Jackpot Surrender (All In #4)

Chapter 1

My fingers find the purple dress before my brain catches up.

It’s shoved at the back of the rack, hiding behind silk blouses from my marketing days.

I had it dry cleaned the morning after I wore it to the casino.

Hung it back here like a trophy I was pretending not to want, because apparently I’m the kind of woman who keeps souvenirs of her night with two men.

I’m a hotwife. I said it out loud less than a week ago, and my body’s flutter of agreement felt like she was saying, finally, bitch, welcome to the party.

My smile dies when I glance at my phone.

Tony’s text is still in there. The security footage of James Whitmore, Robert’s colleague, caught on camera near the Goldpoint Casino bar asking questions about me. Every morning, I pick up my phone, thumb hovering over delete, and every morning, I don’t go through with it.

I grab the phone.

Shannon, delete the fucking text. Or don’t and tell Robert. Be done with this.

I put the phone in my robe pocket and close the closet door.

I’m a coward.

Robert is at the glass kitchen table with his coffee and his laptop open. He looks up when I walk in and smiles like I’m his favorite person on the planet. God, I don’t deserve this man.

“Morning.” I cross to the coffee maker. Shannon getting coffee on a Tuesday, nothing to see here.

“I was thinking about you,” he says.

My grip tightens on the mug. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. About what we’re doing.” He closes the laptop and gives me his full attention. “About what it would look like.”

I know what he means. He’s been circling this since I got home from the casino last time and he fucked me on the living room floor. He wants to watch.

I pour my coffee, doctor it with cream, and act oblivious. “What would what look like?”

Robert pushes his chair back and pats his thigh, and my body moves before my thoughts do. I set the mug down and let him pull me onto his lap. His arm wraps around my waist. He’s half-hard against my hip, and my traitorous pussy lights up.

Do I deserve this man’s trust while Tony’s text burns a hole in my robe pocket?

“I keep thinking about what it would look like.” His mouth grazes my neck, his voice dropping into that low register that makes my thighs press together. “Watching two guys fuck you.”

My pussy clenches. Yeah, thanks for the input.

Because here’s the thing: I want that too. I want Robert in the room. I want him to see what I turn into when they put their hands on me. And the wanting is real. That’s the fucked-up part. The desire is one hundred percent genuine. It’s just sitting on top of a lie.

“I’ve been thinking about wanting more. About pushing further,” I say. That part’s true, and the truth is easier to sell.

Robert’s arm tightens around me. His fingers find the gap where my robe crosses over my thigh, and his touch on my bare skin sends a zing straight between my legs. “What’s got you so wound up, baby?” he murmurs.

“Adrian.” I press my face into his neck so he can’t read my expression. “The way he edges me. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m loading the dishwasher and my thighs are clenching. I’m sitting in traffic squeezing the steering wheel. I’ve become a sex-crazed suburban housewife.”

His hand slides higher, along the inside of my thigh, and my legs part without my permission. My greedy pussy hums with approval. Robert’s fingers brush against my folds through the thin cotton of my panties.

“You’re soaked,” he says, his breath hot against my throat. “Just from talking about it.”

“I’ve been soaked since I woke up.” I rock against his hand.

Robert groans. He pushes my panties to the side and drags through my wetness, two fingers parting my folds, and the first contact of his fingertip against my clit makes my whole body jolt on his lap. I grab the edge of the kitchen table.

“Tell me what Adrian did again.” He slowly circles my clit. “Every detail.”

I tell him. The storage room behind the casino floor, bare concrete walls, that single buzzing light that turned everything amber. Then his hand was in my hair, his cock stretching me open, fucking me so hard my knees buckled. And then he stopped.

Robert presses harder against my clit, and I moan and grind into him, chasing my orgasm. “He didn’t let me come. He looked down at me on the floor and told me to go home to my husband.”

“And you did.” Robert’s voice is rough. He pushes two fingers inside me and curls them, and my pussy grips him so hard I shake. “You came home dripping and desperate, and I made you come three times.”

“Three times.” I’m panting now.

His teeth graze my earlobe. “I want to watch him deny you.”

My pussy floods his hand. A gush of wetness that makes him move faster, and the mental image hits me like a truck: Robert in a chair, eyes locked on me while Adrian fucks me against a wall. Watching my face when the orgasm is denied. Watching me fall apart and not lifting a finger to help.

“Holy shit.” I’m bucking now, and his cock is fully hard under my ass, straining through his pants. “Robert—fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Not yet.” He slows and pulls his fingers out.

My pussy spasms around nothing, and I whine and then laugh at my desperation.

“You bastard.”

My clit is a drumline. My whole body’s keeping time.

He pushes back in, deep, and holds. “Describe what Tony would do if I were in the room. What would he make you do while I watched?”

“He’d bend me over his desk.” I’m rocking on his hand, chasing friction. “Fuck me from behind while making me look at you the whole time. Pull my hair back so I couldn’t hide my face.” My walls grip him tighter with every image. “And when I came, he’d make me tell you I’m a slut.”

Robert’s fingers curl inside me, hard, and his grip on my hip tightens until I feel each finger separately. His voice drops to a register I haven’t heard before. “I’d watch your face the whole time. I wouldn’t look away.”

He finger fucks me slowly, and I rise to meet his thrusts. The pleasure is building faster. I’m wound so tight my toes curl. So close I can taste it.

And isn’t this the most fucked-up thing in the world? I’m fantasizing about two other men while my husband fingers me in our kitchen, and the lie in my pocket is heavier than the ring I take off every time I fuck Tony and Adrian.

“Keep going,” Robert murmurs. “Don’t stop.”

“He’d make me suck him.” The words tumble out, frantic. “While Adrian fucked me from behind. And you’d be there watching, and—oh God—“

My orgasm crests, that familiar tsunami building at the base of my spine, and I’m right there, right on the edge, my whole body pulling taut like a wire about to snap. I’m moving on my own now, thighs shaking. One more stroke, one more—

“Please,” I gasp. “Please, Robert, I need—”

He pulls out completely. His thumb sweeps away from my clit. The sensation drops off a cliff, and I cry out, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, everything in me seizing around the stolen orgasm.

“No. No no no—” I shiver, my pussy fluttering desperately against nothing. Every nerve ending is screaming. “You fucker. You can’t—”

“I can.” His voice is smug. He runs a single finger along my slit, and my entire body lurches. “Look at you. You’re so desperate you’re begging.”

“I hate you.” The words come out breathless, and we both know it’s a lie. My pussy spasms at the proof of it. “I hate you, and I want to come so badly I might die.”

“Then tell me.” He traces my opening without pushing in, just teasing, and the torture of it is exquisite. “Tell me what it felt like when Adrian told you to go home to your husband. Tell me how wet you were in the car.”

“Oh god.” My head falls back, hips rolling in desperate circles. “I was dripping on the leather seats. I thought about pulling over and—”

Robert plunges two fingers deep inside me, and I completely shatter.

The orgasm tears through me with a force that makes the first edge look quaint.

Wave after wave of contractions so intense I’m screaming, hand slamming flat on the kitchen table hard enough that my coffee mug rattles and tips over.

Robert’s other hand grips my hip, holding me down, forcing me to take everything.

“That’s my girl.” His voice is rough. “Give it all to me.”

The ecstasy keeps coming, radiating through me in aftershocks that make me see stars. Robert keeps his fingers buried deep, his thumb working my clit in slow strokes that stretch the waves until I’m gasping and shaking and barely holding on. My vision blurs. Every breath comes out as a sob.

And somewhere underneath the pleasure, right at the base of all that blinding heat, is the cold little knot of knowing I don’t deserve this. Not tonight.

“That’s enough, baby.” He murmurs it against my temple, his touch gentling.

I slump against his chest, absolutely destroyed. His cock is hard as stone against my hip, and I reach down to palm him through his pants, but he catches my wrist.

“Tonight,” he says, and his voice alone makes my pussy flutter. “I have that cocktail reception for the firm. I want you there with me.”

My stomach drops. Blackstone & Associates. James will be there.

“Of course.” My practiced social smile snaps into place. I’d rather chew glass, but Shannon Matthews, the partner’s wife, never misses a Blackstone function. Breaking the pattern now would be the kind of red flag even Robert couldn’t miss.

My phone buzzes in my robe pocket. I flinch. Not a twitch, a full-body jolt, and Robert’s brow creases. “You okay?”

I pull the phone out and practically sigh in relief. It’s a committee reminder from the neighborhood association.

“Fine.” I hold up the screen so he can see. “Just Carol wanting me to chair another benefit.”

Robert laughs and pulls me closer. “Tell Carol she can have you after I’m done with you.”

I laugh too, and it sounds real even to me.

The lies are getting easier. And that’s the part that scares me most.