Zoe nodded, and the transaction was done.
Five marvelous days. They were almost over.
They made it through security in less than fifteen minutes, unheard of back in San Francisco.
“Where do you want to eat?” Spence asked.
They’d decided on having dinner at the airport so they wouldn’t be hungry on the plane. Most of the fast food places had long lines. “Mexican,” she said. It was sit-down.
They lingered over dinner. She ordered a margarita, licking the salt from the rim.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
She eyed the family next to them, but they were loud and engrossed and wouldn’t notice a thing. So she gave him a long kiss laden with salt and the sweet margarita.
“It tastes like you when I licked you last night after I came all over you.”
She glanced at the family. Still engrossed. Besides, his words were low enough for her ears only. She didn’t want to get on that plane. She didn’t want to go home yet. She didn’t want to suggest they bring Keith’s fantasy to life, the one he’d suggested last night where he licked her clean of Spence’s come.
None of that was reality. Right now there was just Spence, just her, just the taste of salt and margarita between them.
Of course the flight was finally called. She was one step closer to home. Once Keith picked her up, her five-day fantasy would be over.
Which is probably why she let Spence lay a blanket over their laps once they’d settled in. Because it was cold in the back of the plane. Honestly. It had nothing to do with the fact that raising the armrest between them allowed him to touch her under the blanket. Or drag her hand over to his lap.
“You are so bad,” she said—she’d been saying it all weekend—when the air hostesses pushed the carts to the front of the plan to start drink service. The plane was far from full, and their entire row was empty. Of course, when the other passengers began lining up to use the bathroom, he’d have to stop.
“Baby,” he whispered, “I’m not bad, I’m so good. Think I can make you come?”
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. But she wanted it. His touch. The last time. Because it had to end. She didn’t play at home, only on trips. She also didn’t play with customers; once they got home, his company would be one of their beta testers.
He dared, of course, stroking up her thigh until his hand was hot and heavy beneath the hem of her sundress.
“If you didn’t want me to do this, you would have worn jeans and a jacket like you did on the flight out here.”
She couldn’t deny it.
“Spread your legs for me, baby.”
She felt like a teenager again, crazy in lust, and she let him in, putting her head back against the seat, falling completely under his spell.
* * * * *
He’d made her come countless times under cover of the blanket. She could come so silently when she chose. He’d fed her snacks he’d purchased in the airport and only kissed her when his hand wasn’t between her legs. That way they didn’t get caught. He’d taken the window seat specifically so he could watch. When he’d pulled her hand into his lap, he hadn’t unzipped, hadn’t come; he’d simply savored her touch.
A transcontinental flight had never seemed so short. Suddenly, the tinny voice came over the intercom telling everyone to shut down their electronic devices, stow their tray tables, and raise their seatbacks to prepare for landing.
Too soon. Too fucking soon.
“You are the most incorrigible sex maniac I’ve ever known.” She smiled, obviously not feeling that time was running out at all. She was getting ready to go home to her husband.
He leaned in. “And you are a dirty, pretty little slut.”
Her eyes sparkled as brightly as her sequins had on the flight out. Days ago. It seemed like forever. As if everything had changed.
“That’s such a lovely term of endearment.”
It was. She was his slut. Letting her go was—
The plane landed with a thump on the tarmac, and the deceleration put his equilibrium off balance. Or maybe that was her. Her scent. Her closeness. The deep brown of her eyes. The silk of her hair brushing his arm.
God, letting her go was just plain fucking wrong. And inevitable. It had been from the moment he’d seen the wedding ring on her finger as she passed him in the aisleway.
He hadn’t needed a woman since he was eighteen. Correct that. He’d lost Fiona, and he hadn’t allowed himself to need a woman. Until this woman. Why her? Because her hair was long and dark and silky like Fiona’s? No, it was more than that; it had to be.
“Send me that photo,” he whispered in her ear as the plane taxied to the terminal.
“What photo?” There was something in her eye. A glint. Or maybe it was a flicker of fear.
“The one of you sucking my cock.”
She stared at him a moment. “You know that’s against the rules.”
Fuck the rules. He didn’t say it. She was going to walk away, leaving him nothing, but he didn’t beg.
With the announcement of their arrival at the gate, she rose with everyone else, opening the overhead bin.
“I’ll get it.” The case was his. It would be heavy. She could hurt herself.
She was already pulling it forward, holding it with one hand underneath, and letting it glide to the aisle. She didn’t need him. Her husband was waiting for her. She had a man to go home to.
“Thanks.” Spence pulled his computer case from beneath the seat in front of him. Then he reached for hers.
She’d already tugged it out and looped her purse strap over her head. She glanced down the aisle. “It’s going to take forever,” she said without any inflection to indicate what she was thinking, feeling. Until she leaned in close, tantalizing him with her scent, and whispered, “My legs are so weak after what you did to me for hours and hours.”
“Dirty, pretty little slut,” he said back.
“Why, thank you.”
They bantered on the sly as they waited, the line shuffling slowly forward. His mind worked overtime for something to say that would make her… Jesus, make her do what? Follow him out to his car parked in the long-term lot?
He was crazy. The sex had been amazing, but what they’d had together didn’t even amount to a week.
He followed her up the gangway, stayed at her side in the terminal until they arrived in the center outside the stores and restaurants. Then he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Come here.” He pulled her out of the throng of travelers, pushed her up against the wall, dropped his case and held her face in his hands.
“I have to go,” she said, her eyes shifting over his features until her gaze settled on his lips.
He took her with a kiss that was so long, so sweet, so deep, that he simply stopped breathing.
Then he let her go. A crowd exiting from another flight swallowed her. She was gone. And he was alone.
Chapter Ten
Spence gave her three minutes before he followed. The knot of strangers around her ebbed and flowed. Some took the moving walkway, but she made her way down the center at a brisk pace, her hips swaying. A man passing glanced back at her. She was oblivious.
Passing security, she headed down the escalators to baggage claim. She took out her phone, hit a number, and held it to her ear. Her husband was probably circling outside.
Lifting his rollerboard, Spence started down the center stairs just as she was getting off at the bottom of the escalator. She’d already put the phone away.
Was it pathetic to watch her until she got her suitcase off the baggage carousel?
But she didn’t follow everyone to the carousel. She stepped into the arms of a man. Spence felt a sickening thud in his chest.
The man kissed her cheek, turned, took her hand and headed to the carousels amid a flock of travelers. Tall, gray-haired, distinguished. He reminded Spence of Holt Montgomery. No beer belly, no thickened waistline, no wizened, aged face. The years had been
too kind. Except that they’d stolen his manhood and sent his wife out looking for sex with strangers.
Someone bumped him from behind, and he realized he’d interrupted the flow. He could catch a shuttle to long-term parking outside, but he allowed himself to be shuffled into the baggage claim area along with everyone else.
Keith, that was his name, was chattering at her, alternating between putting his arm around her then pulling away, shifting, moving, talking.
What did she see in the man? He was fifteen years older than her. He’d already done his child-rearing by the time he married her, so he hadn’t even let her have children. All right, that’s not the way she’d put it, but the man hadn’t done right by her.
The carousel turned, bags started sliding down the conveyor, and the crowd surged forward, searching for their belongings. Keith Hudson moved with them, craning his neck.
Though Spence willed her, Zoe didn’t turn, didn’t look for him in the throng.
She was home now. With her husband. Their fantasy trip was over. It was simple jealousy making him trash the man. He was probably a nice guy. Zoe wouldn’t have chosen a dickhead.
It was time to let go. He needed to pick up his damn car and forget about her.
* * * * *
Keith slid the SD card from her camera into the multifunction, big screen TV. The night she’d made the video with Spence, she’d told Keith they should watch it together, but now Zoe wasn’t so sure about seeing herself in sixty-five-inch high definition. With a naughty wiggle of his eyebrows, Keith insisted.
“Let’s make popcorn,” he said as he fiddled with the remote.
“I am not having popcorn while I watch a porno of myself.” She laughed, but honestly, this wasn’t a popcorn event. She was sure the camera would show every lump, bump, and wrinkle on her body. They’d gotten home from the airport late last night and postponed the viewing, much to Keith’s disappointment, until tonight. Now, she was tired, having worked late to catch up after four days away. Thankfully, Keith had made dinner and done the dishes.
He glanced at her over the rims of his reading glasses. “It’s not porn, sweetheart. It’s erotica.” Then he slid the glasses down his nose to decipher the buttons on the remote.
“Let’s have some wine instead.” That might dull her senses.
“Great idea.”
She padded into the kitchen. They’d downsized when his kids had gone to college and no longer stayed with them, moving into this three-bedroom, two-bath house in the Los Altos hills. They had no formal dining or living room. The kitchen and family room constituted a square with a separating wall running half the width of the family room and a long granite island between the dining area and kitchen. From the island, she watched Keith grumble at the remote as she pulled wine from the fridge to pour two glasses.
“Figured it out yet?” Personally, she hated remotes.
“No, but I will. I gotta see this guy, I really do.”
She set the wineglass on the edge of the coffee table within his reach and returned to her corner of the couch. “I don’t think you even see him. There’s just me and his…”
“Big fat cock deep inside you,” Keith finished for her. He stopped his remote manipulating to cast her a sly glance. “It was hot, sweetheart. Listening to you make all those sexy noises while he was calling you dirty names.”
“I think they’re more like terms of endearment,” she said primly as she leaned against the arm of the couch, curling her feet beneath her.
Keith barked a laugh. “He didn’t strike me as a man who even knows any endearments.”
He was wrong. Spence had known all the right words. But she didn’t refute Keith. She hadn’t told him anything about Spence, not about the trip to St. Augustine or that he lived in the Bay Area. As far as Keith knew, Saturday night’s phone call had been made from Spence’s hotel room in Daytona. She hadn’t lied, but she’d certainly omitted.
“Ah,” Keith exclaimed. “Here we are.” Her body filled the screen, her moans echoed in the room. “Okay, let me go back to the beginning.”
The family room was blessedly silent a moment. Then there was a shot of her spread legs and her hand wrapped around Spence’s cock as she rubbed the tip against her pussy.
And Spence’s seductive voice. “That’s hot, totally hot.”
Her skin flushed, her nipples peaked, and she was suddenly wet. She felt him all over again, the steel of his flesh in her hand, his heat as she caressed herself with his cock.
“Christ, he’s huge.” Keith settled into his end of the couch, wine in hand.
“We need a little lube.” The sexy, throaty voice didn’t even sound like her. On screen, she poured the lube on him, then slathered it all over herself, too.
“Now I need to call my husband. Don’t enter me till he answers.” She wiped a smear of lube on her thigh before she picked up her phone.
“Good job, sweetheart,” Keith said. “Always looking out for me.”
She had that night. But she’d stopped, and it became all about her and Spence.
“Hi, honey.” She was looking directly at the camera. At Keith. But that night, she’d been watching Spence, feeling Spence.
He entered her slowly, her hand guiding him. “Oh God, honey.” Her voice was singsong. “That’s so good. He’s so big. God, yes, so good.” She paused as if Keith was saying something, then added, “I thought it would hurt, but I feel perfectly filled.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“Damn,” Keith cursed and crossed his legs. “I wish I’d been watching that night. I can’t even remember what I was saying to you.”
Zoe couldn’t remember either. And now, she could almost feel Spence’s cock breaching her, her body accommodating him. So good, so perfect.
“Tell him he’s going to love this video,” Spence said like a voiceover. She didn’t repeat the words, but they’d been loud enough for Keith to hear, and after a sexy little sound from her, Spence ordered her to use her vibrator.
“He’s such a cocky fuck.” Keith glanced at her, put his hand on the seat cushion between them as if he expected her to reach out to him. “He’s perfect.”
He was. Yet she’d handed his card to her sales guy today, given it away. Avoided temptation. Still, as if it were a trick of the mind, she could see his email address before her eyes. Spencer dot Benedict at the company’s domain. So easy.
She didn’t want to share this with Keith. She wanted to hold it close, keep it only for her. Walking away from Spence last night had been the hardest thing she’d done since Keith first asked her to fuck other men for him. She could still taste that last kiss, still feel his body imprinted against hers, still smell him on her skin. The video made it all vividly alive again.
God, she was in trouble.
Keith didn’t notice a thing. He kept talking about how fucking hot it was, how big Spence was, how good she looked stretched wide. On screen, she panted, chanted, spoke to Keith.
Then the camera panned up her body. She’d been afraid she’d pick on everything, but, in that moment, she’d never loved her own body more. Keith was right, it was far from porn. She was beautiful, Spence’s cock gorgeous, their movements imprinted in time like a classic painting.
She came in sixty-five-inch glory, doubling over, her body shaking, her legs quivering as she cried out, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Zoe felt the same burst of heat inside her, a tactile memory. She wanted, needed. Then the video starting rolling, tumbling, turned a fuzzy dark gray, and there was just the sound of bodies connecting, unintelligible words, grunts, groans, moans; some hers, some his.
“I could hear all that on the phone,” Keith said. Spence had tossed the camera to take her hard, turning her mindless. She didn’t even remember what she’d done with the phone. Probably dropped it on the bed beside her.
“It was so fucking hot listening to you.” Keith cocked his head. “Hear that? Raw sex,” he said with a hissing emphasis. “He simply fucked the hell out of you. I was so dam
n hard.”
Oh yes, she remembered how good it had been. In three years, she’d never experienced the like with all her fooling around.
“Holy hell.” Spence’s muffled voice. He added something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A moment later he muttered, “It’s still running,” and shortly after that she said, “Honey, are you still there?”
The video ended.
“Fuck, I’m hard all over again.” Keith palmed his lap.
She was wet. And it wasn’t for her husband. It should have been a terrible thought, but wasn’t this whole hotwifing predicated upon her enjoying other men? That’s all she’d done, enjoy Spence.
“It’s made me wet,” she told him. She had to give him that. She wanted to. He was her husband. Spence was just a fling. They’d started hotwifing to add spice to their marriage. It had worked; Keith was hard.
“I love how the guy used you. You could hear it in the video.”
It hadn’t felt like that at all. “You want me to be used?” She gave the word emphasis.
“Yeah. It’s hot to think of him forcing you to do whatever he wants. Like that picture of you sucking his cock, his hand fisted in your hair, making you take all of him.”
She wished now that she’d let Spence have the picture. She wanted him to remember her just like that, to remember how good his cock felt in her mouth. He’d actually looked slightly hurt when she refused. “It really wasn’t using.”
“I know that. It was staged.” Keith shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to see you truly raped. But it’s hot imagining him forcing you. I think that guy has some nasty stuff inside him.”
She remembered the lover who’d died. Yes, Spence had some painful stuff inside him, but he’d never forced her, never used her. He’d played the game for Keith’s benefit.
“He was more of an asshole to you,” she reminded him.
He shook his head slightly. “That was just male one-upmanship. It actually got me going, you know. The true cuckold.”
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 9