The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing)

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The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 6

by Jasmine Haynes


  “I’m sorry.” There was a hell of a lot more to that story, but she was pissed at herself for prying. She didn’t want to turn things sour.

  He changed the subject. “When are you leaving tomorrow?” The official conference ended after the keynote speech at lunch, though the booths in the exhibit hall would remain open.

  “I’m staying the weekend. I’ve got the Sunday evening flight out at six-thirty. My husband wanted me to check out the area. He thinks Florida might be a good place to retire.”

  “I can’t imagine you in a retirement home any more than I can see you as a grandmother.”

  She laughed. “Not a home. Just a house out here. Property is cheaper, and the tax situation is better than California.”

  “So you’d really like to come out here?”

  The humidity wasn’t a plus, that was for sure. “I’m willing to look.” He’d started a slow, rhythmic caress against her belly, messing with her concentration. She could stay in his bed a while longer. It was barely after nine. “When are you leaving?” If he had a late flight out tomorrow, they’d have time in the afternoon for a little something.

  “I’m staying the weekend, too.”

  She lay there a moment considering. She hadn’t thought beyond tomorrow afternoon and sneaking in one last quickie.

  His hand slipped down her belly, over her mound, and down her thigh. He nudged her until she lifted her leg and tucked her foot behind his calf, spreading herself for him. Tunneling down between her legs, he stroked, and she arched against him, a low moan rising up her throat.

  The weekend. Two days and two nights. Keith had told her to indulge herself. She was going to take him at his word. Tonight had been too good not to repeat.

  * * * * *

  She’d left him sometime in the middle of the night but not before he’d had her again twice. He’d always enjoyed sex, but she made him crave it. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  Before going downstairs for breakfast Friday morning, he bagged his clothes for the laundry service and extended his room stay for two extra nights. He then changed his flight to the same Sunday flight she was taking. Yeah, he’d lied, but he’d do anything necessary to have the whole weekend with her. While the out-bound flight had one stop, the home flight was direct, and they would arrive before nine on the West Coast. They could change their seats when they checked in and sit together, even if that meant they were in the back of the plane. He would have those extra five hours with her before he had to turn her over to her husband.

  He had one more errand, a brisk walk down to the pharmacy a block away for another package of condoms. He didn’t make it to the dining room until close to the end of the breakfast hour, but she was there, seated at an empty table for eight. The busboy cleaned away the dirty plates, utensils, mugs, and napkins littering the white cloth.

  “Need a partner for house-hunting this afternoon?” he asked as he set his plate on the table and sat next to her. The room was thinning out and so was the buffet, the eggs hardening in the warming pan. He’d settled for coffee, fruit, and a bagel.

  “Wouldn’t you prefer something touristy like the Kennedy Space Center?”

  He’d prefer being with her, no matter where. He was well aware that he was bulldozing her into spending the afternoon with him. “It’ll give me a chance to see the area.”

  “I’m going out to Ocala. It’s about an hour and a half drive.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm this afternoon.” She was certainly trying to talk him out of it.

  “A little rain won’t hurt me.”

  She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. “All right, house-hunting it is. I want to leave right after lunch.”

  He wanted to take her hand under the table. Instead, he ate his bagel while she finished her toast, and they agreed to meet at the garage elevator.

  She was his for the weekend, and he planned on spending every minute of it with her.

  * * * * *

  Did he plan on spending every minute of the entire weekend with her?

  Zoe was nervous but secretly thrilled. She hadn’t called Keith to say she was house-hunting with Spence. They’d talked in terms of sex, not spending time together. As odd as it sounded, this was more intimate. But honestly, a little company while she was driving would be nice.

  She’d printed a listing of houses for sale in the Ocala area, though she hadn’t made appointments to see any. Basically, she wanted to compare prices, check areas and locales just to get an idea of what could be purchased in the $300,000 range. Even after the housing drop in 2008, you still couldn’t touch anything decent at that price in California.

  Armed with her list, she met Spence in the lobby. Groups of people were checking out, the foyer was awash in luggage carts and roller cases. The rain hadn’t started, but the clouds were dark. In deference to the muggy heat outside, Spence wore shorts and deck shoes, and she’d donned another sundress.

  He didn’t touch her as they rode the elevator down to the garage. In fact, they’d barely acknowledged each other, still playing the game for any conventioneers they might see.

  “The car’s over there.” She beeped the compact’s remote and opened the driver’s door. Climbing in, she laid the list on the center console, then tossed her purse into the backseat.

  Spence was on her the moment his door banged shut, his hand on her chin holding her captive for a ravaging kiss that stole her breath.

  “I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he said, his lips still touching hers.

  “You messed up my lipstick,” she said, her tone dreamy. She was totally under his spell.

  “Don’t fix it. I’m definitely going to be stealing more kisses.”

  Regardless, she fixed the smudges in the review mirror, but didn’t apply new. Her heart was thudding as she backed out of the space. She hadn’t enjoyed the dance of sex in years. For married people, it faded away with time. Her trysts away from home had more an element of calculation in them. Spence made it fun again. Maybe it was that they’d had two nights together already and were past the usual awkwardness.

  She pointed to her list on the console. “You want to type a couple of these into the GPS?” She’d brought her own handheld device. “I played around with maps on the Internet, and I think I’ve got them in a fairly good order so we’re not backtracking.”

  He studied the addresses as she pulled out of the garage and headed to the freeway. The sky above was leaden.

  “You expect to get to all these places?”

  “Probably not. It’s just my starting point.”

  “You’re very industrious.” He began keying in addresses. “I’m sure I’ll learn more about Florida than I ever wanted to know.”

  She laughed with him. The lady on the GPS told her the next turn.

  “I can’t listen to her the whole way.” Spence turned off the voice.

  “Then you’ll have to tell me where to go.”

  “Oh, I’ll delight in telling you exactly where to go.” He leaned in to lick the shell of her ear. A shiver of desire ran through her.

  “Keep to your own side of the car.” But she loved the sexy, flirty touching. The first raindrops hit as they entered the freeway, huge splotches on the windscreen.

  “Head up to Highway 40,” he said, reading the purple line on the GPS.

  She remembered that from her mapping. It had appeared to be a primarily two-lane road. “It goes through the Ocala National Forest, so that should be a nice ride.”

  It wasn’t more than a couple of exits up the freeway. At this point, Highway 40 was still four lanes with strip malls and gas stations along either side. Those quickly ended, and a grassy median separated them from oncoming traffic. The rain was intermittent, splashing for long moments, then abruptly stopped, only to start again another mile down the road.

  “Look. There’s an open house.” Spence pointed through the rain-streaked windshield. “Might as well che
ck it out.”

  She and Keith had started with Ocala because it was farther from the coast and hurricane damage. But if she wanted to see what their money could buy, an open house was worth visiting.

  She followed the signs into the subdivision, passing through an unmanned security hut. A large ribbon sign advertised models, but Zoe followed the smaller sign to the open house. She’d prefer to see something that hadn’t been tricked out like model homes usually were.

  “Nice place,” Spence mused.

  The streets were wide, the lawns thick, the yards large. There were few fences separating the properties, and most homes had screened-in pools, to keep out the bugs, she assumed.

  She pulled to the curb outside a bungalow fronted by tall, leafy bushes. “At least we’ve got a break from the rain for the moment.”

  Stepping out of the car, she was hit by a wall of heat. With the rain, she didn’t expect it; if anything, it was hotter and more humid that the past two days had been.

  The double doors opened as if the real estate agent had been peering out the window. “Come on in. It’ll start raining again any second.” She waved them in.

  Over sixty, with round rimless glasses and a short, gray cap of hair, she was thin as a rail. “Hi, folks.” She flourished a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “I’d love you to sign our guestbook, then feel free to have a look around.” Her accent was definitely southern, but didn’t have the twang Zoe associated with the deep south.

  The front doors opened onto a tiled entryway, with a half wall on the right that looked over a dining room, which was indicated by the low-hanging chandelier in the center. The house was empty of furniture. Straight ahead, two steps down brought you to an open area, probably the living room, with a big hole in the middle of the parquet.

  “That’s going to be fixed next week,” the agent said, following Zoe’s gaze.

  She and Spence exchanged looks.

  The floor plan was excessively open, too much for Zoe’s taste. Beyond the living room was a wall of windows and a sliding glass door to the pool deck. To the right of the front entry, they could see back into the kitchen and a large room that was obviously the family room. Zoe and Spence followed the agent to the guestbook sitting on the kitchen island.

  “All the cabinets have been replaced, new countertops, and all new appliances.” The floor, however, was an old-style linoleum made to look like red bricks.

  Zoe signed and picked up the flyer next to the book. The agent’s name was Millie Hargrove, the house was 2500 square feet, priced at $299,000, with four bedrooms, two full baths, one half.

  “Where are you folks from?” Millie asked.

  “California,” Spence supplied.

  “You’re thinking of moving to Florida?”

  Spence smiled, took Zoe’s hand, and raised her fingers to his lips. “We’ve discussed retiring out here so we’re getting the lay of the land, so to speak.”

  “Marvelous,” Millie enthused. “I’m sure you’re shocked at what you can get for your money. And no earthquakes.”

  Zoe’s face was burning from the loving kiss and the heated look in Spence’s eyes. “No earthquakes, true,” she said, trying to concentrate on the mission, “but what about hurricane insurance? Isn’t that very expensive?”

  “It’s actually wind insurance. The further you are from the coast, the cheaper.” She quoted a cost that was relatively close to California’s earthquake insurance.

  She asked about property taxes and homeowner’s association fees and how much it cost to run the air conditioner, all the practical questions, while Spence held her hand. He stroked her palm sensuously, then dropped her hand to put an arm around her, running his fingers up and down her arm until she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She wasn’t going to remember a single sentence of the information Millie doled out.

  Millie flourished her hand again. “Take a look around. The laundry room and half bath are there”—off the kitchen and next to the garage—“and the bedrooms are in the back.”

  The door was on the opposite side of the family room. Spence put his hand to the small of her back, devilishly close to her rear, and pushed her ahead of him.

  “You are a bad, bad man,” she whispered as soon as they were in the bedroom wing.

  He dropped his palm to her butt and squeezed. She slapped at him, stifling a girlish giggle Millie might overhear. “It needs work,” she said. All the bedroom doors had cat scratches on the bottoms, and the main bathroom on the left needed a complete overhaul.

  She led him into the master bedroom which had a large two-sink bathroom. Spence pulled her into the walk-in closet and pushed her up against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “You got me all hot and bothered talking about insurance and property taxes and HOA fees, and now I want a little sugar.” He drawled, imitating Millie, as he shoved his hands up her dress. “Thank God your lipstick is already gone so we won’t have to worry about fixing it.” Then he covered her mouth with his, kissed her hard, his tongue deep.

  She protested with a moan. Well, it might not have been a protest, especially when he slipped inside the elastic of her panties and stroked her. Her arms, which should have been pushing at him, wrapped around his neck, and she curled her leg low on his thigh, giving him better access to all her private, aching, needy parts.

  He caressed her, then delved deep inside her with two fingers. “Christ, you’re wet.”

  She moaned, rocked against him, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he circled her clitoris. It was crazy. Millie could walk back here at any moment, her footsteps masked on the carpet. Yet Zoe clung to him, begging for more. Putting her head back against the wall, she breathed hard, gasped, and clamped her teeth down on her lip to keep from crying out.

  “You’re gonna come, baby,” he whispered. “Right here, right now.”

  She held on by her fingernails, digging them into his shoulders. He worked her harder, sweeter, until she felt her body implode, then shoot out, stars bursting behind her lids.

  Chapter Seven

  He held her long moments as her body quaked, until finally she lowered her foot to the floor. He righted her panties, smoothed her dress, then licked his fingers clean of her sweet taste. His gaze locked with hers, she was so close he could see her pupils dilate.

  “You are bad,” she whispered, her voice a low, sexy pitch, lips tipped in a seductive curve.

  “I thought I was being very good. Bad would have been if I’d lifted your dress and fucked you.” He leaned in for a quick, delicious kiss. “Which I wanted to do, by the way.”

  She slapped his arm lightly. “This was better. It was all about me.” She pushed him aside and exited the closet with a provocative saunter that got him hard again. After he’d tried so hard to tamp down his body’s natural reaction. Thank God the shorts were loose.

  Her voice carried from the kitchen. “Thanks so much for all the information, Millie. I’ll keep your card for the next time we’re here.” She held her hand out to Spence. “Baby, we have to get to Ocala by three.”

  He took her hand and the endearment she offered. There was a softness to her features and a difference in the way she walked, a sway that was absent when they’d entered the house. A man would look at her and think sex on a stick. Millie looked and didn’t know what she was seeing, maybe a multiple personality.

  Spencer followed her to the car. It was a good thing it was her rental and she had to do the driving. Because he had plans.

  * * * * *

  “Stop that. I’m going to have an accident.” Zoe trapped his hand on her thigh before it slid under her dress. It was raining again, fat drops that forced her to put the wipers on high.

  “Spoilsport,” he grumbled, but he didn’t stop stroking her thigh.

  Half an hour past that sexy play in the closet, her body was still humming, ready, waiting, begging for more. Spence hadn’t stopped touching her. She’d had to swat him mor
e than once. God help her, she loved it, though. She hadn’t felt this sexy in God knew how long. Yes, there was more to marriage than sex, but she’d missed the desire. She’d missed the flirting.

  They passed through an intersection on the two-lane highway, with one gas station, a small grocery, and a barn on the three corners, an empty lot on the fourth. She didn’t catch the name of the town before it disappeared behind them and the greenery rose on either side of them again, tall, spindly trees. Birch, maybe, he couldn’t be sure.

  He leaned in to nibble her ear. She swatted him once more. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’m hot for you, baby. And I didn’t get an orgasm in the closet. Maybe I should drive and you can blow me.”

  She laughed out loud. “I’m not letting you wreck my rental car.” Her mouth watered for him. She should have at least tasted him when they were in the closet.

  “I won’t have an accident. I can come and drive at the same time.”

  She shot a sideways glance at his smug expression. “You’ve had a blow job while driving?”

  He gave her a cocky grin. “For sure, dude. More than once.”

  “You’re a complete slut.”

  “And proud of it,” he quipped.

  But there was more to him. She’d sensed that last night when he’d talked about the young lover who had died.

  In the swish of the wipers, brake lights flashed ahead of her. She slowed and came to rest behind a line of cars. Now that she’d thought about it, she hadn’t seen more than a couple of cars coming in the opposite direction for at least five minutes.

  “What’s going on?” She couldn’t see past the stalled vehicles to determine the holdup, but ahead, drivers were climbing out of their cars.

  “I’ll check,” Spence said.

  “You’ll get soaked.”

  But he’d already opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Rounding the hood, he walked a couple of car lengths, stopped to talk to another driver, then headed back.

  His polo shirt was plastered to his skin, his hair soaked to the color of dark copper. “Tree down across the road. It must have just happened because there’s no emergency vehicles on scene. Some guy’s trying to move it with a winch on his truck, but so far, it’s not budging.

 

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