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

would instruct him, make sure he did it exactly the way you want it.”
    Her breath caught in her throat. It was like all the nights she’d fantasized with Keith. When she was planning a trip and while she was gone were the best times between them, better than when she returned home and Keith secreted himself in his den to look at her photos. He’d work her up before she went away, to the point where, upon her arrival in whatever city she was visiting, she’d start scoping out available candidates. But she’d found this man on the plane. Suddenly, she had to tell him the things Keith had said the night before she left for Daytona.
    “My husband made me bring my vibrator. He wants a man to use it on me. To take me that way the first time.”
    “Where? In front of the window overlooking the ocean? Or on the bed?”
    “Anywhere. Both.” Somehow they were leaning in to each other, their faces close enough for her to smell the yeastiness of beer on his breath. She wanted to kiss him, right here, taste him, sip the beer from his lips.
    “What else does he want?”
    “A picture of your cock in my mouth.” She didn’t usually get so explicit, but no man had ever gotten her to this point so quickly.
    He smiled slightly. “I guess not having kids at home saves the hassle of someone stumbling across any photos.”
    “It certainly does,” she agreed, breathless that he was willing to play the game.
    “I’d have you on your knees,” he described for her, “my hand fisted in your hair.”
    “He’d love that. Keith likes humiliation pictures.” She’d acted it out for Keith, posed in ways he wanted. He would love what this man described. “I want it,” she whispered without meaning to say the words.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    Spence wanted her more than any woman in a very long time.
    “Your room or mine?” Then he answered himself. “Mine. It’s on the twentieth floor. I can have you in front of the window.” He didn’t wait for her to pay the check but threw some bills down on the table.
    “But—” she started.
    “Is it enough to cover it?”
    “Way more than necessary.”
    He rose, held out his hand. “Are you game?”
    She’d propositioned him, but he’d taken over. Now she was the one who had to agree.
    Without uttering a word, she placed her hand in his. He didn’t care if anyone he knew saw them. He wanted what she offered. Badly.
    They traversed the expansive marble lobby to the waiting crowd by the bank of elevators. He recognized conference attendees by their badges, but couldn’t place any of the faces. Still, she pulled her hand from his.
    The only obstacle had been the ring on her finger. She’d blown that one out of the water with her tale of hotwifing. She was one hell of a hot wife. It was almost unfathomable that a man could send his wife out to have sex with other men while on business trips. He had so many more questions, most of them too personal to ask on such short acquaintance. Still, he was going to be the other man anyway, despite that same short acquaintance.
    His blood was pumping fast, the beat of his heart a staccato rhythm in his chest. Oh yeah, he was going to have her, call her husband, do everything the man wanted, everything she wanted. It was too hot to resist.
    An elevator car came, disgorged its occupants, and they shuffled on, pushed to the back by the crush of bodies entering behind them. He ran a hand down her side, settled his palm proprietarily on her hip, leaned close to breath in the sweet flowery scent he would associate with her forevermore. And something more, the hot, sizzling perfume of a sexy, aroused woman.
    One night. She’d implied that’s all he’d get. He was for damn sure going to make the most of it.
    The occupants of the elevator thinned the higher they climbed. By the eighteenth floor, they were alone. The doors closed, and he was on her, his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head.
    “You smell good,” he murmured.