Piper

Every one of the text messages I send to West leaves me both excited and worried. They’re not fair to Tilly or Cannon, yet I can’t stop. Neither of them would understand why we were doing it or the pull that kept us from stopping. I don’t even understand it or where this need comes from.

Would we have moved this fast, this soon, under normal circumstances? Never.

Nothing about the way I’m talking to West is normal for me. Even with Cannon, I took a couple of weeks to warm up to the idea of flirting on the phone.

I’m not a prude, just shy until I get to know someone. Somehow, I bypassed that entire stage with West. I’m still crazy nervous when I’m around him, even when I press each key to type out a text, but I do it because of the way it makes me feel—like I’m dancing on hot coals, shuffling around until West puts out the fire.

Only the temperature never cools, and our conversations only grow hotter.

Sitting here, on the floor of my closet, my clit’s pulsing, aching for him to flick it with his tongue.

If Tilly or Cannon were to find out about our messages, they’d have every right to be upset. I’d be forced to confess the truth to my husband—that I’d crossed paths with West before we met at the hotel. Even though we’d never spoken before that night, I still felt like I already knew West. Because, in only a few days’ time on the beach, we had already been harboring secrets and special glances.

Seeing him, that fantasy came to life. Every look. Every smirk. Every promise of what his smoldering eyes could do for me was real.

West didn’t disappoint. Not in bed or on the phone.

And I can’t wait to be back in his arms, unleashing a new part of him I won’t be able to get enough of.

The last message from him came through over an hour ago, and here I sit, next to a pile of clothing, trying to think of something seductive to say back to him. Something that will keep him turned on and make him want to fuck me—hard. Harder than he’s ever fucked his wife.

Picking up my phone, I stare at his last text—the one about fucking my pussy—and my heart races.

“It’s now or never, Piper. Just be honest, and tell him what you’re thinking,” I mumble to myself.

And then I press the keys with a trembling hand.

Piper: My pussy’s so wet, you can slip right inside me.

My fingers hover over the Send button, but I go back and forth with myself about actually sending it. It’s too much. Too personal. And then I hear the sound of Cannon’s voice, and I send it without even thinking, like I’m about to get caught.

“Babe? Where are you?” he says again.

“I’m in here!” I yell with a shaky voice.

I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that I just texted West or that I sent it to the sound of my husband’s voice.

Cannon sticks his head around the corner and takes a look at the heap of clothing I have strewn around the walk-in closet. The mess looks a lot like the inside of my mind.

“Either you’re bored or you’re mad at me,” he says.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t throw a single thing.” But I did make a mess, and it’s going to take another hour to hang everything back up. Cannon knows that when I’m stressed, I reorganize and clean. Even my shoes are all over the place.

He hesitates and runs his hand through his hair. “So, you are mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad?”

“Because I’m an asshole sometimes.”

After he loosens his tie, he undoes the first two buttons of his dress shirt and sits on the carpet with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looks tired, like he had a rough night of sleep. We both did.

It’s only lunchtime, and I rack my brain, trying to figure out why he’s here. I’m sure I didn’t forget about meeting him for lunch or anything like that.

“What’s wrong, Cannon?”

“C’mere,” he whispers.

So, I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m in his lap, nestled against his chest.

Only then does he say, “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” I ask him as guilt seeps through my pores.

Here he is, apologizing, and I’m the one who’s walking around with a pretty big secret. I hate that it’s a secret at all. We both agreed to swinging. Only West and I have taken it a step further. A step that wasn’t agreed upon by all four of us.

I think about how I’d feel if the roles were reversed. I wouldn’t like it.

It’s not like they can’t have private conversations while they’re having sex, but I guess that would be allowed. As long as we’re all present, anything goes during that time. It’s what happens after-hours that rides a fine line between right and wrong.

But Cannon agreed to a second time with Tilly pretty fast. Both of them are just as eager as West and I are to jump back into bed. Because of that, I justify the texts as nothing more than innocent flirting—interaction that’ll only enhance our time together.

For all I know, Tilly and Cannon could have some kind of hidden connection, some kind of secret communication through email that West and I know nothing about. Something fueling them to make their time together happen sooner rather than later. That, I would understand. I’d be okay with it because I get it. I know what it’s like to have a taste and then want more so badly, you can’t possibly deny yourself the pleasure.

If we’d allowed texting from the start, none of this would be wrong. It would be a part of the arrangement—something crucial to our time in bed. But we didn’t agree to it, and now, I regret not speaking up when Tilly was discussing the rules. But how was I supposed to know what I wanted when I was going in blind? I didn’t.

Cannon kisses the top of my head and says, “I’m sorry I left here upset. I’ll get used to things, I promise.”

“You’re trying; that’s enough for me, Cannon. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He nods and thinks about what I said. “I think separate rooms is the answer.”

“Really? You think the fix is that simple?”

“It’s seeing you with West that sets me off. The guilt is something I’ll have to figure out.”

“What guilt?”

“The guilt from touching Tilly. Don’t get me wrong; the sex is great in the moment. Afterward, when the rush wears off, I just feel like shit about what I let her do to me and what I did to her. Like I’m doing something wrong that’s going to hurt you.”

He described everything I’ve been feeling, and something about his admission makes me feel a little better. Maybe our situations aren’t that different, and we’re feeling a lot of the same. As long as we can agree to let go of the guilt and enjoy the process, then we’ll be okay.

“Don’t stress,” I tell him as I press a kiss to his lips. “I want you to have fun, Cannon.”

“I am. I do have fun,” he says. “It’s all so different. I never imagined we’d be here, doing this.”

“Doing what?” I ask him as I slide my hand into the waistband of his dress pants.

“Sex,” he says around a strangled groan. “Sleeping with other people. But, fuck, after I’m with her, I want you so bad, Piper. Not having you last night after I had her drove me crazy. If I’ve learned anything so far, it’s that I want you, baby. I’m always going to want to come home and bury myself inside you.”

“Then, do it. Show me how much you want me, Cannon. Show me everything.”

He’s right. No matter how much space West takes up in my mind, I’m always going to think about Cannon, too. What we have is ours to fix—something neither Tilly nor West will ever be able to touch.

“God, yes,” he groans as I stroke him. “But we have to be quick. I don’t have a lot of time. I was on my way to the courthouse when I stopped to see you.”

“We don’t need a lot of time,” I tell him as my phone chimes with a text.

There’s a ninety percent chance it’s from West, replying with more of the filthy things he’s going to do to my body. It only fuels the burning inside me.

I rip open Cannon’s dress shirt, sending buttons scattering around the closet floor. The shirt’s ruined, but he has a dozen others just like it hanging in his closet. I kiss his neck and scratch my nails across his bare chest.

“Pipes, shit,” he mumbles against my lips as he pulls my shirt over my head. “I think I need to come home for lunch more often.”

“I need you, Cannon. Please. Make love to me like you mean it.”