That one is a little more of a tricky question. And it’s one I don’t like thinking about too much. She would if I asked her because that’s what Isabel does. She makes me happy, no matter the personal cost. But would she want to? That’s the real question.
I’m not blind. I know Drake is more attractive than me. Taller, more built, less tattoos, and a face created for smiles instead of scowls. If anything, he’s a better fit for my demure Isabel, if not for his relentless promiscuity.
Of course, all of these thoughts are purely hypothetical. I couldn’t bring myself to actually ask for this—could I?
No, it’s ridiculous. Asking two people to forfeit their own values for my personal pleasure. I couldn’t do that to them. What on earth would they get out of it? Aside from sex, of course.
And if I could tell anything by that little display on the stage, it’s that these two clearly have some chemistry and want each other. If I ask them to have sex and let me watch, isn’t that just me giving them permission to do what they already want?
Isabel hasonlybeen with me. Maybe being with someone else would give her more perspective. She could see what sex is like with someone else, even at the risk of her liking it so much she wants more. That’s a risk I’d have to take.
Rule #8: If you’re going to ask your best friend and wife to sleep together, breakfast isn’t really the time to do it.
Hunter
“Oh,there’s a brunch place down the street that does mimosa flights,” Isabel says, staring down at her phone. Fresh out of the shower, with her wet hair cascading down her back, she’s curled up on one of the dining room chairs, scrolling through the best places to eat in Austin.
“That sounds good,” Drake replies groggily over his mug. “Coffee first, though.”
“I wonder if they’re still even doing brunch,” she adds.
It was the middle of the night when we finally pulled into the Austin hotel we’re staying at for the next two nights. This time we got an actual hotel, but this one is a suite, so we’re still in the same room, but not sharing spaces. It has a big living room and a giant window that overlooks the city.
The first thought to assault my mind when I open my eyes is that little idea I had before going to sleep last night. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m obsessed, and until I say something to them, the idea is going to keep hounding me.
And as I watch them casually chatter back and forth about brunch and mimosas, the invasive thoughts about them together don’t ease up. If anything, they get worse.
Our plan today is to explore the city a little before hitting the club tonight. The club we’re seeing is another female-owned club, but the theme here is a little more like Salacious. Kinks and variety and lots of opportunity to mingle.
But I can’t think that far yet. My brain is like a hamster on a wheel with this cuckolding shit.
Isabel laughs at something Drake says, and I lean back in my chair, watching them. God, I want this so bad. Somehow in the past twenty-four hours, I’ve grown obsessed with this idea.
“What do you think, babe?” Isabel asks, looking at me.
“Huh?”
“Do you want brunch? They have Bloody Marys.”
She’s staring at me with those sweet green eyes, brows raised and a gentle smile on her lips. And I can’t help myself. I’ve lost my fucking mind because if I don’t get this out now, I might fucking lose it.
“Do you know what cuckolding is?” I ask, and she freezes, her face stuck with the same waiting expression she wore after asking me about brunch.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Drake replies when Isabel doesn’t.
“Cuckolding. It’s a kink. Isabel, do you know what it means?” I ask, my eyes not leaving her.
She finally moves, clearing her throat and averting her eyes from my face. “Yeah, isn’t that…like being cheated on or something?”
“Why are you asking about that?” Drake interjects. His knuckles are visibly tighter around his mug.
“It’s not quite cheating because everything is consensual. Some people just like seeing their partner with someone else,” I explain.
She’s fidgeting uncomfortably when she gazes back up at me. “Oh. Okay. Why do you ask?”
Here goes nothing.
“I think I’d like that.”