The attraction was undeniable.
I couldn’t escape him.
I didn’t want to.
I was his.
He was mine.
But he wasn’t my husband.-------
My once treasured marriage was now flawed and imperfect.
By the time the guilt set in, it was too late.
Reality was trying to keep me away from my obsession.
My husband was that reality.
My obsession was West.
But West was forbidden. Taken. Married.
We were swingers.
It was the perfect arrangement.
Until I fell in love…
With West.
“Baby,” my wife, Tilly, says as she climbs onto my lap. She straddles my legs and digs her nails into my shoulders, knowing I like it when she grips me there. “How about I make a deal with you?”
My cock hardens as she grinds her pussy over the tip, her heat soaking through my sweatpants. Her hips swivel several times before I look at her.
“What kind of deal?”
Her eyes widen as I shift her over my crown, guiding it toward her ass.
“I’ll get on all fours and suck you off, but—”
“Done.”
She smiles. “But you haven’t heard the rest of the deal yet.”
I grab a handful of her blond hair and use it to pull her head back, exposing the whole line of her neck. “You had me at suck.”
I graze my nose up her throat. Damn, she smells good, like some berry lotion and perfume and whatever else she puts on that always takes her so long to get ready.
It’s been days since I really took in her scent. It’s not that she hasn’t been home. She just hasn’t come too close to me while she’s been here. Whenever I’m waiting on a call from my agent, I prefer it that way. No touching, no nagging, no asking me any questions. I just want to be surrounded by the noise of the TV and all the accomplishments that hang on the walls of my mancave. And I try not to let the thoughts overtake me.
I’m doing a shitty job at it.
This call will be one of the biggest of my career.
And my wife has broken our unspoken rule.
Maybe putting my cock in her mouth will bring me a little luck. I sure as fuck need some.
“My deal is a bit more involved than just sucking,” she says.
Her groan vibrates over my lips as I bite into her flesh. “You’re going to give me your ass?”
She laughs, which tells me her answer, the same one I usually get whenever I try to stick my dick in there.
“As long as I come,” I say, “your deal can be as involved as you want.”
“Then, you’ll follow me into the shower now?” She pulls her neck away from my mouth and locks her eyes with mine. “Because that’s where it’s going to take place. You know, after you’ve stood under the hottest water and I’ve scrubbed your body with a sponge full of soap.” She clenches her hand around the top of my T-shirt and smells the collar. “It’s time, baby. I don’t even want to guess how long you’ve been wearing this.”
I know how long.
Once I returned from the hospital, where I’d had my third MRI in less than a year, this was what I changed into. My team logo and number are on both the T-shirt and sweats—the same logo and number I’ve been wearing the whole six years I’ve been in the league. Both were given to me during training camp directly after I was drafted. I have a closet full of athletic gear just like this, but there’s something about the originals I can’t part with. These clothes have seen me through some long-ass stretches when the guys and I couldn’t find our rhythm on the ice, when the fans wanted to turn on us.
The clothes are going to see me through this, too.
They fucking have to.
I sink against the leather chair, my dick softening beneath her, the shifting of her hips not doing it for me anymore.
“Come on, West.” Her lips find my jaw, and she kisses down to my chest. “You know you want your cock in this hot, wet mouth. You love it when I slide my lips right around your tip and suck so hard just as you’re about to come.”
My wife gives some mean head.
But, right now, I don’t want her mouth anywhere near me.
“Tilly, listen—” The sound of the phone cuts me off. I check the screen, seeing my agent’s name and number, and say, “Get up.”
“Baby—”
“Get up, Tilly. It’s Jesse.”
She wiggles off me and moves a few paces away.
I take a deep breath and hold my cell up to my ear. “Jesse, what’s the news?”
“West, we really need to talk.”
I can tell by the tone of his voice.
He doesn’t have to go on about the chain of events—how the doctor sent the results to my coach, the owner of our team, and the NHL commission.
I don’t need the results either.
I already know.
From the second I was hit—when my helmet shifted up just enough that it exposed my head and it slammed into the boards—I knew I had a concussion, my third one this year. I immediately felt the wave of nausea. There was ringing in my ears. Blackness in front of my eyes.
And, now, it’s happening all over again but for a whole different reason.
“Jesse, I’ll call you back.”
“Not the news we were hoping, my friend. I know—”
I hang up.
He doesn’t know shit.
“Baby…” Tilly’s voice is so quiet, I barely hear her, but it’s enough to get my attention.
“What?”
She holds out her phone, her hand covering the speaker. “It’s Viktor. He tried your line when you were on the phone with Jesse, and when you didn’t pick up, he called me.” She walks over and sets her cell in my lap.
I lift the phone to my ear and say, “Viktor.”
“What the fuck, man? It’s been days, and Coach hasn’t told us anything. The guys are all waiting to get our captain back. You coming to practice this morning or what?”
My eyes close. I can’t handle all the spinning, the little shimmers of light, like I’ve been rubbing my lids for hours. My chest starts to rise and fall, as though I’d been skating sprints. “Nah, man. I’m not coming in today. Maybe tomorrow.”
It’s a lie.
I drop the phone and feel Tilly pick it up.
“Hey, Viktor. He’ll call you back, okay?”
I don’t know how long I sit in the chair with my eyes closed. I don’t know how I’m getting any air in with my chest this tight. I don’t know how long my wife waits silently for me to tell her the news.
But, when I finally open my lids, I bark the words, “Get the condo listed. Pack our shit. We’re getting the fuck out of here,” and I watch her sadly move out of my mancave.
Then, I strip my clothes, get into the shower, and don’t get out until the water feels as cold as the rink.
Piper“What’s wrong, Pipes? You look like you’re a million miles away.”I slap on a smile and turn my head toward my husband, surprised he even noticed something was bothering me. He’s been so checked out lately that I could scream, and he probably wouldn’t hear me.“I’m fine, Cannon. Just thinking.”His crystal-blue eyes search mine, and I almost tell him, but I’m afraid. This trip is supposed to bring us closer together. When I booked it, I thought that time away from his job and the office would help him focus on our marriage again. But the week is almost over, and we’re still as disconnected as when we arrived.Cannon has been taking phone calls the entire time even though he promised he would leave his work back in Florida. Each call comes with an apology and time locked away in the bedroom, away from me.I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve Googled ways to bring the spark back into our marriage. Each day, I’ve worn sexy dresses and tiny bikinis to the pool. I scheduled romantic
Once we have everything in the bag, he glances over his shoulder and then walks us toward the resort. Sand from my flip-flops smacks me in the back of my legs and sticks to my lotioned-up body. I know the perfect place to try again. It’s more secluded, private enough that nobody would be able to see us even though we’d still be outside.As we’re approaching a little alcove with its own shower, I take Cannon’s hand and pull him inside. When we’re out of view, I slip my hand inside his swim trunks and wrap my fingers around his dick.He lets his guard down for a split second, groaning, as I pump him up and down.But, as soon as he hears voices approaching, he grabs my arm. “Piper, enough. We have to stop.”“What if I don’t want to stop?”He pulls my hand out of his bottoms and stares down at me. I’m still wrapped around his torso when he searches my eyes and says, “What’s gotten into you?”Herein lies the problem. Cannon’s meticulous and proper, driven by calculation. How else would a l
It takes a few seconds before I realize the faces staring back are ones I recognize. It’s my team. They’re holding out their fists, waiting for me to pound them, just like we do on our way through the tunnel as we head toward the ice.I went to practice the day after I talked to my agent and told the team I wasn’t returning. And, now, they’re here to send me off.My final walk through the tunnel.The last time I’ll ever be a part of a team.I whisper the name of each player as I pass him, and when I reach Viktor, he pulls me in for a hug.“I’ll be down to visit as soon as we hit the off-season,” he says.“I know.”“You’d better have a hell of a tan and a wicked golf game by then.”“I hate golf.”“Learn to like it because I’m going to challenge the hell out of your handicap.”I say nothing.I can’t.“You’re going to knock her up and take your son to daycare and coach little league. You’re going to be all right.”I nod, not wanting any of the things he mentioned, still unable to say a w
PiperThe second the hotel room door closes, Cannon’s kissing my neck. What I thought was ruined suddenly comes to life. I take two steps backward until my back is pressed against the wall. His tongue laps at a little bead of sweat the air-conditioning is trying to chase away. He likes the room freezing cold and says it keeps the humidity from destroying his hair.When I first met Cannon, his hair used to hang just above his eyebrows. When he was working out, the strands would nearly poke him in the eye. Sometime during the last few years, he started keeping the sides shaved and the top long enough to blow-dry into the perfect wave, swept away from his face. I asked him if it was the beginning of an early midlife crisis. He said he finally started giving a shit.Is that what we’re having? An early midlife crisis?“Piper? Did you hear me?” He bends at the waist to look me in the eyes.“What?”“You sure you’re okay? I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”“I’m fine,” I lie.“You’re not,” he
When his muscles relax, I wait for him to pull out and cuddle me against his chest, like he always does. But his phone rings inside the beach bag, and he stands up, running his fingers through his hair, as he looks around for it. I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s going to answer the call. I guess I hoped that, just this once, he’d put us first.I watch him dig into the pocket of the beach bag, pull the phone out, and then glance at the screen. And then he holds up a finger, letting me know he needs a minute. Normally, I’d give him all the time in the world, but it’s Saturday, and the office is closed. Only dire emergencies are handled on the weekends, and considering we’re in another country, Cannon couldn’t be much help.Something inside me snaps, and I get up from the bed and storm across the room. Without thinking, I grab the phone out of his hand and hang up.He glances back and forth between the phone and me and then stares at me in disbelief. “What the hell, Piper? That was a
I stay on the floor, keeping my hands on her legs, with no intention of going anywhere besides inside her pussy again. “You’ve got two minutes.” She tries closing me out, but my fingers keep her thighs pried open. “Three then.”“At least four. And I need a drink. My throat is killing me after all that screaming.”Now that I’ve swallowed her, my mouth is dry as hell, and I can use one, too. So, I go into the kitchen and stand in front of the fridge. “Wine?”“Yesss.”I pour her a glass, grab a beer for myself, and go back to the couch. She turned on a lamp while I was gone, and now, a blanket covers her legs.She reaches for the glass and says, “Remember that plan I mentioned the day we arrived in Florida? When we were in the ocean?”That was the day I tried putting my cock in her ass, which is the only reason I remember the conversation.I set the beer on the coffee table and get on my knees, feeling for her legs over the blanket and shoving them apart. “You can tell me while I lick.”
A couple of weeks ago, one click led to another, and before I knew what was happening, I’d joined a forum online. It’s moderated by a marriage expert who answers any and every question, no matter how off the wall or mundane it is.I would take my time browsing through each of the responses, hoping that one of them would relate to my own marriage, leading me toward some much-needed answers. Some of the posts I came across were helpful; others were completely ridiculous. But, when one particular response hit a little too close to home, I realized there were other couples in the same boat as we were and that this forum was right where I belonged.That one helpful response had me so hopeful that I was devouring every stitch of information I could get my hands on. I was even curious enough to explore the questions that didn’t have anything to do with my situation. The advice was fascinating, and some of the methods were so completely unconventional that I had to dig deeper.Swinging for in
All of that is beside the point. Maybe I should have told Cannon what I was doing, but I wouldn’t have been on this website if Cannon hadn’t changed. I wouldn’t be driving myself crazy, looking at every possibility to explain what had been going on and how to fix it, if things were different, if they were how they used to be.But the truth of the matter is, I’ve snooped on his phone and laptop, making me just as guilty as he is for being on mine. He hasn’t done anything I haven’t. At least I don’t think he has until I sit down in front of the laptop and notice a typed message that is waiting to be sent.“What are you doing?” I yell. “God, Cannon. What were you thinking, trying to message them? You weren’t even going to pretend to me be.”“I read some of the other messages, Piper. Isn’t this what you want? To set something up?”“No,” I tell him as I erase the text from the message and then close out of the program. “We’re not swingers. What I’ve been doing…it isn’t what you’re thinking