The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) by Jasmine Haynes, Jennifer Skully Page B

you’re away. So no way was I going to waste two more days with you.”
    He’d stayed for her. He wanted her. He’d driven to Ocala with her, taken her out in the forest. There was something immensely powerful in being wanted like that.
    She wished now that she’d propositioned him on the beach Tuesday night. They’d have had five days and five nights. She’d cheated herself. Because Spence was right, once she got home, it was over.
    His eyes seemed to burn. “Now take off your pretty little dress and panties and get on that bed. I’m hungry.”
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Sitting naked in the middle of the bed, they’d eaten out of the cartons as they watched the evening news.
    She’d called her husband while she rode Spence reverse cowgirl style, a special request from the man. In the end, Spence had grabbed the phone and tossed it aside, saying it was interrupting her concentration.
    The truth was he didn’t want to share her. These were his two nights. The husband would get her back on Sunday.
    When she’d tried to slip out of bed in the middle of the night, he’d clamped an arm around her waist. Then he’d taken her from behind, pulling her leg over his thigh, spreading her, filling her slowly until she moaned his name. The best thing about the position was being able to stroke her clit while he fucked her. A slow sensual assault that drove her crazy.
    She hadn’t tried to sneak out of the bed again.
    In the morning, he’d ordered room service. She’d had blueberry pancakes with whipped cream on top. Spence had taken a scoop of the cream, pushed her back on the bed, plopped it on her pussy, and licked her clean until she shuddered with climax.
    And he still hadn’t had enough of her.
    At eleven they’d checked out of their rooms. The hotel clerk hadn’t charged them for cancelling the last night when Spence explained that they only had one night left and were dying to see St. Augustine, the oldest city in the new world, the pearl of the Florida coast. He’d even gotten the woman to book them a bed-and-breakfast right on St. George Street, which she claimed was the best site, with a view of the Castillo de San Marcos.
    “You are such a charmer,” Zoe said as he herded her into the garage elevator. “And that woman fell for it. She didn’t even ask why we’re checking out of two rooms but getting only one up in St. Augustine.”
    He hugged her close to his side. For once they had an elevator to themselves. “She doesn’t care if you’re fucking around while you’re out of town on business.”
    He didn’t know why he kept making denigrating comments. It didn’t bother her, though.
    “She wished she was going to St. Augustine with you.” She rubbed against his side like a cat. “But you’re all mine.”
    He squeezed her perfect ass. “She couldn’t handle me. It takes a sexy, mature woman with few inhibitions.”
    The doors slid open, and she pulled away to roll her suitcase into the garage. “Mature?”
    He followed. “I wouldn’t have looked twice at you if you were some sweet young thing.”
    Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she eyed him. “And I adore older men.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
    He wanted her again, right here, right now, despite all the times he’d had her last night and this morning over breakfast. But this time he’d wait until they were in their big fluffy bed on the top floor of the B&B with the balcony doors open over St. George Street.
    While she’d showered and dressed, he discovered St. Augustine on the Internet. He’d talked her into the excursion with amazing ease by saying they could do some house-hunting along the way.
    Opening the driver’s door, she looked at him over the roof. “Are you okay with me doing all the driving?”
    He shrugged. “It’s your rental car.” Her question made him wonder about her relationship. Maybe the husband was dictatorial. “Besides, I enjoy being chauffeured around.”
    Since they’d had a big breakfast,