Playtime with Sera (Siren Publishing Menage and More)
Page 1
PLAYTIME WITH SERA
Laura Ashton
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
PLAYTIME WITH SERA
Copyright © 2010 by Laura Ashton
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-781-0
First E-book Publication: July 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Regarding E-book Piracy
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DEDICATION
Playtime with Sera is dedicated to my readers around the world, both old and new. It is for your entertainment I write, and I hope you have as much fun reading Playtime with Sera as I did writing it.
PLAYTIME WITH SERA
LAURA ASHTON
Copyright © 2010
Chapter One – Surprise
It all started with a phone message. “Hi baby, it’s me. I ran into an old buddy today who I haven’t seen since college. We’re going out for a couple drinks at five, and well…I’d like you to meet Jack. Why don’t you get all fixed up like you do? You know—good enough to eat—and meet us at Christo’s for dinner. I’ll make reservations for seven at three, umm, better make that three at seven. I love you.” He finished with a kiss.
Sweet man, Marc. A real find, though he’s always saying he got the best of the bargain. Others said so too, though she didn’t buy into that. True, he’s not quite as good looking as her first husband. Hmm…She cupped her chin. His name was Jack, too. God, that man could send her into orbit. Problem was, when they weren’t floating through the heavens just above their bed having glorious, hot, erotic sex, they’d argue and fight like a couple of spoiled kids. Truthfully they had nothing in common except sumptuous, erotic sex. Moreover, his looks were a magnet for women. Her best friend even went after him. After their divorce, she took a new job and moved to Phoenix, after which her ex and former best friend got married.
Oh well, Marcus was rock steady, nice looking, great in bed, too, and—and this was a big one—he made her laugh. Life was fun with Marc. She missed him already. She had better go and make herself pretty like he asked.
At six-fifteen, she pulled up to the valet. She took a quick look in the rearview mirror and reassured herself she looked good. She did. She should. Beauty was her business. She was a fashion model.
She wore her long light-chestnut hair up, curled, and tied at the back with a white ribbon. Three loose ringlets hung beside her lightly blushed cheeks, the way Marc liked it. Her deep brown eyes were lightly shadowed in a silvery blue blend. And of course her full lips gleamed with her trademark crystal peach lipstick. She topped that off with a low cut, black and white, full, above-the-knee cocktail dress plus wrap, open toed, three-and-a-half-inch heeled white sandals with a bow. She looked good enough—as they say—“to die for.” After the valet picked his jaw up from the ground, he opened the door of her six-figure Mercedes convertible. She got out and strutted into Christo’s as if she didn’t have a care in the world, which she didn’t…yet.
She knew Marc had made the reservations for seven o’clock, so she turned right and headed straight into…eek, Jack.
“Excuse me, I didn’t see you…Sera? Is that you? You are fucking gorgeous.”
Oh, yeah, she forgot. Jack had a foul mouth. “I’m meeting my husband and a friend. What the eff are you doing here?” To be fair, she’d been known to throw a few F-bombs around, too. “Don’t tell me you’re the friend?”
His eyes grew wide in realization as he inquired, “Marc?”
She nodded earnestly and grabbed his arm. “Let’s talk in the foyer.” She jerked him toward the reception area. When out of ear and eyeshot from the lounge, she turned to her ex. “All right, buster. What the eff is going on?”
With his eyes still wide open, he shrugged. “I ran into Marc at a business meeting this morning. We were roommates at college for three years, right here at ASU. God, Sera, you look good enough to eat.”
“That’s the idea.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I always look good. I looked good for you, but you only notice what you don’t have.”
He stepped away. This man, who could start a fire in her belly with a glance, stroked and titillated her body with his searing brown eyes as his gaze wandered over every inch of her, and some places twice. He hadn’t changed. He was still Adonis incarnate, and she was ready to melt. She staggered and his arms reached out in support, but not the kind of support she needed. With his large strong hands wrapped around her bare arms, her pulse shot skyward and her heart pounded so loud she felt it in her ears.
“Boy, did I fuck up,” he admitted.
God help her. In the eighteen months she and Marc had been married she’d never even thought about another man. Now, a little incubus whispered in her ear, “Lift up your skirt, pull down your panties and say, ‘Take me, I’m yours.’”
“Beth didn’t hold a candle to you.”
The mention of Beth allowed her to regain some measure of composure. She felt her jaw tighten. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, “and just how is dear, sweet Bet
h?”
“Oh, that’s one of the things Marc and I are celebrating. My divorce became final the day before yesterday.”
Jesus, the man is on the prowl. Can it get any worse?
“You know, I’m really sorry about the foul up with the hotel reservation. I promise I’ll keep such a low profile, you won’t even notice I’m staying with you for the three-day weekend.”
The man she was ready to disrobe for right there was going to be staying with them? This can’t be real. She pinched herself. Oww! It was real all right. How could she get out of this with her honor intact? Is suicide honorable? “Let me get this straight. My ex-husband divorces my ex-best friend and my husband and I are going to help you celebrate? Why would we do that?”
He cocked his head with a silly smile gracing his sexy lips, stuck his palms out to the side face up, and shrugged. “You wouldn’t. Marc says we’re going to find me a girlfriend. A nice Arizona girl.”
“Good, I can dig that, but what are we going to do? Marc would die if he found out the jerk I was—”
“What do you mean jerk?”
“That’s what I call you—jerk. I think having an affair with my best friend and then marrying her qualifies you for that title. Don’t you?”
He scratched his wavy dark hair. “Yeah, I guess. Seeing you again makes me realize what a jerk I was. I only wish I could go back in time and rectify things. I would buy you a dozen roses every day of the week.”
A maudlin urge made her lift her hand to his face. Her long stiletto-tipped fingers caressed his cheek. “I did love you, but it wouldn’t matter. If I were yours again, you wouldn’t notice me. You’re a tomcat at heart—so many women, so little time. Why did you divorce Beth?”
“She divorced me.” He looked at her, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his beautiful face. She didn’t ask the question, but he answered it. “Yes, I cheated on her—several times.”
A girl walked by carrying a tray of plastic-enclosed solitary roses. He raised his hand. “Miss.” When he had her attention, he waved her over. He looked over the assortment and picked out a yellow rose with red edges. He handed the girl ten dollars and presented the rose to her. “Do you know what this means?”
“That you love me?”
He smiled warmly. “That goes without saying. But the rose means something else. It means I wish to start anew. I know I don’t deserve you as a lover, and Marc really is a good friend, so in this case it means I’d like to be your friend.”
She was touched. She used the side of her forefinger to wipe away a budding tear. “What are we going to do about Marc?”
A Mona Lisa smile added to his devilish handsomeness and he nodded his head sideways. “I don’t know how we could keep it a secret, and if we tried and he found out, it would hurt him. Tell him I’m the jerk you were married to.”
“You’re sure?”
“Why not? Men look up to Lotharios.”
She scrunched her nose and looked heavenward. “Ain’t that the truth.”
He offered his arm. She wrapped hers around his, and they walked into the dark cocktail lounge to face the music.
Chapter Two – Dinner and Dancing
Marcus was somewhat philosophical about it all. “Well, if she had to be married and sleeping with someone before me, I suppose someone I know and like would be best.” He put his arm around her and with his scotch and soda in his other hand, offered a toast to Jack. They reached across her, clinked glasses as Marc toasted, “I hope you enjoyed your time with my little honey as much as I do.”
“I’ll bet you do—toast.” She gasped from the heat of Jack’s left hand searing her thigh as his right reached across her, holding his margarita on the rocks and clinked Marc’s glass. “Here’s to my ex, whom I loved even as I cheated on her, and still love. I’m delirious she found someone as dependable and steady as you to take care of her.”
With brows furrowed, she turned to Jack. “You still love me?”
He nodded. “Never stopped, and for the record, Beth targeted and came after me.”
Marc raised a finger. “I have a question. I thought you said your married name was Foster?”
Jack said, “I can answer that.” He reached in his wallet and handed Marc a business card. “Until I was out of college, it was easier to use my mother’s married name—Collins. When mother died, I went back to the name on my birth certificate—Foster.”
“So the same Jack Collins I knew became Jack Foster who married my little honey.”
“Something like that, except she was my honey then.”
Marc rose. “Of course. Well, I guess that explains it. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Shall we go to the dining room?”
The hostess seated them in a booth located in a very nice part of the dining room, near a working fountain and a replica of Discobolus, the ancient Greek statue of a disc thrower. Jack, remembering her fondness for Beaujolais, ordered a hundred-dollar bottle. She’d never had a wine that sublime. It tasted so good, she savored it on her palate for a few seconds with each sip before swallowing.
Too soon, the bottle was emptied. Marc rescued the situation with a second bottle, and when the wine steward finished filling their glasses, Sera offered a toast of her own. “To love and friendship, may they blend.”
Jack and Marc clinked their goblets to hers, but Marc asked, “What the hell does that mean?”
Batting her eyelashes, Sera giggled and shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounded good.”
* * * *
The three of them ordered the specialty of the house—rack of lamb. As usual, it was delicious, but she only ate about half of hers. Having these two virile men on each side of her, both of whom she’d been intimate with, served to curb her appetite. She was on edge. She wanted to screw and she didn’t really care who. Of course, she wasn’t about to start cheating on Marc, so it was a foregone conclusion who would be taking care of her needs that night. “What shall we do now?”
Marc looked at her funny. “We? Jack and I thought we’d go out and, you know, look for someone for Jack. I told him he needs a nice Arizona honey. Forget those California babes. They may be hot, but they can singe your hair, and they have sharp claws.”
“Yeah, we thought we’d hit a nightclub and then maybe a gentleman’s club.”
She clapped her hands excitedly. “I like dancing and I’ve always wanted to see what a strip club was like.” She took Marc’s hand in hers and kissed it. “Let me go with you…please.”
Marc’s answer was deflating. “We’ll take you dancing, but a strip joint is no place for a lady like you.”
She flopped back in her chair and sulked.
“Come on, Sera. You’re a fine lady and ladies don’t go into strip joints.”
She snarled, “Yes they do. I even have a friend who had a lap dance.”
Jack frowned. “Is she a lesbo?”
She shook her head. “A woman doesn’t have to be a lesbo to enjoy entertainment of any kind. Besides, she has three kids and a husband.”
“Come on, Marc. Lighten up. I see nothing wrong with Sera going to those places with us. Besides, I like having her along. Let’s take her.”
Marc nodded with hesitation. “All right, but it’s against my better judgment.” He raised a hand and called the waiter, “Garcon, could we have the check?”
* * * *
Friction was the hottest dance club in Scottsdale. By the time they got there, it was nine o’clock and the club was just beginning to fill up. They grabbed a booth near the dance floor, but no one danced. She was flying a little high from the wine she drank, and she wondered about Marc’s sobriety. Then again, he was almost a hundred pounds heavier.
Jack’s tangy cologne teased her nose and his warm breath sent shivers through her as he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Shall we get everyone dancing?”
She looked at Marc, who seemed to know what she was going to ask, and gave her an approving nod. Sliding out of the booth, he allowed the
m out. Jack’s arm circled her waist for the short walk to the dance floor where they danced loosely to If Today was Your Last Day by Nickelback. As Jack predicted, a half-dozen other couples joined them as soon as they stepped onto the floor.
When they returned, a frozen margarita waited for her. She thought Marc scooted out to let them in, but she was wrong. “It’s my turn to dance with the most beautiful woman in Scottsdale.”
She reached over to her drink and, grabbing it by the stem, she took a refreshing sip. “I’m ready now.” Please Don’t Leave Me by Pink played when they made it out to the dance floor, and they danced fast. A slow song she didn’t recognize started to play next, so she headed toward their booth.
Marc grabbed her wrist. “I’d like to dance this one.” She edged up to him and, as lovers often do, he wrapped both his arms around her waist just above her bottom, then pulled her in tight. As much as seeing Jack again turned her on, her husband was no slouch. Being so close to him with her breasts rubbing against his chest, and his erection pressing into her abdomen, ignited a flame in her nether regions. Well on the way, she had a feeling before this night ended she would be a sexed-up wreck.
He dipped his head to her shoulder and tattooed a line of butterfly kisses across the curve of her neck and up to her ear. His warm breath on her neck and ear seemed to paralyze her thoughts, as her personal temperature soared.
He whispered, “Do you wish you were still with him?”
Oh my poor baby. He doesn’t deserve this. Reaching behind his head, she pulled his lips toward hers while running a hand through his sandy hair. She pecked him on the lips, then ran her wet tongue over his bottom one, slowly parting her lips, inviting him in. His tongue took its time entering her mouth, first dipping in the trough between her lips and gums. Her breathing became a peculiar mixture of gasps and pants blending with sensuous moans.