Read The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) for Free Online Page B

sandals.
    “Wait.” He couldn’t run after her with his cock bobbing. He made a grab for his pants.
    She was already at the door. “Don’t bother to get dressed.” She waved a hand at him, like a woman leaving early from a girls’ night out at a bar.
    The door closed. He was alone and naked, with an unused box of condoms and a bottle of lube on his side table.
    “Fuck,” he muttered, flopping down on the edge of the bed. They hadn’t even made love.
    Making love. Those weren’t his words, but that’s what she’d called the thing she’d done to his cock. Not a blow job. Not cocksucking. Making love to his cock. According to her, they’d already made love. It was heaven.
    But making love was something he didn’t do. He hadn’t made love since he was eighteen years old. Not since Fiona. Not since she’d died and he swore he’d never love again.
    So that wasn’t what he’d done with Zoe Hudson, married to Keith Hudson. But he’d sure as hell done something. And they weren’t finished.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Zoe couldn’t believe she’d run out. It was the photo. It was those words. She couldn’t stay.
    Her phone rang when she closed her hotel room door, as if Keith tracked her movements.
    “That is one fucking hot picture, honey,” he said when she answered.
    “You liked it?” She knew it was good. That was the problem. The look on her face. As if that was the only cock she’d ever wanted, ever would want.
    “It’s good enough to jerk off with, sweetheart. You’re one hot mama.”
    She’d tried not to let that bother her. It wasn’t that Keith didn’t feel anything sexual, but he never truly got hard, certainly not hard enough to make love to her, and he had to work at having an orgasm. The problem was he didn’t seem to be able to work at it with her. She’d suggested he jerk off while she used her vibrator. That was certainly dirty enough for his tastes. But he’d shied away from it, as if it exemplified his problem. Being with her was pressure; he couldn’t perform. Things only worked for him when she was away, when she was with another man, when she made her phone calls and sent him pictures. She told herself it didn’t mean he no longer wanted her. Performance issues were as much mental as physical. She was repeating the doctor’s words.
    “That was a hot idea having him call me. I almost came listening to you. Was he good? Did you get a pic of him fucking you?”
    Usually the aftermath with Keith was better than the act itself. When she told him all the details, when he talked her through another orgasm. That wasn’t true this time.
    “With what he did using the vibrator, then sucking him, I was exhausted. Couldn’t handle anymore.” She sank down on the bed and flopped backward, one arm over her head. She’d left the curtains open and, just as in Spence’s room, moonlight spilled across the carpet.
    Keith didn’t mind they hadn’t gone all the way. “He was big. Could you take him all?”
    “No. I could only manage about half.” He’d been thick and hard, his come more sweet than salty. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of him between her lips, the taste, the overpowering scent of man dizzying her.
    “Are you going to fuck him tomorrow night for me?”
    Her eyes snapped open. “We have a rule about only one night. I don’t want them to start pestering me.” She was afraid to go back to him. What he’d done to her had been too good. She hadn’t even needed to speak to Keith. She didn’t want to share it with him now either.
    Let me make love to you with my mouth.
    Seeing Spencer Benedict again was not a good idea. Not good at all.
    “Only having one night was your rule,” Keith said. “I’d love it if you fucked him every night you’re in Florida. The more the merrier. I’ve never seen a cock that big take you. I want it. I want a pic of his cock breaching you, filling you.” Keith’s voice seduced her. “Video it for me.”
    Her breath quickened.