Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3) (11)

“Are you okay?” he whispers as he holds me effortlessly, our faces only inches apart.

Without a word, I nod. Because I am okay, and I’m not quite sure if that is wrong or right. It doesn’t feel wrong, but I’m a little worried by how good it feels. Even if we’re not really crossing a line, I definitely should not feel this aroused in my husband’s best friend’s arms.

“You can set her down now,” Maxwell says, and I tear my eyes away from Drake as he lowers me to the ground. “Turn her around, please.”

Drake spins me so my back is to him, and once again, I think we’ve reached the end of the demonstration, and I’m only moments away from taking this rope off and being able to put my dress back on.

Wrong again.

“One last position,” he says, and I glance up at Maxwell as he tells Drake, “bend her over.”

My mouth goes dry. Because somewhere in the room, I feel Hunter’s eyes watching us. I scan the room again, but I don’t see him. I feel him, though. He’s out there. He can see me exposed and tied up with his best friend, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest at the thought.

With a hold of the knot between my shoulder blades, Drake nudges me forward until I’m hinging at my hips. Then I glance up again, and this time, I do find those dark eyes in the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the room, next to Mirabel, staring at me and Drake. Where there should be rage and jealousy is an expression of awe and intrigue. Why isn’t he stopping this?

“With the harness, control and thrusts are much more powerful. Care to demonstrate.”

Drake and I tense at the same time. But the eyes of the crowd are on us and the energy in the room won’t allow us to back out now. We’ve gotten this far and we’re almost done, but even with my husband watching from across the room, I feel Drake behind me. I feel the sexy energy of his body holding mine. Overpowering and dominating and controlling me in a way that has my panties wet and my body on fire.

After clearing his throat, Drake jerks me backward, but doesn’t quite make contact with my backside the way I expected him to. I probably shouldn’t be as disappointed as I am.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that. Really show her,” Maxwell says, and there’s a whoop from the crowd, urging Drake on. I hear him growl behind me as he tightens his grasp on my harness.

Then, I’m being violently jerked backward until I feel him slam into my backside, and I let out a howling yelp at the sudden impact. Boiling hot arousal swims through my bloodstream at the unmistakable sensation of his rock-hard length wedged roughly between my cheeks.

The crowd reacts again, this time clapping and hollering at our display.

As quickly as Drake slammed against me, he was gone. I suddenly miss the weight of his cock against my ass, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. Even as I glance back up at Hunter across the room, watching with more of a blank expression on his face now.

Then Maxwell is walking Drake through removing my harness, and I can’t think through a solid thought. My mind is swimming. I keep feeling him hard against me and the undeniable power of the thrust.

There’s more applause as we rush off stage, and when we meet Hunter by the door, I glance up to see Drake shifting uncomfortably.

“That was impressive,” Hunter says as his arms go around my waist, now safely covered by my dress. Although the rope still burns like an echo of our time on stage. I keep glancing at Hunter’s face, looking for anger, but there is none. He seems calm, and I wonder if he’s just storing up his anger for when we’re in private or if seeing his best friend dry hump his wife on stage wasn’t as upsetting as it probably should be.

“I need a drink,” Drake mutters.

“Me too,” I reply.

“Then let’s go,” Hunter adds, and with that, the three of us quickly move toward the door.





Rule #5: Why be jealous when you can be turned on?





Hunter



The car ride to the rental from the club is quiet. Isabel is next to me in the passenger seat with her hands folded in her lap, and her eyes are glued to the passing city through the window. Behind us, Drake is brooding. Every time I glance in the rearview mirror, I catch his eye contact for only a second, before he looks away in a rush.

I find their strange sense of shame amusing. They look as if they’ve both been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and maybe if I was an insecure man, or thought for one moment that these two would ever even think about betraying me, I would be more worried. But I’m not.

What happened on stage was just a demonstration, and the presenter, Maxwell, clearly misjudged them as a couple. The little show they put on was entertaining, more so to me than anyone else, since I was the only one in the audience who knew just how uncomfortable that was for them.

Seeing them up there, my half-naked wife in the hands of my best friend…didn’t quite have the effect on me I expected. When I walked back into the main showroom, I paused at the door when I recognized the two people under the pink light. And while my mind echoed a cadence of what the fuck, my body didn’t react the same way.

Maybe I should have wanted to charge the stage and tear my woman out of Drake’s arms. I probably should have been boiling with anger at the sight of his fingers running the length of her spine, brushing over her barely covered breasts, and tickling the underside of her rib cage. But I didn’t hate it.