Give Me More (Salacious Players Club, #3)

by Sara Cate

They can joke about secret desires all they want, but none of them will ever truly know how agonizing it is to keep yours in forever because mine will never, ever come out. I won’t let it.

Rule #1: When you can’t be the third wheel, have a threesome instead.

Sometimes when it’s their first threesome, you can tell by the way they stumble through the transitions, not quite knowing where to go when we change positions or where their parts belong, but these girls are seasoned. I can tell when the quiet one starts going to town on the other girl like she’s in a pie-eating contest.

And she does, but it’s not enough to drown out the sounds of the woman in the next room. The one I should not be hearing, thinking about, or getting off to.

A little competition never hurt anybody.

I’m not the kind of woman to devote myself to being what society would consider a good wife. I don’t even know what that means.

When I met him, I was a doe-eyed seventeen-year-old virgin. He was a twenty-three-year-old tattoo-covered criminal who did what he had to, to survive. We came from two different sides of town, two different worlds, two different paths. But those paths became one, and although our histories were different, our futures were the same.

He is warm and kind and quiet in person, but in the bedroom, he lets loose. He’s wild and rough and almost primal. He growls and commands and dominates in a way that lets me know he wants me and only me. That he needs me.

His work on job sites is his weight training and sex is his cardio.

“These Arizona girls are crazy.”

He pretends sleeping with random people every night is a dream, but if he could have what I have, I know he’d be happier.

I definitely should not feel this aroused in my husband’s best friend’s arms.

I can’t even say that in my head without it feeling weird. Because even though I would never touch her like that, it doesn’t change the fact that my body clearly wants to. So saying she’s like a sister to me is the hardest nope of nopes.

If you’re going to ask your best friend and wife to sleep together, breakfast isn’t really the time to do it.

But the brain does some tricky shit even when you tell it not to. And the only part of me that listens worse than my horny brain is my horny dick. Both of them have conspired against me.

“I asked her because I’m not the kind of guy who asks my best friend to fuck my wife, without letting her in on the request.”

But like I said, my brain is a horny, fickle asshole who doesn’t behave.

It’s okay to want what you want.

Rule #16: Two orgasms are better than one.

“You can be rough with her,” Hunter says from his place across the room. “She likes it.”

Rule #19: Sometimes joining is better than watching.

I don’t have an appetite for food and keep glancing back and forth between them and waiting for the moment when I can appropriately tell them to take their clothes off and start fucking.

I put him in a situation he might not have been comfortable with because, apparently, I like to play with fire. And he played back, which did not help my situation at all.

There’s a big difference between liking something and not being bothered by it.

Where do I normally put my hands when I’m kissing someone…or being mouth-fucked, which would apparently be the case now?

If your heart won’t get over them, let your dick do it for you.

When I wake up, I’m no longer on the outside of this little sandwich. Instead, I’m the little piece of meat squeezed between two pretty pieces of very naked and sexy bread.

We eat and laugh and talk and everything feels so normal…that it’s actually strange. Like we’re just us again, but not the same us we used to be because now…we fuck.

“I still feel you in my hands. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the sounds you made when I was fucking you. I know your taste and your smell. I know I have to move on, but I don’t know if I can.” His voice is pained and sincere. So sincere it cracks my heart in two.

“I don’t think I’ve ever passed up sex before.” “Why start now?” he asks playfully. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.” He lets out an easy laugh as he nods. “Love will do that to you.”

Drake is shirtless and sweaty as he lays planks of wood on the floor, pounding in each piece. He’s completely oblivious to my presence, and I keep it that way as I let my eyes rake over the rippling muscles across his back and shoulders with each piece of wood he installs.

Those men are mine, both of them, and I didn’t think there could be anything as good as having them both, but I was wrong. Because watching them have each other is far, far better.

I’ve followed you. I’ve stayed by your side, never gave anyone more of my time because that’s what I wanted. So, now that you’ve really got me…all of me, what are you going to do?”

But what they don’t understand is that my flaws aren’t my choice, they are ingrained in the DNA of my very existence. The things that keep us apart are woven into who I am as a person and if I unravel those things, I don’t know what will be left of me.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder—and hornier.

I’m both lost and found. In agony and ecstasy. Nothing and everything all at once. “I’m perfect,” I reply.