SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 18

Byron padded across the hall and down two doors, pausing with his hand on the lever to his room. Cheyenne was on the other side. And while he couldn’t wait to see her, there was a hesitation, and a certain amount of jealousy and resentment. Residue left over after seeing Cody naked. His good body. His beautiful dick. Mad a little now that Cheyenne had seen it and wanted it. Had coerced him. But he had to stop that: she hadn’t coerced him. He was on track to coerce her. They’d done this together.

He inhaled, held it, levered open the door.

When he slipped in to his dark room he could feel the difference in humidity and temperature from the hall. And it smelled like sex.

He closed the door quietly, but Cheyenne didn’t greet him. At the dresser’s side, he could see his wife laying face down on the white betting. The sheets were tangled around her and twisted between her legs and draped over one arm. She faced outward to the black window that looked out onto the lake. Her hair was a tangled mess on the pillow. He stepped on something slick, lifted his foot, and hopped back on the other one. His hand felt around for the light switch, found it, and flicked the lights on.

Cheyenne groaned, cursed his name in a sound of complaint. Her voice was hoarse. She kicked one foot up, and it flopped back down heavily onto the bed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I stepped on something.”

A condom.

A condom that hadn’t been tied off. Laying on the floor. Another one. And there was another one. Three condoms on the floor. None tied off.

But they didn’t look filled.

He stooped, pinched each of the three by the rolled down ring, careful not to touch anything male, and flung their wriggling shapes into the trash can.

And saw there was at least one more condom in the trashcan.

Littered around the room, there were other things, too. Torn open condom packets. Gold foil. Magnums. Magnums for Cody’s big, beautiful cock. Cody’s underwear. A bottle of lube laying on its side. At least the lid was closed. Cody’s shorts, Cody’s shirt. Cody had slipped out of here not wanting to disturb Cheyenne, bypassed his clothes and snatched the robe hanging on the wall.

“By-ron,” Cheyenne complained again, burrowing her face in the pillow, hating the bright light. But in the light he could see her naked, laying in the afterglow of sex with another man. His stomach rolled over, but his heart beat fast with love for her. Her white butt cheeks, her long legs. The tangled mess of her hair. He was watching that beautiful form as he reached back and flicked the light off. Then he was tiptoeing over the cleared floor, disrobing as he went, jumping on the bed naked next to her and slinking his body against hers. “You okay?”

“Mm-yeah,” she mumbled.

“Hey.”

Chey groaned, and he pulled at her shoulder to get her to roll over. She was heavy and enervated, slow to respond to his touch. But she did, her shoulder coming up, rolling over onto her back next to him. He put a hand around her waist.

He said, “Your skin is so hot, it feels like you have a fever. You’re burning up.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, her hand coming up like it weighed two-hundred pounds, resting on her forehead and smoothing her hair away from her face.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, chuckling. “Yeah, I’m pretty good.”

“What?—so it was good?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll say.” Chey sounded breathless. And while he felt jealous, he was also inspired to hug her. He snugged her closer, kissed her shoulder and kissed her neck. She chuckled, groaned, fought back with him lifelessly.

“Don’t,” she moaned. “I’m overheating.”

“You’re all sweaty.”

“I know,” she said.

He touched her forehead, could feel the dampness there, then raked fingers through her hair. “Your hair is soaking.”

“Is it?” She touched it again, grabbed her locks and held them in a loose fist. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t go to sleep on me.”

“I’m not,” she said, mouth moving, eyes closed.

He slapped her lightly on the cheek. “Stay with me.”

Another chuckle. “I’m awake.”

“Are you doing this on purpose to make me feel jealous?”

Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting like you just had the best sex of your life.”

“It was good,” she said, eyes still closed.

Now he bit his lower lip, watched her closed off but peaceful face. Lips lightly parted, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Her chest rose and fell with her breath. He brushed a palm over a nipple. It wasn’t bolt upright, but it was still aroused. Down over her ribs, his hands explored all that Cody would have felt under his hands tonight. Felt and enjoyed. And would seem had delivered enormous pleasure to as well.

“Cody was good to you?”

Cheyenne nodded. “Did you have fun with Carla?”

“We had fun,” he said and his hand went over the knob of her hipbone. But Chey raised her leg, rolled her hips over, and faced him. Her eyes fluttered open, and she palmed his cheek.

“I’m so sorry.”

His heart thudded. A confession.

I’m in love with Cody now, Byron.

But she said, “I broke a rule.”

He stared at her, saw trouble in her face. “What happened?”

She was worried about telling him, her mouth moving around but not saying anything.

“Tell me,” he said, holding her wrist.

“We got carried away.”

“And what happened?”

“He . . . We ran out of condoms.” Her eyes drifted away.

He nodded, heart, mouth and soul twisting up. “Okay?”

“I broke a rule,” she said, pointing out to him what was really wrong.

His heart rate was drumming up quicker. What was she saying? He ran his hand up and down her waist, from ribs to hip, feeling this womanly swell of her. Then down the front of her thigh, between her legs.

“No, don’t,” she whispered, going for his wrist.

“He fucked you without a condom?”

“It was so in the moment, I swear. . . . Byron, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not even mad,” he said, thinking how he wasn’t. Not mad that she did that at all. He was aroused. Thunderously aroused. His cock returned to full and complete hardness. “Let me . . . Let me feel you.”

“I’m really sorry. It was so in the moment and we just got so carried away. I know better, I do. It was a big mistake.”

“I swear I’m not mad,” he said. “Let me feel you.”

Her grip released, and he stuck his hand between her legs, his wife’s nails dragging on his forearm. Her eyebrows raised, but her eyes stayed closed. Her parted lips parted wider as she felt his fingers nuzzle through her membranes.

“Careful,” she whispered—meaning her sex had been abused tonight. Pounded hard by a big, beautiful cock.

His heart throbbed in his chest.

He watched her face as his fingers stroked through her membranes. Her labia were still full and swollen and sticky. The semen and Chey’s sex-wet made a tacky coating on her skin. But when he parted her. labia, he could feel her interior blazing hot and so slippery. He sunk a finger in her shallow depth, watching Chey’s mouth fall open wider. There was the sound of slickness at his touch. Little bubbles bursting against his intrusion. Was that Cody’s semen? Was he sticking his finger through another man’s load put inside his wife?

“I can’t take it. . . . I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his finger out, and Cheyenne’s eyes darting open—worried that she was in trouble. But that wasn’t what he meant at all.

He was scrambling over top of her, holding her hands up above her head, pinning her wrists in the pillows, kneeing open her legs, and lowering his ramrod straight cock. It was hard as it could be. He didn’t have to guide it in. Its angle and rigidity found soft woman flesh and parted it easily. He sunk inside her, going slow and careful because she’d been with another man. Another man with a bigger penis.

Byron was tender and caring, but he needed her reclaimed. He took her mouth, she folded her arms around him. Her legs closed on his hips, then her knees slunk up his rib cage and buried in his armpits. Accepting her husband.

“Come inside me,” she whispered, and though he’d already gone off three times in the last two hours, within fifty strokes, he was fully unleashing inside his wife. Stabbing and stabbing, grunting and roaring in her ear, eyes squeezed shut so tight tears streamed.

But there was no sadness, only excitement.

There had never been anything more thrilling sexually in his life than reclaiming his woman. A woman he’d allowed to have pleasure with another man—and she had. Boy, had she ever. Now this was putting things straight again. This was making his wife his own.

He thrusted again and again, each time more semen spurting from him. The orgasm wracked his body, and he groaned sounds of pure pleasure in Chey’s ear. And Chey gasped with each buck of his hips. Loving him, feeling him, putting her nails through his hair and caressing his scalp.

And that was how he fell asleep.