Hers for the Evening (3 page)

“Oh my,” she murmured, smiling with delight.

He was hard. Again. In the blink of an eye.

“You really did like the idea of me and Amanda sucking your cock together.”

She idly caressed the front of his shorts.

Seth wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. Denial? That she was the only one?

Would always be the only one? Or a hot, dirty threesome fantasy. “Two mouths,”

he said, testing, “would be double the pleasure.”

“Or more,” she whispered. “Like adding one plus one and getting three. Or four.” She unzipped him.

“What are you doing?”

“Just drive.”

He luxuriated in the touch of her fingertips as she drew him out, then blew a warm breath on his cock. His whole body was on fire. The blood pulsed in his veins and raced to his dick.

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“When was the last time you jerked off?” she asked his cock. He gave a strangled laugh. “When have I had a free minute to even contemplate jerking off?”

She’d never minded that sometimes he jerked off in the shower when she was too tired. The last couple of years, with the vice presidency, the increased number of new products, the pressure, the only orgasms he’d managed were with Courtney, and it was sometimes weeks in between. Maybe if he came more often, he wouldn’t get so stressed out.

She licked off a bead of pre-come.

He groaned and took the turn a tad too wide. “Baby.” It was all he could manage as she slid her tongue down his shaft, then back up, finally engulfing him between her lips.

She sucked hard on the crown, her teeth massaging him below the ridge. He thought his head would pop off. The velvety recesses of her mouth caressed him as she took him deep, slowly, so she didn’t gag. He was big, but she’d had years of practice.

“Christ, you do that so fucking perfectly.” He felt her smile around his cock. She needed to hear stuff like that. It was also the truth. He’d done his share of catting around before they started dating, but no one had ever sucked him the way Courtney did. She’d gotten better over the years. Tunneling into his shorts, she cupped his balls, squeezed gently. He fucking ached. It was so damn good. He held the wheel white-knuckled and concentrated on the road, another hairpin turn he took more slowly than he normally would. A car passed them from the other direction, and he held her head down a moment.

His legs started to tremble with the need to come. “Christ, you’d better stop.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, her mouth full, her head bobbing.

“Baby, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” He wanted to make love to her tonight. She’d been patient with his moods, but she needed some physical affirmation. He’d seen her looking at him sometimes, probably wondering if he’d lost interest. He needed to show her he hadn’t. Courtney didn’t stop. She Hoovered him, sucking hard, and he thought he’d die.

The explosion started in his balls and worked its way out, to the tip of his cock, his gut, his chest, then the hot spurt of come up his shaft. He barely 18

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stayed on the road.

She sucked, swallowed, licked, and soothed until his body stopped quaking. Then she zipped him, straightened her hair, smoothed her lipstick—how the hell she could do that without smearing her lipstick he’d never know—and smiled at him.

“You look like the cat that ate the cream.”

Her laughter tinkled through the SUV. “How very apt.”

He gave her a stern look. “I want to get us home and do you properly. In a bed. With you coming a lot.”

“The nice thing about you, sweetie, is that it only takes an hour for you to recharge.” She licked her lips. “We have all evening.”

Hell yeah. Plus Monday was a holiday, and the girls would be on their way back to school.

THE END OF JULY. ANOTHER MONTH HAD GONE BY WITH NO LOVEMAKING. In three weeks, the girls would be home from summer school. They’d stay home until the fall term started at the end of September. There was a tiny rumbling in Courtney’s tummy. What was wrong? Was it merely stress?

Tuesday after the Fourth of July holiday, Seth had gone back to work only to find an issue that sent the product release into the dumper. She’d thought hot sex would be the cure-all, releasing all the pressure. He wasn’t . . . interested. She wanted the fireworks of July Fourth every day. The fireworks had started with talking about Amanda. Not that she thought he’d have an affair. Seth wasn’t that kind of man. He had too much integrity. Still, she abhorred the idea of perfunctory sex, something he had to do to keep his wife happy.

Maybe they needed more role-play in their lives. It would be hot if she dressed up like a strumpet and told him she had a date with another man but she wouldn’t go if he didn’t want her to. She’d blow off her date to let Seth do her instead. Wow, that would be fun. Or she could tell him Amanda was coming over to bring him some papers to sign. She’d make him hard and ask him how he’d feel if Amanda walked in to find Courtney sucking his cock. Oh, that was hot. There were innumerable things she could try. The only limit was her imagination.

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She brewed her usual cup of tea at three in the afternoon. Her mother had always had teatime, including a cookie. Though she’d passed away ten years ago, Courtney continued the ritual, bringing her mom close for a few minutes every day. Of course, there was also the sinful treat of ten minutes in front of a weekday afternoon talk show. Curling her legs beneath her on the leather sofa, a pillow tucked against her midriff, she punched the remote to turn on the bigscreen flat panel.

“Today we have sex consultant Tandy with us.” The male talk show host was one of Courtney’s favorites because he was so ridiculously outrageous. A bit effeminate, too. “Tell us, Tandy, isn’t what you do a polite name for prostitution?”

A petite redhead with implants two sizes too big for her frame, the woman bristled. “Certainly not. I help people overcome their sexual issues.”

“By having sex with them. And they pay you. That sounds like prostitution.”

With a smarmy smile on his lips, he winked at his audience.

“I show couples how to pleasure each other. Teach them to experience new things.”

“But you have sex with them.”

“I have to demonstrate.”

“And so you have sex with them,” the host reiterated. Courtney loved his tenacity with the wacky people he brought on the show. It was so amusing, her guilty pleasure.

Tandy pursed her lips and tried to explain. “Sometimes that’s the only way to provide a proper visual.”

The host didn’t even laugh. “Do you have sex with the women as well as the men?”

“If a woman is unable to achieve orgasm with her partner, I am obligated to show them both how to go about it.”

“So you have sex with the men and the women.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“And then they pay you.”

Tandy blinked. Then nodded.

Even though she was alone, Courtney laughed out loud. He really was hilarious. By repeating the same thing over and over, he flustered the woman and got her to say exactly what he wanted to hear. 20

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“What do you say, folks? Tandy is basically having hot, sexy threesomes with couples and getting paid for it.” He spread his hands in the air. “Sounds like prostitution to me.” His audience clapped their agreement. People were amazing. And crazy. It took all kinds. Her one shortbread cookie finished, Courtney flipped off the TV. Sinful treat over. A load of sun-dried clothing had to be folded, some dusting to be done, then dinner. She used to have a cleaning service once a week, but when the girls got their driver’s licenses and she no longer shuttled them everywhere, she’d found herself with so much time on her hands that cleaning filled it. It relaxed her, as did cooking. Tonight, with the midsummer heat, she’d planned cold chicken curry with a tomato and broccoli salad.

She was almost to the family room entry when she turned to stare at the blank TV screen. Thinking.

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3

A SEX CONSULTANT? A PROSTITUTE? THREESOMES?

She thought of Devon and her “courtesans.” Essentially, the guys were male prostitutes. Devon claimed her sex life had never been better. She’d never go back to dating. She was too busy to meet men in a conventional manner. What if . . .

No, she couldn’t. Reality was never as good as fantasy. You built it up, and the real thing couldn’t compare. Besides, Seth would probably freak if she suggested it.

In the kitchen, she pulled the tomatoes and broccoli from the fridge, then stopped halfway to the butcher-block island.

Two men, Seth and . . . a younger guy. Double the pleasure? No. No way. The guy would see her stretch marks and the bulge in her tummy that had never gone away after the girls were born.

She began chopping the tomatoes.

What about a woman closer to her age? Not some TV model, but a woman with imperfections who was very good at . . . Seth loved the idea of another woman sucking his cock with her. He always got rock hard when she whispered that in his ear. She got a naughty thrill out of it, too. To actually do it? Would that be the spice to get their sex life back on track, the way it used to be? He’d gone hard as a steel rod when she said she wanted to guide his cock into another woman.

Could she watch Seth fuck someone else?

She stopped her chopping as a shiver ran through her. A good shiver. Straight down to her clitoris. Making her wet. Her nipples tightened, peaked against her lace bra. She was nuts. There must be something wrong with her. Women didn’t imagine their men with someone else. They certainly didn’t get turned on by it.

Yet she did. It was oddly exciting. Seth pleasuring someone else, her eyes drifting closed in ecstasy as Courtney’s did when Seth put his hands on her. The sounds, moans, groans, sighs, cries. It would be like watching herself. What it would do for Seth. What it could do for them. It would take Courtney to new heights.

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Or she’d be jealous as hell.

She tossed the broccoli in the steamer, and cut up the chicken for the curry, setting out the apples and raisins.

She needed a therapist just for considering it. And not a sex therapist. It couldn’t hurt to ask how much something like that would cost, though. As long as she could choose the woman and give instructions on exactly what she wanted. Asking about a few particulars wasn’t a commitment. Picking up the portable phone, Courtney stared at it for several seconds, then punched in a speed-dial number.

When her friend picked up, she said, “Hey, Devon, it’s Courtney. Long time no see. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.”

DEVON PARKER WORE HER BLONDE HAIR PULLED BACK SEVERELY and a tailored blue power suit that matched her eyes. Living in a ruthlessly gym-toned body and porcelain skin that never went without the highest SPF sunscreen, she’d been blessed with aristocratic features and perfect bone structure. She was also smart and the CEO of medium-sized manufacturing firm in Silicon Valley that she had brought through the economic downturn with only two unprofitable quarters. A couple of years younger than Seth, she’d worked with him at his first job out of college, and she and Courtney had become fast friends despite the fact that their lives were so vastly different.

“You look great.” Devon had already ordered them both a champagne cocktail. “When are the girls coming home?”

Devon wasn’t a mom, had never wanted to be one, but she always asked about Shannon and Chelsea, and she’d gone to both their high school graduations.

“Three weeks. Chelsea wants to see if she can get a short data entry stint at one of the banks for extra pin money.” Courtney and Seth paid for tuition, books, and the small apartment they shared, but the girls earned their own money for all the other necessities. They needed to learn financial responsibility, and Courtney didn’t believe in handing them everything. It was almost two, the Friday lunch crowd thinning out and, thankfully, the noise level dropping. Courtney ordered the spinach salad with tiger prawns.

“Dressing on the side, please,” she told the perky waitress. After ordering chicken Caesar, Devon tipped her flute against Courtney’s. “I’m 23