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  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Sharing Adam

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-012-2

  ©Copyright Madelynne Ellis 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2012

  Edited by Laura Hulley

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 45 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

  SHARING ADAM

  Madelynne Ellis

  Whoever thought infidelity could be this hot?

  Becca Caine had no idea until she caught her husband enjoying an erotic clinch with another man.

  When Becca Caine happens upon her husband, Elliot, enjoying an erotic clinch with a darkly attractive man named Adam, she’s both hurt by his infidelity and left uncomfortably aroused.

  However, the more she learns about her husband’s homoerotic past encounters, the more desirous she becomes to see the two men make love.

  Despite the risk to their marriage, Becca persuades Elliot to arrange such a tryst with Adam. Seeing them make out may well be the hottest thing she’s ever seen, but what happens when Adam discovers her and invites her to join in?

  Can Becca truly share her husband with another man? Is Elliot prepared to share his wife? Are either of them really prepared to share Adam?

  Dedication

  To A. N. for believing in me.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Louis Vuitton: LVMH Moët Hennessy; Louis Vuitton S.A.

  Chapter One

  Becca had once seen lightning strike. The bolt had hit the pavement right in front of her feet and dispersed into the earth, its passage unremarked upon save in the fraying of her nerves and the knowledge that she’d just escaped a life-altering event.

  She’d never hoped to survive it, let alone expected to face the same situation twice. But then she’d never expected to find her husband pinned in the shadows by a raven-haired vixen.

  Their friends’ wedding had passed unremarkably, as most did after the vows were said and the drinks began to flow, until that moment when she left the ladies and glimpsed Elliot a few feet away, embracing somebody else. He wasn’t even being particularly circumspect about it, given that a deep alcove lay to his rear and yet he stood under the light adjacent to the cloakroom door.

  Becca braced herself behind a marble column, terrified of being seen, though she wasn’t in the wrong. What had possessed him? She risked another glimpse.

  As the breath squeezed from her lungs and culminated in a cough, Elliot made a half-hearted attempt to peel the pale hand off his arse.

  “Not cool, dude,” he chastised, giving Becca her first hint that she wasn’t dealing with what she’d originally thought. “My wife—”

  “Can’t give you what I can give you.” The deep rumbling purr confirmed it. Not a vixen, but a viper. One of the ushers—a man she recognised from the overly zealous exchange he’d shared with Elliot on the way into the reception. Maybe that ought to have set off alarm bells, but folks met up at weddings who hadn’t seen one another in years. Emotions tended to run a little high, and Elliot’s response, a firm pat on the back, hadn’t given her cause for concern.

  The guy released his grip on Elliot’s iron-like buns, only to make a grab for the ridge of his cock beneath his trouser fly.

  “Bet she doesn’t even know how you swing. Probably be horrified to know how much a little rear-door action turns you on.”

  Damn, if that wasn’t a truth that hurt more than this little tableaux. Not the last part—she knew Elliot well enough to know he enjoyed a little exploration in that region—but the not knowing that his interests ran to other men. That was a little hard to swallow.

  “Who said it does, any more?” Elliot said. The slight bristle to his words and the stiffening of his shoulders made no impression upon his pursuer.

  “Your cock dancing about behind your fly desperate to get out says so.”

  She didn’t need to see the ridge of Elliot’s erection to know that it was true. The guy’s large hand spanned the whole length of Elliot’s imprisoned cock, while the curve of his index finger and thumb provided an extra pinch of encouragement. A softness infused Elliot’s gaze, coupled with a slackness of his jaw that spoke of intense delight.

  How could they have been married five years without her knowing this sort of detail about him? Oh, if she thought hard on it, she supposed there’d been hints. Little things about the way Elliot was and how he behaved with other men, and the stray glances he cast. The way he always knew when she was looking at other men and could debate their merits, but had never seemed to admire women in the same way.

  “What say we slip upstairs and make use of the facilities?” The man leaned closer, so that their chests were touching. He angled his head, seeking a kiss. “They’re all boozing. No one is going to miss us.”

  “Adam—you’re not listening. I can’t do this.”

  “We’ll make it quick.”

  Don’t, Elliot, Becca silently begged. At least talk to me about what you need first. I can… We can…work round it. How could they? If he wanted a man, no amount of dress-up and make-believe would satisfy him. But she’d try. If he’d give her a chance, she’d try whatever it took. They’d been adventurous in the past.

  Elliot extracted one arm from his would-be lover’s embrace long enough to glance at his watch.

  “Ten minutes,” Adam coaxed, continuing to palm the bulge in Elliot’s trousers. “And I swear I’ll make every second count.”

  Becca saw it in her husband’s eyes, the moment when temptation became capitulation. His mouth came crashing down upon Adam’s lips. He held him tight, groping his arse—desperate. Hungry, as if he was starved of affection.

  Damn, that hurt.

  They still had regular sex, even if it had become a little routine and a little dull.

  This couldn’t be happening. She’d just drunk too much, was having double vision. Except this was her Elliot, in his crisp white shirt, drinking down kisses from another man.

  What had happened? They’d shared passion like that not so long ago, when a shadowy alcove or a moonlit veranda had been the only excuse needed for a tryst. Even broad daylight hadn’t stopped them from sating their appetites for each other. She’d slip off her panties and straddle him while they were both otherwise fully clothed, the only skin to skin contact where it mattered most. But as each anniversary passed, the spark had faded a litt
le. Somehow they’d become out of sync, never available or desirous of the same things at the same time. The raw, sexual excess that had dominated their early days together was now just an abrasive memory.

  They ought to have worked harder at maintaining that bond. Now he was slipping away.

  She didn’t want to yell and cause a scene and risk pushing him away any further. She’d said ‘I do’ and meant him, for keeps. But that wasn’t the only reason she’d remained rooted to the spot. Despite her grumbling feelings of outrage, Becca’s nipples had tightened to points. Seeing her husband being groped by another man was turning her on.

  Really, that shouldn’t have been a surprise. She had a secret desire or two of her own. She hadn’t acted upon them—reading material and the odd glimpse of something naughty online didn’t count. Besides, spying was wrong. There were words for women who liked watching gay men—none of them kind. Not that they applied in this instance. Her husband wasn’t gay.

  Yet, as Becca shifted her stance, awareness of her own arousal spread. She desired more, even as she smarted from the pain of Elliot’s infidelity. What manner of fool was she? Here was her husband, doing a tongue tango with another man, his hands clasped tight upon the guy’s arse, and the predominant thought running through her head was how good they would look together naked with all that smooth, sleek muscle rubbing together. And how Adam’s long, black hair would appear fanned out over Elliot’s chest or his hips as he sucked on Elliot’s cock.

  Did Elliot like to be fucked? How did Adam know?

  She knew he sometimes liked to be held down. How much more would he enjoy it, if it were a strong man doing the holding? She hadn’t the physical strength to do more than pretend to pin him down. Actual scarves and ropes, and—God forbid—handcuffs, made her uncomfortable.

  The thought alone made her squirm, but heat, not a horrified shiver, tingled in her innards. She could see it all so clearly. The delightful Adam wouldn’t have any such qualms about restraints. He’d bind Elliot with steel and silk and fuck him until he begged for mercy.

  The heat reached her cheeks, making them burn, and no doubt making a mockery of her carefully applied foundation.

  The most horrific part wasn’t that Elliot would consider doing that, but that she wanted to watch it. She wanted to see him stretched and bound, with a trickle of sweat running across his brow, and to know whether all that straining made his final release that bit sweeter.

  She wanted to see Adam fuck him, riding him from behind, with one hand clamped around his hair and another holding tight upon his shoulders. Their lovemaking would be harsh and brutal, and swift, slick and raw.

  Shocked at herself, Becca covered her face with her hands, but even that didn’t blind her to the vision of her own desire.

  Elliot broke off the kiss. “No—this is wrong. I can’t.” His words faltered as he caught sight of her.

  Becca didn’t move.

  “Oh, fucking hell!” He brushed off Adam’s hold and hurried towards her. “Babe—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I mean that I didn’t mean to do it. Not that I was trying to hide anything. We were just goofing around. It didn’t… It wasn’t…”

  “Don’t you dare dismiss me like that, Elliot Caine, and don’t lie to her. Don’t lie to yourself.” Adam loomed behind Elliot. His dark hair rested on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Adam.” He offered his hand and smiled when she automatically took it. “Enchanté.”

  He had sapphire blue eyes, clear and smiling and full of warmth, coupled with the sort of bone structure that made a face interesting. A slightly overlarge mouth, united with a deep brow and a prominent chin; the sort of man who walked a fine line between devastating and ugly. He held on to her hand as she swallowed down the vision of him.

  “Adam, stop it!” Elliot snatched her hand away from his lover’s. “Come upstairs, Becca. We can talk about this in our room. Please,” he added as an afterthought.

  She wasn’t sure what there was to say. She wasn’t pushing him away. Her arousal had squashed her initial swell of outrage. It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Adam up to their room with them. She’d rather watch him and Elliot make out than stumble into an argument.

  Adam patted Elliot on the shoulder. “You know where to find me.” He wandered off in the direction of the bar, leaving them to consolidate themselves as best they could.

  Their room, like much of the hotel, incorporated red brickwork interspersed with tartan furnishings in a variety of shades. They had a king-sized brass bed made up in red and gold and a little window area consisting of a squashy tartan love-seat and a brown leather banquette.

  Elliot led the way into the room, but hung back to hold the door and allow her to pass. His eyes were glassy with guilt when he looked at her. The same emotion had already sharpened his jaw line and given him a deliciously kissable pout. He came towards her slowly. He brushed one hand through his hair, causing several of the longer strands to fall forward over his brow. He always slicked it back, but she loved it when it hung over his forehead, partially masking his whisky-gold eyes.

  “I don’t want to hear it if you’re going to make some half-boiled excuse. You knew what you were doing. Don’t compound things by insinuating that I’m stupid or blind.”

  Behind the fallen lock of hair, his frown tugged at the centre of his brow, etching a pattern of deep lines into the skin there.

  “My God, Elliot, you were with a man! I’m not sure what I think, let alone how I’m supposed to react to it. Is this something new? Have you always known? Am I doing something wrong? Not pleasing you enough?” She didn’t blame herself, not really, but the question slid out regardless. Maybe she just needed to hear his reassurance in order to believe there was still a bond between them.

  “You’re doing nothing wrong.”

  “Then—then explain it to me? Have you—? Did you, before we married?”

  His sheepish grin morphed into a grimace. Elliot was a private soul. He kept things close, never revealing more of his personal views and emotions than he needed to. It made him mysterious or plain old hard to get to know, depending on your point of view, but behind that outer shell of cool indifference she’d found her soul mate. At least she’d thought she had. How much did she really know about him? If he’d detached himself and her from this aspect of his personality, what else had he hidden?

  “A few encounters,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast. “Nothing serious. And not since we married, apart from downstairs. I’ve not thought about it, or him.”

  The hell he hadn’t, based on his reaction to a little encouragement from Adam. Although, she conceded, she could see how Adam would have that effect. Even smarted up in a suit, it was apparent he was that sort of guy—wild, a tad unpredictable, and absolutely capable of rocking his lover’s world.

  Still, she chose to take Elliot’s admission as what he believed to be the truth. Maybe he was in denial. Maybe nothing beyond a little drunken fooling had occupied his past. Like many young men, he’d perhaps experimented but hadn’t ever involved himself in anything serious. Though that in itself raised questions. What else didn’t she know? She’d always pinned Elliot as a serial monogamist, and not one for brief flings or hazardous, yet sweetly illicit, fucks.

  “What are you then—gay, bi, something else?” She’d never believe he was simply straight any more.

  “I’m just me.” He held his arm out towards her, but she didn’t go to him. Not yet.

  “How well do you know him—Adam?” she asked. Something about him piqued her curiosity—like a tabloid headline. She needed to know more, even though she knew she’d feel dirty afterward. “He’s not just an old friend? What is he, your former fuck buddy?”

  Elliot’s mouth fell open. He closed it again. Then he slumped onto the banquette and braced his elbows upon his knees. He wasn’t even looking at her now. His gaze was riveted on the floor between his feet instead.

  “He seems famil
iar—a bit more than just a drinking buddy.” Despite her best efforts to remain calm, her voice had grown whiny and defensive. She didn’t want to sound like this, nor did she intend to make any of it an accusation, but the lingering pall of arousal complicated matters, compounding her hurt with tetchiness. “Say something, Elliot.”

  “We slept over once or twice.” He sat up straight and lifted his chin to look at her. “I don’t know what else to confess. I’m sorry that I screwed up and let my libido get the better of me. It was stupid, I know. Don’t let’s row over this.”

  “Were you going to come upstairs with him?”

  “No.”

  “Truthfully. If you hadn’t seen me.”

  Conflict contorted his mouth into a scowl. “Hell, Becca. I don’t know. I don’t know, okay?”

  At least he was being honest with her now.

  “What if I said it was okay?”

  God, the hurt in his whisky-brown eyes damn near seared her soul. She bowed her head, afraid he’d recognise the excitement written on her face. “No—no, it’s absolutely not okay.” The slight wobble in his voice divulged exactly how much he meant that, but then maybe he wasn’t entirely comfortable with his attraction to other men. Perhaps that was why he’d kept it quiet.

  “But if I said it was?” Her heart raced a little at the admission. Her earlier vision, of how the men might look together while making love, reasserted itself.

  Elliot shook his head. “It still wouldn’t be.” He rose and headed straight for the mini bar, only for Becca to put her hand in front of the door before he could add a whopping big charge to their room fee. “Is that supposed to be some kind of screwed-up test of my fidelity?” He eyed her with his sultry pout back in place.