of his hot tongue. Just a flick though, not nearly enough. I arched my back, pushing my breasts forward.
“Do you love me?” he repeated.
Slowly, I lowered my back. He was different today. Why was he suddenly asking me about love, knowing my situation? Knowing the circumstances under which we’d come together?
“I know you love this.” He began stroking my clit with his thumb. Back and forth. Back and forth.
“Mmm, yes. I love that.” I began to pant, close to the edge. “I can never get enough of your hands on my body.”
“What about my tongue?” He adjusted his body between my legs, and I bit down on my bottom lip in anticipation. The moment his tongue came down on me, my hips bucked and I started to whimper.
“Baby, I love your tongue. I can’t get enough of your tongue. Ohhh.”
He suckled me until I was crying from the pleasure and on the verge of exploding. Then he pulled back, denying me my release.
“No, no. Please,” I begged. “I need you, baby. I need—”
“Do you love me?” he asked again.
“Yes!” I cried out. “I love you. I love you.”
“Oh, baby. I love you, too.” Hastily, he untied my legs and hooked them over his shoulders and began to devour me. He sucked, he nibbled, he buried his tongue inside me. He ate greedily, as though my pussy was the last meal he would ever have.
My whole body convulsed as my orgasm gripped me, gripped me harder than anything I’d ever experienced before. It zapped me of my energy. Stole my breath. Left me shuddering as though a speeding train had just rocketed through my body.
Even through my pleasure, I was aware that something had changed between us.
I wasn’t sure it was for the better.
1
Six weeks earlier…
I awoke to the sounds of fucking coming from the other room.
For several moments I lay on my bed, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My right temple throbbed, evidence of too many margaritas that evening, and a general lack of sleep over the past few days.
Yawning, I rolled over and glanced at the bedside clock.
Three-thirteen in the morning.
“Right there…yes, right there. Ohhh…”
Despite my headache, I couldn’t help giggling. Maybe Marnie thought I was dead to the world and therefore didn’t think she needed to be quiet. Or maybe she didn’t care. All I knew, as I lay there, was that she and the guy she’d picked up were screwing like this was their last night on earth—if the loud moans and screams coming from the other room were any indication.
“Yes, yes! Fuck me, baby!” Marnie screamed.
I hugged my pillow and closed my eyes, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Not with the sexual Olympics going on in the next room.
I heard a consistent banging on the wall—likely the headboard. At least, I hoped it wasn’t someone’s body part hitting the wall. And how thin were these walls, anyway, that I could hear their every grunt and moan?
I debated getting out of bed and going to Marnie’s bedroom door. But the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass her and the stud in the room with her.
So I stayed where I was, keeping my eyes closed and hoping I’d somehow be able to get back to sleep.
A loud crash in the next room had me bolting upright, alarm shooting through me. What the—
Laughter.
I lay back down. Whatever had happened, Marnie and her lover weren’t concerned. The sounds of their lovemaking picked up right where they’d left off.
The moaning and groaning and occasional giggles had me suddenly missing my husband. Missing the way we were in the beginning. Spontaneous, and frisky, and a lot like Marnie right now— not caring who heard us if we were in a hotel fucking.
It had been four whole days since I’d seen him, since I’d left on this trip with Marnie, my long-time best friend, to Grand Bahama Island. Marnie had been in the dumps because she and her fiancé had broken up, and she needed a getaway.
I’d suggested this trip as a way to get her mind off of her heart-break. And it had been a blast. Marnie and I had had a fun four days of partying like we were college kids with endless energy, and Marnie hadn’t mentioned Brian once. I doubt that between ogling hot young men and downing flaming Sambuca shots she’d even had time to think about him. The trip had gone a long way to mending Marnie’s broken heart.
I supposed that after being engaged for a couple of years, she was entitled to get her freak on.
Even if I was in the other room.
I couldn’t help but listen to them, and I couldn’t help feeling slightly envious. What I heard coming from Marnie’s room was exactly the kind of sex I wanted to be having with my husband. After eight years of marriage, Andrew and I had fallen into a bit of a routine. Sex on Saturday nights. Sometimes Sunday mornings as well. It was a good week if we also got in a mid-week fuck.
At the beginning of our relationship, we used to go on lots of romantic weekend trips and screw like bunnies. With both of us working full-time now, that kind of spontaneity was impossible. But I still adored my husband, and he adored me. He could still look at me from across a room and make my body tingle the way he first had ten years ago in college.
I suddenly wanted to talk to him. Call him and have some spontaneous phone sex. Get him in the mood to give me the kind of homecoming I was craving.
Yes, it was after three in the morning, but that’s what spontaneous was—not worrying about the time nor the place.
I used my cell phone, having learned that it was more expensive to use a credit card to call from the hotel phone. I punched in the digits to my home in Orlando, then lay back on my pillow as I waited for Andrew to pick up.
My lips were slightly parted, poised to say something dirty the moment Andrew answered the phone. But after four rings, it went to voice mail.
Disappointed, I sighed softly. I debated hanging up and calling him back. I wanted to tell him how much I wanted to touch him, stroke him. How badly I wanted him inside me. And while I was at it, I’d even ask if he would take a plane and meet me here, or meet me in Fort Lauderdale, where Marnie and I had boarded the Discovery Cruise Line to head to the Bahamas.
Spontaneity and all that.
But common sense got the better of me when the beep sounded and I heard my voice prompting me to leave a message. It was the middle of the night, and even though I was desperate to talk to him, I couldn’t call Andrew back. It wouldn’t be fair to him. He had to be up for work in the morning. Besides, I’d be seeing him in less than twenty-four hours.
Real sex would be far better than phone sex anyway.
Though I didn’t think I would, sometime during the night I’d drifted off to sleep. I awoke with a start and found Marnie sitting on the edge of my bed.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she crooned when my eyes met hers.
I took a moment to register that she was really there, that this wasn’t a dream. I could smell the fresh scent of some sort of floral soap, could see that her short black hair was wet and slicked back. Yep, she was definitely here. And she looked surprisingly well rested for a woman who’d spent most of the night screwing her brains out. Her dark complexion never gave anything away.
“You’d still be sleeping too if you were woken up by the sounds of serious fucking.”
“You heard us?” Marnie asked, sounding surprised.
“You’ve