Wicked Pink
Isabelle Drake
Cuckold Beach, Book Two
Matthew is a desperate man. Married to a gorgeous raven-haired beauty but unable to satisfy her demanding sexual needs, he thinks it’s only a matter of time before she strays. If he knew how intensely Tara loves him, he might not have delivered her into the arms of his best friend, Dan.
Tara quickly learns that some devoted husbands are dedicated to satisfying their wives’ deepest desires. They’ll do whatever it takes to bring intimacy and ecstasy to the women they love. Even if that means giving their wives to other men…while they watch.
Dan has done a good job keeping his wild past a secret. Dungeons, whips and exotic tools, those are things he thinks he’s left behind. But when given a chance to put his talents to use, he realizes that knowing how to unleash a woman’s wicked side has some important advantages.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
An Exotika® contemporary erotica story from Ellora’s Cave
Wicked Pink
Isabelle Drake
Chapter One
Long legs, a round ass, and an arrogant, wicked come-fuck-me smile. Matthew Ross’s wife, Tara, was a grown man’s wet dream. Even asleep in their bed, sheets twisted around her waist, her bare breasts only partially visible and her black hair a mess, she had the power to make his dick hard and his mind focus on only three things. Possessing her, fucking her and satisfying her.
A younger man would’ve thought those were only one—fucking—but Matthew knew better. He also knew if he didn’t find a way to make all three happen, he was going to lose her. He’d spent all those months in Afghanistan waiting to get back to her, but now that he was back home, he felt farther away than ever.
In truth, she wasn’t the only one he was worried about. There was another—the man who’d saved his life and made sure he returned home to Tara. Matthew was worried about losing him too.
With a troubled sigh, he pushed off the covers, rolled out of bed and slipped on the pair of sweats he’d tossed onto the floor a few hours ago. Tara shifted, her long, slender arms gliding across the sheets as she murmured. Worn out from a typically intense day, she didn’t wake up. Stepping softly, he left the room, stopped in the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator, then went out to sit on the balcony.
The coastal view was the same as it’d been when they moved out of LA a year ago, but now, as Matthew looked out at the stretch of lights, palm trees and a slice-sized view of the Pacific, he didn’t see glimmering excitement and possibilities. He didn’t feel his heart pick up or his breath hitch in his throat. He saw concrete and wires and felt something worse than nothing. He felt fear of being alive.
A long swallow of beer rolled down his throat as he considered the cruel irony. Months in Afghanistan, seeing the horrors men are capable of when they think they have no other choice than to fight, almost dying himself… None of that had scared him. Living a life without Tara—that scared him.
“Hey, what’re you doing?” His wife stepped out, circled the lounger he was lying across and sat on his lap. She’d thrown on a robe, but when she wiggled against his cock and kissed his neck, the tie loosened and the two sides fell open.
The movement to wrap his arms around her body was automatic, his arousal instant. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said, breathing in the familiar scent of her skin.
“I can help with that,” she whispered into his ear, her voice the same sweet seduction it was every time she spoke.
He could never admit to her that she was the reason he was awake. Her attempts to ease his worry, help him relax, turn him on. Those were everything that brought his heart to a stall. She was so incredibly sexy, so beautiful and smart, and more than a bit wild—everything he’d fallen in love with—but now, even weeks after returning, he couldn’t connect to her. He couldn’t feel anything. And it was getting more and more difficult to hide that from her. If, in fact, he was hiding it at all.
Still, his hands sought out her warm body, cupping her breasts and finding her tight nipples. When she groaned and rolled her ass over his crotch, he smelled the scent of her wet pussy. Damn, how long had it been since he’d been deep inside her, blowing her mind and making her beg for release?
They’d had sex, of course, but it hadn’t been what it should’ve been for a while.
Not in days. Weeks. No, months. Too long. Especially for an intensely physical woman like Tara.
He grabbed the sides of her robe, pulled it away from her body and threw it onto the ground. She hummed her approval as she stretched, letting her breasts rub against his chest before lifting herself off him to shove his sweats down far enough to expose his hard dick. He tried to give himself over to the heavy thump of lust building in his chest as she straddled him and shoved her tits in his face.
“How did I get so lucky?” he asked, looking her over. He took her nipples between his fingers, loving the way she squirmed, trying to force his cock into her slick channel.
“Not yet,” he said, lifting one breast so he could suck on the tight peak. When he flicked his tongue across the nub she swayed, trying again to get the angle she needed to put his dick inside her. Again he shifted to deny her. He wanted to feel her desperation, to know that when he did start fucking her she would be ready to come. Her satisfaction would be his.
Once that nipple was well-pointed and glimmering from the attention of his mouth, he moved to the other. Again he sucked and gently pulled, noticing the increase in the movements of her hips and the way her spine stiffened each time he tugged just short of too hard. Over and over he flicked his tongue across her tip, working to build even more tension in her body, letting her know that her desires were understood, very much appreciated and shared.
Her rhythmic motions made him even harder and soon his arousal burned through him, his blood hot with the need for release. He lifted his mouth from her breast, grabbed her waist and positioned her above his cock.
She thrust down, eagerly taking all of him in with one strong, downward stroke. Up and down she pumped, the tips of her nipples grazing his lips. He opened his mouth, trying to get one of the points with his tongue but her movements were too fast. Her breathing turned to a soft pant as she started grinding against him so hard that he felt her hip bones.
Her need, desperation and desire for him consumed him.
Then, out of nowhere, the heat in his dick cooled and he softened. He tried to ignore the limpness but there was no denying it. She tried to work him back, but her efforts to make his dick hard again only served to remind him that she had to try in the first place. His shaft softened even more and he grabbed her waist, halting her frantic motion. He kissed her neck, the words I’m sorry, it isn’t you lingered in his thoughts but didn’t come out. They sat in silence, the sounds of the city filling in where their words should’ve been.
“That’s okay. I know you have that meeting tomorrow.” She kissed him, her smile softening as their gazes connected. “Once the promotion is official you’ll be less stressed.” After swinging her legs across the lounger, she stood. “Don’t stay out here for long. Okay? It’s lonely in there without you.” She reached for her robe, slipped it on and went back to bed.
* * * * *
There wasn’t much that really, really got Dan McKenize pissed enough to see red and nothing but red. Everyday bullshit, bad drivers, disrespectful assholes—those ordinary things he could simply walk away from. But shit, that was obviously unfair, like when someone in charge abused power, got under his skin. The world wasn’t fair. Hell, he’d seen that. Lived it, and saw others die because of it. But that didn’t mean he had to accept unfair without a fight. So, thanks to the d
ay he’d had, he was ready for a fight.
He twisted off the top of the Johnny Walker Black he’d bought on the way home from work and took a long, golden swallow. The smooth scotch rolled down his throat, heating a fiery path all the way to his gut. There’d been a time when he’d sought out a different kind of heat, a different kind of release, to satisfy his physical needs, but those days were past. After another long swallow he recapped the bottle, set it down and unlatched his barn door. The heavy wood rumbled on the metal track. Once the door was open, he picked up the bottle again and stepped inside.
The sweet scent of fresh hay greeted him. Tidy stacks of mulch were lined beneath the rows of tools hanging on the plank-wood walls. He moved past them, swinging the bottle as he stalked through the hundred-year-old building to the dark corner in the back. He set down the bottle and peeled off his crisp, button-down shirt. A real fight was also out of the question, those days were behind him too, so he had to settle for the next best thing.
“Dan.”
Dan heard Matthew, but instead of responding, he tossed the shirt to the dirt floor and moved farther into the corner. His friend followed him, speaking again as he came closer. “I figured you’d be in here.”
“It’s fucked up, Matthew. It should’ve been you.” Dan grabbed the gloves off the hook, forced his fingers into the stiff leather, and turned. His friend fell back into the shade, his face hidden in the evening twilight and the shadows of the barn. “You know I’m right. Admit it.” Dan rolled his shoulders, letting the tension flow downward and fill his arms with energy. He hopped side to side, loosening his hips and legs.
“What’s the point?” Matthew pushed himself away from the wall. “Admitting it won’t change anything. The decision has been made.”
Dan took the first swing, hitting the bag with the full force of his anger. “You deserved the promotion. You earned it. He didn’t. Everyone knows it.”
Matthew smirked. “I’m thinking he’ll fuck the job up so badly he’ll get fired. Then I’ll get it. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Olivia will get the ax for promoting him. Then maybe I can have her job instead.”
Dan delivered a dozen right hooks followed by a satisfying series of alternating uppercuts. The heavy bag swayed. The chain groaned. He repeated the pattern. The distant, yet still familiar rush of adrenaline shot through his veins, burning a righteous path. But he needed more than this bag, these punches, to drain the frustration simmering inside him. Wrong was wrong and there was no getting around that.
So he kept at it. The barn filled with the dull thump of gloves connecting with the bag, the growl of the chain punctuated by his harsh breaths. Dan kept swinging, giving himself over to the hatred of injustice and every other untamed emotion racing inside him.
Even as he pounded, he accepted the truth. What had been done wasn’t going to get undone, and that witch Olivia Winters didn’t care about fairness.
Matthew circled the bag to catch his eye. “I came over because we’re going out.”
A few jabs, then he paused and shook his head. “Not me. Not tonight.”
“Yeah. You are. Finish beating the shit out of that thing then get cleaned up.” Matthew tipped his head toward the door. “I’m the one whose day was fucked. So the way I see it, if I say we’re going out, we’re going out.”
Dan tapped his own chest. The sparring glove left a smudge on his white T-shirt. “Take a look. I’m not fit for decent company.”
“Doesn’t matter. Nothing about the place where we’re going is decent.”
* * * * *
“Tigers? Seriously, Matthew?” Dan twisted in the passenger seat, leaned forward and glared at his friend. “What the fuck are we doing here?”
His friend ignored the question as he pulled his truck into the already packed parking spot, cut off the engine and swung out of the cab. Dan followed. Showered but not shaved, he was looking rough and was not happy about being dragged out. Being dragged to Tigers, the city’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club, was doing more than making him not happy. It was calling out some of his personal demons, parts of himself that were better left in that wicked past he’d abandoned.
Dan, his heart starting to pound, the adrenaline starting to rush again, scrambled for a way to take control. “What about Tara. Remember her? Your totally bangin’ wife?”
That got Matthew’s attention. Dan felt the threat of the other man’s stare even through the dim light on the edges of the parking lot. “It’s not like that,” he said.
“Then what’s it like?” Dan asked, the heels of his boots scraping gravel as they moved toward the narrow brick building.
Several yards later, the other man replied. “Shut up for once.”
No matter that Dan worked to cool the blood starting to pulse in his veins, the closer he got to the short, red velvet carpet that led to the discreet, glossy front door of the club, the more his body started to remember the hunger simmering deep in his veins.
They reached the edge of the carpet. Dan stopped and grabbed Matthew’s arm. “What if I don’t want to shut up?”
“I’m going in with or without you. I’d rather go in with you.” He tugged his arm away and dug for his truck keys then held them out, his palm flat and steady.
Dan waved the keys away. “What the hell. Let’s do this.”
The inside of Tigers was exactly as he remembered. Half a dozen intimate stages circled by arrangements of small, round tables and deep, black leather chairs. Each long, oval stage had two poles—one at each end—and a low stairway that gave the dancers access. The tables circling the stages were low. The casters on the chairs made them easy to rearrange, giving Sasha Kozlow, the no-nonsense Russian woman who owned the place, the option to have horny college kids—or anyone else who wasn’t spending fast enough—moved away from the choice locations right next to the girls.
When the hostess looked Matthew and Dan up and down, she licked her lush pink lips and ordered a pair of frat boys to move to the back, then gave them the newly vacant table right in front of one of the poles. Close enough to smell the sweat of the girl’s soft skin. Near enough to feel the whisper of her breath as she worked herself against the pole. It was the worst possible place for Dan to be. At least it was just him and Matthew.
“We’re expecting another,” Matthew explained as he grabbed the one empty chair nearby and rolled it over.
Shit. “Who?”
Matthew ignored him. The hostess shrugged her bare shoulder and turned, weaving her way between the tables of men staring intently at the closest stage. A pair of tall blondes dressed as twins were wriggling alongside each other, rubbing their tits together as they each squeezed the other’s ass cheeks with long, tanned fingers. Dan’s cock twitched. Matthew grabbed the drink menu and flipped through it. Dan glanced at the empty chair, considered asking again who it was for, looked at his friend, then decided not to. The guy had had a seriously fucked-up day.
Dan clenched his jaw, remembering the humiliating scene in the conference room when Olivia had made a big deal of the moment, rambling on about the hard work and excellent qualities of the man being promoted to senior sales manager. Even though Dan had only been working there since getting back from Afghanistan, he knew how well-respected Matthew was among their coworkers. Damn near everyone in the conference room had been pounding Matthew on the back and congratulating him, assuming that since he deserved the promotion he was going to get it. Then Olivia wrapped her arm around that asshole Josh’s huge body-builder shoulders and made the announcement that he, and not Matthew, was getting the promotion. Unfair. That was too soft a word.
The girls on the stage dropped to the floor, one at each end of the stage. The dancer in front of Dan rolled onto her stomach, spread her legs and rose up on the toes of her fuck-me-hard heels. Dan didn’t bother shifting his hips to try to hide the erection pressing into the seam of his jeans. Why should he? Every man within a ten-yard radius of the woman had a solid boner and was thinking about driving it in
to her tight, hot pussy. Everyone except Matthew, who was still staring at the drink menu.
Dan caught the eye of the cocktail waitress. She came over right away, bending low enough for her breasts to drop out of her corset. He could see her nipples. “What can I get you, cowboy?” she asked, eyeing his jeans and snakeskin boots.
“Matthew? What’s good?”
Matthew tossed the menu down. “Whatever you’re having.”
Dan took another look at the woman’s firm, dark nipples then asked for two Maker’s Marks neat.
“Make that three.”
Josh?
Dan’s shoulders tensed as he slid a look over at Matthew. Only a longtime friend would’ve spotted the slight nod that accompanied the tension, an indication that something else was going on. To his credit, Matthew didn’t blink when he patted the empty chair. “Josh, fuck yeah you’ll have one. At least one. Now sit your ass down and get some eye candy. You earned it.”
Dan had a glass of bourbon in one hand and a fistful of dollars in the other. The whiskey was a welcome distraction, something to take his mind off the simmering anger created by the ass seated right beside him. The singles had been forced on him by that same asshole, Josh, who was so dense that he actually thought he’d been invited to Tigers to celebrate his promotion.
While Josh was piling dollars on the edge of the stage, and Matthew was doing his best to pretend he was enjoying the show, Dan battled the demons of his past. Despite the money in his hand, he had absolutely no intention of encouraging the girls to notice him. That would be the beginning of a bad idea. In that respect, Josh was actually doing him a favor by making it a point to show the dancers he was the big spender at their table.
Josh managed to get his gaze off the women long enough to glance at Dan. He laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “What’s the matter, man? Afraid of the pussy? You don’t have to be. You throw enough money at them and they’ll love you even if you are a stiff-faced, stone-silent dude with no personality.”
Wicked Pink Page 1