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Alex
Good grief, Charlie Brown.
What the hell is going on in this room right now? It goes beyond the energy sizzling between Nate and Mel. My husband sits beside me, practically vibrating, salivating at the subtext underneath the details Nate offers up about their trip.
Something happened down there, and it seems like she wants to spill the beans. I can’t help but think the glass of wine she just requested from Nate is for courage.
My husband can’t keep his hands off of me, but I can’t take my eyes off of Mel. She remains a temptation for me, even after all these years. Wyatt relishes it because he feels less remorse about his feelings for Nate. He teases me often, asking me if I want him to roleplay a little. I’ve never taken him up on it, mainly because it’s disrespectful to a woman I care very much for, but also because it feels like if I let myself think about her sexually, I’ll never be able to stop.
I love my husband.
But I have it bad for Melissa Bryant.
When Nate leaves to open another bottle of wine, Mel stands again to walk to the window. She stares out into the dark, her eyes focused on something beyond the glass.
But I notice something else. Her ass, that fucking wonder of an ass, is clenched. Tightly. She keeps moving her legs, one knee bending and then the other. Almost like she’s…
Holy shit. Mel’s turned on.
I clear my throat and shuffle around in my spot. It’s a tell, and my husband knows it. He glances at me with one eyebrow raised, asking without words why I can’t stay still.
Shaking my head, I wave my hand as if to dismiss his question, but he won’t let it go. He never does.
Wyatt moves his hand to my lap, and that’s perfectly fine, but his pinky sweeps back and forth, grazing my dick with every pass, causing some swelling in an area that is wholly inappropriate for what my Southern granny used to call mixed company.
I elbow him, hissing out a very quiet, “Stop that.”
He just grins at me, winking, and I roll my eyes. I stand, adjusting myself as discreetly as I can, and excuse myself to the guest bathroom in the hallway. I don’t need to go, I just need to breathe for a second and try to figure out what the hell is going on with me. With everybody.
Not even ten seconds after I close the door behind me, I hear a rap rap from the other side.
“Psst. Alex,” Wyatt whispers.
I yank the door open and stare at him. “What?”
“Let me in,” he says, pushing past me to stand in front of the toilet.
He finishes and zips up, turning to the wall-mounted rectangular sink to wash his hands. He stares at my reflection in the mirror, taking his time and drawing out the silence. Finally, he turns to me, drying his hands with his hip resting against the sink.
“Why are you so turned on right now?”
“I’m not,” I respond quickly. Far too quickly. I’m a shitty liar.
Wyatt steps towards me, and I back up one step. The grin on his face tells me he knows how full of shit I am right now.
“Wy…” I warn.
“What?” he asks, like him advancing on me in our best friends’ hall bath is perfectly normal.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” His smile grows, turning a little feral.
My back hits the wall, and I curse the tiny room. There’s nowhere to go. Wyatt hovers over me, his hands flat on the wall beside my head, and bends to whisper in my ear.
I expect something utterly pornographic to come out of his mouth.
“I think Nate is wearing a butt plug.”
