Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance (9 page)

"When are they here?"

"Tuesday through Thursday."

"For you Sam, they'll be staying on the house!"

"Nonsense!" he barked, "I didn't mean to ask fer charity, just a little deal!"

"On the house or not in the house, Sam. It's up to you!" I said, smiling as I walked away.

Our guests that weekend were the retired Dr. Andrew Fergus and his wife Margaret. While they were lovely people and fine dinner companions, they weren't as boozy as the others had been and they went to be early, leaving us to talk. It took a few glasses of red, but Rebecca eventually seemed to loosen enough to resume our interrupted conversation.

I decided to proceed with caution, nonetheless.

"So?" I asked, smiling and trying to read what might be on her mind?

"So?" she answered, her smile hinting that she might not mind picking up where we left off.

"So what about what we said earlier?" I tried to fight the frustration I felt at having to be the one to do all the heavy lifting.

She turned her eyes down and my heart sank a little. She'd seemed so...into it before. "I mean, what about it?" her voice seemed full of apprehension now.

"I guess I just thought we could talk about it more," I said, barely able to hide my disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm.

"John."

It made me look at her. The way she said my name.

"John...I don't know what to say."

"Why?" I asked, wondering what had happened.

"I mean, what are we going to do? I guess it's kind of a nice fantasy to have..."

"Beck," I interrupted, wanting to catch that thought. "What
is
the fantasy? Your fantasy?"

She looked down at the table and I could tell she was searching for an answer to the question.

"I don't know...I just know that..."

I was on the edge of my seat at what I was about to hear. When she looked back up, it seemed like I had lost her yet again.

"John, this is weird. I mean, isn't it?"

"What's weird about it?"

She looked concerned now. "It's weird that we're talking about this. Everyone has fantasies but...just, I don't want anything to get weird if someone hears something they don't expect to hear."

My pulse was pounding in my chest again. So there
was
something there. There was something to it and she
did
feel something. Something that might upset me. The thought sent a hot sizzle of anxious lust pulsing through me. I had to drag it out of her now. I had to.

"Beck, what about what you said? When we met?"

She tried to shrug and wave it off, but I knew that there was something there. "I don't know, I guess I just liked that you were watching me, or something."

Unperturbed by her hesitation, I just let the words come out. "Would you like it if I watched you with another man?"

The question seemed to shock both of us into a silence. We locked eyes and stared at each other, neither of us sure of what to make of what I'd just said.

"John," she whispered, her eyes moving back and forth between mine. "What are you saying?"

What was I saying? There was no taking it back now.

"Look," I began, "I don't know why but ever since I started thinking about it, I haven't been able to stop. When I saw you and Andre walk in through that door together, the way you were laughing, the way you two
were
together, it made me crazy."

"Crazy bad? Or crazy good?" she asked. I could hear her opening to possibility.

"That's the thing. Crazy bad and crazy good all at the same time. I just haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

She seemed to think on that for a while and I studied her face, trying to read what was happening in her mind. Then, it was like she flicked a switch. We were in the bedroom next, tearing at each others clothes and kissing in a frantic mess of lips and limbs, then falling into bed and into each other.

She was eager and ready when I pushed between her thighs, her slit just as soaked as it had been the last time I had been inside her. As I pressed the tip of my cock past the hot folds of her opening, I saw her looking at me intently.

A rush of raging lust ran through me with a tremor and I leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Are you thinking of his cock?"

"Oh John!" she moaned, her legs spreading wider, her tight slit spreading with them and welcoming me in. I sank into wet heat easily, her pussy coating me in love as my stiffness pressed against her walls. Almost immediately I felt her squeeze me. Looking at her, I saw the hunger there again.

"You like this don't you? Thinking of him inside you? Thinking of me watching from across the room?"

"Oh fuck John!" she moaned, her body arching up from the bed and pressing into mine. I was just as turned on as she was, thinking of his black cock impaling her, stretching her tightness the way I was now.

"What else would you let him do to you?"

Her eyes went wide in awe and horror at my invitation. Dirty talk was not a thing we did. My heart raced and I wondered for a second if I'd killed the mood by asking her to participate in the banter. I couldn't have been more wrong.

"I'd let him fuck my mouth, John," she said, her eyes filled with zealous lust.

I breathed in sharply at the feeling of how hearing her say it cut me inside. Holy fuck! That burning feeling ripped straight through me until I felt it in my toes. Still fucking her, my mind started to wander. What had I started? Was this right? Was this what I wanted? Did I want to hear her say these things?

"John," I heard her say and it snapped me from my trance. She held me sweetly in her gaze as my hips thrust into her, pushing her shoulders into the bed. Her eyebrow rose and I tightened again, wondering what she'd say this time. "John, I'd let him fuck me any way he wanted. Would you like that John? Would you like to see him fuck me in the ass?"

"Oh fuck," I barely managed to mutter as my cock exploded onto her tight walls. The orgasm gripped me as I spasmed into her, the image of his hand on her back, darkly settling there.

"Fuck don't stop!" she hissed, her body coming up to meet mine, her nails digging into the flesh of my ass. I felt her clutch and tighten, squeeze me again for what she wanted, what would make her body round. As my pleasure faded, I did my best to help her finish hers.

As soon as it was over, the peak of it, as soon as we were both coasting down towards exhaustion, I began to wonder. Doubt crept in with fear. What the fuck had I
really
done?

The way she clung to me made me wonder if I hadn't been a bit too cavalier? Even if I hadn't said it, my body had made its own admission. As I rolled off her and looked at her, it felt like I had set something in motion, something that wouldn't be easily stopped. Should I have kept it to myself? Should I have let it live inside my head and never mentioned anything at all? The sound of her voice shook me from my thoughts.

"Are you alright?"

No, is what I should have answered. What kind of man enjoys a line of jealous rage with his pleasure? What kind of man would want to see his wife a whore? "I'm fine," I said instead, squeezing out a smile that would barely come.

"We don't..." she paused. I saw her picking out her words. "We don't have to do it for real. It's just a fantasy. Right?"

Right. But there was purpose in her words now, not just a question. I tried my best to play it off, like I didn't care at all. "I...I think we should get some sleep."

She smiled too but it was a terse, unsatisfied smile. Sleep would only bring more questions but at least they wouldn't have to be answered now.

"John?"

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you," came the soft placation. So she knew that not everything was right.

"I love you too," I responded. I meant it. I was just a little scared of what it now meant.

Chapter 14

Dr. and Mrs. Fergus left as quietly as they'd come, on the Monday after four days at our house. They were easy guests who hiked during the day, didn't stay up late and Sam even took them on the boat, though they hadn't come to whale-watch. They told us they enjoyed their stay and that they might be back the next year and that we were good hosts. On Monday we cleaned and did the sheets and I worked on some design that wasn't due for awhile. On Tuesday we were just in the middle of lunch when we heard another knock at the door.

"It's probably Sam," I said, brushing at my lips with a napkin before turning around. It was Sam. He just wasn't alone.

"Hi-ho there!" he said as I swung the door open to see him standing there with two rather young, rather strapping young men. Fuck. I'd kind of forgotten about that.

"Sam!" I said, staying cheerful while my mind raced as I tried to think of ways I'd explain to Rebecca that we had two guests for two nights.

"You forgot, did ya?" Sam asked, a quiet smile spreading across his mouth.

"I..."

"Yup. Ya forgot. Tell the missus?"

I shook my head and he shook his.

"Want us to wait while you do?"

"I'm really sorry," I said, looking at the two men. They only shrugged and smiled. "Give me one second."

"Who was it?" she asked, looking up from the magazine she'd been reading.

"I fucked up."

"What? What's wrong? Who was that?"

"It was Sam. It's still Sam. He has two guys with him. Fishermen. I told him we could...put them up for a couple of nights. I'm really sorry I forgot to tell you." I cringed inside, waiting for her over-reaction.

"Oh. Well that's okay. More money in the middle of the week's not a bad thing, right?"

Right. In theory, if I hadn't told him they'd be staying on the house. Didn't seem like the right time to bring it up. I guess my face did the talking.

"You told him they could stay for free didn't you?"

I shrugged and tried to look as sheepish as I could. She just nodded.

"I mean, it's not a problem for me. You're just going to be pretty busy cooking and cleaning for the next two days." Her eyes drifted down as she resumed her reading where she'd left it off.

It was actually a better reaction than I could have hoped for.

"Okay guys, sorry about that," I said to the three of them as I opened up the door. "Come on in. Everything's fine."

"Rebecca!" Sam called out as soon as he was through the door, softening the tension that was hanging in the air. She couldn't help a smile. "That's some husband you gots there, missus!"

"Hi Sam," she said, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug.

She saw them over his shoulder and immediately she changed. If I hadn't known her well I would have missed it because it wasn't obvious. Or maybe it was in my mind. But she seemed to stand a little taller once she'd finished with the hug. Was there more of a pout to her lip? Did her ass always look that round?

They took her both in with quick and hungry glances, the way men do whenever they first see a woman. It was less than the blink of an eye before they were both the good little boys their mama's had raised them as, shaking her hand and saying "Good day."

"This is Mason. That's Tyler. They're good boys as long as they stay out of the drink. You make sure to have 'em bedded good and early, ya hear? I'll be up around five tomorrow morning to get them on the boat."

"Don't you worry Sam," Rebecca offered, casting a lazy glance at the two of them, "we'll have them in ship shape for you."

Wink.

By now my heart was racing. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Why hadn't I thought of what it would be like now, every time a man was in the house? Would I ever sleep again? Would I have to learn to sleep with one eye open, forever wondering if my wife were still beside me in our bed? Had it really been worth the trouble, revealing how I felt?

"Coffee before you go Sam?" she asked casually, sitting back down and smiling at me.

"Nah thanks anyways. I've got a few tings to get done on de boat before it gets dark. I'll see ya's tomorrow."

That's how he left us. The three of us standing there, Rebecca seated at the table looking at us with a smile.

"Well boys," she said and it made me shiver. They weren't that much younger than she was. She didn't call men "boys." It felt so familiar. "John will show you to your rooms. Not sure what we're having for dinner tonight, but whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be good. He's an excellent cook!" Chuckling to herself, she looked down at her magazine and began to read.

I was an excellent cook. We had beans, freshly drained of the juices from the can. A side of rice that was only slightly burnt and quesadillas, very burnt, with not enough cheese. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

After a few glasses, the Mason and Tyler felt like old friends. Rebecca's old friends.

"So we were standing there, staring at the damn thing and Sam says, 'Poke it with a stick! That always does the trick!"

The two men erupted into laughter at Rebecca's punch line and I just sat there watching their eyes. She'd changed for dinner, something that she
never
did, even after a shower and it took all of my effort not to just stare at her and wonder what she was on about. It's why that stuff was burnt. I just couldn't stop staring at her. At her with them.

The further into the wine we got, the more the two of them relaxed and let down their guard. Not that they needed to be guarded around her. They only had to be guarded in front of me, in that way men are when they're paying lip service to another's mate.

I would catch their glances, though. I would catch their eyes tracing the outline of her body underneath the tight red shirt she'd donned. There were two of them so it wasn't easy. One would talk me up while the other leered and then they'd switch. Or at least that's what I had myself convinced they did. I did my best to hold in the copious amounts of liquid I'd ingested, but there came a point in the evening where I didn't have a choice but to go to the bathroom. So I left her there with them.

As I stood above the toilet, my head spinning slightly as I pissed away at least a few days worth of bookings, I tried to listen to what was going on behind the door. A terrifying thrill crept through me, one I tried to push away. But as it did every time, my cock got the better of my head and instead of flushing and rejoining the party, I eased the door open and crept into the darkened hall.