Hometown Hotwife

Hometown Hotwife Holden and the Hotwife Book Three Lily Chase Copyright Copyright © 2023 by Lily Chase All rights reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Contents 1. Dinner Guests 2. Board Game Night 3. Cooking Up Some Fun Also in this Series About the Author Also by the Author Chapter one Dinner Guests My wife Jane—being a successful artist and accustomed to networking, spraying out charm like a Champagne fountain—is far more socially adept than I am. Which is probably why I’m the only one nervous about seeing Holden and Charlotte out of the context in which we met them a year ago in Saint Lucia. They just took a trip to Lille in France to visit Charlotte’s family, and their flight back to the states landed them near the East Coast city where Jane and I live. Charlotte asked Jane if they could visit, and… well, tonight’s the night. Their ETA here at our place is within the hour. Jane is padding around our brownstone, her feet bare on the honey-blonde hardwood, fussing over little details—lighting a few stylish hurricane lanterns, decanting some red wine, putting Fleet Foxes on the stereo. I’m sitting at my desk facing the bay windows, pretending to look over a budget report for the university where I’m chancellor… though in reality I’m just periodically glancing down at the street, watching for Holden and Charlotte’s arrival. Jane is humming happily, apparently at ease. But for me it’s odd to think that 371 days and one hour ago, Holden and I had our respective cocks up each other’s partners. I’m pretty sure nothing like that will happen tonight, so… what on earth will we all talk about? ‘Lovely to see you again, Holden! Is that a new neck-tattoo? Boy, Jane’s ass was pink for days after that last spanking you gave her. Do you play golf, or are you more of a mixed martial arts guy?’ Yeah. Awkward. The same silver SUV has been around the block three times—parking is murder in our neighborhood—and I suspect it’s them. The license plate looks like a rental, and Holden would need a big car for his musclebound six-foot-four frame. A few minutes later, I see them on the sidewalk, examining the house numbers. Charlotte’s dark hair is shorter, in a fashionable long bob, and she’s wearing a burgundy dress of the type Jane calls a “maxi.” Holden’s style is as I remember—jeans, tight t-shirt, tattoos that look half indie-rock and half prison. Same long-on-top dark hair. They start up our steps, and I call out to Jane in the kitchen. “They’re here, babe…” Do we look like old people, standing in the doorway of our beautiful urban home, greeting this sexy much-younger couple? Being in the shadow of Holden’s alpha-male radiance makes me wish I’d worn something cooler. After greetings and pleasantries, we all stand around the island of the open kitchen, making small talk while Jane pours out pinot noir and sauvignon blanc. “You must’ve had much better in France,” Jane laughs, handing Charlotte a glass frosted with condensation. Her mouth drops open, looking at Charlotte’s hand, and she gasps. “Ohmyfuckinggod… is that what I think? You’re engaged?” Charlotte switches her wine to the other hand and displays a rock that probably set construction worker Holden back six grand. “More than engaged,” she says, slanting her adoring gaze at Holden. “We married while visiting my family. It was an impulsive ceremony—small but lovely.” “Congrats!” Jane cries, giving them each a one-arm hug. She looks at me. “We insist on taking you to dinner to celebrate. Rob, call Castello Aurelio and see if they can get us in.” I have to admit, it’s a turn-on that bossy Jane defers to Holden and insists “the men sit in the front seats” while she and Charlotte ride in back. Holden doesn’t object, because… well, he’s Holden—perfectly at home in the roles they established during our five-night erotic adventures on vacation. I don’t think I’m imagining it—along with Jane’s delight over Holden and Charlotte’s marriage, there’s a touch of disappointment. She’s assuming this closes the door on tonight devolving into the type of sexual chaos we indulged in on our last night in Saint Lucia. It’s after seven—long past rush hour—so I dive onto the freeway to take the shortest route to the restaurant. Immediately I realize I’ve fucked up: the goddamned thing is a parking lot. The car creeps to a stop within the equivalent of a city block, and we’re trapped—the next offramp isn’t for three miles. “Rob!” Jane mock-wails, glaring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. “Why the hell did you take the freeway?” She smooths both hands over her face in frustration. “You know there’s a construction zone right now by the exit for thirty-third…” I give a small helpless laugh and lift my hands. “I spaced, babe. It’s been a minute since I took the freeway. I usually go the waterfront route to the university.” She sighs, throwing her seatbelt off to peer at the traffic. “Okay, well… awesome.” She sits back, arms folded across the plunging cleavage of her short summer dress. “Might as well order a pizza and have it delivered to this spot on the freeway by drone—we’ll be stuck here a half-hour minimum.” I fiddle with the stereo, switching The Fratellis to something ambient to create a calmer atmosphere. Jane is hot-blooded, but… submissive in certain contexts. Those two sides of her worked perfectly with our arrangement in Saint Lucia. She’s feisty enough that she was happy to cuckold me lavishly with Holden, delighting in my watching her get fucked half to death with