The Accidental Sleepover: A Reverse Harem Novella ( The Accidental Hotwife Book 2) Read online

  “You sure?”

  “Hell yeah. I love living out of town, but I miss being surrounded by people – that thing where every social event has to be pre-arranged rather than spontaneous, you know?”

  “It’s a date, then. Or it would be if we’d arranged when to do it...”

  It was only later that Anna started to have – not so much second thoughts, as doubts. Dinner would be fun, and she knew Harry and Aaron got on. But... she knew Martha and Aaron weren’t just any couple, too. They were... different.

  Next week after class, she plucked up the courage. It was only a couple of days until they were due to go to Martha and Aaron’s for dinner, so this was her one chance, to say...

  “This dinner thing...” She hesitated, the words she’d rehearsed in her head suddenly sounding forced. “Well...”

  “What have people been saying?” said Martha, her hand moving to Anna’s arm again, squeezing and then falling away.

  “Well...”

  One of the women at the class had warned Anna off when she’d paired up with Martha at one of their sessions. Doing all she could to skirt around the topic before blurting it all out...

  “Someone said you have... wild parties. That kind of thing. I just wanted to make sure, you know...”

  Martha laughed. “Swingers and sex hanging from the chandeliers, that kind of thing?”

  Anna actually blushed, then Martha’s response broke through and she laughed. “Yes, that kind of thing.”

  Suddenly serious, Martha said, “And you wanted to make sure we don’t do that with everyone we invite for dinner, is that it?” Then she couldn’t keep a straight face any longer, and laughed again.

  “Hell,” said Martha, “people talk, I know. Yes, Aaron and I are unconventional, but there’s no agenda. Your virtue is safe with us. Just dinner, okay?”

  It sounded foolish, spoken out loud, but Anna was glad to have said something, just the same. She didn’t want any misunderstandings.

  She smiled and took another sip of her mojito.

  “So you and Aaron,” she said. Now that the subject had kind of been raised, she was curious. “Is it true what people say? You have, what, an open marriage?”

  Martha shrugged. “I don’t know if you’d call it that,” she said. “I don’t think we’re nearly as wild as Valerie Fenton would have you believe – it was Val, wasn’t it?”

  Anna nodded. It seemed odd to be talking so openly about something like this.

  “I just,” said Martha. “Well, I guess there are things I haven’t tried, things still to explore, you know? And I’m lucky enough to be in a position to pursue some of that.”

  “What does Aaron think?”

  Martha gave that smile – the mix of coy and flirt, that she did so well. “I get him to join in sometimes,” she said. “And other times I just make sure to tell him all about whatever I’ve been up to. Trust me, Aaron is fully involved.”

  Anna didn’t know what to think. She didn’t exactly disapprove, and it wasn’t even that she was shocked. It was just so far removed from her own world – even the little Martha had told her.

  “Does he get jealous?”

  Martha shook her head. “He loves me, and he knows I love him. He’s seen me with other guys, and he knows it’s only fun. Me and Aaron, we’re solid. Maybe it’s only when you’re that secure with someone that you can really, you know, branch out and explore.”

  It sounded simple. But still, Anna couldn’t work out what she thought.

  “You’re curious, aren’t you?” said Martha, with that cheeky, flirty smile again.

  Anna didn’t answer. To be honest, she was a little disturbed that Martha could read her so easily. She felt Martha’s hand on her arm again, and only now looked up. Finally, she shrugged.

  “You and Aaron seem so happy together,” she said. “It just seems... I don’t know. Different.”

  “It is. And I won’t pretend it hasn’t been a learning curve for both of us, to realize we’re actually comfortable with who we are. With how we are.”

  Anna understood, on an intellectual level, at least. Martha’s words made sense, but Anna struggled to put herself in that position. How would Harry feel, watching her with another guy? Or, turn that around, how would she feel, watching him with someone else?

  “Have you ever been tempted to play?”

  Again, she felt as if Martha was reading her too easily, reading her thoughts, even. Was it that obvious?

  “In my head, I guess,” Anna said, when it became clear Martha was waiting for an answer. “All of us fantasize, don’t we?”

  Martha squeezed her arm and then let go. Anna hadn’t registered she was still touching her until she did so, and now she felt the imprint of her friend’s hand on her arm, still.

  “You’re turned on, aren’t you?” said Martha. “Just thinking about it.”

  She didn’t know where to look, what to say. She struggled even to admit to herself that what Martha said was true. To acknowledge the mad tumble of thoughts in her head – of Harry with someone else, of her with someone else. How long since she’d been in the embrace of a man other than Harry? How long since she’d explored an unfamiliar body?

  She looked at Martha again, that smile.

  “It’s okay,” said Martha. “We’re just talking. I’m not going to lead you on, or set you up or anything like that.” She paused to take a sip of her cocktail, then added: “Unless you want to.”

  There was an awkward pause, and then they both laughed, relieving some of the tension that had grown.

  “What about Harry?” Martha asked. “Do you talk about this kind of thing together? Do you share fantasies?”

  Anna had never talked to anyone like this before. Not even Harry.

  “I guess,” she said. “Kind of.”

  “You think he’d like to play, if he could?”

  It was a surprisingly shocking idea. Not the question, but the thought process it prompted. No, Harry would never fool around. He would never betray her, or hurt her. But... Martha wasn’t talking about that. She wasn’t talking about cheating. What she and Aaron had was different.

  She remembered the look on Harry’s face when she’d first mentioned dinner with Aaron and Martha. Just a glimmer, a brief moment when he’d given away that he also knew something of their reputation, and wondered...

  She nodded. Then she said, “He’s got a thing for you. Did you realize?”

  Now it was Martha’s turn to look surprised. Shocked even. “Really?” She clearly hadn’t been aware, but Anna could tell. The way he sometimes looked at her when the two couples met up in town or at other people’s parties. Nothing serious, not even a crush, as such. Just a spark.

  “You can tell from the way he looks at you, and some of the things he says.”

  Martha looked flattered, as well as surprised.

  “So tell me,” said Martha. “How does that make you feel? Knowing what must be in his head when he looks at me?”

  And with that simple question, the focus was back on Anna again.

  How had it made her feel when she’d first realized? A flutter of jealousy, yes, even as her brain raced to catch up, to remind her that thoughts didn’t really count for anything. But there had been more...

  “Did it turn you on?”

  She didn’t need to answer. If Martha had been reading her thoughts already tonight, then this one must be painted all over her face. It was only normal: Harry was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever met, his tough physique tempered by the sensitivity in his eyes and smile. And the thought of him with Martha... She was hot, too. Of course she was, with that tumble of golden hair, those big blue eyes, the full lips that pouted so sexily.

  “You like thinking about that?”

  Anna glanced up and met her friend’s look, briefly. Gave a little nod and looked away again.

  She felt Martha’s touch on the back of her wrist, gentle and reassuring but also sending a bolt of something else rushing through her in
response to the contact.

  How had they reached this point?

  She blinked, and saw a brief image of Harry with Martha, two naked bodies pressing together, arms around each other. And when she opened her eyes she saw that flirty little smile.

  The touch turned into a squeeze and then Martha drew her hand away.

  “Like I say,” she said, “your virtue is safe with us. Nothing scary is going to happen.” That little smile again, and she added, “Unless you want it to.”

  §

  Anna, still

  Martha had been right about the Louisiana boil. A meal where everyone had to dig into a big pan in the middle of the table, with old newspapers spread to catch the mess, could never be anything but sociable and fun. It had been the perfect evening, even with the nerves Anna had felt like a tight knot in her gut.

  What had she started?

  What was in these people’s heads? Martha was flirting with Harry while her husband looked on, and Harry was lapping it up. One time when Martha had leaned in close to Anna to laugh at something, Anna had caught Harry’s look, that flicker of what if?

  It wasn’t all nerves, though.

  She was turned on. So incredibly turned on, it was hard to stay still in her seat.

  Every seemingly innocent touch from Martha, every glance from Aaron that made her wonder just how much he knew, and Harry... Sitting so close to him their thighs pressed and her hand could drop to rest lightly on his thigh, knowing just that touch was pulling the fabric of his pants just a little tighter. Wondering if he was getting hard in response to her touch, to the way she leaned against him, and yes, to the way his eyes wandered.

  She felt guilty, getting turned on by such thoughts. By speculating about his thoughts.

  She didn’t even know where this evening was heading, only that Martha had assured her she would be sensitive and careful.

  So later, when they’d said their goodnights and stepped back into the guest room, she’d surprised herself by feeling vaguely disappointed at the reality of a night at Aaron and Martha’s.

  Harry was keen, his hands roaming her body as they hugged and kissed. He was hard, too, his erection digging into her midriff.

  She almost gave in, she was so turned on, and then she realized that maybe this was Martha’s intention: build up the sexual tension and then leave them to it, the evening as one drawn-out seduction and then stepping back.

  No. She was sure there was more going on than just that. There had been something about the look Martha gave her as she eased the bedroom door closed. A hint of undelivered promise.

  She pulled away from his kiss, tucking her head under his chin, her cheek against his chest. His heart thumped hard in her ear.

  “I’m tired, honey,” she told him. “It’s not that I don’t...”

  Later, she lay there beside him, her nerves taut. He was still awake, and it was so tempting just to loop an arm around his waist, run her hand down over his belly...

  But no. She held back. Waited.

  It was hard to tell if the occasional noises she heard were people moving about, or merely the sounds of a strange house in this brewing storm.

  Harry was dozing finally, but she still lay awake, and so she noticed immediately when the door eased open and Martha slipped into the room, her naked skin pale in the low light.

  Now it was Anna’s heart thumping hard, her breath that caught.

  Martha moved silently into the room and paused at the foot of the bed. Her skin was pale in the low light, the contours of her body casting tantalizing shadows.

  Anna wondered how much Martha could see of them. She and Harry were naked, the sheet pulled down so they were only covered from the waist down.

  Was Martha looking at Harry? At his bare torso, the fine covering of dark hair that ran down the center of his chest and across to the nipples, that ran down to his navel and then spread and thickened to where the sheet covered?

  Or was she looking at Anna? Her narrow waist, the swell of her breasts, rising and falling?

  Anna moved a hand up, without thinking – as if to cover herself. Her hand came to rest on one breast, cupping, the thumb lying across the stiffening nipple.

  Martha made as if to move, and Anna thought she was going to Harry’s side of the bed, but instead...

  She came round close to Anna and dropped to a kneeling position. Reached out and put a finger to Anna’s lips, pressing softly. The touch sent a thrill of pleasure coursing through Anna’s body. She’d never felt anything like this. Never felt another woman’s touch in this way.

  Martha leaned closer, and her breasts pressed against Anna’s arm, such a delicious, yielding pressure.

  Their lips met.

  So soft! A lock of hair trailed down over Anna’s cheek and Martha pressed harder, and then – oh! – the tip of her tongue pressed against Anna’s lips, parting them, pushing inside. As Martha’s tongue drove deep, Anna felt a hand on her breast, the sharpness of fingernails scraping across the nipple, one after the other and then flicking back.

  She understood now... That moment when they’d been talking in the bar and Anna had pictured Harry with Martha. Getting turned on, as they talked. Had Martha seen it then? That it was as much the thought of Martha as the thought of Martha and Harry that had aroused her?

  When Martha briefly drew away, Anna stayed tense, desperately trying to detect whether Harry was still asleep or if he was stirring.

  She couldn’t even work out whether Harry should still be asleep, or if he should be awake for this, whatever this was.

  And then... if she had reacted intensely to Martha’s first touch, that finger on her lips, and to that kiss, then this was a whole new level of intense.

  The hand that had cupped her breast had moved down and now... Oh! Now Martha’s hand cupped Anna’s pussy, the heel of her hand pressing on her smooth mound, and the fingers curling down and under, pressing against softness. Squeezing, and, oh, one finger slipping between wet labia, pushing at her, finding the opening and...

  Sliding smoothly into her.

  She’d never been touched this way by a woman. Never been kissed. Never been touched down there. Never had a finger sliding into her so deep, the hand starting to rock and press, squeezing her pussy, grinding over her clit.

  Harry shifted beside her. Was he awake?

  No, just moving in his disturbed sleep.

  A kiss again. A dance of lips on hers, a pressing of tongue against tongue. And then Martha’s head moved down to a breast and sucked the nipple sharply between her teeth.

  Anna’s whole body tensed, so hard she was sure she must wake Harry.

  Lips on hers again, a soft kiss, gentle. That hand pressed one more time and then, slowly, withdrew.

  Anna lay there as Martha rocked back on her heels. She was so wet! So hungry for this woman!

  A finger on her lips again, and she understood that Martha was telling her to be patient.

  She watched as that ghostly figure stood and moved around the bed.

  As she kneeled beside Harry.

  He lay on his back, and it was easy for Anna to peer down his body, see Martha’s hand sliding under the sheet, see its shape on his thigh and feel the tensing of his body.

  Was he awake? She didn’t think so. She lay against him, a hand resting lightly on his chest, her breasts squashed against his arm, and she couldn’t help herself... she pushed her pussy against his hip, still so turned on from Martha’s teasing touch.

  And as she watched, Martha’s hand moved up, easing the sheet aside to expose Harry’s semi-hard dick.

  Martha pressed her hand against him, her palm over his dick.

  Another woman’s hand on Harry’s dick...

  Anna knew she should feel jealous. Should feel... she didn’t know what she should feel, but she knew it was fundamentally wrong to be lying here, peering through half-slit eyes as her friend folded her hand around Harry’s stiffening dick, pulling it upright and starting to work up and down his shaft.


  She felt the tension changing in Harry’s body as he came awake, and made sure to lie there placidly, feigning sleep. Still watching, her eyes narrow slits.

  He moved his head, was awake now. Was looking down and seeing Martha.

  What was in his head? Did he think he must still be dreaming? Was he going to stop her?

  He should.

  Of course he should.

  But... this was different. This was a place where none of the usual rules applied.

  Should she pretend to wake, and take things from there?

  Or... lie here, watching. Strangely shocked at her own response, at how much she was enjoying this bizarre tension.

  She allowed herself to move, to shift against him, to enjoy the roll of her hips, the press of her pussy against his hip.

  She was so turned on!

  Martha held Harry’s cock upright now, her hand working steadily up and down its length, pushing down around the base and then running upward, before finally folding over the swollen head.

  Anna wanted to see him come. Wanted to see her husband’s creamy juices spitting high and then trailing down over Martha’s hand and arm.

  Wanted to see...

  Martha smiled. She knew Harry was watching, but also she knew Anna was, too, and must know how aroused Anna must be.

  She dipped her head, pressed her lips against the head of Harry’s dick and then, slowly, sucked him deep, pushing her head down until it was buried in his lap.

  He grunted, tensed, moved his head and Anna knew he was studying her, trying to work out if she was still asleep.

  She didn’t move, just watching as Martha drew her head up until his dick was almost clear of her mouth before slowly pushing back down again.

  Anna moved again, felt her pussy yielding against the hardness of Harry’s hip, and thought for a moment she was actually going to climax from that touch.

  Martha’s head slid down onto Harry’s dick again, her hand clamped tight around the base.