by Anne Lange
“Anything I should know or be prepared for?”
“Just bring Connor and Angela with you. Be honest with him, and be open-minded. If you appear judgmental in any way, you won’t get past his office. He’s a decent guy, Tyler. Gabe and his brothers run a clean, sophisticated club. He’s well respected, and he earned it. I think you’ll like him. He’ll tell you everything else you need to know.”
“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate this.”
“No problem. Let me know how it goes.”
“Will do.”
They shook hands. After his friend walked away, Tyler finished his beer, then dropped his gaze to the napkin Scott left on the table. He picked it up, folded it into a smaller square, and tucked it into his back pocket.
Would Connor and Angela be up for this? God, he hoped so.
Chapter Nineteen
Angela couldn’t remember the last time it had rained this hard. After weeks of extreme heat with not a drop of precipitation, the deluge falling now would rejuvenate the dried and yellowed lawns. Although, at this rate, the storm sewers had no chance of keeping up. Every time it seemed to ease, the gods unleashed yet another tumbler full—a rather large tumbler.
The drainage ditches surrounding the property were near to overflowing. Tyler would need to backwash the extra water from the pool. At least she wouldn’t need to water the gardens for the next couple of days.
Angela puttered in the kitchen while the guys watched a ball game. With this weather, Connor couldn’t do much at the job site, so she’d decided to play hooky from work today too. After his return a few days ago, she’d kept some distance between them, but guilt gnawed at her stomach. The few short days he’d stayed away had made her realize the depth of her feelings for him. It had come out of nowhere. She loved him. Not like she loved Tyler. Tyler was her husband. Her rock. She would die for Tyler.
But she loved Connor too. She didn’t want him to go. The idea of not being with him sucked the air from the room. How could she explain it to her husband? What would he think? He’d brought his best friend into their home with the hope of fulfilling her fantasies, and here she’d gone and fallen in love with the guy.
Cheers erupted from the other room. Hoping for a chance to mend the rift, Angela assembled a tray of veggies and dip for herself, and nachos and salsa for them. Grabbing three beers from the fridge, she crossed the kitchen and walked into the family room to join them.
Seeing her coming, Connor jumped up. “Here, let me take that for you.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at him and settled between them on the sofa and handed around the beers. “How’s the game?”
“Boring,” Tyler said. He tipped the ice-cold beer to his lips. Angela swallowed a moan as she watched his throat move up and down as he drained half the bottle in a single swig. “Bottom of the fifth and the score’s five nothing. They’re walking all over them. It’s too easy.”
“Why don’t you watch something else then?”
“Not much else on.” He turned to her, his grin wide, his eyes lit up like sparklers. “We could watch porn. It’s on all day if you know the right channels.”
“I take it you know the right channels. Is this what you do when I’m not around?” She laughed.
“When you’re around, baby, we don’t need porn.”
She turned her head, looking for help from Connor, who stuck his beer between his rock solid thighs and put his hands in the air, surrendering. “He’s your husband.”
“He’s your friend.”
Connor reached for the bottle and winked. “In this case, he is correct. We don’t need to resort to porn when you’re around. Ow. That hurt.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could pinch his leg a second time. By this point they were all laughing. Tyler trapped her in a bear hug, yanking her against this chest. Connor relieved her of her beverage and captured her legs. Angela soon found herself prone on the sofa, her head in her husband’s lap, her legs draped over Connor’s.
“There, much better.” Tyler stroked her hair with one hand, while his other squeezed one breast. He pinched her nipple through her T-shirt.
Outside, thunder rumbled and the sound of driving rain beat against the windows. The game continued to play, almost unnoticed in the background. The lights flickered.
Tyler concentrated on her other breast, manipulating it with a gentle touch, before tweaking that nub until it stood tall and rigid like its partner.
Angela glanced down her body to watch while Connor stroked his fingers up and down her inner thigh, stopping here and there to create slow swirling patterns, inching nearer to her pussy. She shivered. Anticipation propelled her hips up each time he grew close, urging him to hurry. God, she wanted to feel his callused fingers there, feel them slip through the moisture trickling out to coat her panties. A moan climbed her throat and fell from her lips.
“Do you want Connor to fuck you, honey?”
Angela opened her eyes. She couldn’t remember having closed them. She tilted her head back and glanced up at her husband. The hunger in his eyes must have mirrored hers.
His stomach rippled against the side of her cheek as he chuckled, the husky quality convincing her he’d like, very much, for that to happen. His hard cock strained against his jeans, nudging the back of her head.
Angela swiped her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. She nodded. His index finger trailed down her cheek, the touch feather light. She leaned into it. He paused for a moment before continuing the trek, moving down her side, over her belly, straight to her mound. He flexed his long fingers and cupped her, pressing his palm flat against her sex.
She swallowed. “Please.”
Both men smiled, twin looks of smug satisfaction on their faces.
“See?” he said. “Told you we don’t need porn when you’re around. And, just think, we’ve only just begun.”
Tyler pressed, shifting his hand back and forth. She couldn’t suppress the rough groan that rumbled over her lips.
“Help me undress her.”
Tyler helped her up so Connor could remove her shirt and bra.
“You guys too,” Angela demanded. No way would she be the only naked person in the room.
Tyler lifted his hips and wriggled out of his jeans. He raised his arms and stripped off his shirt. She lay back, and Connor hauled her shorts and panties down her legs. He removed his own clothes, withdrawing a condom from his pocket before tossing everything on top of Tyler’s pile on the floor.
“Here, spread your legs,” Connor said. “Better yet, place one on the floor, and the other along the back of the sofa behind my head.”
Tyler helped her into the new position, then paused, his eyes smoldering, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
The air around them stilled. Rain drops tapped against the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Connor reached a finger out to stroke the crease between her thigh and her pussy. She shivered. She could smell her arousal.
“Damn, that’s sexy.” Connor ran his finger down her slit, pushing the tip inside, pumping, using shallow thrusts. “You’re wet, and so fucking hot it sears me, Angela.”
He withdrew his finger and brought it to his lips. He sucked the digit clean.
“That’s fucking hot.” Tyler leaned over, slid his palm down the valley between her breasts, down her belly and dipped his own finger into her. Then he pulled it out and took a taste. “Oh, yeah. Sweetheart, I can’t wait to get between your thighs.
* * *
“Me first.”
Connor shifted, sliding to the floor to kneel beside Angela. He lifted her leg, resting it over his shoulder in a more comfortable position for her, wedging himself between her legs. He framed her pussy, using his thumbs to spread her wide open. The flesh, super soft, red and glistening, begged for his kiss.
He dragged his tongue from her hole to her clit and back. He pressed the tip inside, stirred it through her juices, and then moved back up to lick her clit. Th
e hard nib, small but firm, swelled under his assault. He loved the way she tasted, the way she felt, the way she smelled. He closed his eyes and inhaled.
Connor pushed his finger inside again, pumped a few times, then added another. The whole time he lapped at her like a cat with cream. And cream she did. It flowed around his fingers. He loved how she responded to both him and Tyler. The woman was made for both of them.
Of course that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was Tyler’s wife, and Ty was his best friend. He needed to stop this…whatever it was that kept trying to compel him to feel something more. Damn it. He couldn’t fall in love with this woman.
“Connor?”
He stopped, raised his eyes to meet Tyler’s.
Concern furrowed his friend’s brows.
Connor shrugged off his inner voice and tried what he hoped passed for a lascivious grin. “Sorry, just absorbing the intoxicating scent of your wife here. She’s beautiful when she’s aroused. I’m itching to drive my cock into her.”
“Then do it. I think she’s more than ready.”
Connor lowered his gaze to meet Angela’s. Her face flushed with desire, her eyes hooded, her breaths came in short pants.
“Come here.” Taking her hand, Connor stood and helped her up. He turned her to face her husband. “Straddle his lap on your knees and lean toward him.”
When he had her positioned like he wanted, facing away from him so she wouldn’t see the need in his eyes, he covered himself and crowded close behind her, her perfect rear snug against his groin.
“Arch a bit, sweetheart, so it raises your pretty butt in the air.” Connor smoothed a hand down her spine. She shivered in certain spots. Her ticklish spots. He smiled. He splayed his hands over the cheeks of her ass, and gripped them, harder than he intended. He relaxed his hold and watched the white indentations in her flesh return to their natural color.
She turned to look over her shoulder. “I’m ready anytime you are,” she whispered.
“I’m ready, honey. I’m so ready.” Connor tucked the head of his cock against her opening and pushed inside. It wasn’t a gentle, slow entry. He didn’t give her time to adjust to his size. He plunged in deep, all the way on the first thrust. Her wetness eased his entry, but he cringed at how roughly he’d penetrated her.
But she didn’t complain or even flinch. Connor started pounding into her. Tonight, he couldn’t hold back. He needed this. He needed to fuck her. He needed to convince himself she wasn’t his, that he was here on borrowed time. One day, Tyler would want his wife back for himself.
Connor squeezed his eyes closed, dropped his chin to his chest, and fucked Angela hard. Soon she picked up his tempo and thrust back to meet him.
When she grunted, Connor opened his eyes. Tyler’s hands were hidden from view, but Connor presumed he tugged on her nipples. His wife seemed to like a little erotic pain. Not much—just enough of an edge to tumble her over. Connor slapped her right ass cheek. She gasped, stilled for a second, and then arched her backside for more. He slapped her again and once more. Her head dropped to rest on Tyler’s shoulder.
“Angela, honey, I’m ready to come. Are you ready, hon?”
“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Don’t…stop. Fuck me, Connor. Fuck me fast.”
He hammered into her. His fingers curled into the flesh of her hips again. He hoped the marks didn’t bruise. Tyler’s grunts mingled with the sound of skin smacking skin. Connor raised his head. The bunching of Tyler’s right bicep told Connor his friend now fisted his own cock. “You gonna come on her tits, Ty?”
“Yeah…yes…soon. Real soon.”
Heavy pants, groans, and grunts filled the room. Outside, the rain continued to pound the pavement. A clap of thunder reverberated throughout the room, shaking the house and cutting the power. Angela shrieked and clamped down around him, her orgasm coating him in liquid heat.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” shouted Tyler.
Connor felt his cum race through his cock. Holding her hips secure, with the last of his strength, he rammed into her one final time, and froze as it blasted out, filling the tip of the condom.
For the first time in his adult life, Connor wished he could spill his seed and fill a woman, this woman, currently collapsed over her husband.
They stayed like that long enough for the power to return. After they’d cleaned up, they settled once more on the couch in front of the TV. The rain still splattered the windows, but it had let up to more of hard drizzle. The game had finished, and now some made-for-television movie played. When Tyler cleared his throat, Connor twisted around to look at him.
“How do you guys feel about going out to a club this weekend?”
Connor felt Angela go rigid beside him. “Ah, Ty, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Wait, let me explain. I spoke with a friend who’s familiar with this specific club. It’s not your normal bar. Its clientele is unique, and they are into…shall we say…a different way of experiencing sex.”
Angela sat up to look at her husband. Connor wrapped an arm around her waist, and tugged so she’d fall into him. The smell of her shampoo mingled with their combined scent of sex to tease his nostrils. He caressed her bare side with his thumb.
“What friend?”
“Scott.”
“He and Tammy belong to a sex club? Are you serious?”
“I think you can have sex there if you choose. I don’t know a lot about it, but the important thing is, everybody is there for the same reason. Because they live a different lifestyle, and they want to go where they’re accepted and can speak and act freely without being discriminated against. I thought we might go check it out. We can dress up, dance, and have a few drinks, same as any normal dance club.”
“Will people be having sex while we dance?”
Tyler chuckled.
Connor smirked. “I’m assuming we won’t be forced to step over bodies writhing all over the floor.”
“No,” Tyler said. “I can’t say for certain, but I would guess the areas are separated. I met with Scott yesterday, and he’s arranged for us to meet the owner tomorrow at five. We can tour the place, ask him questions, and then decide if we want to go. What do you think?”
Connor loved the idea of spending time in public with Angela without having to worry about what other people might be thinking. “I think it’s worth checking out at least,” he said.
Angela hesitated, a thoughtful look on her face. “OK,” she said. “I think we can at least look at the place. If it’s a skanky dive, we’re out of there though.”
Chapter Twenty
“Wow. Skanky, it is not.” Connor whistled his appreciation of the view before them.
The mansion rose from the center of a beautifully landscaped property about two hundred feet beyond a black wrought-iron entrance gate. Tucked off to the left, a mini replica of the main building sat almost hidden behind a small grove of dark maples.
Tyler drove up the drive to a round motor court with a garage on either side and parked his Camaro by the front door, next to a black Porsche Cayenne. From what Scott had told him, on a Saturday night he’d have to drive around back to the parking area that was not visible to the naked eye.
“What a beautiful building.” Angela twisted in her seat, trying to see as much of the view as possible. “The whole property is gorgeous. I’ve driven by a number of times and always wondered what it was.”
Emerging from the car, Tyler rotated to look back to the street. The property was situated in a well-established part of town that had experienced resurgence in the last ten years. Some of the more decrepit structures had been replaced with modern mansions.
Stone walls and mature trees were sprinkled throughout the property, creating a handsome barrier to traffic and the casual observer. Once behind the gates, you were closed off from the outside world. Tyler welcomed the privacy.
The main building, turn-of-the-century vintage, stood proud, and spoke of the care its various owners had shown it o
ver the years. The exterior stone, large tumbled rocks, stood out in varying shades of gray against the white-framed windows. Three stories high, Tyler guessed it to be about six thousand square feet. It could have been a school in its day, or the home of a prominent member of society. He chuckled to himself. Now it was a club for people who wanted to explore their sexual boundaries. Who’d have thought?
As a group, they moved toward the front entrance, passing rosebushes in full bloom, their fragrance heavy in the evening air.
The door opened before they could knock. They were greeted by a tall, powerfully built man. Tyler estimated him to be in his mid-thirties. He had short dark hair, serious eyes, and a firm jaw. He didn’t smile.
“Hello, I’m Gabriel McBride. I assume you’re Tyler O’Neil.” The man extended his hand.
Tyler grasped McBride’s hand in a firm shake. “I am. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us Mr. McBride.”
“Please, call me Gabe.” Tyler’s brows raised in surprise. Gabe’s casual attire of jeans and a dark T-shirt, and the request for informality, seemed in opposition to his stern expression.
“Gabe. This is my wife Angela, and our friend, Connor Jones.” Tyler stood aside while the others greeted their host.
“Please, come in. We’ll talk in my office first, and then if you’re interested, I’ll take you on a tour.” Gabe swiveled on his heel and led them into a light, airy foyer.
A circular staircase rose to the second level on the left and a set of double doors faced them straight ahead, but Gabe ushered them to the right and down a winding hallway. They passed an elevator and more closed doors. At the end of the hall, he led them through a doorway with intricate carvings inlaid into the wood and waved them over to a comfortable seating area. A large, curved window overlooked the back yard and its showcase of gardens. A dense tree line along the back of the property offered privacy.