CHAPTER 4
The afternoon air outside the hotel had been thick with humidity, but inside the carpeted hallway, the cool whisper of the air conditioning did nothing to chill the fever burning under her skin.
Two days had passed since that unforgettable night in Room Sixty-Three.
Two full days of walking through her life like a ghost, performing the duties of a devoted wife while her lower body still throbbed with the lingering memory of Drew's massive width.
Gray had tried his best the night before.
He had gone down on her with a sudden, desperate hunger, his tongue lapping at her swollen lips until her body betrayed her and she squirted clear across the crisp white sheets.
She had screamed his name into the dark, but in her mind, behind her closed eyelids, she had been staring into the dark, sweat slicked chest of her secret lover.
Gray was gentle. Gray was attentive. But Gray could never fill the deep, aching void that Drew had opened within her core.
Drew owned that space now. He had claimed it with every brutal, heavy thrust, and no amount of routine domesticity could erase the claim he had staked inside her.
Those simple words had made her shifting on the leather seat of her Jeep the entire drive over, her lace panties already damp and slick against her bare, shaved skin.
She had even prepared herself before leaving the house.
While Gray was in the shower that morning, Jayla had locked herself in the walk in closet, coated four of her own fingers in coconut oil, and worked them deep inside her own channel, stretching her inner walls so she would be completely soft, yielding, and ready for whatever punishment Drew had planned.
The lock clicked with a heavy, metallic sound.
The door swung inward, and the sight that met her eyes stopped Jayla cold in her tracks. Her hand froze on the strap of her leather camera bag, her breath catching squarely in her throat.
Drew was sitting comfortably in a broad, velvet armchair near the sunlit window, his long, muscular legs spread wide.
He was completely bare from the waist up, his dark, sculpted chest gleaming under the warm overhead lamps like polished obsidian.
But it was what sat between his thick, tattooed thighs that made Jayla’s jaw drop.
A woman was on her knees between his feet.
A sleek, golden blonde head was bobbing steadily up and down, her delicate hands wrapped around the base of the massive black shaft Jayla knew all too well.
The woman’s red painted lips were stretched to their absolute physical limit, swallowing the flared, swollen head of Mr. Girth while low, wet swallowing sounds filled the quiet luxury of the suite.
A sharp, sudden spike of possessive jealousy flared hot in Jayla’s chest. Her fists curled tightly at her sides, her knuckles turning white. She opened her mouth to demand an explanation, ready to unleash a wave of anger, when the blonde suddenly pulled off the thick shaft with a loud, wet pop.
The woman turned her head, wiping a thin string of clear saliva from her chin, and looked up at Jayla with a pair of bright blue, mischief-filled eyes.
Jayla’s heart stopped.
It was Tamara. Married, immaculate, upper class Tamara.
Her best friend. Her gallery partner. The woman who attended suburban dinner parties and complained about her husband’s golf schedule.
Tamara’s plump lips were shiny with a mix of her own spit and Drew’s heavy pre-cum, her cheeks flushed a deep, rosy pink.
"Tamara? What the absolute fuck are you doing here?
" Jayla demanded, though the anger in her voice instantly evaporated, replaced by a sudden, dizzying rush of pure, unadulterated shock.
She stepped into the room, kicked the heavy door shut behind her with her heel, and unceremoniously tossed her expensive camera bag onto the nearby sofa.
"Surprise, sweetie," Tamara giggled, licking a rogue drop of glistening fluid from her bottom lip with a slow, deliberate sweep of her tongue. Her blue eyes sparkled with filthy delight. "I told you I was looking for a new perspective on my personal life."
Jayla let out a long, ragged exhale, her shoulders dropping as the sheer absurdity and dirty excitement of the situation hit her like a freight train. Heat bloomed between her thighs, heavy and immediate. "So this is the little surprise you were talking about, Drew?"
"This, and so much more, Jayla," Drew chuckled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
He reached down, his large, dark hand wrapping around the base of his rock hard, vein covered cock, holding it upright so both women could admire the impressive length and beer can thickness of his erection.
"You two have been talking about each other for months.
Now you get to eat each other while I break both of your tight married pussies. "
Jayla did not hesitate for another second. She kicked off her leather boots, her hands moving rapidly to the pearlescent buttons of her silk blouse. "I cannot believe this. Tamara, I thought you were completely happy in your little suburban bubble with Mark."
"I thought the exact same thing about you and Gray," Tamara countered with a throaty laugh, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against the warm skin of Drew’s heavy testicles. "But look at us now. Two bored, hungry wives getting ruined by the same magnificent dick."
Drew’s dark face hardened with sudden, dominant authority. "You two stop all that fucking talking and come work this meat. You can discuss your boring ass marriages later when you step out of this room. Inside Room 104, you only have one single job."
Jayla and Tamara looked at each other, their voices harmonizing in a quiet, breathless unison. "And what is that, Drew?"
"Please my dick," Drew commanded, his voice dark and smooth. He casually lifted his hips and spanked the heavy, flared head of his shaft lightly against Tamara’s spit shiny cheek. The wet thwack echoed sharply off the high ceilings. "Make me feel like a king."
Jayla dropped her blouse to the floor, followed quickly by her denim skirt and her lace underwear.
She stood completely bare before them, her olive skin gleaming in the afternoon light, her vivid floral tattoos tracing the curves of her ribs and hips.
Her nipples were already hard as pebbles, her entrance slick and dripping.
Tamara took a slow, appreciative look up and down Jayla’s naked body, her eyes lingering on the ink that stretched across her friend's waist. "Damn, Jayla. Did I ever tell you how fucking hot those tattoos are when you are completely naked?"
"All the fucking time, girl," Jayla whispered, stepping forward and dropping to her knees right beside her best friend on the soft carpet. "Now stop geeking out and let us give Mr. Girth what he came for."
Jayla reached out, her smaller, olive skinned hand wrapping tightly around the middle of Drew’s throbbing shaft. Even with her flexible fingers, her hand could not close all the way around his immense width. The sheer heat radiating off his skin made her core twitch violently.
Drew leaned his head back against the cushion of the armchair, his broad chest rising and falling slowly. "I want to see you two kiss first. Right over my cock."
Jayla turned her head to look at Tamara.
For a fraction of a second, hesitation hung in the air.
Neither woman had ever touched another female in a romantic or physical way before.
But as they knelt together between the thighs of the same massive man, sharing the heavy scent of his arousal, the barrier vanished entirely.
A slow, wicked smile spread across Tamara’s lips. She leaned in first, her soft, blonde hair falling over her shoulders.
Their lips met. At first, it was a soft, testing brush of skin against skin, warm and hesitant.
But as Jayla felt the plush velvet of her best friend's mouth, the kiss deepened instinctively. Their lips parted, and their tongues met in a wet, sliding stroke. Jayla tasted the cool mint of Tamara’s lip gloss mixed with the distinctly salty, musky tang of Drew’s pre-cum.
A deep, involuntary moan escaped Jayla’s throat, echoed instantly by a breathless whimper from Tamara.
Their hands worked together on Drew’s shaft, stroking the thick leather of his skin in long, synchronized movements.
"Fuck yes," Drew growled softly from above, his dark eyes locked on the two naked wives kissing over his lap. "Now, Jayla, get down on my balls. Tamara, swallow that head."
They obeyed him like well-trained pets.
Jayla ducked her head lower, her tongue tracing the dark, heavy sac hanging between his thighs.
She took one side gently into her mouth, sucking the warm, heavy testicle while her hand continued to pump his shaft.
Right beside her, Tamara opened her mouth as wide as her jaw would allow, taking the massive, flared head of his cock past her lips and sucking with a wet, slurping rhythm that filled the entire suite.
Drew’s upper body tensed, his long legs flexing, his hands coming down to rest gently on the backs of their heads. The sound of two married women worshipping his manhood was dirty, loud, and utterly mesmerizing.
After five minutes of relentless oral adoration, Drew placed his hands beneath their arms and pulled them both to their feet. His cock was completely dripping, slick with a thick layer of saliva and natural lubrication, standing rigid against his abdomen.
He stood up from the armchair and walked over to the wide, plush leather sectional couch near the center of the room. He sat back against the dark leather, spreading his heavy legs wide, his shaft pointing straight toward the ceiling like a pillar of dark iron.