Chapter Twelve
The elevator was quiet.
Jason stood between his wife and a man he had known for exactly two encounters. Claire was looking at the floor numbers ticking upward. Xavier's eyes were on the doors, his hands folded in front of him, his face giving nothing away.
Jason's cock was still hard. Had been since the booth. He had stopped being surprised by that fact somewhere around the second course.
The doors opened on the top floor.
Xavier led the way down a hallway and let them into a suite with high ceilings and a wall of glass looking out over the city.
A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket on the table, condensation already forming on the glass.
Jason understood, looking at it, that this had been arranged before any of them sat down to dinner.
Xavier closed the door behind them.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket and crossed to the closet. He hung it on a wooden hanger and adjusted the shoulders once with two fingers.
Then he looked at Jason.
"Your jacket."
Jason handed it over. Watched Xavier hang it beside his own, the same care applied to both, as if the two jackets belonged together now.
Xavier turned back to face them.
"And Claire's blazer."
Flat. Certain. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to ask for.
Jason looked at his wife.
Claire was looking at him.
He didn't move right away. He stood there for a second that felt considerably longer than a second, his hand half lifted, his mind working through something he couldn't quite name and didn't try very hard to find.
He reached for the blazer's lapel.
Claire let him.
His hands felt heavy as he reached up and slowly slid the blazer off her shoulders.
The fabric whispered down her arms. When it came free, he was left holding it, staring at his wife now standing in nothing but the tiny Velour lace bra that barely contained her full breasts, the obscenely short micro skirt, and her heels.
She looked like pure sin.
Jason turned and handed the blazer to Xavier.
Xavier took it without looking away from Claire. His eyes moved over her once, slow and complete, taking in everything Jason had just uncovered. He said nothing. He didn't need to.
Jason stood there with empty hands, the blazer gone, and nothing left between him and the fact that he had just uncovered his wife for another man.
Xavier finally turned, crossed to the closet, and hung the blazer beside the two jackets already there. Then he moved to the bar cart along the wall and worked efficiently, the bottle of champagne going into an ice bucket already prepared, two flutes set beside it.
He grabbed a third glass and reached for a bottle of bourbon, poured two fingers neat, and carried it across the room to the chair in the corner. He set it on the end table beside it without looking at Jason directly.
"Bourbon," he said. "Like the rooftop."
He hadn't asked if Jason wanted one.
Jason looked at the glass sitting there, amber and waiting, and understood the chair was where he was meant to be sitting. He crossed the room and sat down.
The drink sat untouched on the end table beside him.
He didn't reach for it yet. From here he had a clean view of all of it.
Claire standing in the middle of the suite in nothing but the black lace bra and that skirt, so short he could see the glisten of wetness on her upper inner thighs, her heels still on, her arms loose at her sides like she didn't know what to do with them.
She looked like a slut who'd come to a hotel room for exactly one reason.
He'd never seen her look like that before.
Not once, not in nine years. He felt his cock throb against his zipper just looking at her.
He was in a chair. In the corner. With a drink he hadn't asked for, placed there by a man who hadn't asked if he wanted it. He understood, somewhere underneath the want, that he'd been put here. Positioned. The way you position a piece of furniture, or an audience.
He hadn't argued. That was the part he couldn't get past. Not one word of resistance, not even to himself.
Xavier didn't move toward the champagne. He crossed toward Claire instead, slow, and circled her once, his eyes moving over her body the whole way around, taking his time with it.
"We're going to be honest tonight," he said.
"All three of us." His eyes found Jason's over her shoulder.
"The bar. The first night. You told me what you wished for.
" A pause, his gaze settling back on Claire.
"Look at her now." Back to Jason. "So tell the truth.
You like seeing your wife dressed like this in front of me right now, don't you, Jason? "
Jason's face burned. He couldn't look away from his wife. He shifted in the chair, uncomfortably hard, the kind of want that didn't leave room for anything else. There was no version of lying that was going to work in this room.
"I... yeah." His voice came out rougher than he expected. "I like seeing her like this."
"Good." Xavier said it to Jason, but he was already moving, already done with him.
He stepped in behind Claire and pressed his body against her, his cock a hard line against her ass through his pants, his hand finding the hem of her skirt, fingers resting against the fabric, not lifting it, just resting there like he owned it.
His mouth was near her ear, but his voice carried, pitched just enough that Jason wouldn't miss a word.
"Now you." A pause. "When you put on this slutty little outfit tonight, who were you thinking about? Did you wear this for your husband?" His fingers slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt, barely an inch, teasing. "Or for me?"
She swallowed hard and her nervous eyes flicked to Jason for half a second, then dropped away before she answered. "You," Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to look at Xavier over her shoulder. "I wore it for you."
The words hit Jason harder than he expected.
His own wife not only dressed for Xavier, but was openly admitting it to him.
The realization sent a sharp jolt of shame through his chest, followed almost instantly by an even stronger pulse of lust straight to his cock.
The humiliation was almost unbearable. So was the throbbing ache in his pants.
He sat frozen in the chair and couldn't manage to speak or even breathe right.
Xavier didn't move for a moment. He let the admission sit in the room, let Jason absorb it fully.
Then his hand slid the rest of the way beneath her skirt, fingers finding her clit, slow and circling.
A brief reward for the truth she'd just given him.
She was instantly slick against his fingers and a soft whimper slipped out of her, high and helpless.
"Look at him," Xavier said quietly, his fingers still moving. Claire's eyes found Jason's across the room, glassy and unfocused, and she held them this time, unable to look away even if she'd wanted to.
"Thank him properly," Xavier commanded. "For bringing you to me."
Her breath caught around the words. Her eyes fluttered, threatening to close, before she forced them back open and fixed them on Jason. "Thank you," she breathed, her hips shifting slightly into Xavier's hand, the words coming out broken between small gasps. "For bringing me to Xavier."
Jason couldn't stop himself. His hand moved to his own lap, pressing the heel of his palm against his straining cock through his pants, rubbing slowly, helplessly, watching his wife thank him for this while another man's fingers worked between her legs.
There was no pretending anymore. No version of himself left to perform for.
This was permission, given without a single word, the only kind he had left to give.
Xavier withdrew his hand and turned Claire towards him, his voice dropping lower. "Now get on your knees."
Claire sank to her knees in front of him without hesitation.
The micro skirt rode up over her ass as she lowered herself, leaving her completely exposed from behind. From his chair in the corner, Jason had a clear view. Her bare glistening pussy. The curve of her ass. The way her thighs trembled slightly as she settled onto the floor.
Her hands went straight to Xavier's belt. His zipper came down slowly, the sound impossibly loud in the silence.
Xavier's cock sprang free, thick, heavy, and unmistakably bigger than Jason's. Darker. Thicker. Longer. Claire's eyes widened. Her lips parted in a soft involuntary gasp. For a moment she just stared, breathing faster. Clearly intimidated and clearly turned on.
She wrapped both hands around the base and moved upward, slow and testing, exploring the weight of him, almost in awe, like she was trying to memorize every inch before she let herself go any further.
Xavier looked down at her with dark satisfaction. One hand rested lightly on top of her head.
"I don't know if I can take all of you," Claire breathed, almost to herself, her hands still moving slowly along his length, her tongue wetting her lips.
She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly up the entire length of him, wet and reverent. She traced the thick vein underneath before swirling around the swollen head.
Then she opened her mouth and took just the head inside.
Her lips stretched wide around his girth.
A soft, overwhelmed whimper escaped her as she struggled to adjust. She held there for a long moment, only able to fit the thick head past her lips.
Her jaw worked slowly, trying to relax and accommodate him.
She sucked gently at first, almost carefully, her tongue moving against the underside as she got used to the size.
Jason watched, transfixed, as his wife slowly pushed herself forward. She took another inch. Then another. Her eyes watered. Her throat flexed visibly with the effort. She pulled back slightly, took a shaky breath, then tried again, working him deeper into her mouth with slow, determined strokes.
She was still nowhere close to taking all of him.