Give Me More (Salacious Players’ Club)

Isabel

The hotel gym is empty, which is nice for a change because I can’t seem to get enough miles on the stationary bike.

My head is a mess. I just keep reliving last night and how absolutely insane that was. Letting another man go down on me while my husband watched. I must be crazy because this is not something normal twenty-seven-year-old women do—and enjoy, entirely too much.

I should be ashamed of the thoughts that are running rampant through my mind today. Like how Drake kisses differently than Hunter. How his mouth feels different with slightly poutier lips. How his mouth felt different down there. Not better or worse…just different.

How I haven’t come that hard in a long time.

I would have never done that without Hunter literally telling us to—never. But God…I’m glad he did.

I’m rounding my eighth mile on the bike when the door to the gym opens and I do a double take when I notice it’s Drake. Quickly, I pull out my ear buds and slow my pace on the bike.

“Hey,” I mutter.

“Hey,” he replies. “He’s working, so I figured I’d get a workout in.”

I nod with a tight smile. A week ago, I would have made an inappropriate joke to Drake, maybe something about how he gets plenty of workouts in, but I can’t make those jokes now. After last night, I can’t do or say anything around him now that doesn’t feel awkward and loaded.

He’s hovering awkwardly around the weights, and I try my best to act natural, but it’s impossible. I hate this. I hate that we aren’t us anymore, and I loved us.

Let’s be real—Drake is my best friend too, even if we don’t claim it the same way he and Hunter do. I don’t have close girlfriends, just a few friendly acquaintances. Drake is the guy I want to hang out with on the weekends and invite to the movies and drink with and sit around with doing absolutely nothing, at least he was before it got awkward.

And as great as last night was, I’d rather have that friendship back than this.

He must feel it too, because he quickly turns around to face me as he says, “Is it just me or are things super awkward now?”

I quickly shake my head. “Totally not just you, Drake. It’s super awkward now.”

“I hate it. Can we please just talk about it, so we can go back to the way things were?”

“Please,” I agree.

“Okay…” he says, letting his voice drawl into silence.

I guess this is the part where we actually talk about the third base we rounded last night, but it’s apparently not so easy.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks. His bright blue eyes are focused on my face with warmth and concern, and I just love him for this. How can such a sweet and sensitive man not be committed to anyone?

“I’m okay with this as long as it doesn’t make things weird between us.”

“Me too.”

“So last night was okay?” I ask delicately, as if I need him to confirm that eating me out was everything he could have wished for. It feels ridiculous to even ask.

“Last night was amazing,” he replies, and I feel a tingle of butterflies in my stomach.

“It was…”

“God, this is so weird,” he adds, and I laugh.

“Probably not as weird as cuddling was,” I reply, trying to break the thick, thick tension.

“Oh, come on,” he jokes, shoving my shoulder. “You’re an excellent cuddler.”

“So are you! We should have been cuddling this whole time.”

He laughs. “I’m not usually much of a cuddler.”

“Well, it turns out those beefy biceps of yours make great pillows.”

With a smile, he flexes, and I roll my eyes at him. “These pillows?”

“Stop it, you show off,” I tease him, and just like that…we’re us again. Well, mostly. The awkwardness is still there, but at least we can make jokes and work around the parts that make us uncomfortable, like the fact that he was literally prodding his tongue in my pussy last night. God, why did I just remind myself?

Thankfully, he moves over to the weights against the wall, and I’m able to hide my blush behind the redness of my cheeks from working out.

“You know…” he says as he picks up a barbell, “we should probably have some rules. Maybe that would help us separate everything, so it doesn’t get too weird.”

“That’s a great idea,” I reply. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well…” He thinks for a moment, curling the weights like they’re nothing. “First, you and I can’t do anything without Hunter around.”

“Obviously,” I reply.

“And everything has to be consensual. If you want it to stop, just say…namaste.”

I laugh. “Is that supposed to be my safe word?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“That’s literally the worst safe word I’ve ever heard.”

“Good. Then you won’t forget it.” He sets the barbell back on the rack. “And I hope you never need to use it,” he adds.

A smile tugs on my lips as I keep up the speed of my bike. Did he just admit that he hopes I want to have sex with him, and did he mean to say that?

After a long, tense moment, he turns toward me. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant…I hope you never feel uncomfortable—’

“I know what you meant, Drake.” I’m smiling now, which makes him smile, biting his lower lip as he turns away. It’s a bright, toothy grin that stretches across his face, and it literally warms my belly. Drake has the best smile, one I’m sure drives the ladies crazy.

“We, uh, have to use protection. Every time.”

“I’m on the—’ I start, but he holds up a hand.

“I don’t want this getting any more complicated than it needs to. I want to use protection.”

I close my mouth. “If that’s what you want, it’s fine with me.”

A few quiet minutes go by before I add, “And Hunter should just…watch, right? You don’t want him…getting involved?”

Drake’s head snaps up to stare at me, his brow arched. “I don’t mind. Do you?”

My mouth falls open. “No, I don’t mind. I just thought…”

“I don’t think that needs to be a rule,” he adds, going back to the weights. It almost looks like he’s avoiding eye contact on purpose. Did that question make him uncomfortable? I just assumed that Hunter being his friend, and strictly wanting to do this because he wanted to watch, would make things easier if Drake said he couldn’t join in at all. We’re trying to avoid awkwardness, but Drake almost seems to…want Hunter involved.

I can’t stop thinking about it as I finish my tenth mile on the bike. I know Drake sleeps with men from time to time, and Hunter has always been supportive of that, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t seem to love it. Whenever Drake would talk about a man he hooked up with, Hunter would clench his jaw and change the subject.

And I never noticed any signs of attraction between them. So why would he suddenly be encouraging Hunter to join in?

Drake is doing squats now with a long barbell draped over his shoulders. I notice the way he winces on each drop, shaking out his leg as he stands.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, my hamstrings are just tight as fuck.” He sets the barbell back on the rack and rubs at the back of his leg.

“Let me help you stretch it.” I hop off my bike and grab a mat from the corner, rolling it out on the floor between us.

“You don’t have to do that,” he replies, and I tilt my head toward him.

“It’s literally my job. Come on.”

With a sigh, he gets down on the mat, sitting with his legs extended.

“Lie down.”

“Don’t hurt me,” he replies playfully.

“No promises.”

Once he’s lying on his back, I lift his right leg and hold it against my chest as I press it toward his body. He lets out a long groan, and I can tell immediately just how tight his muscles are.

“You need to stretch more. You’re way too tight.”

“I hate stretching.”

I roll my eyes, pressing his leg a little farther to his body. “Don’t be such a baby. I do this for Hunter all the time.”

“Well, maybe if I was married to a beautiful yoga instructor, I wouldn’t hate it so much.”

I let out a giggle, pressing his leg even deeper into the stretch, but when neither of us say anything for a few minutes, it starts to grow tense again.

Our eyes meet, and it’s a loaded gaze. I’ve looked Drake in the eye a million times before, but suddenly, any eye contact between us now feels different, as if our connection has been magnified, blown up to one million percent its original size, and I’m not sure how I get it back to the way it was. I’m not sure I even want to.

“Why haven’t you ever settled down?” I ask carefully.

He swallows, gazing back up at the ceiling. When I push his leg a little closer to his body, he winces. “I don’t know. I never felt what Hunter did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember the day he saw you for the first time. When you were walking across the street in that emerald green dress and those black sandals, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then, he couldn’t stop talking about you, and we started going back to that corner every day just to see you. It was a really big deal, and I just kept waiting to feel what he felt that day, but it never really happened.”

“I remember that dress,” I reply, distracted by the fact that Drake remembered what I was wearing that day ten years ago.

“I never saw you wearing it again after that day.”

“You know…not everyone meets their spouse like that. It’s not actually that normal to be as sure as Hunter was. Some people know their soul mates for years before realizing it.”

“I know,” he says, as I release his leg and move toward the other. “But that’s what I want. I don’t want to settle for less.”

“You’ll find someone,” I say, feeling a hint of disappointment at the thought.

Heaving a sigh, he looks up at me. And just like that, the tension is back. He must feel it too, because he immediately says, “Let’s make a deal to always be open with each other. Whatever you’re feeling, you have to tell me. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you or Hunter.”

“Me neither,” I add.

“So we have to communicate everything. No matter how awkward or painful it is.” There is such sincerity in his eyes.

“I know.”

“Deal?” he asks.

“Deal,” I reply.