“I’ve asked Holt to allow me to be the one to make this announcement on his behalf,” Sutton began. No one ever used his first name; he was always Mr. Sutton to his face. Spence had only discovered it was Rance by reading the annual report.
“He and I have discussed this, and I’ve given my full endorsement.”
Shit. Was Holt leaving them as CEO? Spence caught Ward’s eye. He was hot and heavy with Holt’s daughter, so he probably knew what was coming. Dickhead. He should have given Spence a heads-up.
“Ruby Williams, Holt’s illustrious executive assistant.” Sutton flourished a hand to indicate her as if none of them knew who she was, not that anyone could miss Ruby in her red power suit. “Well, Ruby and Holt are getting married.”
Holy shit. He almost let the words slip right past his lips. There were mutters and raised eyebrows and hushed whispers. Except from Clay and Ward.
Sutton went on. “I find nothing in our company policy that precludes this, and I give them a hearty round of applause.” He clapped. Everyone joined him. Then there was the obligatory backslapping awarded to Holt, though no one actually hugged Ruby.
“You okay with this?” he asked Clay in a voice that didn’t carry over the good cheer.
There was that shit-eating grin again. “Oh yeah. Perfectly happy.”
Two months ago, Ruby had been living with Clay. Then Ruby was gone, and Clay was dating Jessica, who used to be his Accounting manager. She’d left the company to be a controller elsewhere, but everyone knew she’d done it in order to date the boss. West Coast, on occasion, could be a hotbed of sexual scandal.
What made it okay for Ruby and Holt, boss and executive assistant, but not Jessica and Clay? Ah yes, it was the money. A CFO and the Accounting manager could hide all sorts of illegal activity. It was a matter of collusion.
“So when are we going to hear some announcement about you?” Spence asked.
Clay smiled. Actually, he looked supremely self-satisfied. “We shall see,” he said enigmatically.
After doing his share of the congratulating, Spence followed Ward out, grabbed his arm in the hall. “Dude, you were holding out on me.”
Ward pushed his glasses up his nose. “Cassandra swore me to secrecy.”
They headed down the stairs. “This is wild.” Spence grinned broadly. “Do you realize that when you and Cassandra get married”—it was a foregone conclusion, as far as he was concerned, just a matter of when—“that Ruby Williams will be your mother-in-law?”
“Jesus, don’t even start saying that kind of crap.”
“Scary thought, huh.”
“It’s even scarier being in the same room with the two of them.”
Ruby and Cassandra. Spence shuddered. “Wow. Dude. I feel for you.”
All joking aside, he was damned pleased for Ward. He’d never seen the guy so relaxed. He’d even venture to say happy.
His little pep talk that day at lunch might very well have worked for Ward. Maybe he needed to take his own advice. Enjoy the moment, forget the past and the future. He was going to make sure Zoe took that advice, too.
Chapter Fourteen
Zoe had her doctor’s appointment on Monday, gave them blood for the tests. Then she’d caught a bug that had taken her down for two days, though it might also have been something she ate. It seemed like one minute she was fine, the next she was throwing up. Today, Friday, was her first day back. The distraction had postponed her date with her husband and Spence. She hadn’t called or texted with Spence in a week.
That was actually a good thing, because she had to think it all through. That night in the hallway with Keith, exactly one week ago, she’d had to fantasize about Spence to make herself come. Three years she’d been waiting to generate that kind of heat with Keith, and when it finally happened, all she could do was think about another man.
Was she becoming too attached? Or was she simply splitting her emotions in two? Keith was home and real life; Spence was sex and fantasy. She wanted to believe that’s all it was. Lust. Like those first few weeks or months when you met a new man and you were absolutely crazy with lust, thinking about him all the time, saving his messages so you could listen to his voice for a quick little jolt when you couldn’t actually talk to him.
She hadn’t felt that in years. You loved a man, but you got over all the other stuff. Maybe that’s why people cheated, because they needed that feeling. She didn’t have to cheat to get it; her husband actually wanted her to have it. Except that she hadn’t felt the same thing with anyone but Spence.
But what if it fundamentally changed her relationship with Keith? That’s what she feared. It was supposed to be simple. A business trip. Some hot sex. A few phone calls to Keith. Some dirty pictures. But suddenly on Friday night, it wasn’t so simple anymore. Everything had become very complicated.
Her desk phone buzzed. How long had she been daydreaming? She glanced at caller ID. It was Jeff Myers from the sales group. “Hello.”
“Hey, I’ve got the guys from West Coast down here, and they’ve got a couple of specifics on the tracking module.”
“Isn’t Don there? He can answer anything.” She’d worked with Don on the programming. She told him what she wanted, and he wrote the specific code.
“They want it from the user side. It’ll just take a few, Zoe. I’ll buy you lunch,” he threw in as inducement.
“All right.” She tried not to sound ungracious, but she was afraid Spence would be there. Of course, there would be no reason for his involvement. Still, she had a feeling.
The Bay Metals contingent consisted of Jeff, Don, Rod from Quality, and Earl, their VP of Manufacturing. Not only did they have to sell the tracking system, but they had to repair the relationship damaged by poor product. West Coast was represented by the manufacturing VP, David Farris, Tricia Connelly from Finance, who would manage the consignment account, Paul from Production Planning, responsible for target tracking and replenishment.
And Spence.
“Nice to see you again,” Zoe said politely. An electric current passed between them as they shook hands. He held her gaze longer than necessary, and his look spoke volumes. He’d had her in Florida, he’d had her a week ago, and he’d have her again while her husband watched. He wasn’t going to let her back out. Maybe that’s why he’d come today, so she’d know that a week without contact wouldn’t stop him.
When he finally let her go, she was lightheaded.
The boardroom was the only facility large enough to hold all of them. Don had hooked up his laptop and was displaying the screens that West Coast’s planners would have to use.
“What we want to know is when the liability changes hands,” David Farris asked. He was intense, his hazel eyes sharp.
“At the point you load the spent target onto our truck,” she told him. That was standard when they were transporting.
“Then it follows that our consignment account is adjusted when it leaves our door.”
“Yes,” she agreed, aware of Spence’s eyes on her. He wore a half smile that anyone else might have thought was interest in the subject, but she decoded the message he was telegraphing. I’m here. I’m waiting. I’m not letting you get out of it.
“We don’t actually require payment for usage until it’s verified on our end. The integrated system streamlines how we process your usage, and the turnaround time on new targets is much faster.”
David Farris asked for a few more details, then glanced at Tricia. “I’m sure you’ve got questions from the accounting perspective.”
She was a pretty woman in her midthirties, with short blond hair cut in a bob. She smiled at David, and there was something there, a hint of interest. Zoe glanced at Spence, and he winked. God only knew why, maybe because he saw the same thing. Or because he wouldn’t let Zoe forget about him. There was the cocky asshole in him that Keith liked so much.
She fielded the accounting questions, demonstrating on Don’s computer. It took far longer than she’d anticipated
, certainly not the few minutes Jeff had quoted. But if they got West Coast back, it would be a major coup.
At eleven-thirty, their receptionist brought in a tray of gourmet sandwiches. Zoe declined, citing her work. She’d no sooner left the boardroom, though, when Spence followed her. The hallway outside was empty.
“I wish you hadn’t done that. They’re going to wonder.”
He raised a brow. “I said I needed to use the facilities. You’re avoiding me.”
“I told you I’d call you when—” She shrugged, indicating the when she’d call him about.
He trailed a hand down her arm, leaving a shiver in its wake. She glanced both ways down the hall. Still alone.
“You don’t want to do this for him, do you?” he asked softly.
She swallowed hard. “No,” she answered softly. “I don’t want to do it for him.” She’d been looking at the carpet, but now she raised her eyes to his. “I want to do it for me.” The answer had always been yes despite her need to think.
He held her gaze a long moment. “I’m good to go.”
She knew he meant that his test results were clear. “So am I.” There was nothing stopping them. Not even her husband.
“Tomorrow night,” he said.
The boardroom door opened. Don headed past them, a polite smile on his face.
“Thanks,” Spence said, his voice louder now. “You’ve been a great help.”
She looked at him. “I’ll email with the information,” she answered as the boardroom door behind her opened again, this time to reveal Tricia Connelly.
“Ladies’ room the same way?” she asked.
Zoe smiled and pointed.
“Is that a yes?” Spence asked low and soft when Tricia disappeared into the ladies’ room.
She’d dreamed about it for a week. “Yes. And you didn’t have to show up today to give me an extra push.”
He grinned. “I came for the free lunch.”
* * * * *
He was pushing. He knew it and didn’t care. Zoe needed this. He felt that in his gut. If you added all their days and nights together, it was still less than a week. It wasn’t enough time to show her how gorgeous and amazing she was. It wasn’t enough time to renew her belief in her desirability. That’s what he needed to do for her. He’d promised her he’d fuck her so good that her husband wouldn’t be able to stop himself from joining in. His body would simply react, come to life.
Sure she was a little weirded out. She and her husband hadn’t done this before. He’d never been present, watching. But this time he would be the director. And she was nervous.
If, in Spence’s mind, it was all about besting the other man, well, that was his business. He wouldn’t tell her. But the challenge would make it all the better for her.
That night she sent him a text. They wanted him to come to their house at eight o’clock tomorrow night.
His heart beat hard in his chest, and he had to admit to himself there was no altruistic motive. He simply wanted her any way he could have her. Even if he had to be the other man.
* * * * *
The house was larger than his, with an enclosed courtyard filled with hanging plants and bordered by raised beds blooming with hydrangeas, annual flowers, and roses. Their perfume settled in the air without a hint of breeze to dispel it.
She answered his knock wearing tight, butt-hugging shorts and a stretchy top that clung to her breasts. Her nipples were plainly visible, dark aureoles against the white material. When she saw him, they peaked.
“Keith had to go out, but come on in.”
The husband’s game was kinky, this hide-and-seek thing, if you could call it that.
She took his hand, laced her fingers with his, led him down the hall. There was an office on the left, then a family room through a large arch on the right, another bedroom on the right, almost directly opposite the kitchen doorway. The hardwood floors were polished to a shine, everything neat and uncluttered. She had a few knickknacks and seemed to favor cloisonné.
Walking backwards, a sexy, sultry smile on her lips, she led him to a bedroom at the end of the hall. Gone was the woman of yesterday who didn’t seem to know what she wanted. This woman exuded sexuality. It drifted off her like the perfume off the roses. Her lips were darkly painted, her makeup slightly heavier than she normally wore, perhaps in deference to the camera he knew would be hidden somewhere.
The bed was situated in front of a bay window that looked over the backyard. A door led to a deck shared with the kitchen and dining room. Mirrored closet doors filled the opposite wall. One end was slightly open, the interior dark. It was long past dusk, but she’d lit only one lamp, on the bedside table closest to the closet. The bed sat on a platform with drawers and was covered by a thick comforter of swirling blues and purples.
The stage was set. Her vibrator lay in the center, a bottle of lube on the table. There were no condoms. This time they wouldn’t need them.
Leading him to the foot of the bed, she turned, making sure their bodies were angled toward the closet. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled him close. “Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said louder than necessary.
He held her chin in his hand, brought her lips close to his. “I want to fuck the hell out of you. I want to make you come twenty-five times.” More than last Friday.
“Do you want me to suck your cock?”
“Yeah. But first I want you to kiss me.”
She hesitated a moment, turned her head slightly as if she’d look at the closet, then stopped herself. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Cupping his cheeks in her palms, she pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him openmouthed, tongue searching, playing, teasing. Slowly, she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck, deepening the kiss, controlling it. He ran his hands along the waistband of her shorts, then dipped his fingers into her back pockets and hauled her as close as he could get her.
He was hard. He was ready. But the kiss was too good to let go. He could take this for hours without begging for another thing.
She pulled back, her breathing fast. He could feel the thump of her heart against his chest. “Make me be bad for you.”
“Baby, I don’t need to make you. You can be so bad without even prompting.” He reached behind, grabbed a handful of comforter and dragged it to the bottom of the bed. Then he put his hands beneath her armpits, hauled her high and tossed her into the center. She landed with a cry, then a laugh, fishing the vibrator from beneath her.
He heard a sound, a gasp or a grunt, inside the closet. Yeah, good old Keith would get off on watching his wife being manhandled.
Crawling up the bed, he straddled her legs. “We need these shorts off. Now.” She wasn’t wearing a belt, and all he had to do was tug on the button, pull, and the zipper slid down. His hands on the waistband, he knee-walked back, yanking everything down, including her miniscule panties. He threw the shorts and lacy underwear toward the closet. “Better,” he said, staring down at the triangle of hair between her legs.
“Oh my God,” she said in a loud, harsh whisper. “What are you going to make me do?”
He pushed her thighs apart, put a hand on her pussy. “You’re wet already, you dirty slut.”
She smiled, almost a smirk. “Of course I am. My husband made me masturbate for the camera. To get me ready for you.”
He eased a finger between her lips, stroked the hard bead of her clit. “You don’t need to get ready for me, baby, and you know it. Just thinking about me makes you sizzle.” Keith oughta love that, pure cocky asshole.
She hooked three fingers in the waistband of his jeans. “My mouth is watering for your cock. Don’t you want to force it down my throat?”
“Don’t rush me, baby. I want to enjoy your hot little snatch.” He circled faster, then dipped down to enter her with his fingers.
She moaned and arched her head back into the mattress. That was it, that’s what he wanted, for her to forget her husband was there, to sto
p playing for the camera. That was his job, heating Keith up with his cocky asshole routine.
“That’s so good, isn’t it, baby. You love my fingers inside you. You’re gonna love it even better when it’s my cock. Flesh to flesh, baby.”
She rolled her head on the pillow. “Yes, yes.”
He wanted to taste her, wanted her husband to see how much she loved it. Moving off to the side, he continued working inside her as he put his tongue to her tight clit. This time she arched right off the bed.
“Tell him how good it is,” he said softly. If the man liked to be cuckolded, let him truly be cuckolded.
“Oh God, oh God,” she cried. “Please, please, please, don’t stop. It’s so good.” She gasped, moaned, growled, grabbed his head and held him to her. They rocked and rolled together, her body undulating. She didn’t need a vibrator. All she needed was him.
He could feel her climax build in the quake of her limbs, the taste of her pussy, the sound of her cries. The moment it hit, she curled up, grabbed him, held him right where she wanted him. He didn’t let up until she collapsed against the mattress, her limbs suddenly limp.
He looked pointedly from her face to the closet door. And grinned for the camera.
Chapter Fifteen
“Take off that sexy shirt,” Spence ordered.
He was above her, gloriously naked. She couldn’t quite remember him losing all his clothes. There was just his mouth on her, then nirvana, now this. He was beautiful, all hard, compact muscles and thick, rigid cock.
“You do it,” she told him, meeting his gaze.
His eyes blazed like bright jewels in the soft lighting. “Whatever you want.” He tugged the tight, stretchy shirt past her breasts, then left it there to take her nipple. She hadn’t worn a bra. What was the point since she knew he’d have it off soon after he arrived? He sucked hard, shooting a jolt of electricity straight down between her legs. His hard cock brushed her thigh, setting her skin on fire.
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 13