Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
CADE
You gotta tease and ease, not plop and pop.
“ N eed anything?” Charlie’s voice calls out.
“Cade,” that’s Daniel, “we got bugger-all to do. Let us help.”
They wrap on the flap of the Trick Tent. I rush their way, grabbing the canvas panels, poking my head through the flap.
“Boo!” I answer. “And fuck off. Literally. Go fuck and quality test the beds.”
“We’re not snogging while others work.”
Huh … Daniel’s too hot to look so tense.
“Alright.” I shrug. “Redix just texted. They’re five minutes out. Take some carts and help them on the dock. Help everyone get settled into their tents.”
“Race ya!”
Charlie turns, charging toward the row of parked golf carts we use on the island. She makes Daniel lighten up. She makes him race after her, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder with a squeal .
Good. They’ll help Silas and Redix welcome our guests to Indigo Island, while I finish in here, putting the finishing touches on our first trick night.
An ice-breaker night.
Wait.
It’s gonna get so hot in here; ice won’t have a chance in hell.
Of course, I’m talking about our erotic games, not the autumn temperature. These event tents can be cooled or heated, but it’s perfect outside.
And it’s perfect in here, too.
This Trick Tent is glam meets gruesome.
Eily’s had the inside of it draped in black velvet. From the center pole, billowing down the rails, velvet pools over the wooden platform covered in a mismatch of plush, dark rugs.
Spider webs and Spanish moss sway from heights, too, while dozens of tall candelabras flicker with faux candles.
Once the sun goes down, orange and green uplights will add to the spooky feel. That and the dry ice machine, misting an eerie, sandalwood-scented fog through the tent while a speaker system pumps wicked, wanton beats.
Silas has been working on the playlist for months.
Hundreds of starry lights twinkle above. It looks like a spooktacular night sky above five sofas made of garnet velvet square cushions.
More like blood-red velvet.
With their low height and generous size, the sofas are perfect for … everything.
Eily arranged them in a cozy pentagon, framing the tent’s center. Their black, acrylic side tables gleam … empty ?
Huh. Where’s our stuff?
Lubes, condoms, wipes, and toys .
No one in their raucous mind has an orgy without them.
Since she won’t let me near her house, I text Eily.
Where are our fuck bins?
Quickly, she replies:
Fairy O’ Fucks
Behind the curtain opposite the door flap. We made a little room to stage our stuff for each night
See if you can find my pumpkin butt plugs
Some guests are too new
Zar & Nick. Beau & Blair & Colt
We can’t go from handshakes to hotdogging in one night. That’ll scare them away
They trust us. They’re
WTF? A rhino?
No more Paw Patrol
= horny
What happened to the ?
Satanists canceled it
Besides, imagine
Pumpkin butt plugs glowing in the dark
17 glowing butt plugs?
Like Ass-O-Lanterns in the night?
That’s a hard pass
Wisely, Eily assigned the first night to me.
This ain’t my first raunchy rodeo. I’m the OG. I started our first throuple: Redix, Silas, and me.
Or did Redix start it?
Or did Silas plan it?
Tough to say.
But with each person, we’ve added more love, more lives to share, and … more bodies.
So, you can’t rush this.
You can’t ask seventeen people to bend over for a luminescent butt plug like a witchy spell of, “Poof! Now glow and fuck!”
That’s a yeast infection and a yelling match waiting to happen.
No. Communication. Consent. And tonight? Costumes and carnal games are required.
You gotta tease and ease, not plop and pop.
I refocus her.
How’s dinner going?
Fairy O’ Fucks
Good
We’re serving Morgue-a-ritas, virgin and slutty
And finger foods. Literally. Severed-finger cheese sticks with bloody marinara sauce. Witch hat dippers. Halloween bat wings
Bat wings?
Chicken wings. As if
The Treat Tent is almost set
That’s what we’re calling the tent beside this one.
The Treat Tent is for friends and food.
The Trick Tent is for fucks and fun.
Dusk falls as golf carts whir, guests chatter outside, and I prepare adult games. I hear them enter and exit the Treat Tent next door, grabbing dinner bites and drinks.
Then slamming doors to the honeywagon let me know the hour is near. Everyone’s taking showers, getting dressed in costumes, as I finish by covering the rugs in the center of the tent with the black Fuck Sheets that Silas bought in bulk.
Yep, they’re a thing.
And yep, we’ll be washing dozens this week.
I check my watch.
Thirty minutes til Boo Time.
Cloaked by the night, I dart from the Trick Tent to the honeywagon, to the dressing room I share with Redix.
I open the door.
“Well, hey there, little lady,” Redix tips his cowboy hat, greeting me shirtless.
“Oh, my god!” I beam. “You’re really going for it! Leather vest, chaps, boots, and turn around…”
He does it proudly, with his arms like “praise me,” and I chew my lip, so in love, so in awe.
You can slurp champagne from the deep side divots in Redix’s ass. His hard glute muscles have no tan lines.
I swear, you can take the boy off the surfboard, but not the man. He still lays out naked with his long hair, kissed by the rays, too.
But it’s the scar on his backside that he doesn’t hide anymore. It fills me with love, my eyes biting back tears. He got that scar because of me, and for too many anguishing years, I never knew until it was almost too late.
But now Redix shows it off in black assless chaps over a mouthwatering black leather jockstrap.
“Alright, alright.” He turns back around. “Your cowboy is ready to ride.” Hooking his finger over my jeans, he yanks me to his lips. “And I sure want my partner.”
Slowly, he kisses me, cupping my cheek, his tongue laving over mine. My core melts, softening with heat, my soul dancing with her match, her mate. We were teenage sweethearts. He was my first so many years ago and still, Redix knows how to claim me.
We’ll never part, but…
“Holster your pistol, cowboy,” I huff over our lips. “I gotta put my costume on and get back to the tent before everyone else.”
“Just a quickie,” he begs.
“Just a hell no.” Gently, I wedge him away. “I’m hosting tonight. So hurry and help me get ready.”
Even while I slip on my matching assless chaps, boots, vest, and hat, Redix plays.
He sits on the vanity countertop, tugging at the strings of the tiny red and white gingham bikini I’m wearing underneath.
“Quit it,” I laugh.
It’s like I’m a picnic, and he wants a bite.
“Dayum,” he sighs, coasting his fingertips over my belly. It’s obvious we’ve had two daughters together, and we’re proud of it.
“My wife looks too damn beautiful to share,” he says. “I may keep you to myself this week.”
I snap my glance up. “Are you serious?”
I’m not mad.
Sometimes, he or I get possessive. We only want the other. Sometimes, one of our partners feels that way, and we understand. When we go to Luca’s hotel or Stacey’s showroom, sometimes we stay closed as couples, or as a group.
No matter what, though, Redix insists, I’m the only woman he’ll kiss—ever and until his dying day.
But I want Redix to kiss Silas and Daniel, and when he does, it’s beautiful.
Those three used to be closed, but they’re opening to other men in different ways. It’s up to them. We wives let them decide.
Because Charlie, Eily, and I do the same. We’ve always been open to other women, though Charlie can be more reserved, and we love her for it.
When it comes to the women with the men? Usually, we’re with our paramours. For us, that’s our spouses. But sometimes we share, and sometimes we swap. It depends on the mood or the need. We never judge, and we always talk about it.
Because we all have our thing.
Like Silas will only hold Eily when he sleeps. He has to wake up with her every day. And Charlie only wants Daniel when she’s upset. Only he makes her feel like it’ll be okay. And Redix has scars and memories only I share, only I can hold .
That’s your paramour.
The one you need above all.
“Nah, I’m kidding.” Redix keeps tickling my belly. “You were pregnant and didn’t want to play last year, so you should get your groove back.”
“So I lost my groove?”
“Whoops!” He laughs, tossing his granite chin up. “I just stepped in a cowpaddy.”
Silently, my glare replies.
He licks his bottom lip. It shines as his blue eyes tease. “Damn, woman. Your fury gets my fish stick hard.”
“Redix!”
“Candy Cade!”
“Have you got a death wish?” I narrow my gaze. “Never, ever , reference fish and pussy in the same breath. And don’t tell a woman who gave birth ten months ago that she lost her groove, or you’ll lose your balls, too.”
He wraps his legs around my thighs, making me fall into his waiting arms. Arms wrapped in shredded muscles, so it’s damn hard getting mad at him.
“I’m saying…” He lifts my chin, my lips to his. “Beautiful women like you, ones who give birth or take care of kids or just put up with dumbass men like me, deserve to let us give back some of the joy you’ve given us.”
His kiss is tender, familiar, and teasing.
“Smart answer.” I love it, nipping his lip.
“Honest answer,” he says. “I love watching you have fun.”
“So you’re okay if we’re inclusive? If the six of us have more lovers this week?”
“ Only this week,” he clarifies. “I like the Garden Party poly stuff. When it’s only a few times a year, but the rest of the time, it’s just us. That’s what we agreed to unless someone changes their mind.”
“Silas may change his mind—at least about Eily. He really wants to get her pregnant.”
Redix brushes my bangs back, sweetly studying my face like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Not like he hasn’t been the love of my life since we were ten.
“Silas loves Eily like I love you. Always and no matter what,” he answers. “So, we’ll be careful with her this week. I think he just wants her to have some fun. He’s got a big surprise for her.”
“What?”
“I ain’t telling on my man. Not even for my wife,” he lies.
Redix will tell me if I insist. We don’t keep secrets. But we love surprises more.
“Fine then.” I tug his hand. “Come see my surprises for tonight.”
Silas admires our group of sixteen, sprawled across the pentagon of sofas.
He boasts, “We look like a council of Jedi knights.”
“No,” Redix grumbles beside me. “We look like a pile of sixteen burlap sacks.”
Everyone laughs, and that’s part of my plan—fun before fucks.
“This lets us do our big reveals,” I explain, standing with my husband, cloaked in a brown cape tied around my neck, too. “We worked hard on our ensemble costumes, so let’s appreciate each reveal.”
“What does the winner get?” Charlie jokes, “A gold trophy or a gold dildo?”
Eily claps. “I want a gold dildo! That’s year-round fun.”
“We’ll see,” I answer.
“Well, since you’re standing there,” Daniel suggests, “you and Redix should go first.”
With a shared glance, we grin and untie our capes. They flutter to the floor, revealing our raunchy cowboy and cowgirl costumes.
Luca whistles, then shouts, “Turn around and show us what we can ride,” and we do.
Redix and Luca are close. So, we shake our asses for him, too.
More admiring whistles fill the air.
“Look at those peaches!” Eily cheers.
I twerk mine. Sure glad I had a tushy treatment. It looks great, I know, as I make our guests laugh even harder.
“Alright now,” I turn, telling her, “you and Silas go next.”
They stand, their robes falling to reveal their elaborate, sexy wench and pirate costumes.
Wow. Silas is wearing a shirt! That’s rare. But, of course, it’s a white pirate’s shirt hanging open, revealing his dozen-pack.
And Eily’s allergic to bras. She’s wearing a thin, off-the-shoulder shirt, her hard nipples raiding our minds as Silas ties on a velvet, indigo head sash before Eily unveils her swashbuckling hat with blue feather plumes.
Damn, they’re hot.
Damn, they’re perfect.
Stacey calls out, “You look like the rogue rulers of Indigo Island! ”
“Argh!” Add Luke and then Mateo, who agree with their wife.
“You four should go next.”
I point at Stacey so she and her three husbands stand.
Even in dull robes, they’re a breathtaking quad. I can’t stop staring.
Stacey is a former blonde beauty queen turned Southern sexpreneur. With her exclusive Delta’s adult stores, she and her alpha men, her husbands, break all the rules.
Ford is the rugged, older Dom. Mateo is the middle man with mesmerizing ink. And Luke is the young hero, the Army Ranger.
But when they drop their capes, they reveal their bond and sense of humor, too.
“Yes!” I love it as we all clap. “You nailed it!”
Stacey is a sexy Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, wearing ruby slippers and white thigh-highs under her tiny gingham dress. Luke is the golden scarecrow, with scraps of clothing tattered in all the hot places. Mateo is the tin man in silver shorts and paint, barely covering his ink and muscles. And Ford is the lion, the most ironic costume because he’s not afraid to wear furry orange shorts with a tail and nothing else.
I can’t help it.
After what happened last year, I glance at Luca.
Yep, he’s scoping Ford again.
It’s like he’s looking in the Dom mirror. And Stacey’s eyefucking Luca’s wife, Scarlett, too.
There’s always been an attraction between them, so I gesture.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mercier, care to go next?”
Scarlett smiles, quipping, “Cade, you read me like a Ouija Board.”
Last year, Scarlett was pregnant like me, so we got close. We binge-watched Halloween movies while the others played, and I can tell she’s like me this year, too.
Scarlett’s feral and in the mood.
So, as Luca takes her hand, rising beside his wife, their capes remain on the sofa, and, holy, freeballing gods.
Luca’s imposing bronze frame and godly member are barely covered by his costume. His short, white Greek warrior’s toga, black hair, and crystal eyes add to his mythical look.
With her flaming waves, Scarlett looks like the sex demi goddess Luca stole from the mortals. A gold leather corset and a flowy white skirt barely cover her.
The applause doesn’t stop, and I want all to feel welcome. So, I turn to my left, asking our newest guests, “Would you like to go next?”
“Sure,” Beau answers, tugging at his fiancée’s hand.
Well, actually, Beau is engaged to two. Blair Monroe, the stunning raven-haired beauty rising beside him, and Colton Hawke, the wide receiver for Atlanta’s Super Bowl champs.
Beau, Blair, and Colton are very close to Nick and Zar, who sit on their other side.
Zar and Nick invited them.
What Beau, Colton, and Nick—proud pro football players—did changed professional sports forever for people like us. It makes that sudden instinct flood my heart. That warm feeling I trust.
They belong.
They need this, too—love that understands, love that’s bigger than two hearts .
“Now,” Beau announces, “I think we should score extra points tonight.”
He’s getting into the spirit.
“Our fiancé, Colt, has a game tomorrow,” Beau says. “He’ll be here the next day, but he’s ready to play with us, too. He’s in costume at home and waiting for our call.”
“Hell, yeah!” Silas admires. “That’s gotta be an automatic win.”
“Could be,” I tease.
“Well, let me explain,” Blair chimes in while Beau calls Colt.
I love it.
Blair’s not shy.
Besides, she knows us. She used to work at Delta’s, Stacey’s sex shop, before Blair moved to Atlanta to be with Beau and Colton.
“My guys,” Blair continues, “are big geeks like me. We love anything alien or superhero.”
Chuckles rumble.
We know where this is going.
“So this week,” Blair continues, “Beau and Colt are totally fanboying, and I’m fangirling, too, not to make it weird or anything.”
All eyes land on Daniel.
Redix howls, “Aw shit,” loving when this happens. “Please tell me one of y’all is Superman.”
Daniel blushes. He can’t hide it because he gets this all the time.
But still, when Beau Bronson, the NFL’s legendary quarterback, drops his brown cape, revealing his red Superman cape and sculpted, steely blue costume. And then his fiancée, Blair, reveals her cosplay, her detailed Wonder Woman look with the perfect long, black hair, too …
KABOW!
The group goes wild.
“Wait! Wait!” Beau presses his phone, holding the screen up so we can see.
It takes a moment before Colton Hawke appears in costume, growling, “I’m Batman,” and we start roaring again.
Colton looks impressive, too. He’s big and brawny, with his square jaw clenched under that iconic black leather mask.
They get a standing ovation. And yeah, they’ll probably win.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Beau casts his smile at Daniel. “We’re huge fans.”
“Not at all.” Daniel’s a gentleman. He makes humble look hot. “You look better than I did in that outfit.”
It’s sorta true. How perfect Beau looks. How Daniel obviously admires him.
But I’m shocked … and kinda clit-thrilled … to see my girl Charlie admiring Beau and Blair, too.
“Okay, okay,” I calm our little crowd. “Let’s welcome our other new guests.”
“New?” Zar drawls, grinning at me, his gaze taking his time, admiring my form. “Darlin’, we’ve seen your hot bacon sizzle. We ain’t new.”
If I close my eyes, Zar sounds like Matthew McConaughey but looks nothing like him.
Zar is brunette and bronze. He looks Greek, like Luca. Hell, he’s Luca’s CFO and sub. They have a dark history. And somehow, Scarlett, Luca’s wife, is involved. She subs with Zar, too.
But Zar’s man, Nick? He’s lighter with strong features, his dark blond hair cropped and styled .
They’re a striking couple of opposites.
And yes, we do know Zar and Nick. We all got quite intimate at Luca & Scarlett’s engagement party at Luca’s hotel.
“Well, then,” I tease Zar back. Damn, I’m curious about him. “Show us your sizzling costumes.”
The way they smirk with swagger. The way Zar and Nick turn, rustling with something they were hiding on their sofa, their robes fluttering to the floor as they turn around, facing each other…
It makes Daniel boom, “Bloody hell!” Even his laughter sounds British. “It’s cocks in a box!”
And it’s hilarious.
Zar is dressed like a sexy UPS driver in tight brown shorts and a shirt. Nick is a hot FedEx driver in tight blue shorts and a shirt. But between them, they hold a white cardboard box over their cocks.
“What are you delivering?” Redix asks what we’re all wondering.
So, Nick and Zar kiss before they laugh, lifting the box, revealing their cutaway shorts over matching, white mesh jockstraps.
“Penis packages!” Eily blurts.
“Talk about packing heat,” Scarlett admires what bulges in a double dose before us.
“The newbies win!” Charlie proclaims, laughing. “We got the Hot Justice League and the Dick Delivery Duo. Who can compete with that?”
“Not so fast.” Beau sounds quite curious. “You can still win. Just show us what you’re hiding.”
And again, I sense it.
The attraction.
Beau and Blair may be fans of Daniel’s. Hell, millions are. But everyone admires Charlie, too .
With that scar on her gorgeous face, she’s stunning. In particular, Blair keeps staring at her.
Daniel and Charlie are the last to reveal their costumes. So, Daniel nods for Charlie to go first.
Jaws drop along with her cape.
My stare. Everyone’s stare lands on Charlie’s mouth-watering cleavage. It’s exposed by the open zipper of her black satin micro dress. It’s tight and adorned with a silver police badge, a holster slung low, and handcuffs dangling to her naked thighs clad in laced-up combat boots.
Then, Daniel reveals his costume.
It’s equally kinky. I expect bachelorettes with dollar bills to appear.
His black silk cop pants and tight sleeveless black button-up bulge over his muscles. He can’t be contained.
To match Charlie, he’s wearing a silver badge and handcuffs. But when Daniel dons the British Bobby police hat he was hiding under his cape, it doesn’t match, and it sure looks arresting on him.
“Hey, officers.” Silas offers his wrists for their handcuffs. “I just ripped a tag off a mattress.”
We laugh, admiring our group, standing in a wide circle—sixteen here and one on the phone.
It’s an arousing sight.
Our Halloween is off to a spine-tingling start with that other tingle—that luscious one we love—quickly traveling south for all.
“So, who won?” Eily’s always curious.
“We all will,” I answer. “Because we got more games to play.”