My Husband's Secret

I hate when Jake comes to town.

It's not enough that I lose my husband for hours at a time, watching his little dot on our tracking app bounce from the bar to the casino to the batting cages to McDonald's. It's not enough that suddenly I'm cooking for (and cleaning up after) *two* grown-ass men who should know better.

It's not enough that Jake likes to walk around shirtless, flaunting the body that he spends hours in the gym perfecting while I studiously look away, not wanting to give my husband the wrong idea.

No, the worst is the way that Derek wants me when he's here.

He came to me last night, stinking of whiskey, his eyes dark and swimming. When we have company I'm always resolved to be quiet with Derek, I never want to make anyone uncomfortable. I would die if my mother-in-law saw me across the breakfast table and thought of what sounds I'd been making the night before.

But when Jake stays over, Derek refuses to settle for quiet. He'll spend an hour between my legs, coaxing the sounds out of me, making me beg him to stop before he finally lets me return the favor--and he's never quiet, either.

It makes the days before Jake leaves excruciating, watching them trade knowing glances and having to suffer their stupid asides. I really wish Jake would just get married already... though if they're not ashamed to carry on like this in front of each other, I don't know why having another woman around would change anything.

That's why I got so drunk tonight. I wanted to get so drunk I would forget the feelings that Derek always rouses in me, so that I wouldn't be willing to have him in my bed again and have to face Jake, red-faced, tomorrow. But unfortunately, every sip of wine seemed to only make me *more* ready for him.

They stumble home together, clambering out of a taxi and slapping each other on the back. I'm in my pajamas, wrapped around a bottle of Chardonnay, watching When Harry Met Sally for the umpteenth time.

"Fuck, not Billy Crystal," Jake groans. "Can we watch football instead?"

"There are no games on, idiot," Derek laughs. "It's one in the morning."

I roll my eyes and get up to put the wine bottle in the trash, but I stumble and fall right into Jake's lap.

"She's way more drunk than usual," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. I go to get up, but he wraps a lazy arm around my stomach, almost like it's an accident. He and Derek trade a look that I can't decipher.

"What, do you want me to sit in your lap?" I joke, looking between them.

Derek raises his eyebrows and gives Jake a pointed glance.

"You can stay awhile," Jake says. "If you want."

What a weird thing to say. I look up at Derek, waiting for him to intervene. Tell me to get off. Pull me off himself. Punch Jake in the face? But all he does is stare at us.

"He has a secret," Jake says in my ear, not taking his eyes off of Derek.

"A secret like you guys are gay for each other or something?" I say sarcastically.

Jake is all too serious when he replies, "Or something."

My stomach drops. I've been married to Derek for three years. We dated for two before that. Now I barely even recognize the man looking hungrily at the way his childhood best friend has an arm around my waist, pinning me to his lap.

"It's no big deal, Steph," he says to me. "It's not like that. He just wants to watch."

"Watch?" I repeat dumbly. "Watch what?"

"Oh, I think you know what," Jake says behind me, running a finger down the inside of my thigh. I shudder, but I'm surprised to find it's not fear that's coursing through me, making me break out in goosebumps.

"She's into it," Derek observes, a slow grin breaking out on his face. "Right?" He's addressing me now, I realize. "You're okay with this?"

"With what?"

But he's kneeling down in front of me, making it all too clear what he plans to do as he slides my pajama shorts down my thighs. I suddenly feel completely sober as my heartbeat speeds up.

"He's just gonna watch," Derek says again. "Is that okay?"

"He needs you to say yes," Jake growls in my ear. "He's a feminist."

Derek *is* a feminist. Usually. He's usually very boring--9 to 5, drinks with the boys on occasion, grilled salmon for dinner. Predictable.

"You want to, right Steph?" Jake says, sliding a hand up my arm.

I'm surprised to find myself nodding as I watch Derek take off my underwear.

Jake shifts behind me as we both watch Derek bury his face between my legs, and I can't help but moan. He always knows the right ways to touch me. Especially with his tongue.

My back arches, pressing my shoulder blade into Jake's chest, and he rubs my arm again.

"That's right," he murmurs into my ear. It feels good, doesn't it?" I gasp and nod as he slips his hand under my shirt, cupping my breast.

"She likes it when you pinch her nipples," Derek says as he hooks two fingers inside of me.

Jake's fingers close around one nipple, and I cry out.

"She's fucking loving this," he says to Derek. "I told you we should have told her last year."

Derek just shakes his head, intent on his work. I'm plunged into sensation after sensation as men's hands grip my thighs, my arms, the base of my throat, my ass. I've completely lost the ability to tell whose fingers are whose as they explore my body, pushing me relentlessly towards the edge.

I come hard around Derek's fingers as Jake holds me, whispering what a good girl I am in my ear. Normally I don't like that, but coming from Jake it doesn't seem as condescending.

When I can open my eyes again, Derek is staring up at us with a hungry look. Jake laughs softly in my ear.

"Look how turned on he is," he says. He should talk. His erection has been pressed against my ass since I started making noise.

"Just look at what you're doing to him," he says. "Look. Steph."

I look down and see Derek, hard as a rock, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Jake slides out from behind me and I fall back onto the couch, watching them face off against each other. They're both breathing hard, both vibrating with lust.

Jake cups Derek over his jeans, and again I expect Derek to react violently. He would if any other man tried to pull that shit with him. But with Jake, he stares up at the ceiling and swallows, hard.

"He doesn't want to show you," Jake says to me. "He doesn't want you to know how much he's still imagining us together." To my shock, Jake unbuttons Derek's jeans and slides his hand inside. I can tell from the way it's moving that he's stroking him. I watch Derek's jaw tighten.

"He's not going to last thirty more seconds," Jake tells me. He turns back to Derek, who's quietly gasping. "Are you? You're going to come any second, I can tell."

"He can usually last awhile," I say.

Jake shakes his head. "Not this time. When he makes this face, he can't hold off anymore." Almost like magic, Derek makes a wounded sound and grabs onto Jake's shoulder, watching his own release into Jake's hand.

I'm fascinated and horrified. It's obvious they've done this before. But since we've been together? Has Derek been cheating on me?

He catches my eye, breathing hard. "I would never do anything behind your back," he says, like he can read my mind. "It's been years since we actually did anything. Mostly when we were teenagers."

"Boys will be boys," Jake smirks.

I watch him for a moment. Then I turn to Derek. "What about him?"

He looks at me carefully. "He's only here to watch."

"He didn't just watch with you."

"That's different."

"Is it?" I turn to Jake. "You don't want to get off?"

I can see his hard-on straining the front of his pants. I know he wants it. He looks at Derek, who looks at me.

"What are you suggesting?" he asks.

I shrug. "What does he want?"

"You," Derek answers without needing to wait for Jake. "He obviously wants you."

I look back and forth between them. And then I say, "Okay."

"You want him to fuck you?"

I shrug. "Why not? We've come this far."

Derek buttons his jeans and then paces rhe floor for a minute, thinking. He turns to Jake, who's wearing a wolfish grin.

"You have to wear a condom," he says finally.

"Okay."

"And I'm in charge."

Jake gives him a knowing look, but acquiesces. Derek positions himself behind me, holding me close while Jake rolls a condom on his sizable cock.

"I love you," Derek whispers in my ear, and kisses my neck. "I only want this if you want it.".

"I want it," I promise him.

Jake pushes inside me slowly while Derek's fingers flex on my hips.

"Fuck, she's wet," he says. "Is she always wet like this?"

"Not always," Derek says, his eyes trained on where Jake's cock is disappearing inside of me. "I think this whole thing is as much of a turnon for her as it is for us." I moan quietly, and he laughs. "See?"

"Yeah, fuck. She keeps squeezing me," Jake groans. Now it's Derek's turn to cup my breast.

"You okay?" he asks me, but I dont have any words left. I can only nod. "She loves your cock, man," he says to Jake. "She's speechless."

"Hold her open a little more," Jake says, his breath coming short. "I want to get deeper."

I feel Derek's hands hook under my knees as he pulls me apart, opening me for Jake's deep thrusts.

"Fuck, that's it," Jake says. "I'm fucking close. Touch her. Make her come around me. I want to feel her come."

My head leans back against Derek's chest as he reaches his hand between me and Jake, one finger pressing circles into my most sensitive spot.

I hurtle over the edge within seconds, my legs shaking as I moan uncontrollably. Jake finishes right after, thrusting deep inside of me while Derek watches.

As my breathing regulates, I can't help but think how awkward tomorrow morning will be.