Lover

by Marni Mann

  “Say it,” I tell him. “Just say whatever you need to say.”

  “I can’t,” he tells me with his eyes still closed.

  “You’re disappointed; I get it. But I’d rather you do your worst with words than shut me out. It’s been five days since we got home, Cannon, and it feels like a month.”

  Before I take my next breath, he grabs my hips and sits me up, so I’m straddling him. For a second, his eyes can’t focus on anything but my chest. And I want him.

  I shouldn’t be this turned on when we’re on the verge of a serious conversation, but I can’t help it. The entire four years of our marriage, even while we’ve been struggling to connect, we’ve never gone five days without sex. Not even when Cannon was out of town for work. Those nights, we had some of the hottest phone sex. The memory alone makes me squirm.

  “What do you want, Piper? Tell me.”

  “Talk to me,” I tell him. “You promised you’d try to fix this, but I feel you slipping further away. I’ll give you anything.” Before he looks away, I see the guilt in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Cannon. This isn’t about the website. I haven’t been on it—the forum either.”

  “But you would give me whatever I wanted. I know you would. Yet I can’t do the same for you.”

  “What can’t you give me?” My voice is panicked. I know it is, but I feel like he’s on the verge of saying something that I need to hear. “It’s just you and me, Cannon. It’s always been us. Nothing else matters anymore.”

  Shaking his head, he sits up and sets me on the mattress next to him. “It does matter. You’re my wife. And you’re miserable because of me.”

  I reach for his chin and cup his jaw in my hand. “You don’t make me miserable. I’m sad because of this wedge between us. I need you to forget about everything you saw in Belize. Pretend like it never existed. I don’t know why I thought swinging was even a possibility. We can fix this without my crazy ideas. So, I’m the one who’s sorry, Cannon. Me. Forgive me.”

  I can feel his pulse thrashing around in his neck, and I worry he’s not going to get past this.

  Surprising me, he says, “What if you’re right? What if this could save us?”

  Dropping my hand, I stare at him in shock. “What? No. I don’t ever plan on talking to that couple again.”

  That’s almost a lie. I received an alert from the site just this morning. If I logged on, there’d be a message waiting from the wife of the couple. But I chose to ignore it. For Cannon.

  “I think you should message them again,” he says.

  I’m blown away. Nothing about this makes sense. That’s why I ask him, “What’s changed?”

  Five days is a long time, especially when things are strained. But for him to completely change his mind? I don’t understand.

  He licks his lips and shakes his head. Then, he says, “Because…because I understand more than you think I do.”

  “What does that even mean? Stop talking in riddles, and just say what you need to say.”

  “I’m trying!” he yells. “Just do what I tell you to do.”

  Before our conversation the other day, I’ve never brought up the idea of bringing anyone else into our marriage. I’m not even sure I’d be completely okay with someone else touching my husband.

  Swinging isn’t cheating.

  It’s not dating.

  Nothing about it is built upon love.

  It’s just four people exploring and living out fantasies that could make their marriages even stronger. But it’s still one hundred percent physical.

  “I don’t think I can,” I tell him. “You’re doing it for the wrong reasons. I know you are. You’ve been distracted and you think this is what I want because of how much time I spent exploring the forum and website.”

  He grips my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. And then he says in a calmer voice, “Piper, just listen to me, and do it.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, mostly because I can’t take another drawn out argument with Cannon.

  I climb out of bed, sit down in front of my laptop, and do as he asked, my hands shaking with every keystroke. I was never this nervous just messing around on the sites before.

  Probably because this isn’t a random post or even a semi-desperate plea for help.

  It’s not research, and it certainly isn’t to pass the time in the middle of the night.

  This is swinging.

  West

  Tilly clasps her fingers around mine as we walk into the hotel and says, “Are you going to mention our last name?”

  “To whom?” I ask. “The front desk?”

  She squeezes my fingers. She does that a lot in public, especially when we were out in Boston. We aren’t affectionate at home, but when we have an audience she likes to show how much love there is between us. I get why. With all the women around, hell, I can’t even blame her.

  “No, to the couple,” she whispers as we get closer to the check-in area.

  “I thought we were here to fuck?”

  Her head snaps in my direction, her eyes wide and turned on. Damn, she loves hearing that word. It heats up her pussy as much as my tongue does.

  “Yes, baby, that’s why we’re here.”

  “Then, why would I give them my last name? I don’t plan on having dinner with them after or inviting them over for Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.” She laughs. “I just want to double-check in case you decide to make one up or use what I booked us under, so we’re both on the same page.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  She quiets her giggles, keeping the smile—large and fake as hell—as she sets her arms on top of the counter. “Mr. and Mrs. Peenly checking in.”

  Peenly.

  I almost laugh as hard as she did.

  She only ever checks in under fake names, and they always have something to do with sex. And, just to play it safe, I usually wear a hat and glasses until we get to our room. I am tonight, too.

  “Two queen-size beds,” the guy behind the desk says. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a king?”

  “I prefer the queens,” Tilly says.

  He nods, still looking at his computer. “Your reservations show that you’ve requested adjoining rooms with the Pussleys?” He finally looks up, his expression much more serious than I expected.

  Tilly glances back at me and chews the corner of her mouth. She’s looking for a reaction, and she’ll get one. The second we’re alone, my hand will slap across her ass.

  She’ll like it.

  But, fuck, I will, too.

  “That’s correct,” she says.

  He places a key in front of her. “Room six-three-four. The elevators are around the corner.” He points to the right. “If you remove anything from the minibar, you will be charged whether you drink it or not.”

  “Got it,” she says. “Thanks.”

  We turn toward the elevators, and the door slides open as soon as Tilly hits the button.

  As we step inside, she takes out her phone and checks the screen. “The Pussleys are already here.”

  “Nice. Real nice.”

  She turns to the side, giving me a better view of her ass. “I thought you’d like it. I was hoping—”

  “I know what you were hoping for.”

  My hand feels less twitchy now that she wants the spanking. She’ll still get it but when she least expects it. Besides, tonight, my hands aren’t for my wife.

  “You picked a punctual couple.”

  “That’s because she wants your cock.” She moves closer and leans up on her toes, her arms going around my neck, her lips briefly pressing against mine. “Can you blame her? With how perfect your dick is”—she stops to grind her pussy against it—“it’s a miracle I’m even willing to share it.”

  I lick off the gloss she left on my mouth. “She doesn’t know anything about my cock.”

  “Oh, but, baby, she kinda does.”

  I hold her
face back when she tries to kiss me again. “What the fuck do you mean, she kinda does?”

  “Before I spread my legs for her husband, I wanted to see what I was going to be working with. So, I asked for a picture, and in return, she wanted one of you.”

  I grip her head harder, holding her so tightly that she can’t move, knowing it does nothing but turn her on even more. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

  “Don’t worry; I only sent shots of your big, beautiful dick and one of my freshly waxed pussy. It didn’t show our faces or any distinguishing marks.”

  “When did you take it?”

  “While you were sleeping. Whoever you were dreaming about must have been hot because you were tenting the sheet more than I’ve ever seen.”

  I’m sure I was dreaming about that fucking smile.

  Not my wife’s.

  The runner’s.

  I can’t get her out of my head.

  Pulling Tilly’s hair back, I breathe across her ear, “Does she know about your Bad Kitty?”

  “Jesus, West, if you keep talking to me like that, we won’t make it out of this elevator.”

  Those two words are tattooed right above my wife’s cunt.

  It sums her up perfectly.

  We reach our floor, and I release her. “Time to walk.”

  “Do you remember their names?” she asks as we step into the hallway.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you want to see their pictures again?”

  “Nah.” There’s no need. I remember her being hot; that’s all that really matters.

  She tugs at my hand, and we halt after the first few doors. “If you like her, give me some type of signal, so before we leave, we can make plans to meet up again. I mean, as long as you’re okay with it.”

  “Let’s see how she fucks before we even talk about a round two.”

  Her arm slips around my back, and she pushes her navel into me. “I know this is new territory for you. Usually, I’m the one hooking up with a woman, and you get to watch and have me when I’m done with her. Now, I’m asking you to be with someone else, and that’s a lot.”

  She’s craving attention. She knows she’s going to get it soon, and it’s making her almost shake with hunger. It’s the kind of need that I’d feel seconds before my skates touched the ice. She doesn’t give a shit about what I think. She’s worried I’ll change my mind, and she won’t get what she wants.

  It doesn’t piss me off. It’s the way our relationship works.

  But she isn’t the one with the upper hand here. I’m the one with the cock. I’m the one who has what she wants when she’s home. And I’m about to give that to someone other than her. She needs to be reminded of that.

  I grab her face and pull it close to mine. “Tilly,” I say, rubbing the edge of my lip over her cheek and across the side of her mouth, “the next time you get near my lips, they’re going to smell like another woman’s pussy.”

  It only takes a second before I see my words simmer inside her head.

  She swallows, blinks hard, and takes a breath. “It’s a nice pussy, too. You’re really going to love it.”

  She always wants the last word.

  Even if she doesn’t mean it.

  “Don’t tell me about it. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “Come on,” she says, slipping out of my grip and pulling me down the hallway, “I don’t want to be late.”

  When she reaches the door, she waves the key in front of it and listens for the lock to click. Once it does, we both go inside, and she immediately goes over to the entrance of their room. Her hand hovers above the wood.

  “Are you ready?” she whispers.

  “What’s the rush? Why don’t we have a drink first and relax for a little bit?”

  “We can do that with them. We’ll all need to talk before anything happens anyway.”

  Instead of waiting for me to reply, she pounds on their door. Within a few seconds, it slowly opens, and as I stand several feet away, I watch my wife’s face. She has on the same look whenever she takes a woman by the hand and leads her to a bed. Right now, sex is the only thing on her mind. Underneath those jeans, I know her pussy’s soaked. I know that, if I rub just the top of her clit, it will only take a few strokes before she’s coming. I know it will take three orgasms before she is fully satisfied. And I know she’ll want it again in the morning.

  I don’t have regrets; I don’t live my life that way.

  There’s some kind of love there.

  But, when sex is what keeps you together, you just know that, at some point, it’ll wear off, regardless of how much swinging we do or how many times I watch her eat out another chick.

  From this angle, I can’t see the woman’s face, so I move closer to my wife and look through the opening of the doorway. “Hey, I’m West.”

  Those lips.

  Those perfect teeth.

  Holy fuck.

  It’s her.

  The runner.

  And the reason she looked familiar the first time I saw her on the beach is because of the picture my wife had shown me of her.

  There’s that smile again, bigger than the last one she gave me. Those lips are the ones I dream about sticking my dick between.

  Oh, this is going to be fun as hell.

  “Piper,” she says, shaking my hand. Not breaking contact, she points to the guy next to her. “And this is my husband, Cannon.”

  She finally releases my hand, and he grabs it. His grip isn’t as strong as I thought it would be. Not weak, just a little more touchy than I like.

  “It’s nice to meet you, West.”

  The room goes silent before my wife says, “Let’s get started.”

  Piper

  I used to hate running, but ever since I saw him, running became a habit I never knew I needed. Every morning, after Cannon leaves for work, the butterflies return. I throw on some clothes, and then I hit the sand.

  I love the way the water feels as it crashes against my ankles. The strength of the current is so powerful, I’m reminded that life’s bigger than my missing pieces. My problems become small enough that I’m able to put one foot in front of the other and let go.

  For the forty-five minutes spent under the early morning sun, I come to life. It’s just me, his broad shoulders, and our sun-kissed skin.

  If I time it just right, we pass by one another where the beach narrows, and the jetty forces us closer. On those mornings, I get a glimpse of the little scar above his lip. I’ve thought up a million different reasons about how that scar got there, if someone had hurt him or if it had been an accident. But it doesn’t matter how evil the reason because it transforms into something beautiful the second his lips curl.

  I’m lit on fire by the flirtatious gleam in his eye, and I can’t hold back. My lips ache until they’re stretched from one side of my face to the other. The way he admires my curves fills me with more confidence than any compliment could.

  My feelings morph into fantasies of me beneath him, screaming his name. Without experiencing a single touch from his fingers, he drives me crazy—teasing me, torturing me with the promise of what’s to come.

  He’s why I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing my hair again. I was so nervous at home; I couldn’t get the curling iron to do much of anything. I gave up when I dropped it on the floor, and the pin popped out, ending any chance I might have had of saving it.

  “Piper, they’re knocking,” Cannon says as he peeks his head around the corner.

  “Answer it,” I tell him, taking one last deep breath.

  I already know who’s waiting on the other side of the door. That’s probably why my heart’s racing, and my hands are freezing cold.

  “You’re sure you want to go through with this?” he questions when he notices my worry. “We can still change our minds.”

  “I’m sure. Do I look okay?”

  He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “You’re beautiful, baby. A
lways.”

  I wrap my arms around his back and hold on with everything I have, my last bit of security before I hand him over to Tilly. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  He holds on just as tight, his heart hammering against my cheek. “I’ve read everything you’ve shown me. This can work, Piper.”

  “She’s good with words, isn’t she?” I ask him.

  But I’m pretty sure that’s not the only thing she’s good with. Cannon’s intrigued because of those emails, and I can’t blame him. I feel the same way.

  “She is. But it’s not about her. It’s about what this arrangement can do for us.”

  That’s exactly what I needed to hear from Cannon. “Come on, let’s go meet them.”

  I hear her voice before I see her. Tilly’s as excited as I expected her to be. Her long blond hair is stick straight and hangs down to her elbows. Bright blue eyes scan my husband’s face, and they exchange similar looks of approval.

  This is what I wanted, and still, the first inkling of jealousy stings. It’s unexpected, and I’m not sure what to do with it. I spent so much time pushing Cannon into Tilly’s arms, making sure he understood what she was looking for, that I didn’t stop to think about how that would make me feel. Probably because I was so wrapped up in what I already felt, I didn’t think his reaction would affect me at all.

  I was wrong.

  But we’re here. We’ve gotten this far. I can’t go back on my word.

  And, as my body absorbs the burn of his stare, I don’t want to stop. I can’t.

  I blink a couple of times, making sure it’s really him. I had my suspicions—the guy in the photo looked a lot like the man on the beach—but I told myself I was imagining it because I was caught up in a fantasy I’d created. Getting my hopes up would have only led to disappointment.

  But I’m right.

  I’d recognize that smile of his anywhere. The one he reserves for me every morning as he passes me by. West hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m so wet, it’s embarrassing.

  Tilly lets go of Cannon’s hand and says, “Our room or yours?”

  I look to Cannon for an answer, but he’s busy eyeing West.