What Emma Craves

WHAT EMMA CRAVES

Pushing the Boundaries:

Book Three

AMANDA ABBOTT

It took a lot for Pete Slater to convince his wife, Emma, to move to the suburbs. But once she arrived, she found it had a deliciously steamy underbelly. Her neighborhood is filled with hook-ups, affairs, and scandal. It’s better than any reality TV show.

But Emma isn’t satisfied anymore. After watching her friends Piper and Michael Collins become adventurous in their marriage again, it’s made Emma realize that’s what she wants in her own life. She
craves
to be noticed again. In order to try and find what’s missing, she and Pete decide to book a vacation.

Their destination is a super exclusive resort situated on a tiny island where anything and everything can happen. When they meet a young couple at the airport, who end up in the suite next to theirs, things go from fun to incredibly steamy fast. Emma drives Pete crazy flirting, and it pays off. For the first time in their marriage her husband is jealous of another man. What Pete does to win her back turns out to be exactly what Emma craves.

*This book is off the charts hot. It contains: explicit sex, group sex, and voyeurism. **There is no cheating in any of my books, everything is consensual
between all participants.

WHAT EMMA CRAVES

Pushing the Boundaries: Book Three

Copyright © 2015 Amanda Abbott

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-9903928-6-6

Email:
[email protected]

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For Billy.

1

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E
mma ducked down into the bushes as the car drove down the street. She peeked out of her hiding spot and saw it was the Dwyers, an elderly couple who lived three doors down from her and Pete, driving their dated black Cadillac. They were coming home from church, as usual. Emma was crouched in a very unladylike position, but the wait would be well worth it. She was situated directly under the McCrays’ garage window, waiting for the show to begin.

It happened without fail every Wednesday night at ten thirty-seven, when Candace arrived home after her weekly hot yoga class.

When she could, Emma always snagged a front-row seat.

Another car came down the street, like clockwork. A second later the McCray garage door engaged, rolling up smoothly, the vibrations shaking Emma’s shoulder where she leaned against the siding. Emma stood and watched as Candace pulled her leased Audi RS 5 into the spot right next to the window.

Emma knew it was leased, because Candace was an avid talker. Candace was a forty-one-year-old unhappily married stepmother to three older children. She enjoyed her boxed Chardonnay, and over the years she’d filled Emma’s ears with more than Emma had ever needed to know about her, including how stretched she and her husband were financially to maintain the lifestyle they felt they deserved.

The “lifestyle,” according to Candace, was expensive cars, lavish vacations, and diamond jewelry glittering around her neck. The unhappiness that accompanied it was considered a typical side effect and had become an accepted sacrifice.

To Emma, however, living the lifestyle were nights like this, when Candace stole a moment of pleasure all to herself. Candace just didn’t realize that she was actually involved in a different kind of “lifestyle” altogether—the
sexual
kind.

Most people didn’t.

Instead, they refused to name it, because that would make it real. So they engaged in affairs and sneaked around instead of choosing to be open with their sexual desires.

Emma never begrudged Candace for stealing a tiny slice of happiness where she could. If this was the only place she could get it, so be it. Plus, it was entertaining as hell to watch. Candace was a beautiful woman, tall, curvy, with long blonde hair. She had to be gorgeous, since she was Kyle McCray’s trophy wife. Kyle was a fifty-five-year-old misogynistic asshole who traveled more than he was ever at home.

And when he was around, he was trying to screw everything he could get his meaty hands on. He’d come on to Emma several times over the years, but she’d always fobbed him off like a pro, insulting him so intelligently he never quite knew how brutally he was getting the brush-off.

Emma watched as Candace emerged from her car. The woman carefully set her purse and keys on a small shelf by the door and went to stand in front of the fender of her car. A moment later, there was a small noise as the side door opened and closed.

Justin walked toward Candace like he was in need of a meal and hadn’t eaten for weeks.

It was the same every single Wednesday.

They didn’t embrace or touch each other affectionately.

They never did. Justin had his dick out before he reached Candace, who had leaned over the hood of the Audi, bracing her palms on the hood. Emma always pondered whether the car hood was hot or not, but it didn’t bother Candace in the least.

Justin came up behind her and peeled her yoga pants down with one hand.

Emma could see that Candace was still sweaty. Most of the time she was—she must prefer it that way. Justin pushed his cock into her with little preamble and began a pounding rhythm that sent the Audi rocking in tandem to his thrusts.

Candace tried to keep her moans quiet, but Emma could hear them through the glass. Emma knew Candace loved every minute of this and craved it like nothing else in her life.

Emma knew the feeling.

Every time Emma’s husband, Pete, touched her, she felt a rush like that. She couldn’t get enough.

Justin was a twentysomething friend of Candace’s oldest stepson. He worked as a waiter at a restaurant nearby. Although he was on the skinny side, he was tall and knew how to use his cock. Emma knew where he worked only because she’d spotted him at the restaurant on a few occasions. Candace had mentioned Justin once in passing about a year ago, and Emma had gotten the drift that Candace knew Justin’s mother—and that they might even be bridge partners.

Oh, the scandal of it all!

That’s what Emma adored the most.

There was titillation in watching these acts, no doubt about it, but it was the naughtiness and the secrets that gave her the ultimate enjoyment. The suburbs—a place she’d never, ever thought she’d live—were absolutely teeming with adultery, scandal, and sexual mayhem! It was better than any reality TV she’d ever watched. Probably because it was all live.

But still.

It’d become a weekly ritual to find out what naughty activities were going on in the neighborhood and seek them out. She’d watched as married wives sought each other out, as well as coeds bored on summer break with nothing better to do than to try to seduce wayward husbands.

Emma watched as Justin continued his relentless pounding until Candace’s voice broke on a stifled cry. As she came, her fingers curled into the car hood, her ass bobbing back to press onto Justin’s cock to hold him steady for a few precious moments.

That was the only touching she allowed.

A few seconds later, Justin pulled out and jutted his come all over Candace’s bare ass.

That must be their agreement.

It always played out the same way.

Emma had been watching for a few months now, and Candace would switch it up on occasion—but only as far as bending over something else in the garage, like the worktable.

Once he was done, Justin tucked himself back in his pants and walked over to a shelf that held a stack of towels. He brought one back for Candace, which she took readily, and he immediately headed toward the door. Once there, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at Emma.

Justin knew she watched. Candace she wasn’t sure about.

That was Emma’s cue to skedaddle.

Justin often tried to catch Emma to talk—he’d even tried to convince her to join them in a threesome. She dodged him as quickly as she could. She found it was easier to disappear before he could make his way around the garage, and since she lived next door, that was an easy thing to do.

Emma sprinted back into her yard, heading around the back of her house.

None of her neighbors knew she and Pete were in the lifestyle. And that’s how she wanted to keep it. She’d hung around with Candace enough to know that if Candace knew Emma was watching her and Justin, she wouldn’t care. She would only want Emma to assure her she looked awesome as the twentysomething fucked her from behind.

* * *

Pete glanced up as his wife entered the kitchen from the sliding glass doors off the deck. He was stretched out on the sofa. “Did Candace come big tonight?” he joked.

“Yep,” Emma answered as she slid the doors closed and walked over to the cupboard. She took out a bag of potato chips and a glass, then hit the fridge for water.

Pete smiled. His wife had a penchant for junk food. “Come sit by me.” He patted the couch next to him. “I was just about to go to bed, but I haven’t seen you much today.”

Emma kicked off her shoes and padded over, settling in next to him.

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He thought it was cute that she snooped on their crazy neighbors once in a while. He’d gone with her a few times, but it wasn’t his thing. He liked to participate when he watched sex. To him, watching wasn’t exciting if there was no return.

“Don’t forget,” she reminded him, “the girls are coming over here next Thursday for the block party. After, we’re hanging out here. They’re throwing me a ‘travel shower’ to celebrate our trip to the Bahamas. It’s so sweet of them.”

He and Emma were leaving on a much-needed vacation in less than two weeks. Pete was pumped. They hadn’t been on a trip in a long time. They’d booked a villa on a super-exclusive island where open sex was encouraged. He’d heard stories about these kinds of sexy resorts and had always wanted to try one, but they’d never had a chance—or enough money—before now. He was hoping it was going to be a wild ride. “Do you want me to find something else to do while they’re here? Or can I stay upstairs? I have no desire to attend the block party.”

“You never want to go.” She elbowed him, smiling. “I adore seeing everyone out of their fishbowls and love trying to figure out what’s going on behind closed doors. But it doesn’t matter.” She uncurled the bag of chips. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

He draped his arm around the back of the couch. “How was work today? Have fun teaching little girls how to dance?”

“Little girls
and
boys. I’m so happy to see more boys enrolled. And it was good,” she said, popping a chip into her mouth. “Same as usual.”

“Are you looking forward to our vacation?”

“I am,” she replied.

Pete sighed. These short, clipped answers were what he’d been dealing with for the past few weeks. They were unlike his wife—who was normally sweet and bubbly, always ready to talk. He couldn’t figure out what was bothering her. He thought maybe it was because he’d pressed the idea of going to a sexy resort when she’d originally wanted to go to a nice, upscale resort where the two of them could “re-couple,” as she’d put it. He had no idea what “re-coupling” meant and had argued for the exclusive resort instead.

If they were going to go on a spendy trip, he wanted to go all-out. Why not? They’d ended up debating it for a few days, but eventually she’d given in.

Just like that. Like a switch had been flipped.

Pete had been puzzled, but satisfied. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He tried again. “We haven’t chatted much this week. What’s going on with you?”