“Where?”
I could feel his breath, the question uttered somewhere around my collarbone.
“Everywhere.”
His hands were hot and thick, hitting the sides of my body and sliding down, then back up, his fingers flexing and gently curling around me. They rose, up from my ribcage and came forward, cupping my breasts and lifting them up. So different from her touch. So much stronger. Less tentative. More possessive and confident. “Ask your husband if I can touch you.”
Easton’s mouth, which had been pulsing against my clit slowed and he lifted his head back against the cushions and looked up at me. I found him in the dark, his features raw with arousal, his eyes hungry with need. “Can he touch me?” I asked, and it wasn’t a question. It was a plea. A beg. A wanton request from a woman so far over the edge that I’m not sure I would have been able to stop if he had denied it.
“He can do anything you want,” Easton rasped out, and then Julia did something between his legs, something that made his eyes dull and his body stiffen. I knew that look. I’d given him that look countless times, in countless situations, doing countless things, but knowing that she had delivered it… I lowered myself back onto his mouth. I pulled Brad De Luca closer to me and shivered as his hands settled on my ass, squeezing and pulling apart my cheeks as his mouth settled onto my neck, kissing and teasing over the flesh. My nipples rubbed against the stiff cotton of his dress shirt and I scraped my hands through his hair, listening as my husband gasped against my clit, his tongue slowing, then quickening as she sucked his cock.
I had worried that this would ruin us. I had worried that I would see this sight, hear those noises, and freak the F out—but that wasn’t what happened at all. Instead, there was only more.
More arousal.
More need.
More emotion.
More love.
More trust.
More risk.
More reward.
Brad’s finger pushed into the tight and needy bundle of my ass and it was the push that sent me over the edge. I came hard, my fingers digging into Brad’s muscles, my mouth needy on his neck, his voice thick and commanding in my ear. Easton’s mouth tightened, his tongue focusing, and he delivered the orgasm perfectly, stretching out the pleasure until a point that was almost painful, then relaxing his jaw and letting me sink into his mouth. I sagged in Brad’s arms and didn’t resist when he lifted me up, carried me around the long end of the sectional couch and gently set me next to Easton.
“Julia,” he commanded, and his wife immediately pulled off E’s cock. “Let her finish him. I need you right the fuck now.”
I didn’t move, couldn’t. I heard Easton, the creak of the couch, the clink of his belt. His knees sank into the cushion, moving apart my legs, his wet and rigid cock pushing in between my legs. “We can’t—” I protested, and from the dark, I heard a feminine gasp, one of pleasure, then a moan, as Brad did something to Julia that sounded positively sinful.
“We can,” Easton whispered, settling on top of me, his shirt brushing against my bare breasts, his thighs heavy against mine. He thrust his hips and he was inside me, my core aching from days of neglect, my body flexing as my arms stole around his neck, my mouth finding his, my hips moving of their own accord as he started to drag that thick beautiful cock in and out of me. Beside us, close enough that I could feel the shake of the sectional, they fucked. I could hear them, the slapping of connecting bodies, the labor of breath, the quiet huffs and moans out of Julia’s mouth.
Easton pulled away from our kiss and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Look at them," he whispered, then kissed my ear. “Watch them.”
“I can’t,” I gasped, his thrusts quickening, an urgent pulse of intrusion. Had he ever been this big? This hard? This turned on?
That night. That night, with Aaron beside him. But this… this was different. This was a sea of sounds and the cool night air, and the taboo realization that I was in someone else’s backyard, beside them. Fucking beside them. I turned my head and forced myself to look. My eyes widened.
Brad, on his knees behind her. Her bare breasts rubbing against the cushion, her hands pulling her ass cheeks apart. She was looking back at him, her cheek against the couch, and urging him on, quiet words of filth that were floating over to us.
“Harder. Harder. Yes. Oh my…” her head lifted as she came, and I could see it take over her body, her hands tightening, her pleasure blooming, the tight pinch of her eyes, the gap of her mouth. He consumed her with his stare, his hands gripping her at the wrist, keeping them in place as he maintained his rhythm, maintained the collide of his thighs against her hamstrings as he drilled his—”
Oh. I stared at the juncture of his body, questioning the view as I saw peeks of it, illuminated by the fire. He was so thick, and from the length of his strokes, the distance that parted their bodies with each withdrawal—long.
“You like that?” Easton whispered in my ear. “I can feel you, getting tighter. Wetter. You’re fucking quaking around me.”
“I like it,” I moaned, returning my attention to him. I gripped the back of his neck and stared into his eyes. “Did you like her mouth on your cock?”
“I loved her mouth on my cock.” He let out a grunt, and I could see he was close, his chest tightening, his thrusts quickening. “I almost came in her tight little throat.”
That was it. My breaking point. I let out a sharp cry of pleasure, louder than I’d intended, my voice keening as my body tightened, the orgasm racking up in intensity at the wild look on Easton’s face. He devoured me with his eyes, his hand fisting my hair as his breath came out in short, hard puffs. I pinched my eyes closed, unable to handle the surge of pleasure as it peaked in one huge, wild sweep of emotion and sensation.
Beside me, I faintly registered the sounds of Julia, her own cries heightening, Brad’s voice soft and urgent, pushing her on. What was he saying? Was he watching us? Did he—
I lost my focus as Easton pulled me up, his dick coming out, and pushed me to my knees.
“Open up,” he said tersely. “I’m about to come like a fucking virgin.”
20
“Seriously, what the fuck was that?” Easton ran his hand over his mouth and merged onto the interstate in a speed that would get him pulled over.
I leaned back in the seat and propped my feet on the dash. “I don’t know. I swear, it was all G-rated before you got there.”
“I’m curious to what exactly led to you getting drunk.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Peer pressure. I was nervous, she had wine and… yada yada yada.” The Seinfeld quote fell flat and he said nothing, his blinker clicking loudly in the silence.
“I’m sorry,” I added. “Do you think I lost the listing?”
He glanced at me. “I don’t know. Ask your broker what he thinks.” E spoke in a wry tone, but there was tension in the way he gripped the steering wheel, my stress level rising with the hum of the engine.
“Slow down.” I glanced in the rearview mirror, concerned about cops. He had three Scotches, maybe four? Though they had been stretched over… I checked my watch. “Shit, it’s past midnight.”
“What time did you let Wayland out?”
“About one.” It was official, I was a horrible everything. Mother. Wife. Realtor. I twisted my watch on my wrist. Earlier, before we’d moved to the backyard, Brad and Julia had offered for us to stay the night, and I almost, almost took them up on the offer before E reminded me of Wayland. Which was good, because while we had parted with smiles, if we had stayed the night, the morning would have been super awkward. Similar to how the interior of this car now felt.
“I’m not sure if you’re mad at me,” I ventured. “You’re acting really weird.”
“I’m acting weird,” he mused, nodding his head in an annoyingly slow fashion, as if he had massive intellectual processes going on. “Interesting.”
“So, you think I’m acting weird? You could have said no. When she of
fered to suck your dick, you could have said no.”
“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. Are you listening to yourself? When she offered to suck my dick. Next time warn me before I get on a plane that I’m going to be headed straight to a fucking Penthouse Forum scene the minute I land.”
“Umm… okay.” I frowned. “It wasn’t a Penthouse Forum scene when you got there. I was sobering up. We were cooking dinner. It’s not my fault that we stayed for four more hours and that came up.”
“It’s completely your fault that that came up. You brought it up.”
“Well—” I really didn’t have a defense for that. I had brought it up. Chelsea had called again, and Julia had asked me about it, and then I’d told E that I’d asked her advice about it, which had led to Julia explaining to Brad what we were talking about, which had steamrolled into a conversation about the airport swinger club, which Julia had a hilarious story about, which had led to a drunk toast by E, and then… somehow… hours later… orgasms. Really, really strong orgasms. I changed tactics. “So, you are mad at me.”
He sighed. “I’m not mad. I’m worried. I feel like we’re moving too fast. It’s been, what? A month since Aaron?”
“Yeah.” Almost exactly.
“A month, and we’ve gone from an isolated instance with someone we were both very comfortable with to orgasming with complete strangers.”
They didn’t feel like complete strangers to me. Julia felt like a friend. And— “Wait, a few days ago you were pushing me to find a complete stranger on that site. How are Brad and Julia different from that?”
“Maybe it’s not.” He came to a stop at the red light of Flagler and took a deep breath. “I’m just worried.”
“I know. You said that. What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried that…” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the quilted leather headrest, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m worried I’m losing you. Losing us. We aren’t like them, Elle.” The light on his face changed as the signal turned green. He sat upright and pressed on the gas. “We don’t have our shit together. To them, what just happened was no big deal. That guy walked inside and left his wife alone with us, and it was nothing to him. It didn’t matter if I had a big dick, or what she did to me—he trusted her enough to just leave. And when he came back and he put his hands on you… it scared the hell out of me. I was trying to focus on her blowjob, but all I could think about was that he was going to fuck you the minute you came off my mouth.”
I shook my head. “That wasn’t—he didn’t even try that.”
“I thought he would. And he’s not Aaron, Elle.” He looked over at me. “That guy… that guy makes me look like a chump. And of course he has a big dick. I’m fucked sideways if he knows how to use it.”
Which it certainly seemed he had. “No one has ever made you look like a chump.”
He shook his head with a hard laugh. “Elle. Come on. Brad’s watch is worth more than what we have in the bank, my 401k included. That’s the kind of guy you should be with. That’s what you deserve.”
“Fuck that,” I said fiercely. “You’re my husband. I chose you.”
“You chose me when you thought I was something that I ended up not being.”
“I chose you because I love you. Not the uniform, not the signing bonus, not the big dick.”
He said nothing, and the Range Rover bounced over the dip in our driveway before coming to a stop in front of our garage. Unclipping my belt, I waited for him to get out, but he didn’t move.
“E.” I touched his arm.
“Let’s go inside.” He pulled at the door handle. “Wayland’s got to be dying to piss.”
I watched as he stepped out of the SUV and opened the back door to grab his bag.
“You coming?” he asked tersely, and I nodded, my still-drunk brain struggling to process where all of this had gone wrong.
He had certainly seemed into it, and we’d been all smiles and stolen touches as we’d gathered our clothes and giggled goodbye to Brad and Julia, who had still been mid-sex on the dark end of the couch. But somewhere between their street and Flagler, his mood had flipped. Maybe in the morning, with my buzz worn off and my hangover kicking, I’d change too. Maybe I’d freak out over him getting head from her. Maybe I’d panic over the listing, and at the incomplete seller’s disclosure, and at the sexual actions that could lose me the listing, and my license.
Not that I could lose my real estate license. My mouth grew dry at that thought, one my logic tried to quickly dismiss. It wasn’t like I was their doctor, or their boss. I was in that idiotic profession that counted bedrooms and tied balloons to mailboxes and preached on decluttering and locking up pets during a showing.
I managed to make it over the driveway’s crack and through the front door. Kicking off my shoes, I left them beside the mat and flipped the deadbolt. Moving through the house, I watched as Easton followed Wayland into the backyard, pausing beside him as the dog lifted one leg.
By the time they made it back inside, I was in bed, my makeup still on, teeth unbrushed, in socks and a baggy T-shirt, a pillow in between my legs. I heard him walk into the master suite and closed my eyes, deepening my breathing and feigning sleep. He paused beside our bed, and then there was the click of the bathroom door and the sound of the shower.
I should have stayed up. I should have discussed it with him and figured out the root of the problem, and fought through the issue and faced up to whatever I did wrong, though I didn’t feel as if I did anything at all. If either of us was going to be freaking out right now, it should be me. He was the one who had been with another woman, and I was supposed to be the insecure party who was being held and petted and told that I was sexier and more amazing, in every single way.
But I hadn’t flipped out, and I wasn’t feeling insecure about what had happened. And I didn’t feel like apologizing when he had asked for it and wanted it as much as I did.
I closed my eyes, and when he got into bed, I didn’t say a word.
21
“Okay, what is wrong with your phone?” Chelsea barged into the kitchen, a donut box in hand. “I tried to call you like ten times yesterday.”
I tilted back my mug of coffee slowly, taking a deep sip of the rich blend. I’d splurged this week, getting the local roaster’s beans, my credit card more easily swiped after E’s commission check. Setting down my cup, I met Chelsea’s expectant stare. “I had a photoshoot at the Olive Line Trail listing. I left my phone in the car.”
“For seven hours?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I even came by here last night. Took Wayland out, by the way. You’re welcome. Where was E?”
“Los Angeles. His flight got in late.”
“Well, so did you. I came by around nine. What were you doing?”
I paused, annoyed that she suddenly seemed to have so much time for me. Where had she been for the last month? What had been the emergency that had required ten calls but not a single voicemail or text? “I stayed for dinner with the clients. We had some paperwork to fill out.”
Her eyes bugged out. “With the De Lakeys? The mobster sex couple?”
“De Lucas,” Easton corrected, coming in the kitchen and opening the lid to the box. “Thanks for the donuts.”
“You’re welcome,” she said pointedly, looking at me as if needing a second pat on the back for eleven dollars’ worth of sugar.
“I’m keto,” I reminded her. “No carbs.” Or sugar.
She took the other stool and opened the lid, peering in. “I can’t believe you went to their house alone. E, you can’t let her do these things. Did she tell you about them? Did she tell you that they are SWINGERS?”
“Yes, she mentioned that.” E avoided my gaze as he lifted a chocolate glazed out of the box and bit into it.
“I’m telling you, Elle. You’re lucky they didn’t rape you.” She dangled one foot from the stool and I watch as her flip-flop fell off. “E, back me up.�
��
He lifted the mug and poured himself a cup. “I made my feelings clear on the De Lucas last night. Elle’s a big girl. She knows what she is getting into.”
I glared at him and Chelsea suddenly stiffened. “Are you two fighting?”
I ignored the question and unlocked my phone, swiping away the long list of Chelsea notifications and opening my inbox.
“Well, this is awkward,” she remarked tartly, as if our fight was inconvenient to her pop-in schedule. “Easton, how was your trip?”
“Fine. It was worth the trip. I told Nicole she should invest in the game.”
“You did?” I looked up from my phone, my email forgotten. “When?”
“On the flight home. We reviewed the contract and the timetable and the numbers and I told her she should do it.” He swung his foot toward Wayland, who had started to scratch at the baseboard. “Wayland, stop.”
“Do you think she’s going to?” I stared at him, doing the math. Ten million, at his one percent fee—a hundred thousand dollar commission. My heart soared at the possibility.
“She agreed last night and wired the money this morning into the account. It’s done.” He stood and carried his cup to the sink, turning his back to me.
“What? And you didn’t tell me?” All last night, he had known. He could have whispered it in my ear as we ate dinner, side by side at the table at Brad and Julia’s. Could have shared it when we kissed as I passed him on the way to the bathroom. Could certainly have brought it up during the long ride home. He’d known that our money problems were over and he hadn’t said a thing about this payday. “Why not?”
“You didn’t ask.” He rinsed his cup out and picked up the sponge, suddenly progressive enough to wash his own dishes.
“Okay dokey, I’m going to take my carb- and sugar-loaded donuts and skedaddle before it starts to rain.” Chelsea scooped the box up against her chest and edged toward the door. “Great chatting with you both. Once you exit the war zone, call me and we can grab lunch.”
Twisted Marriage (Filthy Vows Book 2) Page 13