Page 29 of Better When Shared
The jokes weren’t helping. “Babe, I’m serious. I was thinking about mixing things up. Like, what if we each got to sleep with someone else? Just once.”
Nisha pulled back a little, studying my face. “Where’s this coming from?” Her tone stayed light, but I caught the flicker of confusion in her eyes.
“Just—” I struggled, already backpedaling. “Just a thought experiment.”
She smirked, rolling her hips again, making me hiss as her heat pressed against my aching cock. “Let me guess. That new barista at Stumptown who always gives you extra foam?”
“What? No,” I laughed, grateful for the break in tension.
“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Your department’s new UX designer then? The one with the tattoo sleeve you wouldn’t shut up about?”
I tugged her closer, nipping at her lower lip. “Not interested.”
I closed my eyes, imagining her writhing under another man’s touch.
“Then who’s got you thinking about hall passes?” She tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “You must have someone in mind.”
“It’s not about someone specific,” I lied, my thoughts flitting to the email waiting in my inbox. “It’s about... the experience.”
Nisha shifted in my lap, studying me now with more focus, less play. “Julian Brooks-Sharma, are you proposing we swing? Open the marriage?” Her voice held more genuine interest than outrage, which made my cock twitch again.
“No, not swing,” I said. “Not an open relationship. Just—crap, I don’t know—a brief adventure.”
Her lips curved into a slow smile. “An adventure,” she repeated. “With clothes off.”
“A last fling,” I agreed, my hands sliding under her shirt to trace the curve of her waist. “Before we get all settled and boring.”
She smacked my chest. “We are not boring. We’re awesome! And very cool.”
“Not yet.” I might have been pushing her buttons. Nisha’s greatest fear was becoming her parents—comfortable,predictable, devoid of passion. “But you know how it goes. First the mortgage, then kids, and soon enough you’ve got scheduled sex on Wednesdays and Saturdays...”
Her eyes narrowed. “Scheduled sex? That’s not happening.”
“Not yet,” I teased again, hands roaming higher, finding the undersides of her breasts. “But give it time...”
She squirmed as my thumbs brushed her nipples through her sports bra. “Screw you,” she gasped, but there was no heat in it. “And fuck your hall pass idea.”
I leaned forward, catching her earlobe between my teeth. “Fucking is sort of the point.”
Nisha grabbed my face between her hands, forcing me to look at her. “You’re serious about this? You want me to fuck someone else?”
My cock strained against my zipper at her direct language. “I—” I hesitated, confessing the full truth before catching myself, still hesitant to share the true fantasy. “I think it could be hot.”
“And you’d... what? Do the same?”
I swallowed. This was the tricky part, because that wasn’t what my fantasy was about. “Maybe. If I find the right partner. And if you approve.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I wondered if she could read the truth on my face—that my fantasy wasn’t about me sticking my dick in someone else. It was about watching her come apart under someone else’s touch, then reclaiming her as mine.
“You know what?” she said, sliding off my lap. “Fuck it. Sure.”
I blinked, startled by her sudden agreement. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “There’s this new guy in my yoga class. Fucking gorgeous body, British accent, a little quiet.”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t expected her to have someone already in mind.
“He’s got this way of moving,” she continued, stretching her arms above her head so her shirt rode up, exposing a strip of golden-brown skin. “You can tell he’d be amazing in bed.”
