The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (13 page)

“I’ll give them a call.” Farris stuffed the slip of paper in his pocket. “Start at the top. Get some assurances. Then we’ll see. If there’s a free lunch in the offing, I’ll let you know.”

Spence grinned. “Right. You never share your free lunches, dude.”

Farris laughed one more time. Most people would have been left with a smile, but the moment the laugh died, his face fell into its immobile lines. He stood a moment at the bottom of the stairs as Spence retraced his steps across the parking lot, and Spence had a feeling the man wasn’t thinking about targets or freight costs. He was contemplating the new Finance manager.

* * * * *

Keith’s words from this morning still echoed in Zoe’s ears.
Call him. Make a date.

She could simply call West Coast and ask for Spencer Benedict. If he didn’t answer, she’d leave a polite, businesslike message. She could send him an email. Something equally innocuous. She didn’t have to write
My husband wants you to fuck me again so he can watch
.

She didn’t really want Keith directing. With him watching, she couldn’t be the way she was in Florida. She’d be inhibited. Honestly, she couldn’t imagine sticking her legs in the air in front of Keith and using her vibrator while Spence drilled her to a fabulous orgasm. Besides, if he wanted her to do it without a condom, she and Spence would have to be tested. Pregnancy wasn’t an issue, though, since she was on birth control pills.

So now it was four o’clock in the afternoon, her office door closed while she was supposedly approving a mountain of purchase orders on her desk, and she’d neither called Spence nor sent him an email.

She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to close her eyes and let him seduce her over the phone. She wanted to exchange dirty, sexy emails and texts.

Do you want it or don’t you?
she asked herself
.

Yes, yes, yes, she did. So badly, she ached with it.

Then let your husband watch and you can have it all.

That’s all Keith wanted. To watch, to clean her up afterwards. He’d given her carte blanche to do anything she wanted with Spence.

She opened her email, entered his address, then typed the subject line:
Beta Testing
.

Tapping her fingers lightly on the keys, she ran through several opening lines. Nothing suggestive, it was a work address, after all, just something to let him know she wanted more than beta testing.

It was nice interacting with you at the Florida convention. As I mentioned, I would love to bring you on board as one of my beta testers.

Interacting
stood for
fucking
and
my
beta tester made it personal. But anyone reading over his shoulder would simply think it was a business exchange.

God, it sounded stupid.
It was nice interacting with you
? Lame.

She changed it to
I enjoyed our interaction.
Then she added her cell phone number and asked him to call her.

Please, please, please.

She sent the message without giving herself another chance to think. She’d dithered far too long already. She wanted him. She’d take him any way she could get him.

Her cell phone rang three minutes later. Her head didn’t recognize the number, but her heart did, beating hard. “Hello?”

“Yes,” he said.

She bit her lip, faint with relief and desire. “Who is this?”

“You damn well know it’s your beta tester.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, a hint of need. “Exactly what do you want me to test?”

Her breath seemed to come faster, to the point of feeling lightheaded. With desire. With yearning. “Everything. I need to make sure all my parts are in working order.”

“Believe me, they are. But they need to be used regularly to keep them in shape.”

“Yes. Use me.” It was Keith’s word. He wanted her to be used. “My parts, I mean.”

“When?”

Now, right this minute. Do me on my desk. On my chair. On the floor. Stake your claim.

“My husband has some very specific things—”

He didn’t let her finish, and his even tone indicated little. “I’m not fucking your husband.”

“What I meant was that he’s got some ideas about what he wants you to do to me.”

“So you told him all about me, and he’s fine with you seeing me again?”

“Well, yes.” Of course, she had left him with the impression that their interlude was over.

“Who suggested it? You or him?”

Did it give away too much to say Keith had suggested but she’d jumped on it? “It was a mutual decision.” She couldn’t help adding, “You know I want it.” Which told him everything.

He exhaled loudly as if he’d been holding his breath. “We need to meet to discuss it. Tell him I want to hear all his terms in detail during a dinner date with you. Alone.”

“A dinner date?” Her blood raced. They’d had dinner together in Florida. She thought about eating Chinese food out of the cartons while they sat naked on his bed. About breakfast and the whipped cream he’d licked off her. Was dinner really just dinner?

“Yeah. Dinner. Then I’ll decide if I’ll agree to his demands.” A note of teasing crept into his voice. “You’ll have to give me some sugar to sweeten the pot.”

She laughed. “Give you some sugar? You sound like a southern gentleman.”

“Dahling,” he drawled, “I’m not a gentleman.”

“My husband thinks you’re a cocky asshole.”

“He’s right. I want what I want. So tell him dinner on Friday will last at least six hours.”

“We’re going to eat for six hours?” She was begging for his double entendre.

“Oh yeah, baby, we’re both going to feast.” His voice fell to a husky pitch. “I need to taste you again. Real bad. I want your mouth on me. It’s all I’ve been dreaming about.”

She was faint with desire and wet between the legs, but she didn’t acknowledge how badly she wanted it, too.

Spence returned to his authoritative, cocky asshole voice. “So tell him that’s what I expect.”

“I’ll tell him. What time on Friday? And where should I meet you?” She wanted all the details, the plans ready-made so that all Keith had to do was agree.

“Seven o’clock. Come to my house, and I’ll drive us to the restaurant.”

His house. Where they could return for an after-dinner feast. “A hotel would be better.”

He was silent a long moment. “Tell him I’m making the rules this time.”

She wanted to see his house. She wanted to know how he lived. She wanted to be able to dream about him there, and oh, how dangerous those desires were. “I’ll ask him.”

“
Tell
him,” Spence emphasized.

She tried to sound amused. “You’re very pushy.”

“I told you I want what I want. I make no excuses about that.”

She realized he was also taking it out of her hands. Whatever she asked for, all she had to do was blame it on Spence.
But this is what he demands, Keith. If you want me to say no, I will.
But Keith wouldn’t make her say no. Because he also wanted what he wanted. She had no doubt, though, that he’d make his own demands as well.

“All right. I’ll tell him.” She wanted to talk about
them
, about how badly she wanted him to touch her, but somehow Keith was between them even on the phone.

“I’ll email you my address.”

“Okay.”

“Zoe,” he said before she could hang up. “I want you in
my
bed. I want to memorize you there. I want to lie in my bed and stroke myself every night smelling you on my sheets.”

Warmth suffused her body. “You’ll have to wash them sometime,” she quipped to ward off the emotion.

He snorted a laugh. “I’m being romantic and you think about laundry.”

“I thought you were talking about sex, not romance.”

“Sex is romance.”

God yes, it was. His desire for her was romance. Most women wouldn’t think that way, but for her, that was truth. She was totally seduced. “Friday at seven. You can romance me.”

No matter what she had to do, she would make sure Keith agreed to the date.

* * * * *

“He’s a demanding asshole,” Keith said mildly that night after she’d told him what Spence wanted. They were eating dinner in the family room, trays on their laps, the TV on mute.

“I thought you like that he’s cocky.”

“I do.” He tipped his head to look at her. “The guy intrigues me. But what intrigues me more is what
you
see in him.” There was something more than mere curiosity in the question. Almost as if he needed reassurance.

She tried to give it to him with a sultry smile. “You looked at those pictures and the video. Size does count for something.”

“You dirty bitch.” He smiled, the trace of
something
in his tone gone. “I love that about you, how filthy you are. It’s sexy.” He chewed the spinach tortellini she’d made for dinner. “The older you get, the dirtier. I wish…” He trailed off, the rest unsaid.

She knew what he wished, that he could take advantage of the woman she’d become. At twenty-three, sex had been secondary to her. She’d been consumed with marriage and settling down and having children. Now, years later, she truly was all about the sex itself, the physical sensations, the emotion of being desired, of desire itself.

“I also like that he’s willing to play our game.” Again, she told the truth, at least part of it. “He enjoys egging you on, playing dominant.”

“He’s not playing, sweetheart. He
is
dominant. He wants to lord it over us. I bet that’s part of his kick, playing a husband and wife, making them do what he wants.” He shrugged. “He’s in heaven. All the filthy, dirty sex he wants and absolutely no commitment required. You said he’s never been married, so he’s probably thanking his lucky stars he doesn’t have to deal with the emotion involved in a real relationship.”

She wondered if Keith was creating a scenario he could feel comfortable with. Spence was using them, taking advantage of worry-free sex, no messy emotions, no entanglements.

She felt a hitch in her chest. Maybe that really was how Spence felt. She was a safe commodity, married to another man. But that was good, she told herself. She was safe, too. She felt the kick of being desired, the heat of being wanted badly. Nothing else was necessary.

“So you’re okay with dinner and me going to his house?”

“Get me what I want, honey, and I’m fine with it all. In fact, you should discuss it over dinner, get his answer, then he can fuck you in his bed. And any other dirty thing he wants.”

She
was
a commodity, the bargaining chip between the two men. It didn’t bother her. In fact, it added to the whole experience. She was the woman they were fighting over.

“On Friday, I want to pick out your clothing, your jewelry, the perfume you wear. I want to sit in the bathroom and watch you get ready for him.” He stopped, gave her a long look. “I want to shave you, prepare you for him.”

“Shave me?” She felt a quiver in her belly.

“Your pussy. I want to make you all smooth and pretty for him.”

A year ago, even a month ago, the intimacy of what he described would have excited her. Yet Spence made her feel differently. Not that it mattered. She’d do whatever Keith wanted if it meant she could see Spence again.

“After that,” she said, “I’m sure he’ll agree to whatever you want.”

“Hell, yes, he will.”

“When we’ve done this,” she ventured, “after you watch us, I mean, will you still want me to see him?” She swallowed hard, almost afraid to hear his answer.

A grin stretched across his face. “Of course. I want to use this asshole to fulfill all my desires for you.”

Zoe didn’t ask what they were. She didn’t care. She loved her husband, but Spence fulfilled all the sexual needs she’d been missing for more than three years. Attraction and desire were potent aphrodisiacs, and she had an abundance of both with Spence, more than any of the previous one-night stands on her business trips.

“So, do you want to hear about the houses I saw in Florida?” She needed a change of topic before she started to beg. They put their dinner trays aside, and she brought out the brochures and flyers she’d picked up.

Keith laid out the floor plans on the coffee table. “You drove around quite a bit.”

“Yes.” She didn’t tell him Spence had been with her. “I couldn’t get through to Ocala because there was a downed tree in the road.” And because Spence was fucking her in the rental car. “So I went north instead.”

“Get any stamps for the passport?”

Her stomach rolled. “Uh-huh.”
Don’t ask for details.
If he didn’t ask, she wouldn’t be lying.

“That’s my girl.” He patted her knee. “Out fucking for me
and
getting stamps for the park passport, too.”

She laughed. It didn’t sound shaky or false at all. “What more could a man ask for?”

He leaned over, licked the shell of her ear, sending a shiver of memory through her. The memory of when Spence had done the very same thing. “All
this
man can ask for,” he murmured, “is to watch him fuck you real good. Then clean you up afterward.”

Her husband wanted Spence to be the other man in her life. Was it really so bad if she wanted it, too?

Chapter Twelve

Keith watched Zoe’s car disappear around the corner at the bottom of the hill, heading out for her Friday night date.

He’d chosen her dress, her underwear, her shoes. In the bathroom, he’d insisted on preparing her for Spencer Benedict. He’d given her away for the night, sent her off to get fucked. It had been hotter than anything they’d ever done.

His cock was hard, yes, so fucking hard. It was difficult to breathe he was so damned turned on. The man was perfect.
No phone calls, no interruptions, I’m fucking your wife and don’t bother me.

He felt light-headed with anticipation. He was consumed by it. Soon he would have his fantasy. Soon he would watch this asshole Spencer Benedict fuck Zoe until she screamed as he came inside her. Then it would be Keith’s turn to clean her up. He would video it all. And he would watch the fantasy movie till the end of his days.