Naughty Wishes (Naughty Shorts Book 2) Read online

  Naughty Wishes

  A Naughty Shorts Novella

  Sarah Castille

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Naughty Secrets

  Also by Sarah Castille

  About the Author

  This is one birthday I'll never forget...

  I thought my birthday would be the same as always, with little more than a scribbled card from my boys and a mumbled acknowledgement from my husband, Dan.

  So when Dan slips a note under my pillow with an invitation for something new, I am a little shocked. And a lot interested.

  While another man will never enter my heart, I am not opposed to having one join us in the bedroom. It's one of my biggest fantasies come to life - and like nothing we've ever tried before.

  But are we ready for the fantasy to become reality? Not all wishes should come true.

  It’s only one night. What could possibly go wrong?

  Naughty Shorts from New York Times bestselling author, Sarah Castille, are quick delicious bites of dirty and sweet romance that will give you all the feels. Set in a small town, and inspired by stories about everyday couples, these sexy second chance novellas contain a little naughty, a lot of heart, and a happily after.

  A little naughty, a lot of heart, and a happily ever after.

  Naughty Wishes

  Published by Whiskey Jack Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Castille

  Digital ISBN: 978-0-9938168-8-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design by: Croco Designs

  Editing by: Christa Desir

  Editing by: Blue Otter Editing

  For more information about the series and the author visit: http://www.sarahcastille.com

  Subscribe to Sarah’s newsletter for new releases, excerpts, cover reveals, giveaways and more at http://bit.ly/SC1News

  Praise for Sarah Castille

  “Castille [gives] readers the compelling romance they crave.” —RT Book Reviews on Beyond the Cut

  "With sizzling love scenes, taut plotting, and a hair-raising finish, Castille's romantic thriller will appeal to her existing fans and win her new ones." - Publishers Weekly Starred Review on Luca

  “A sexy and dangerous ride! If you like your bad boys bad and your heroines kicking butt, Rough Justice will rev your engine.”—Roni Loren, New York Times bestselling author on Rough Justice

  "This fast paced, gritty mystery with its number of twists and turns will leave the reader breathless." - Fresh Fiction on Legal Heat

  "Powerful. Gritty. And sexy beyond belief. Sarah is a true master!"-Opal Carew, New York Times bestselling author of His to Claim on Full Contact

  “Awesome! Sarah Castille ripped my heart out with this book. It is a vivid and powerful story of love, loyalty, lust,

  and redemption.”—Night Owl Romance (A Top Pick) on Sinner’s Steel

  To the naughty one

  Chapter One

  I pull my pink, satin bathrobe snugly around me and knot the belt tight. So much for another birthday. Except for a card from my youngest son, Justin, and a kiss from my oldest, Peter, the day has been largely uneventful. And that’s the way I like it. Nothing can stop the slow creep of age, so why the big reminder?

  Still, it would have been nice if Dan had at least remembered my birthday. Although why should this year be different from any other?

  “Kylie? You coming to bed, babe?” Dan calls out. “Don’t forget to turn off the lights. And make sure that faucet isn’t dripping again.”

  I look up into the mirror and catch a glimpse of Dan climbing into bed. He’s wearing the skull print PJ bottoms I bought him for Christmas and the AC/DC T-shirt from the last concert we saw together, just before Peter was born. Except for a slight graying of his hair, and slightly less definition in his broad, muscular chest, he looks just as handsome as he did when he swept me off my feet at the bar where I was celebrating my twentieth birthday. Then, he was an ambitious law school student. Now, he is the “Campbell” in the law firm, Campbell Brown Myers, that he runs with two old friends

  Me on the other hand . . . same shoulder-length auburn hair, same hazel eyes, but my curves are more curvy, and I’ve added an extra plus to my usual plus size.

  I check the tap, turn out the light, then join Dan in bed, carefully leaving a pillow-size space between us. I always leave my robe on until Dan has turned out the bedside light. After fifteen years of marriage, we seldom touch anymore. We sleep on opposite sides of the bed. Rarely have sex. And only hold hands at church on Sunday.

  “Good night.” I fiddle with the belt on my robe, waiting for Dan to roll onto his side and plunge the room into blissful darkness.

  “I have a birthday present for you,” he says. “It’s under your pillow.”

  “You remembered my birthday?” I rip the pillow away and snatch up the pink envelope beneath, making no effort to hide my excitement. I can’t remember the last time Dan bought me a birthday present, and I stopped reminding him five years ago because it hurt more to see the guilt on his face than it did to just pretend it was any other day.

  “I always remember, Kylie. I just . . . never know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you like.”

  “You’ve known me for fifteen years.” I tear open the pretty pink envelope—was it chance or did he remember my favorite color? “How can you not know what I like?”

  “You’ve changed,” he says. “I’ve changed. We’re like strangers sharing a bed.”

  His words send a chill through my veins and I freeze mid-tear. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, open the envelope.”

  With much less enthusiasm I pull out the card and stare at the gold “Happy Birthday” written in script across the front. No age, although I suspect they don’t make cards for thirty-five-year-olds. No “wife” or “lover” or even “friend” below. No pictures of flowers or balloons. As far as cards go, it is about as generic as they get.

  “Thank you.” I muster a smile and fall back on the good manners my mother taught me when I was young and naïve and full of dreams about love lasting a lifetime.

  “Open it.”

  “Maybe I’ll save some of the fun for tomorrow.” I place the card carefully on my lap. If he’s just scrawled his name inside, I might burst out crying, and Dan has never handled strong emotion very well.

  “Please,” he says. “Just look inside.”

  Dan isn’t the begging type. Or the asking type. At least he wasn’t when we first met. He was dominant, possessive, the epitome of an alpha male. And he totally rocked my world. Now, he’s a good provider, a good father, but as emotionally closed off as he used to be open. As a result, his plea moves me to reconsider.

  “Okay.” I open the card and plaster a smile on my face that should see me through whatever I find inside. “It was very thoughtful . . .” My words trail off as I read the coupon taped inside the card.

  This love coupon entitles the bearer to one ménage.r />
  My heart stutters in my chest and my stomach sinks. Would he be this cruel? Who would want to have a ménage with me? “Is this a joke?”

  “No joke,” he says. “Although it’s just for one night.”

  “Does this say . . . ménage? As in ménage à trois? As in three people in a bed? Together?”

  Dan shifts in the bed, turning toward me. “You said you wanted to spice things up in the bedroom.”

  “By ‘spice things up,’ I meant actually having sex, or taking off our clothes with the lights on, or kissing before bed,” I say. “I wasn’t really thinking of inviting someone else to join us.”

  “Things haven’t been good between us for a long time.” He rubs his palms over the blanket covering his thighs, a tell-tale sign that he’s agitated. Although right now, he’s got nothing on me.

  “I couldn’t possibly let a stranger see me naked.” I close the birthday card and try to tuck it back into the destroyed envelope. Maybe he had too many drinks after work. Maybe one of the other attorneys in his office put him up to this.

  “Not a stranger.” He takes the card from my hand and carefully removes the coupon. “Aiden Steadman.”

  “Aiden Steadman?” My voice rises to a shriek, and not just because I know Aiden, but because he is about the hottest thing to hit our town in forever, and the least likely person I could ever imagine with a thirty-five-year-old married mother of two like me. “The kids’ new dentist? He’s coming to our house to have a ménage? Are you crazy?” I put my hand on Dan’s forehead. “You are a little warm. Maybe you have a fever. Peter had that terrible cold last week . . .”

  “I’m not crazy.” He opens the card and pulls out the coupon. “I’ve already talked to him about it, and he’s really excited.”

  “I’ll bet he is,” I mutter. “How old is he? Thirty?”

  “Actually, I think he’s around our age.”

  “And he has nothing better to do with his time than hang out in bed with us?”

  “Kylie.” His voice takes on an admonishing tone. “Don’t be so negative.”

  “And just how did that conversation go?” I take a stab at mocking Dan’s deep voice. “Hey, Aiden. Thanks for doing that emergency filling for Peter. And by the way, do you want to come over on Saturday for dinner and a ménage with my wife?”

  “No dinner,” Dan says. “He’s got plans.”

  “Plans for another ménage? He’s a dentist, Dan. Dentists aren’t kinky.”

  Dan’s lips quiver in a smile. “Apparently he is. I think that might be why he got divorced back in Ohio. He didn’t say, but my guess is that his wife wasn’t into that stuff.”

  “And we are?” I push myself off the bed and tighten the belt on my robe. “Come on, Dan. What’s gotten into you? Last year, when I wanted to buy a vibrator, you told me they ruined female orgasms. You can’t deal with toys in bed, but you can deal with another man?”

  “Aiden.” He follows me across the bed and sits on the edge, his gaze on me.

  “Aiden,” I repeat. “The ménage king of our lovely Revival, Montana.”

  “He likes you, babe.” Dan tugs on my belt and draws me over to him. “He thinks you have nice teeth.”

  “Well, thank God for that. It might ruin the mood if I had cavities.” I pull to a stop between his spread legs and a thrill of arousal shoots through me. Before our sex life succumbed to the rigors of babies, work, and exhaustion, Dan always had to be in control in the bedroom. I hadn’t slept with many men before him, but his dominance aroused me, and although our play never went beyond soft restraints and the occasional slap on the bottom, he opened me up to possibilities I would have been more than happy to pursue if I hadn’t gotten pregnant so damn fast and he shut it all down.

  Over the years, the play times became fewer and sex became mechanical, with the sole purpose of getting us both off as quickly as possible so we didn’t lose any precious sleep. By the time our oldest started middle school, we had drifted apart so far, I figured there was no going back. And why rock the boat? We were comfortable together. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

  “Kylie.” He tugs on my belt and my robe falls open to reveal the cheap satin nightgown that does little to hide the evidence of my post-baby spread. “I feel like I’m losing you and I don’t know what else to do. I picked up one of your romance books last month and saw the three people on the cover . . . we talked about having someone else join us when we first got together . . . you said it was one of your fantasies . . . I figured if you were still interested enough to read about it . . .”

  “It’s not real.” I snatch the ends of my belt from his hands and tie my robe tight. Fifteen years ago, I loved my curves, but now I wonder if my curves have driven Dan away. Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive anymore, and he needs to go to this kind of extreme to get off.

  “Neither are we.”

  “It was a nice thought,” I say. “But it’s just not going to happen. I know you—”

  “Saturday night.” His low, commanding tone startles me, and I shiver, remembering the days when I thought I could come just from the sound of his voice. “The boys are having a sleepover at the Richardsons’ house. Aiden will be here at eight. Make sure you have something nice to wear.” His lips quiver at the corners. “Or not.”

  My mouth drops open in a most unbecoming way. Who is this man and where did he dredge up the sex god he used to be fifteen years ago?

  “What if I say no?”

  He rounds the bed and flips back the covers, then settles back on his pillow as if it were any other night and not the night he gave me a ménage for my birthday. “What if you say yes?”

  Chapter Two

  The next day on my drive to work, I try to convince myself that last night’s conversation with Dan was a dream, that he didn’t give me a ménage coupon for my birthday, that tomorrow night is going to be like every Saturday night for the last few years where we order pizza, watch a movie with the kids, and are in bed with the lights off by ten.

  My self-delusion works until I am seated at my desk, trying to concentrate on a new contract for the hospital workers’ union, and Mimi Walters, the irritatingly cheerful hospital admin secretary, pops her head in the door.

  “Morning, Kylie. Your husband called. He said he sent you a text this morning from the airport changing your Saturday appointment to seven p.m, but you didn’t respond. He needs confirmation by noon.”

  Who makes an “appointment” for a ménage? Dentists, apparently. I wonder if he plans to squeeze me in between a root canal and a filling. “I’ll text him, thanks.”

  “Also, the state health inspectors called to say they’ll be here on Monday instead of Friday.”

  “Well, there goes my weekend. I’ll need to come in and run a final check on the hospital systems and operations.” I am at once disappointed and relieved that I now have an easy way out of a difficult situation.

  “Oh no. Maybe I can help out.” Mimi brushes back her sleek, red bob with her perfectly manicured nails. Slim and pretty, with bright blue eyes, a perfect figure, and a way-too-cheerful disposition, Mimi is highly sought after by the male doctors and staff at the hospital. If Aiden Steadman is looking for something to do with his Saturday night, he would be better off posting his picture on Tinder and hooking up with someone like Mimi, who spends more time flipping through pictures of eligible men on her phone than she does actual work.

  “I’m looking for overtime hours,” she continues. “If you want to carry on with your plans with Dan in the evening, I’m happy to come in and deal with the backend stuff.”

  Damn. With Mimi’s help I just might be able to make it home to meet with Aiden after all. I force myself to smile, although I suspect the effect is more of a grimace. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll see what needs to be done and get back to you.”

  Her face brightens. “Dan was pretty upbeat on the phone. It would be a shame to cancel. What did you guys have planned? Date night?”

  Just a little m�
�nage-a-trois with the kids’ dentist. “Something like that.”

  Now that I may have to pull the plug on Saturday’s ménage-fest, I pull out my phone to let Dan know. He left early this morning for a business meeting in Denver and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, which I’m sure factored into his surprise attack plan. But his absence works to my benefit because now I can put an end to the whole crazy idea by text without having to deal with a face-to-face confrontation.

  State inspection moved to Mon. I have to go in to work tomorrow. Might have to cancel Sat night.

  Irritatingly, Dan answers right away. Like he had his phone in his hand and was just waiting for me to text him.

  You said you were ready for that inspection last week.

  Just need to double-check.

  You said you were double-checking this week.

  Can’t be too careful.

  You’re afraid.

  I have safety concerns. It’s part of my job.

  That’s been handled. I’ve checked him out. I would never put you at risk.

  I bite back a growl of frustration. Why does he have to be so . . . Dan? Although our marriage has cooled and we aren’t intimate the way we used to be, he has never stopped being protective of me and the boys. He might not remember my birthday every year, but he always asks me to text when I’m out to let him know I’ve arrived safely at my destination, and he is always waiting up for me when I get home.

  Things aren’t so bad. Why shake them up? Let’s just do pizza & movie when you get home.