Page 6 of Icy Cold Death

God.

She was so luscious that he couldn’t get enough of her with each conquest.

Not.

Even.

Close.

He was pretty sure that she was going to be a long-term kind of deal.

He’d been wrong.

On one of those trips back, where he was coming to see her, he crossed paths with another woman.

An unavailable one.

At first, she was a no-fly zone and put on the brakes, but after a few drinks, he was able to pick her off of her friend group and managed to get her to go back to his hotel room for some truly raunchy sex.

Oh, he’d seen her at her job and coveted her there too. He was a patient man and played his cards right.

Lesbian his ass.

She wanted him.

Score another win for him.

That one woman…she gave head like a pro. One might think she turned tricks at night.

Her mouth…

It was spectacular.

Someone, before her girlfriend, had trained her right. She was mailable in bed, and she let him do whatever he wanted—including the taboo shit his wife would never let happen in their room.

Yeah, that was hot.

His plan had been to get both of them into his bed for a wild threesome so that he could cross that off his bucket list.

Only, all good things had to come to an end.

By whom?

His wife.

As of late, she was suspicious. That put one hell of a damper on his mood too.

Unfortunately, he had to do what he had to do. It appeared he was back to missionary position sex and jerking off in the shower over his memories.

The woman he married, that bleak, sad facsimile of a woman, was on his trail.

So, he was doing the worst thing in his life. Over the next couple of days, he was going to be meeting with all of them to break it off.

He didn’t want a scene in the resort, or in case his wife had hired a PI, so it would have to be here.

How she believed he was taking a nighttime camping trip with his male friends…?

Well, she wasn’t that smart.

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