“You’re not done yet, are you?” the quiet girl asks.
“Give me a minute, darlin’。” Heaving a sigh, I relax flat on my back as the one with the nose ring—I think her name starts with a K—starts kissing her way up my body. She’s already stroking my cock, trying to bring it back to life. Kristy, Kelsey, Kyla?
Seriously, woman. It’s been like five minutes. Ever heard of a refractory period?
Then, there’s a high-pitched moan in the distance, and I tense up. There’s only some drywall between my room and theirs, and it’s abundantly clear just how thin it is when I hear Isabel cry out again.
“Here he comes,” the girl says as my dick thickens under her eager tugs. The other girl is in her own post-orgasm recovery next to us.
“Sounds like a party next door,” the sleepy one replies as the bed starts thumping against the wall in a slow, rough cadence.
“Maybe we should ask to join them. Make this one big party,” the girl on my cock adds.
“You talk too much.” I flip her over and grab a rubber off the nightstand. Sheathing my already hard cock, I listen to the sound of my best friends fucking as I slam into the girl on her knees in front of me. She lets out a husky cry, so I grab her by the hair, pulling her up so her ear is next to my mouth as I mutter, “Louder.”
And she does, but it’s not enough to drown out the sounds of the woman in the next room. The one I should not be hearing, thinking about, or getting off to.
Rule #2: A little competition never hurt anybody.
Isabel
My husband looks unhappy. Actually, I take that back. He looks happy because Hunter is good at putting on a smile and faking it for me when he needs to, but I can tell these things. I can see the subtle glances of regret and sorrow on his face.
“Are you sure you like your steak?” I ask.
“Yes, baby. I love it.” He reaches across the table and takes my fingers in his hand, stroking my knuckles gently. I smile back at him.
I’m not the kind of woman to devote myself to being what society would consider a good wife. I don’t even know what that means. In my younger days, I was so opposed to marriage. The idea of devoting my life to one relationship seemed irrational and daunting. How could I promise one person that I would love only them for the rest of my life? How on earth could anyone make that promise? Like we can see the future. Like any of us knows what’s waiting around the corner.
But then I met Hunter Scott.
Hunter makes loving him easy. He worships me, makes me better in every way, encourages me, inspires me, and makes me fall in love with him a little more each day.
So, naturally, I want him to feel that same radiating happiness he makes me feel, but I can tell by the way he’s twisting the wedding ring on his finger and chewing on his lower lip as he stares down at the red wine in his glass that something is up.
“Should we have invited him?” I ask.
His gaze dances up to mine. “No. It’s our anniversary. He understands. Plus, I’m sure he’s already shacking up with someone at the rental right now.”
I swallow down the unsettling feeling that image brings. Drake is a grown man, single and gorgeous. He can do whatever he wants. But is he really going to screw his way through our cross-country road trip? I’m sure it doesn’t help that we are touring four different sex clubs on our business trip-slash-mini-vacation. I feel like we’re taking our little boy to Disneyland.
An image of Drake in a hat with black mouse ears and his name embroidered on the back makes me giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing. Just wondering why we brought Drake, of all people, on this trip. There’s a good chance we will lose him somewhere along the way.”
“He always does this on our vacations,” he replies with a laugh.
“We should know by now not to share a rental with him,” I reply playfully.
“We really should.” His fingers squeeze mine.
“You know…we should have brought him to dinner. Since he was there the day we met.”
“Was he?” Hunter replies. “I only remember you.”
I roll my eyes as I try to hide my blush. “Stop.”
“No. Isabel, that was the best day of my life—the first of many. Seeing you on your way to the library, carrying that stack of books while your glasses started to slip down your nose.” He’s smiling, and it’s infectious.
“You’re mocking me,” I reply.
“No, I’m not. I remember the exact thought that went through my head at that moment.”