West

Tilly clasps her fingers around mine as we walk into the hotel and says, “Are you going to mention our last name?”

“To whom?” I ask. “The front desk?”

She squeezes my fingers. She does that a lot in public, especially when we were out in Boston. We aren’t affectionate at home, but when we have an audience she likes to show how much love there is between us. I get why. With all the women around, hell, I can’t even blame her.

“No, to the couple,” she whispers as we get closer to the check-in area.

“I thought we were here to fuck?”

Her head snaps in my direction, her eyes wide and turned on. Damn, she loves hearing that word. It heats up her pussy as much as my tongue does.

“Yes, baby, that’s why we’re here.”

“Then, why would I give them my last name? I don’t plan on having dinner with them after or inviting them over for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.” She laughs. “I just want to double-check in case you decide to make one up or use what I booked us under, so we’re both on the same page.”

“I can’t wait to hear this one.”

She quiets her giggles, keeping the smile—large and fake as hell—as she sets her arms on top of the counter. “Mr. and Mrs. Peenly checking in.”

Peenly.

I almost laugh as hard as she did.

She only ever checks in under fake names, and they always have something to do with sex. And, just to play it safe, I usually wear a hat and glasses until we get to our room. I am tonight, too.

“Two queen-size beds,” the guy behind the desk says. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a king?”

“I prefer the queens,” Tilly says.

He nods, still looking at his computer. “Your reservations show that you’ve requested adjoining rooms with the Pussleys?” He finally looks up, his expression much more serious than I expected.

Tilly glances back at me and chews the corner of her mouth. She’s looking for a reaction, and she’ll get one. The second we’re alone, my hand will slap across her ass.

She’ll like it.

But, fuck, I will, too.

“That’s correct,” she says.

He places a key in front of her. “Room six-three-four. The elevators are around the corner.” He points to the right. “If you remove anything from the minibar, you will be charged whether you drink it or not.”

“Got it,” she says. “Thanks.”

We turn toward the elevators, and the door slides open as soon as Tilly hits the button.

As we step inside, she takes out her phone and checks the screen. “The Pussleys are already here.”

“Nice. Real nice.”

She turns to the side, giving me a better view of her ass. “I thought you’d like it. I was hoping—”

“I know what you were hoping for.”

My hand feels less twitchy now that she wants the spanking. She’ll still get it but when she least expects it. Besides, tonight, my hands aren’t for my wife.

“You picked a punctual couple.”

“That’s because she wants your cock.” She moves closer and leans up on her toes, her arms going around my neck, her lips briefly pressing against mine. “Can you blame her? With how perfect your dick is”—she stops to grind her pussy against it—“it’s a miracle I’m even willing to share it.”

I lick off the gloss she left on my mouth. “She doesn’t know anything about my cock.”

“Oh, but, baby, she kinda does.”

I hold her face back when she tries to kiss me again. “What the fuck do you mean, she kinda does?”

“Before I spread my legs for her husband, I wanted to see what I was going to be working with. So, I asked for a picture, and in return, she wanted one of you.”

I grip her head harder, holding her so tightly that she can’t move, knowing it does nothing but turn her on even more. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

“Don’t worry; I only sent shots of your big, beautiful dick and one of my freshly waxed pussy. It didn’t show our faces or any distinguishing marks.”

“When did you take it?”

“While you were sleeping. Whoever you were dreaming about must have been hot because you were tenting the sheet more than I’ve ever seen.”

I’m sure I was dreaming about that fucking smile.

Not my wife’s.

The runner’s.

I can’t get her out of my head.

Pulling Tilly’s hair back, I breathe across her ear, “Does she know about your Bad Kitty?”

“Jesus, West, if you keep talking to me like that, we won’t make it out of this elevator.”

Those two words are tattooed right above my wife’s cunt.

It sums her up perfectly.

We reach our floor, and I release her. “Time to walk.”

“Do you remember their names?” she asks as we step into the hallway.

“Yep.”

“Do you want to see their pictures again?”

“Nah.” There’s no need. I remember her being hot; that’s all that really matters.

She tugs at my hand, and we halt after the first few doors. “If you like her, give me some type of signal, so before we leave, we can make plans to meet up again. I mean, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Let’s see how she fucks before we even talk about a round two.”

Her arm slips around my back, and she pushes her navel into me. “I know this is new territory for you. Usually, I’m the one hooking up with a woman, and you get to watch and have me when I’m done with her. Now, I’m asking you to be with someone else, and that’s a lot.”

She’s craving attention. She knows she’s going to get it soon, and it’s making her almost shake with hunger. It’s the kind of need that I’d feel seconds before my skates touched the ice. She doesn’t give a shit about what I think. She’s worried I’ll change my mind, and she won’t get what she wants.

It doesn’t piss me off. It’s the way our relationship works.

But she isn’t the one with the upper hand here. I’m the one with the cock. I’m the one who has what she wants when she’s home. And I’m about to give that to someone other than her. She needs to be reminded of that.

I grab her face and pull it close to mine. “Tilly,” I say, rubbing the edge of my lip over her cheek and across the side of her mouth, “the next time you get near my lips, they’re going to smell like another woman’s pussy.”

It only takes a second before I see my words simmer inside her head.

She swallows, blinks hard, and takes a breath. “It’s a nice pussy, too. You’re really going to love it.”

She always wants the last word.

Even if she doesn’t mean it.

“Don’t tell me about it. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Come on,” she says, slipping out of my grip and pulling me down the hallway, “I don’t want to be late.”

When she reaches the door, she waves the key in front of it and listens for the lock to click. Once it does, we both go inside, and she immediately goes over to the entrance of their room. Her hand hovers above the wood.

“Are you ready?” she whispers.

“What’s the rush? Why don’t we have a drink first and relax for a little bit?”

“We can do that with them. We’ll all need to talk before anything happens anyway.”

Instead of waiting for me to reply, she pounds on their door. Within a few seconds, it slowly opens, and as I stand several feet away, I watch my wife’s face. She has on the same look whenever she takes a woman by the hand and leads her to a bed. Right now, sex is the only thing on her mind. Underneath those jeans, I know her pussy’s soaked. I know that, if I rub just the top of her clit, it will only take a few strokes before she’s coming. I know it will take three orgasms before she is fully satisfied. And I know she’ll want it again in the morning.

I don’t have regrets; I don’t live my life that way.

There’s some kind of love there.

But, when sex is what keeps you together, you just know that, at some point, it’ll wear off, regardless of how much swinging we do or how many times I watch her eat out another chick.

From this angle, I can’t see the woman’s face, so I move closer to my wife and look through the opening of the doorway. “Hey, I’m West.”

Those lips.

Those perfect teeth.

Holy fuck.

It’s her.

The runner.

And the reason she looked familiar the first time I saw her on the beach is because of the picture my wife had shown me of her.

There’s that smile again, bigger than the last one she gave me. Those lips are the ones I dream about sticking my dick between.

Oh, this is going to be fun as hell.

“Piper,” she says, shaking my hand. Not breaking contact, she points to the guy next to her. “And this is my husband, Cannon.”

She finally releases my hand, and he grabs it. His grip isn’t as strong as I thought it would be. Not weak, just a little more touchy than I like.

“It’s nice to meet you, West.”

The room goes silent before my wife says, “Let’s get started.”