Drake
If they thought I was going to stick around for their heartfelt I love yous, they’re wrong. I need a minute to think. And a drink. Thank God for bars and drink limits. This place does it right.
I’m not mad. I’m not bitter or upset or jealous.
I’m just…confused. And to be honest, a little nervous. Because that was good. Very fucking good. Like the best I’ve ever had good. And I have a lot to compare it to. I’ve just never felt so much during sex like I felt with Isabel. Her hands on my face and the feel of her perfect body in my arms. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept with someone and immediately wanted to sleep with them again.
I’d resigned myself to that lifestyle a long time ago. Like mother, like son. There was practically a revolving door on our house, and I saw so many men come and go, I stopped being surprised when I woke up to find yet another stranger drinking coffee in the kitchen when I’d get ready for school.
There were times I had the dumb sense to get attached to one or two of them. A few of them actually came back for an encore and I’d talk them into taking me out for burgers or letting me ride with them when they’d go pick up beer and smokes. Then, they’d disappear like the rest, and when I’d ask my mom when Hank or Steve or Brent were coming back, she’d laugh in my face. Give me some line about what a crappy lay they were.
So when Hunter met Isabel, I knew that he was waltzing right into the life he was meant to live and I was waltzing right into mine. He was the married life kind of guy. The one content with loving the same woman forever. Confident enough to know he’d always be enough for her. Bold enough to get attached to her without the fear of her walking out of his life.
And I can’t help but think about what Silla said before she gave me the room key. About being with them. That’s not really an option. We’re not like that. I could never insert myself into their relationship because before too long, the jealousy would drive Hunter crazy. I’m not sure it hasn’t already driven him crazy. I mean…he just watched me fuck his wife, but it was also so much more than that.
Isabel and I weren’t supposed to…connect so much. It wasn’t supposed to be that intimate. We should have just stuck to some basic carnal fucking, without all the sweet talk and touchy-feelies.
“Hey,” his familiar voice mutters as I feel him approaching to sit in the seat next to me at the bar. As he takes his seat, I glance at him for a quick moment, but he’s wearing that calm and collected expression he always has. Well, except for when he was sitting in that chair watching us. He was anything but calm. He looked downright feral.
“Hey,” I reply.
“You didn’t have to run,” he says, and I brush it off with a shrug.
“Didn’t want to intrude on your moment. I figured my part was done.”
“Your part? Drake…”
“You know what I mean, man. I’m fine. We’re cool, right?”
“We’re cool,” he replies as he waves down the bartender for a drink.
“Where’s Isabel?”
“Still in the room. She wanted me to come find you by myself.”
“Ah,” I reply, a crooked smirk on my face as I glance sideways at him. From this angle, I catch the glint of light in his dark brown irises, and I quickly look away, so I’m not caught staring.
“Yeah, I think she wants us to…talk.”
“I bet you were excited about that,” I joke.
He lets out a heavy sigh as the bartender places a bourbon on ice in front of him. “Ecstatic,” he mutters before taking a big sip.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “About what happened.”
I turn to see his jaw click as he clenches his teeth. I almost feel bad for him because he really does hate talking about anything, but he literally brought this on himself. It’s a miracle in itself that he even had the nerve to ask for this in the first place.
“I’m feeling great, Drake. It was exactly what I wanted.”
Nodding my head, I face forward and stifle the strange mixture of disappointment and excitement I feel at hearing him say that. On one hand, I almost wanted him to say he didn’t like it. Then I would have no choice and things would go back to the way they were. And if he loved it, then I would likely have the opportunity to be with Isabel again, which would also make me happy.
I’ve never been more torn in my life.
“If you didn’t like it, then we don’t have to do it again—’
My head snaps in his direction. “Who said I didn’t like it?”
“You look awfully…conflicted about it. You bolted out of there like a marathon runner as soon as it was over. I just get the feeling that you’re not really into this.”
“I’m into it. I did like it. No…I fucking loved it. I only left because I didn’t want to feel like an intruder in your marriage.”
“Drake, I told you already…you’re not intruding. You’re never intruding.”
“I know, but I am—’
“No, you’re not.”
“Hunter—’
He turns, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, his fingers dangerously close to my neck, pressing in just enough to make my cock jump in my pants. Just once, I wish this fucker knew what he was doing to me when he did stuff like this. But he’s so fucking straight; he doesn’t see how touching my neck or breathing into my ear or gazing into my eyes while I fuck his wife can be dangerous for me. He’ll never see it.
I clench my molars as I look at him. There’s sincerity in those dark eyes, haunting me with how deep they are, as if I could lose myself in them.
“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Drake. We want you to stay. Next time, please…stay.”
My brow furrows as I glare at him. He wants me to stay to watch him have sex with Isabel? It doesn’t make any sense. I thought for sure he’d appreciate me leaving, so this is not the reaction I expected at all.
“Next time?” I ask, watching his expression.
His hand is still on my shoulder, his fingers still pressing into my neck, and he squeezes gently as he lets out a sigh. “Tell me you want to do that again.”
There’s something loaded in his request, something more I’m not totally grasping, but I’m too eager to answer his question before he thinks I’m hesitating and rescinds his offer. “I want to do it again,” I reply.
Finally, he pulls his hand away, and my shoulders deflate. I don’t let it show as I turn toward my drink and pick it up. He’s swirling what’s left of his bourbon in the ice-filled glass. “That wasn’t weird to you? Seeing me with her?”
“Strangely…no.”
“Or hearing me say how much I liked it. How much I liked her.”
He chuckles. “Stop trying to scare me away, Drake. It didn’t bother me.”
“I don’t get it, man. If I thought about another man touching her…” My fists clench just thinking about it.
“But you’re not just another man.”
“You know she and I talked about some rules today,” I say, glancing at him.
“She told me.”
“And we’re never going to do anything when you’re not around.”
“I know.”
He turns toward me again, but this time, his hand stays away from my shoulder. “Drake, it’s not about you being with her. It’s about me watching. That part didn’t bother you?”
I think it over for a moment, but it’s an easy answer. I’m not quite sure if he’s ready to hear it, though. Oh well…fuck it. “It didn’t bother me at all. I really fucking liked you watching.”
He swallows, his eyes staying on my face. “Good.”
It’s true. I loved him watching, but what I can’t say is that I wish he’d do more than watch. He’s definitely not ready for that. Because once he gets involved, then it’s not just a simple fantasy fulfilled anymore. Then it’s something else entirely.
