Third Wheel

1. Reid

Chapter 1

Reid

Same as every time they requested my presence for the night, Mrs. Kimball answered the door to my quiet rap. A sheer, white nightgown fell mid-thigh over her curvy body, offering me an eyeful of large, dark n*****s and the trimmed patch of hair between her thighs.

“Reid.” She breathed my name, arousal already coating her voice.

“Mrs. Kimball,” I greeted. “New nightie?”

“Of course.” The slight lines around her eyes crinkled with her smile I couldn’t help but return. It was no secret her husband spoiled her rotten.

She stepped back to allow me entrance to the hotel suite I’d been visiting every other Friday the previous four months since signing on with Elite Escorts in January.

I stepped past her and breathed in the scent of subtle yet expensive perfume I would be washing off my body before our session’s end.

I sold myself for s*x. Or, rather, Micah, one of my closest friends and the owner of Elite Escorts hired me to satisfy the customers whose requests fit my profile. Tall, dark, and handsome, I was a professional who knew how to fulfill client’s fantasies of having a second man on hand for a night of debauchery.

Pleasuring the women who paid for me was easy enjoyable money, every time.

Why I’d fought Micah’s begging to pimp me out for his company for over a year, I didn’t know. It had taken a whirlwind romance and a broken heart to open my eyes to the fact f*****g around would always be better than attempting something long-term.

I would never fall in love again.

To each their own, but I would never personally offer to satisfying a lover’s fantasy about sharing her with another man. And I sure as f**k would never have given her a diamond ring on Christmas morning after knowing her for two months only to have her keep the damn thing when she left me on New Year’s for the guy we’d invited into our bed.

A muscle in my jaw ticked at the thought of my ex, but at least the lingering pain in my chest no longer felt like someone gouged me with a serrated knife.

Because of Tara, I’d become one of Elite Escort’s most requested third wheels, a man who knew his place in others’ beds and had zero interest in getting emotionally involved with clients.

I followed Mrs. Kimball into the sunken sitting area where her husband lounged butt n***d on the white leather couch, a tumbler of scotch in his grasp.

A good twenty or so years older than me, Mr. Kimball kept himself in good shape. He was tanned, still ripped, and had a full head of hair with silver at the temples. And like me, he had no need of little blue pills.

The older man always gave me a run for the money with his wife moaning between us, but while he had stamina, I bounced back ten times faster. He often enjoyed watching the second go-round his wife always begged for while sipping on another scotch.

“Mr. Sullivan,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him, gracious as always. “My wife has been panting for you all week.”

“Is that a fact?” I quirked a brow and sat while studying the quiet woman who stood between us.

Cheeks flushed and pulse already thrumming in her neck, she lowered her head, hands clasped in front of her. She was perfectly submissive and sweet. Not my type personality-wise, but her body made getting hard easy.

“Mmm.” Mr. Kimball swallowed some of his liquor. “That’s a fact.”

I loosened my tie before settling back into the leather seat, ready to move things along. “On your knees, Buttercup.”

Mrs. Kimball hardly resembled the little yellow flower I’d have preferred, but that was the pet name I’d been supplied with the first time I’d been hired to play with them. The dark eyes and hair running in waves over her tightly furled n*****s suggested an Italian or Greek heritage.

She was gorgeous but easy for me to keep at emotional arm’s length. It was sassy and independent blondes alone who tended to capture my focus and tempt my mind beyond s*x.

She sauntered closer, all swaying hips and sensual curves I could appreciate.

The thought of her warm, talented mouth sucking on my d**k roused life in my groin, and I rested my forearms on the chair’s armrests.

Pupils already blown, she sank to her knees between my thighs and unbuckled my belt. Her lips parted, breaths coming in shallow gasps as though she already hovered on the edge of climaxing.

I didn’t need to glance over at her husband to see what he thought of his c**k-hungry wife getting on her knees for another man. He gave and gave without hesitation because of his love for her.

Same as I’d done with Tara.

A hiss left my mouth as Mrs. Kimball’s hand slid into my slacks and grasped my length. All thoughts of my ex fled as the dark-haired beauty leaned closer, her focus on the swollen head of my d**k. Her warm, wet mouth closed around me, and I released a groan, grabbing a handful of her lush locks.

Mr. Kimball let out a quiet curse, but no trace of jealousy laced his tone. Nothing pleased him more than gifting his wife with what she craved.

Twice a month, it was an abundance of d**k.

Her teeth scraped along my length with the perfect amount of sting, her smooth hand reaching deeper inside my pants to cup my balls and pull a rumbled murmur of approval from me.

She bobbed over my length, slurping and sucking, gagging and moaning.

“So good, Buttercup.” I gave her the praise that always made her skin shiver with goose bumps. “Your mouth feels amazing.”

She doubled her efforts to suck c*m from me, quickly drawing my balls up tight. Humming her pleasure, she took me deep and swallowed, her throat tightening around my glans.

“Christ, woman.” I tightened my fist in her hair and yanked her off me since she would want me in her other two holes and I didn’t have three loads in me.

She let go with a pop, her lips glistening with saliva and the pre-c*m she had effortlessly enticed up my shaft. Large, doe-like eyes peered up at me, the brown of her irises eaten by her swollen pupils.

“Your husband looks a little lonely.” I forced her head around toward him while tugging down on my balls. “Go suck his c**k but keep that gorgeous backside on display for me.”

She did as told, crawling across the plush rug between us men, her nightgown rising above her round a*s. A blue-jeweled plug peeked from between her cheeks, and wetness coated her p***y and upper thighs.

I tugged my tie off and started on my shirt’s buttons while Mrs. Kimball’s head nestled between her husband’s thighs, a*s high just like I’d commanded. He swigged his scotch, face impassive, seeming unmoved as he watched her lick up the back of his d**k.

He’d already made his requests for the evening via Micah, so I set about to please our customers.

“You can do better than that, Buttercup,” I told Mrs. Kimball, standing to shove down my slacks. One yank freed my belt, and I dropped the pants to the floor, folding the leather strip in half. “Swallow him down and arch your back for me.”

Her husband’s gaze rose to me as I drew near.

I quirked an eyebrow just to double check.

He nodded, impassive as always, but heat in his eyes betrayed his arousal.

While I didn’t enjoy dishing out pain, I gave the man what he wanted—what his wife had requested—with a half-hearted downward swipe. The c***k of leather on skin caused them both to flinch.

A shudder rippled down her body, and she moaned around her husband’s c**k, her spine bowing even deeper.

“Like that do you?” I asked, my c**k jerking as she groaned her agreement. Two more quick swats and cherry red stripes rose along her golden skin.

A sheen of sweat beaded on Mr. Kimball’s brow, and he clenched his jaw. He sat still like a f*****g pro though as his wife worked him over and I continued to rain down somewhat gentle lashes over her backside and thighs.

She squirmed and whimpered, choking herself on her husband’s c**k.

“Fuck.” Mr. Kimball’s gaze flickered up to me, the haze of l**t in in his pale eyes begging me to end his torment.

Mr. Kimball didn’t have a submissive bone in his body, but he loved giving me control over them—because his wife asked him for it.

“Enough,” I stated quietly while sliding my shirt from my shoulders but retaining my grip on my belt.

A slow hissed exhale left Mr. Kimball as his wife backed off, rocking onto her heels.

“Strip, Buttercup,” I told her.

Mr. Kimball stared at her like a man possessed, longing and something beyond mere need for release in his steady gaze.

A flame of jealousy licked at my chest as her nightie fluttered to the floor.

Once upon a time, I had wanted what they shared—passion, honesty, and commitment…

“Straddle him but face me,” I said, moving toward the couple, forcing my focus on earning my money. “Sit on his c**k. Take him balls deep in that soaked p***y of yours.”

Gaze on my jutting hard-on, Mrs. Kimball started to lower, teeth biting into her lip.

Mr. Kimball grabbed hold of her flared hips and slammed her down onto him.

Both of their groans ricocheted through me, and I grasped my d**k, pulling upward until a bead of pre-c*m welled at my slit.

Her husband spread their thighs and moved her up and down over his shaft, making her full t**s bounce with each thrust, but she didn’t remove her focus from my c**k.

Knowing she wanted a taste, I dabbed at the wetness with my fingertip and stepped closer, holding out my hand. “Lick.”

She eagerly leaned forward, hands on her husband’s knees, her tongue flicking over the sticky pad of my finger.

“More,” she whispered.

Shaking my head, I narrowed my gaze, the sight of them f*****g mere feet away heating my blood. “You don’t deserve more.”

She pouted, but I ignored her pleading eyes and returned to stroking myself with one hand, the other still loosely holding the folded leather at my side. “Mr. Kimball told me you’ve been a naughty girl this week.”

Her mouth opened but snapped shut as I ran my belt along her cheek and down her neck to her bouncing breasts. Eyes closing, she moaned over the wet sucking noises of her husband’s thrusts into her sopping p***y.

I lightly flicked the leather against one bare breast then the other.

“Oh, God.” She groaned and leaned against her husband’s chest, back arching as though asking for another lash.

Eyes closed, Mr. Kimball continued f*****g up into her, lips in a grim line as though fighting off the tightness of his balls hugging the base of his d**k.

I guessed me giving his wife pain turned him the f**k on. Couldn’t have him blowing too soon though.

Dropping the belt, I squatted between their splayed thighs, grasping hold of hers. “No coming until I say so.”

Mr. Kimball’s thrusts slowed, and I latched my mouth onto his wife’s clit, the scent of her musky arousal flooding my nose and filling my lungs.

She let out a loud whimper, hips bucking toward me as I suckled.

Mr. Kimball released his hold on her hips, arms wrapping around her core to still her movements. The slow gyrations of his hips and my lips and tongue had her panting and squirming in a matter of seconds.

“I’m going to come.” She gasped, but I pulled back and swatted her clit.

A shriek tore from her lips, and she jerked atop her husband’s c**k.

“P-please.” Her heated, hazed eyes lifted to meet mine.

I backed away and stood. “On the floor, Mr. Kimball. Your sweet wife is going to ride you like it’s her last day on earth.”

They both complied, Mr. Kimball stretching out on the plush rug, abs tight, soaked c**k pulsing. The brief respite allowed him to draw a few breaths and eased the furrow between his eyebrows.

He reached for her as I retrieved the c****m and packet of lube from my pants pocket.

His wife impaled herself without hesitation, her moan mixing in my ears with his curse.

Mrs. Kimball’s jeweled a*s jiggled as she attempted to make amends for being a brat that week. By her husband’s groans, I knew she did a good job.

I sheathed myself and knelt behind them, gaze latched on her pink folds sucking on his thick girth. Before night’s end, I would feel the same sensations as he did—but first things first.

“Do you think she’s earned her reward, Mr. Kimball?” I asked, squirting lube onto my hand and slicking up my c**k.

“Yes.” He ground out the word, and I pressed a palm to his wife’s back to urge her forward over his chest.

“Lay still for me, so I can see how ready you are to take my dick.” I grasped the end of the butt plug and teased her a bit, working it around, in and out.

She whimpered but relaxed like I’d told her to.

“Such a good girl,” I crooned a few minutes later, sliding the plug free and grasping her hips.

I’d learned the first time with the couple that the wife preferred a brutal a*s f*****g rather than slow and easy, so I pressed the tip of my d**k to her slack hole.

“Breathe, Buttercup.” I slammed into her tight a*s, balls deep.

She cried out and tried to move, but I held her in a vise grip. “Your pleasure belongs to us, Mrs. Kimball.”

I nodded at her husband, and on his thrust, I backed off, leaving only my swollen tip inside her tight ring. I plunged back in, Mr. Kimball retreating in perfect harmony with my movement.

We f****d her hard and fast, heavy breaths, groans, and the wet smacking of skin the only noise in the hotel room.

Mr. Kimball’s jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his temples. The closing of his eyes let me know he neared his end.

I slapped both of his wife’s a*s cheeks to take my mind off my seized-up balls begging to explode. One more slap and I reached my limit too.

“You have permission to come.” The words rasped from my throat, and Mrs. Kimball’s guttural scream brought a satisfied smirk to my lips and a massive explosion of c*m into the c****m.

* * *

Showered and redressed two hours later, I crept past the open bedroom door to let myself out as I always did once the Kimballs finished with me for the night.

They lay entwined beneath a thin sheet, her head on his chest and lips parted in satiated sleep.

Thank you, Mr. Kimball mouthed at me.

I dipped my head.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around his wife, a smile finally relaxing his features.

A few minutes later, I pulled out of the hotel’s parking garage and into Boston’s downtown, rain splattering over my truck.

Discontentment poured over me like rivulets of water, not easily swiped away by windshield wipers.

For four months, I’d been having a s**t load of s*x in every way and every place imaginable. I’d lost count of how many orifices my sheathed c**k had become well acquainted with minus the hassle of feelings and emotional entanglement.

Living every man’s dream, I should have been riding on the top of the world.

I’m f*****g empty.

The thought pinged between my ears louder than the raindrops on the metal around me.

Seeing the Kimballs lying together in sated contentment, sharing a bond I had hoped to experience once upon a time, twisted my stomach up tight.

I had thought I’d found a woman like Mrs. Kimball, one who adored her partner’s love language of giving, but the recipient of my heart’s desire had proven to be a selfish b***h.

She’d taken and taken, leaving me desolated in the end.

I heaved a breath as the murkiness of the Sumner Tunnel surrounded me, cutting off the vigorous rain.

Shattered promises of early morning cuddles and happily ever afters only made the shadows surrounding my truck darker, intensifying my sense of loss. Dissatisfaction over being nothing more than a third wheel swelled inside me, but I wouldn’t allow myself another option.

True love and contentment would never appear like a beckoning light on the horizon.

Even if my broken heart longed for it.