Sharing Adam

by Madelynne Ellis

  Suddenly, one of Elliot’s big hands was doing exactly that. Becca stiffened a little as his loved-up digits circled the tight furl of her anus. She used fingers on him there quite often, but they rarely did things this way round.

  “Oh!” she squeaked, having failed to anticipate Elliot taking things in this direction. He kept on stroking her there, which sent bolts of shock and excitement ricocheting through her already highly aroused form. “Ell,” she groaned into his shoulder. He was going to tip her over if he kept on doing that. Her sensitivity there was damn near off the scale. If he dared to—my God, he dared to… First one, then the second digit penetrated her arse. She was being filled both back and front. She closed her eyes and it was as if Adam were in the room with them. His muscular body wedged up against her back, and his cock branding her arse, while Elliot filled her cunt.

  That thought undid her completely. Becca sobbed out her orgasm into her lover’s shoulder. Seconds later, Elliot came inside her, equally hard.

  Chapter Three

  “What do we do now?” Becca asked as they readied themselves for breakfast the next morning. They’d spent the rest of the night curled up together like newborn puppies or kittens, nothing quite as sterile or cold as nested spoons. Wedding over, they were now dressed in their informal best. Fancy enough to fit in with the hotel decor, but far too nice for the weekend grocery shop.

  “About what?” Elliot muffled a yawn. The banquette hadn’t been all that comfortable, something she’d realised during their post-coital cuddle. Consequently, Elliot was rather sleep deprived. Sure, she’d let him join her in the king-sized bed, but he’d only had a few winks up until that point.

  Becca waited for the bride’s family to go into the restaurant ahead of them, before jabbing Elliot in the ribs to jolt him from his zombified state. “You know what about. Last night, remember? Adam, and what you got up to, and how I’d like to, you know…” She jabbed him again to make the point.

  Following a second, rather prolonged yawn, Elliot shrugged in incomprehension. “I thought I was forgiven. Didn’t we make up?”

  “You are, but…”

  “But I am or I’m not?”

  Becca raised her hands in despair. Evidently, the complexities of last night’s sex had completely washed over Elliot. She nudged him forward and left off trying to prompt his tired brain until he’d drained a glass of orange juice and started on a mountain of fruit. “I meant about how I’m interested in seeing you like that? Not that you’re a bad boy for doing it.”

  “Christ, Becca!” He spluttered fruit over the tablecloth. Breath recovered, he snatched up a napkin and dusted away the offending bits of forest fruits. “Not fair,” he complained, whilst giving his nose a wiggle. “I’ve never snorted raspberries before. I didn’t think you were serious. I thought we were, you know, play-acting in order to get off.”

  “So, you were lying about you and Adam?”

  “No.” He cast a glance about the room, clearly making sure they weren’t in danger of being overheard. The restaurant, with its paint-splash modern art, held only a few late risers. Many of the wedding guests had departed the previous night. “Look, I might have embellished things a bit.”

  “How much of a bit? Are you now saying he’s never fucked you?”

  Elliot pulled a sour face around a piece of grapefruit. “Look, it was obviously turning you on, so I ran with it.”

  “Has he or has he not shagged your arse?” she hissed.

  “Has.” Elliot bowed his head and concentrated on his bowl until he’d emptied it. He drank a whole cup of tea before he spoke to her again. “I never realised that you were that into the idea. Are you really serious about wanting to see that shit?”

  Was it really so terrible that the idea of seeing her husband being fucked turned her into a sex maniac? If she did a quick survey of the breakfast guests, how would the notion of her watching her other half get some go down? Hot or not? Approval or disdain?

  She guessed the answer was plain enough on Elliot’s shock-whitened face. Sadly, him looking a bit peaky didn’t quieten the excited tingle in her cunt. There weren’t that many things in life she’d wanted with any degree of passion. However, the few things that fit that bill she’d fought, scrimped and saved her way to getting. Brand new car, a biomedical degree, and that Louis Vuitton case she’d craved so badly when she was seventeen. Admittedly, they were things and hadn’t really involved other people, but…

  Damn, she supposed she’d back down if he was really, really upset and against the whole thing, except she wasn’t convinced over that. For all his moaning, an excited twinkle flashed in Elliot’s eyes. Plus his shoulders were pushed back like he was ready to hunt, not defensively hunched.

  “We could talk to him before we leave. Look, he’s coming into the restaurant.”

  Elliot snorted, “Yeah, because ‘Come upstairs for a fuck, while my wife ogles us’ is just the thing to spice up his cornflakes.”

  Adam didn’t look quite as blanched as the other remaining wedding guests. Maybe he hadn’t stayed up as late, or drunk as much, or maybe his black ensemble, topped with a leather jacket, allowed him to look a little rough and get away with it better. His black hair was brushed into a satin-like sheet that rested upon his shoulders. He shot a glance in their direction, but didn’t come over.

  “No, Becca, we can’t. The whole thing happened years ago; I don’t need to back-step.”

  She turned her head back to their table, only to find Elliot still following Adam’s swagger. “Well, I guess if you’re not attracted to him any more”—she sighed—“I suppose we could try to find someone else.”

  Not that she wanted to see him do a horizontal dance with anyone else. Adam was the stealth ninja who’d infiltrated her dreams and she wanted to see him naked. That slim butt of his would definitely be a joy to behold. She had a feeling his abs would be pretty well ripped too, if that clingy T-shirt he had on was anything to go by.

  Elliot clasped his hands to his face, then rubbed his eyes. “What the heck came over you last night? You see me kiss someone and now you’re the world’s premier voyeur.”

  She laughed, unable to help it. “Not yet, I’m not. I’m an aspiring voyeur. But you know how to change that.”

  He shook his head, but he was smiling at her.

  Becca left Elliot behind in the restaurant, ostensibly so that she could pack up the contents of their room. They both knew that wasn’t really why she’d left.

  There wasn’t much for her to do. The few toiletries and clothes they’d brought could be easily slung into a bag. What she’d actually left him alone for was so that he would have the chance to speak to Adam.

  Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part to believe that Elliot would broach the subject. Though straightforward in his approach to most things, when it came to sex and his privacy, he could be pretty evasive. The thing was, this wasn’t a situation where drip-feeding someone hints was likely to work. You just had to spit out bombshells like this. Say, ‘My wife wants to watch us fuck’, and hope you didn’t get punched.

  Not that she thought Adam would swing his fists. She suspected that he was more likely to dissolve into laughter, but hopefully, after that, he’d agree. Hell, he’d been prepared to grope a married man in public. Going the whole way behind closed doors for an audience of one wasn’t all that great a leap, even if it was now broad daylight and taking risks somehow seemed better suited to night-time.

  Time—she glanced at the digital clock display on the base of the TV. Nine forty-five a.m.; plenty of time for them to get raunchy. Final checkout wasn’t until three.

  Becca couldn’t recall when she’d first stumbled upon the notion that seeing two men together might turn her on. It had just segued into existence over time, becoming part of her fantasy life. Elliot was not part of that. She’d never invented scenarios around their interactions and didn’t use him as one half of her imaginary pairings. The concept had never occurred to her until she’d
seen Adam’s hand on his crotch. Now she wanted nothing more than to see her husband writhe within Adam’s hold. She wanted to see him on his knees sucking cock. The very thought fired up all her senses, so that her taut nipples poked against her top, their outline perfectly apparent. Her womb felt heavy, and, when she wriggled to satisfy the prickle of arousal tormenting her clit, she realised she was more than a little wet.

  “Be brave,” she whispered to Elliot, as though they were psychically linked, hoping to hurry him up. Only, when she heard voices right outside the room, it dawned on her that she wasn’t brave. She flushed with embarrassment and dived into the built-in wardrobe. “Holy shit!” Elliot had genuinely done it. Leastways, he’d invited Adam back to their room.

  “Bec?”

  She held her breath and kept impossibly still as both men walked past her to stand before the bed. The wooden slats in the wardrobe door gave her an ample view of both the banquette and the bed.

  Elliot’s back faced her, while Adam stood side-on so that she could see his pretty mouth curving upward at the corners into a smile.

  “Maybe she’s done a runner,” Adam said in his smooth, deep drawl. “Guess she wasn’t so keen to meet me, after all.”

  “She did want to meet you.” In the glass of the picture opposite, Becca could see the crumpling of Elliot’s brows. It added a certain sincerity to his protest, something Adam brushed away without saying a word. His body language was just as suave and suggestive as it had been the night before. He followed Elliot’s footsteps around the room, first with his gaze, then moving up close behind him.

  “You know, you didn’t have to go to this much effort to get me up here. The offer’s still open that I made last night.”

  Elliot turned to face his old lover. “I haven’t lured you here. Becca’s curious about you, which is hardly surprising given what she saw.”

  Adam’s arm shot out. His hand hit the wall to the side of Elliot’s head, neatly trapping him. “What she saw was fuck all compared to what I have planned. Remember what we used to do?”

  Elliot shook his head.

  “Huh—who do you think you’re lying to? I know you remember. Your body certainly remembers. Your cock gets hard at the mere suggestion of my touch. Bet you haven’t mentioned how far it went. You should tell her what it’s like between us.”

  Elliot futilely tried to shove him off. “It didn’t go anywhere,” he growled into Adam’s face.

  “Oh, man, you’re such a dick.” Adam shook his head so that his black hair swooshed against the back of his leather jacket. “That’s right, pretend it never happened. Pretend that you’re completely straight. You should tell her the truth, mate. You’re more bent than I am.”

  They glared at one another, eyes ablaze, though with hunger or anger it was hard to tell.

  “The past is of no relevance to who I am now.” Elliot’s shoulders hunched up towards his ears. “Just because you’ve resurfaced from the bottom of the slime pool doesn’t mean I have to dredge up any more old crap. Things are different now. And there isn’t an ‘us’, so how exactly could I tell her what it’s like between us?”

  “There is an us. There’s always been an us. No matter how much you’d like to see her come between us.” Adam leaned a little closer, not so that they were touching, but so that there was no question of the intimacy between them. His breath stirred the strands of Elliot’s hair at the side of his ear.

  “Adam, quit fooling around and back off.” Elliot shoved a hand against Adam’s chest, but failed to move him more than a millimetre. “And quit with the innuendos. I’m a married man. I can’t do this reunion fuck thing, or whatever it is you think I’m up for.”

  ‘What are you protesting for?’ Becca wanted to shout. She mouthed the words, ‘Don’t object. Do’.

  Thank God that Adam wasn’t easily put off. “You’re up for it. So is she. If she knew you were coming to get me, why’s she missing? You told me yourself she’s intrigued. Maybe she’s not as aggrieved about our little grope last night as you make out. Maybe, she’s actually giving us some space to get reacquainted.”

  A moment later, Adam spread his fingers wide across the back of Elliot’s head, holding him still. Their gazes locked, lips slowly parted. “Are you going to turn the dead lock or am I? Unless you prefer to leave it so that she can walk in and see how much of a pervert you are?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Sure you are, with your button-down collar and your pin-stripes. You’ve turned into a corporate whore. Doesn’t mean I can’t still see what’s underneath. I bet you’ve done her a few times on the office desk, and had a few burns off the office carpet. Does she like to watch you fuck her? She seems the sort to like some good visuals.”

  “Adam, lay off talking about her.”

  “Make you nervous, does it?” Adam backed Elliot fully up against the wall to the left of the wardrobe and smacked a kiss upon his lips. “I think this might be a little game you’re playing with me. You know I never could resist a bit of dress-up and a challenge.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  “Isn’t it? Okay. Well, if it’s not a game and it’s not an invitation, what is it?” Adam’s gaze strayed over to the wardrobe. Elliot’s followed. It was as if they could see straight through the doors and knew she was there. Maybe they did. Maybe this to and fro protest routine was purely for show. “You didn’t entice me up here for a coffee. I think we both know you’re after something more physical than a quaint chat.” Adam delivered another lip-smacking kiss.

  From anyone else that sort of show would have made Becca cringe, but from him it was knicker-meltingly hot. Do it again. Do it again quickly, became her silent refrain. There was something intrinsically wicked in the way Adam kissed, perhaps because he came close enough to suggest fulfilment, but never quite delivered on the promise. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her lover’s ear, an act that sent a tickle of warmth through her body as though it were her ear he was violating. It seemed to do much the same for Elliot.

  “We so can’t do this, man,” he protested, even as his lips opened, searching for a kiss.

  “What can’t we do?” Adam nipped along the line of Elliot’s jaw. “Do you mean this?” He pushed his leg between Elliot’s parted thighs. “We can’t do this? That’s a shame because I guess it means we can’t do this, either.” He slid his hand between their bodies to where their hips were pressed together, and encompassed Elliot’s cock. She’d seen him work his wrist before. Recalled the pinch he’d made with his index finger and thumb that had heated things up so fast. The press of their bodies didn’t afford her that detail now, but her imagination filled in the blank.

  “Tell me—is she any good at sucking cock? I know how much you love getting off like that.” Adam’s constant references to her were a little disquieting. It made her wonder if he was curious or deliberately baiting her. Maybe he really did know that she was watching. In some ways it would’ve made it simpler if he did. There was no cause to agonise about acting without consent. He would have been able to walk away if he didn’t want her eyeballing him.

  Lord, he really was something to behold. She scrutinised every inch of him as he nuzzled down the front of Elliot’s shirt. Adam was tall, but he was more fey warrior than broad. That sheet of black hair perfectly offset his angular features and made the blue of his eyes all the more striking. His ears held numerous piercings that he’d obviously removed the day before, while a tattoo of a devil with a truly impressive cock-stand graced his upper arm. He was the perfect antithesis of Elliot, who was always clean-cut and perfectly turned out in his corporate wear, even on days like today when there was no need to dress overly smart.

  Adam fell on to his knees, where he made short work of her husband’s belt and fastenings, then tugged the whole caboodle of trousers and shorts down in one swift tug.

  Elliot’s cock stood every bit as taut and proud as it had done the night before when she’d rubbed up and down his length with the l
ips of her slit. Adam wrapped his palm around the base before making a slow circle of the tip with his tongue. The action drained away the last of Elliot’s supposed resistance. He slumped against the wall, so that he stood in profile to the wardrobe. One hand rested on the top of Adam’s head, gently guiding him into place as he opened his mouth and began a steady twist and suck routine.

  Becca watched, mesmerised. Her attention was as much on Adam as it was on Elliot and his mounting groans. Together they were one of the hottest—no, the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

  It started with a wiggle, just rubbing her legs together so that her pussy lips provided a bit of friction to her needy clit. Then, before long, she was pushing her hand inside her pants and relieving that ache with the brush of her fingertips. Her body welcomed the strokes, while her gaze remained fastened upon the men. The softness of her folds seemed in terrible contrast to the rising tension in her limbs. She strained, seeking the perfect spot, the correct angle. Her forehead brushed lightly against the wardrobe door, almost forcing it open. Becca pulled back just as the magnetic latch started to give, allowing it to snap back into place.

  Luckily, the men were too engrossed in one another to have noticed her mistake. Adam sat back on his haunches. He looked up at Elliot with a mesmerising grin. It wasn’t a pleasant, ‘Come hither, you lucky, lucky thing’ sort of grin, not even a charming one. Rather, it was raw and dirty. It twisted up his face into a mask of feral longing. Said, ‘I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to do it good. You’re going to scream and moan and lose yourself in the beauty of it. I’m going to blow your mind. You’ll look back on this in years to come and the sheer nostalgia of it will make you preen’.

  She’d never had a man look at her like that. Maybe she hadn’t attracted anyone like Adam. Maybe men only looked that way at one another. Either way, she bought into the promise wholeheartedly.