tight, s
he slid slowly down until her lips met her fist, then a long glide all the way back up again. His legs shook. She backed off, working him gently with her hand. “I never could have guessed, Mr. Blackwell, that you were hiding that under all those expensive suits,” she mimicked him. On Wednesday, she’d taken him in her hands, but she’d been too wrapped up in what he’d been doing to her to take full stock of him.

  “I wasn’t hiding, Miss Murphy. You just never asked to see it up close and personal.”

  She stroked him, a prominent vein in his cock throbbing against her palm. “I was a silly girl, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, you were.” He pushed his hand through her hair, tugging her head back to look at him. “Better than the other cock you had tonight?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “You can’t imagine how much better.” Then she took him deep again, loving the taste, the feel, his thick hard flesh all hers.

  She wasn’t sure if he realized she’d had him on about Mitch. Already scented with come from her visit to Vince earlier, she’d set the stage, then used the vibrator to exhaust herself. Or at least to make it look like she was completely sated.

  What had he called that? The appetizer.

  This was the main course. Working him with both her mouth and her hand, she let his need rise, but kept the pace slow. She wanted to tease him the way he had her, getting her a hairsbreadth from orgasm, then backing off, until she’d needed it so badly, she’d actually felt tears.

  “Jesus.” He shot a harsh breath through his nostrils as she circled the sensitive ridge beneath his crown. Then she sucked the tip, stroking him with two fingers right below. He shuddered, and she knew she’d hit the perfect spot.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said between quick breaths. “Miss Murphy, do not make me come in your mouth.”

  She trailed off, licking another drop of sweet come from the slit of his cock. “Oh, Mr. Blackwell, my earlier friend came twice, why can’t you?”