Megan Hart: An Erotic Collection Volume 1 Read online

  “She can swim.”

  Didn’t and wouldn’t were different matters than couldn’t. He knew she could and knew, too, that Jamie wouldn’t push the issue. Might not even know there was one, the bastard. Living with Jamie must have been so easy for her in some ways, Alex thought as he stared her down in the mix of golden light from inside and silver from the moon. Jamie never challenged her.

  His fingers went to the buttons on his jeans and he notched the zipper down, tick-tock, zip. Her eyes went to his crotch, and his prick threatened to bust right out of the faded denim.

  Jamie spoke. “C’mon, pussy. Thought you were going in.”

  “I’m waiting to see if Anne’s coming, too.”

  Would she? His fingers lingered at his crotch, his breath held as he waited. But Anne shook her head and met his gaze head-on, refusing even when he tried to charm her.

  “I don’t swim in the lake.”

  She’d already told him why. In that moment, he didn’t want Jamie’s wife. He wanted the woman who’d given up a piece of herself to him and made him wonder what it would be like to do the same.

  In the water, naked, Jamie grabbed him by the ankles to pull him under. Kids again, that’s what they were together, and for a while Alex lost himself in the horseplay. Dunking, splashing. Touching. Rubbing.

  Jamie slid an arm around Alex’s shoulders to knuckle his head, both of them in water to their chests. He pulled Alex close to breathe heat into Alex’s ear. Beneath the dark water, Jamie’s dick edged the side of Alex’s thigh.

  It would have been nothing to touch Jamie just then. A casual stroke where nobody could see. Alex’s cock twitched at the possibility even as his muscles tensed at Jamie’s touch. It would be so easy to lean into Jamie’s embrace and take his friend’s cock in his hand. It had been that way when they were boys, too, wrestling in the lake, their swimsuits clinging to their legs and balls and asses. There’d been times Alex got so hard he ached and had to swim too far out, doing laps until his erection went down, or even one-handed jerking under the water until he came.

  They weren’t kids any longer.

  “You watch,” Jamie said into Alex’s ear as they left the water and headed to the blankets, where Anne sat. “It will be so hot. You’ll see.”

  It was hot.

  Sitting across from Anne and Jamie, shielded by a blanket from the night’s chill, Alex shouldn’t have been able to see his best friend’s hand slip between his wife’s thighs. Not that Jamie tried to hide it.

  Smoking, drinking, talking, the rise and fall of their voices melted into one long, erotic haze as he watched Anne’s face blur with pleasure. Her mouth parted. The tip of her tongue wet her lower lip, just the smallest, most unobtrusive bit, but he noticed. He noticed everything about her. The way she shifted, slowly, beneath the blanket and leaned against Jamie. The way Jamie’s arm moved just as slowly, but without cease.

  When she came, he knew it as surely as if she’d cried out. He could see it in her eyes and the shape of her mouth. She was looking into his eyes when she climaxed. She would look at him when she came with him, and he wouldn’t have to ask her for it.

  He realized there was silence and wondered if he was meant to answer a question he hadn’t heard. Jamie was looking at him, too, tension thick as a quilt between them. Alex stood, blood rushing between his legs to leave his head a little dizzy.

  “Well, ladies, I’m off to bed. I need my beauty sleep.” He’d meant to make it light, but all he could think about was his cock.

  Now might be the time to move. He leaned over both of them as Anne struggled to get out of the blankets and Jamie just sat there. Alex wasn’t sure what he’d meant to do, only that now he swayed, drunk not from the alcohol but the scent of her. Something light and fresh, a woman’s scent, mingling with Jamie’s familiar soap and fabric softener smell. Anne smelled like something Alex couldn’t afford but would buy anyway, which was a laugh because he had a bank account full of money and nothing he wanted to spend it on.

  He looked into her eyes, the pupils huge and black. He heard the soft in-hitch of her breath. If he kissed her mouth now she would open for him. He knew it better than he’d known anything before.

  The question of “if” had now become “when,” and the answer to that was “soon.” But not tonight. Alex Kennedy prided himself on many skills—baking brownies, deciphering the global transportation needs of major and minor corporations...seduction.

  He wanted Anne to want him, not as much as he had grown to want her, but more. That was how it worked best, for him. To be desired more than he did.

  “Good night,” he said, and instead of a kiss on the mouth he touched his lips to her cheek.

  He brushed Jamie’s, too, for good measure, not the first time he’d ever done so, but in the air between them he felt the tense and shift of Anne’s muscles. He patted them both on the head and went to the doorway where he staggered for just a moment, hand reaching out to support himself lest he stumble and fall into the darkness inside.

  In the bedroom down the hall from Anne and Jamie’s, Alex stripped off his clothes and pulled back the blankets and sheets to slip beneath them naked. His cock, freed from its denim prison, was already in his fist. Anne’s face in his head. The scent of her, the sound of her voice. The heat of Jamie’s breath in his ear.

  For a long time he hadn’t gone without one goddamned thing he’d wanted. Raised poor, a drunk for a dad and spineless doormat mother, he’d been a white-trash cliché. Having money only changed the outside, not the boy he’d been or the man he was now, prick stiff as stone against his belly as he stroked it. He’d denied himself nothing for years and now desire sat low in his gut, hot as a stone left in the fire.

  Through the cracked-open window the faint slap of water against wood reached him, and something else. The murmur of voices, too low to be heard. A groan. He bit back his own, recognizing it as Jamie’s.

  Alex spit into his palm and rolled onto his belly to bury his face in the pillow. His hand, hot and now slick on his cock, gripped and moved. He thrust his hips, fucking his hand and the bed, both poor substitutes for a hot, slick cunt or mouth.

  He fucked himself with no finesse or grace, his only focus on a swift, hard orgasm. He ground himself down, hard and harder. Each push and pull edged him toward coming until he shuddered with it, this descent into mindless pleasure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d jerked himself like this, furtive and a little embarrassed at the huge and overwhelming need for release.

  His guts tightened, his balls tingled, and his cock throbbed in his fist. He fucked forward once, twice more, and shot. He bit the pillow and spilled into breathless laughter at the ecstasy. In five minutes he wouldn’t believe anything could ever feel this good; in ten he’d be asleep and dreaming, if he were lucky.

  Sighing, blinking, licking his mouth to wet the dryness there, Alex reminded himself of one thing.

  Jamie had always been the lucky one.

  * * *

  Thump, thump, thump, the beat pounded in his ears. His pulse. People around them moved in perfect time, a couple hundred bodies becoming a single entity with the music to bind it. And the three of them, somehow separate but making their own connection. Becoming one.

  Facing Jamie, with Anne between them, Alex let the crowd press him closer to her. Jamie’s eyes flashed. Grinning, he pulled his wife closer and his best friend, too. Both of them rocked against her, front to back. She bound them.

  Fuck, he loved to dance. To move and sweat, to take a partner and make some sort of anonymous and fully clothed love on the dance floor. He’d lived entire lifetimes on the dance floor, met and married and divorced a dozen people in the span of a three-minute song.

  None of them had felt like this. Jamie slid his hands up Anne’s hips and Alex met them with his. Their fingers linked, the contact intimate and startling, and fucking sexy as hell. Alex and Jamie had slept in the same bed, side by side. They’d wrestled, taking turns to pin each other dow