Revenge Sex: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 1

by Jasmine Haynes

  She was going to throw up. Right on Ruby’s high-heeled pumps.

  “You can tell Clay what you saw”—Ruby arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow—“but you’ll only be embarrassing yourself. Because I’m his little hotwife.”

  “But you aren’t married,” Jessica said, her voice pathetically feeble.

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything? Look it up on the Internet. A hotwife doesn’t have to be married; it’s just a term that means her man loves having her fuck other men, after which she comes home to him with the scent of sex all over her.” She let a smile grow on her pouty lips. “And he goes totally wild for her. He doesn’t need other women. Just her.” With that, she waggled her fingers and sashayed out the door.

  Moments later, Jessica heard voices, a door closing, more whispers in the hall, then footsteps on the stairs. The lobby door opened and closed. Then silence. They were gone.

  She thought about Ruby had told her. But men weren’t built that way. They were possessive, territorial. Clay was a strong, virile man. He’d never let another guy touch his woman, and certainly not Bradley Palmer.

  But why would Ruby lie? She couldn’t hope to get away with it if Jessica decided to tell Clay what she’d seen.

  And yet...Vince sometimes liked to hear about Jessica’s past sexual escapades; it got him going. But Vince wasn’t her boyfriend. He was her friend with benefits. Okay, he was her booty call, the man she could simply drop in on when she was really horny, which was usually after she’d tortured herself with some hot fantasy about Clay. She’d even told Vince about those fantasies. It made him wild.

  But Clay couldn’t possibly...

  God, what if he did? What if that’s what Clay saw in Ruby? She was sexy and could have her pick of any man. Maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

  Ruby was right, Jessica couldn’t say a word to him. It would be horrifying to have him admit it was true.

  She couldn’t say why she did it, but Jessica returned to the scene of the crime. They hadn’t even locked Clay’s door when they left. Turning on the light, she glanced at the desk. The pencil holder was back in place, the file folders straightened, everything neat and orderly the way Clay liked it.

  Except for the scrap of purple by the filing cabinet. She picked it up between thumb and forefinger. A thong panty. For a long moment, she simply stared at the sheer material.

  Then she opened the bottom desk drawer and tossed it in.

  No, she wouldn’t say a word to Clay. She wouldn’t have to.

  * * * * *

  Clay Blackwell was already hard when Ruby walked in the door. “Where’d you meet him?” he demanded.

  “I found him in the hotel bar. He was in town for some convention.”

  Ruby loved it with strangers. Pick them up, go to their hotel room, do them fast and dirty, then do them long and hard. Businessmen were a relatively safe breed, up for a quickie while they were out of town, no strings attached. Ruby liked it best that way, and Ruby did everything the way she wanted it done. As she said, she was a big girl. For his part, he insisted she call him before, during, after, and on her way home so that he knew she was all right.

  Now, he wanted every dirty detail. “Tell me,” he ordered.

  If occasionally she came home smelling of another man when he hadn’t sanctioned a date, he was okay with that. He even liked the surprise. Occasionally. It was part of their game. As long as she followed the other basic rules they had between them. Tonight, though, she’d told him she was going out, and he’d been thinking about it all evening, then he’d been on her the moment she sauntered through the door. She was come-scented, and her sexual musk kicked his pulse rate into high gear.

  “He fucked me on the balcony with the lights off. But I know the guy in the hotel room across the way could see us.” Ruby loved being watched. She was gorgeous and watching her fuck was a sight to behold. Ruby was tall, five-nine even without the spiked heels. Her breasts were full and lush, her figure curvy in all the right places. Men loved her breasts, her long legs, even her auburn locks that caressed her shoulders.

  He yanked her skirt up. She wasn’t wearing panties. “You dirty bitch, where’d you leave your thong?”

  She laughed. “He wanted a keepsake.”

  Clay could imagine the man sniffing them and jacking off to the memory. “Did he do you from behind?”

  Ruby chuckled. “From behind, from the front, reverse cowgirl, with my legs up in the air, upside down and inside out.”

  She knew how to make him hot. He crushed her against the front door, buried his face in her soft hair, and breathed in the aroma of another man on her skin. “Did he lick you?”

  “Oh yeah. I came twice.”

  He lifted her high, wrapped her legs around his waist, and mock-fucked her through his pants. He didn’t know why he enjoyed the thought of another man taking his woman, but he did. Always had. It was a crazy need. And Ruby loved fulfilling it for him. He didn’t love Ruby, but he appreciated that she was willing to give him his fantasy. If he sometimes felt that things between them were one step back from completely explosive, well, he told himself that what he got was better than most men ever expected. Maybe the problem was him; life had disabled that extra emotional gene that allowed for total connection.

  “Did you suck him?”

  “God, yes, Clay. He was so big. And he tasted so sweet. Like he’d been eating pineapple.”

  He yanked his zipper, pulled his cock out, and pressed himself to her wet pussy. She was hot and ready for him. He kissed her, tasted the sizzle of come on her lips. And he didn’t wait a moment longer. He thrust deep, and she moaned, clutching at his shoulders with long fingernails he could feel marking him even through his shirt.

  She was the best girlfriend someone like him could hope for, a woman who didn’t expect undying devotion from a man who was no longer capable of it. He’d been through the long, slow deterioration of love and marriage and wasn’t about to do it again, especially not for the sake of his sons. It had been five years since the divorce, and he wouldn’t consider marriage for at least three more, when they were both out of high school. All that made him the best man for Ruby, too. She was free to play the field as she liked, yet he didn’t require other women; Ruby need never be jealous. She would have hated it if he even looked at another woman. He was fine with exactly this, a hard fuck while she told him every filthy thing she’d done on her date. Later, in their bed, the sex would be slow and gentle, but first he needed fast and dirty. This was what their relationship was all about: good, hot sex.

  “Tell me how good it was,” he insisted.

  “I couldn’t get enough.” She put her head back against the door as he took her hard. “And I kept coming, thinking about how you were going to throw me down on the carpet and fuck me silly as soon as I got home.” No matter how many times she came with another man, she was never too tired for more. Ruby was insatiable. “Fuck me, Clay.”

  As he drove deep, her body tightened around him, clenching, working him. His balls were so tight, they ached. Then she cried out, and her climax pulled him under. He went oblivious to everything but the scent of another man all over her.

  * * * * *

  Dammit, she’d forgotten her panties. How stupid could she be? Seeing Jessica Murphy out in the hall had thrown Ruby for a loop. Not that she hadn’t made a very nice recovery and shocked all the color out of the woman’s face. There’d also been those long minutes while she knew Jessica was watching, when Ruby had been so hot, so crazy, and come so hard. Ruby loved being watched. It didn’t matter that it was a woman. In fact, it was even better because Jessica had the hots for Clay. It was like icing on the cake. Little Miss Muffet—that’s how she thought of Jessica—with her panties in a wad. The woman had such a stick up her backside. Ruby actually loved giving Jessica something to get herself worked up about. It pushed the evening’s activities over the top, just the kind of kick she’d been looking for since things with Clay had started to
feel a tad stale. Over time, she’d felt him becoming somewhat detached, too. That wasn’t his fault. Or hers. They’d been together a long time. And Ruby had to admit she liked new and different. But tonight’s scenario certainly hadn’t been stale. Making Little Miss Muffet jealous and angry had been the cream on top.

  Until Ruby had realized she’d forgotten her damn panties. She’d just have to go into work early, tell Clay she had some stuff to get ready for the board meeting. They never drove together anyway; they lived in Palo Alto, only ten minutes from the plant. Yeah, she could make it in early, grab her panties, and everything would be fine.

  Jessica would never tell what she’d seen. Whether she believed Clay knew about it or not, she’d be too mortified to bring it up. Clay and his silly rules: no sex at work or with anyone from work. Ruby thought it was sexier to have a few secrets, to push the envelope, to pretend she’d been out with a girlfriend and see if he could smell the come on her when she arrived home, to see if he noticed her scent all over his desk. Oh yes, that was sexy. She wasn’t worried; he expected her to cheat. And he adored their sex. It was the hottest he’d ever had in his life, even better than with his wife. And when things got a little boring, Clay would naturally expect her to spice them up. Of course he would.

  Ruby snuggled closer to Clay and fell asleep sated and content.

  But when she searched his office the next morning, her purple thong was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you all right, Jessica?” Clay Blackwell asked, one brow arched in question.

  The midafternoon sun streamed across Jessica’s work papers. They sat at Clay’s conference table by the office window overlooking the parking lot. Thank God they weren’t facing each other across his desk. She wouldn’t have been able to utter a coherent word.

  No, she wasn’t all right. The board meeting was tomorrow, Friday, starting at nine in the morning. She was always a little on edge when they were reviewing her numbers. Today was worse. Every time she’d seen Ruby, the woman had smirked. The accounting department was on the second floor of West Coast’s corporate headquarters. Holt Montgomery, the company’s CEO, was on the first level, along with Marketing and Sales. Which meant Ruby, the CEO’s admin, was down there, too. Ruby had managed a couple of forays up the stairs, and a series of irritating smirks. Obviously, the thong in Clay’s drawer hadn’t had any effect.

  It had all started to wear on Jessica’s nerves by the time she arrived in Clay’s office for the afternoon financial review with him. She felt sick with all the questions running through her head. Not to mention the image of Ruby on Clay’s desk. “It’s just this CIP account,” she said, trying to get on track. “I can’t figure it out.”

  West Coast Manufacturing was in the thin film coating business. Their coatings had various applications anywhere from low-e window films to touch screens on computer panels. The production coaters were large and expensive and required an entire department of machine experts. Those technicians and engineers maintained and refurbished the company’s four coating machines. They were in the process of refurbishing C1, their first coater, which was now twenty years old. The refurbishment was a capital expenditure, but it consisted of labor hours, materials, and outside contractors, all of which required careful monitoring by their fixed asset accountant. Within the last month, the refurbishment had gone way over budget, and Jessica feared that some of the costs had been categorized incorrectly and should actually be expensed. And it was quarter-end, dammit.

  Of course, that wasn’t the real issue bothering her, but it was the only one she was willing to talk about right now.

  “Make it Mike’s priority,” Clay said, referring to her fixed asset accountant. “I’ll let the board know there’s an issue and that the numbers might change before we finalize.”

  Clay made everything sound so logical and easy. He handled every situation with diplomacy, and he always had an answer. She admired a man who didn’t get worked up. He was a man’s man, six foot three and in great shape for forty-five years old—or any age, for that matter. He had a dash of gray in his dark hair, and hazel eyes that sometimes saw too much. She’d always liked older men, commanding, intelligent men.

  Which made it all that much harder to believe what Ruby said. Because Clay couldn’t be the kind of wimpy guy who let his woman get away with fooling around on him.

  Jessica hadn’t been able to resist Ruby’s taunt. Last night, when she arrived home at her condo, she’d booted up her computer and searched on hot wife. It came back with a ton of sites on a phenomenon called hotwifing. Good Lord. It was just as Ruby had said. There were men who loved having their wives cheat on them, loved hearing about, even loved watching it and participated by taking photos or actually holding their wives as another man...

  She jerked back from the abyss. Clay was talking. She’d missed everything he said.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Clay assured her, obviously seeing something on her face.

  “I don’t like not knowing exactly what’s in an account.”

  “If you’re controller, you have to step back from the detail, and let your people handle it. You have to trust them.”

  “I know.” She’d worked her way through other companies from financial analyst to general ledger accountant to accounts payable supervisor, finally coming to West Coast Manufacturing three years ago as their accounting manager. It was a good job and an excellent salary, which, after the housing market tanked, had enabled her to purchase a condo in a nice neighborhood, with a short commute to work. She was responsible for payroll, fixed assets, accounts payable and receivable, cash management, and all the balance sheet accounts. She was thirty-five, and the next step on her ladder was controller. Clay had been acting controller since her former boss had gone on medical leave. A couple of weeks ago, it became clear he wasn’t returning. Jessica didn’t like to step on a sick man’s back, but she wanted that job. Both she and Greg Stevens, finance and budget manager—and Bradley’s boss—had applied.

  Maybe that was another reason she didn’t want to rock the boat about Ruby, fear of jeopardizing the promotion.

  “I’m set for the board meeting then.” Clay closed the folder on the quarterly financials she’d given him. “Good job, Jessica.”

  “Thanks.” She rose, gathering her binder and notepad.

  His praise made her feel inordinately pleased, like a gold star from the teacher when she was a kid. He always complimented, always built up his employees, and he didn’t treat her any differently from his other subordinates. Except Bradley. Clay didn’t seem to have much respect for Bradley’s work, but Bradley reported to Greg Stevens, and Greg thought he could eventually bring Bradley up to snuff.

  “I’ll get you the answers on those two questions you had before the end of the day.” She’d taken notes during the meeting.

  “Good.” He was already moving behind his desk and reaching for the phone.

  Jessica headed back to her office, wondering if Clay was calling Ruby. That’s what bothered her, Ruby with Bradley. How Clay ran his relationship was his business. If he liked his girlfriend to screw other men on his desk, fine. But Bradley? A man like Clay wouldn’t countenance his girlfriend’s affair with an idiot; he’d want her to choose someone he respected. Then again, maybe Bradley made him feel like the bigger man. Except that Clay wouldn’t need a weasel like Bradley to build up his own ego.

  But she could hear Ruby’s voice: You’re so much better than Clay is.

  She turned the corner beside Bradley’s cubicle, which was right outside Greg’s office. His back was to her, but she could see her reflection in his blank computer monitor. As if he heard her, he tapped the keyboard and brought the monitor to life. How long had he been sitting there daydreaming? He’d probably been reliving last evening with Ruby.

  What if she was lying? She was good at turning things around to suit herself, manipulating, getting people to do what she wanted by saying Holt Montgomery, CEO, with emp
hasis, had asked for it. Maybe Ruby had scammed her.

  If she had, what in the hell was Jessica going to do about it?

  * * * * *

  Clay rubbed the back of his neck, then rolled his head to get the kinks out. Christ, it had been a long board meeting. They usually continued past lunch, but today’s meeting had gone on until four. Their computer system was outdated, and several board members were in favor of doing a public offering to finance an enterprise system and some other capital improvements, including upgrading the cleanroom. Both he and Holt had argued that a public offering in the current economic climate was suicide. They’d end up devaluing the stock. The markets were too volatile to predict.

  “Did they have any questions on the financials?” Jessica stood in his door. She was good at her job, intelligent, with excellent problem-solving skills. He admired her dedication and work ethic. He was in favor of making her the next controller, but Holt was leaning toward Greg Stevens. Jessica, while having the expertise, was sometimes too involved in the details and had problems delegating. As controller, she’d have to step back from the minutia and let her people handle it. Greg, on the other hand, had no problem offloading. While Clay valued Holt’s opinion—they’d worked together at West Coast for ten years, plus another five at a previous company—he would do his own choosing.

  “A couple of things,” he said to Jessica. “Come on in. Close the door.” She had a right to hear his reservations about the promotion.

  She took the seat opposite, opening her folder with the financials in it, fiddling with the papers a moment. Jessica Murphy was a pretty woman, blonde hair that fell in curls past her shoulders and intense blue eyes. She lacked Ruby’s curves and natural seduction, her skirts were longer, her blouses less form-fitting, her makeup understated, but there was something fresh about her, girl-next-door, that was in many ways just as appealing, if not more so.