Page 14 of Hotter in the Hamptons

He lifted her arm up and smelled her armpit. “Lola stinks,” he teased. “Let’s get you clean first.”

Justin’s eternal, obsessive cleanliness was only mildly annoying because it meant that he wanted to be the one to wash her.

When they got out of the shower, after he’d lovingly scrubbed every inch of her, Justin picked Lola up and carried her to the bedroom.

She squealed as he threw her onto the California king bed.

He crawled up her body, pausing to worship her ankles and her hip bones, her belly button, and her nipples, until his mouth met hers and she pulled him inside her, letting out a gasp. That first moment of penetration was always intense, especially since her decade-long commitment to birth control meant they hadn’t used a condom since their first few encounters. She’d never had unprotected sex before him, and it still felt like a forbidden pleasure.

She usually loved the feel of his substantial body weight on her while they had sex, but it wasn’t what she wanted at that moment. She wanted more control, more freedom. She felt a little smothered, couldn’t move as freely as she wanted with him looming over her. She pushed him to the side and got on top, straddling him and arching backward.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let out a series of curses. She loved making him groan. He put his hands on her hips, trying to control her speed, but she moved them up to her breasts. She wanted to set the pace.

She started rubbing her clit.

“Let me do that,” Justin said, his voice husky, pupils flooded. But she stopped him.

“No,” she said. “I want to.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, laughing. Despite his offer, she knew he loved watching her, especially while he was inside her. And Lola loved being watched—loved the feel of his admiration across her skin, his focus locking on her fingers as they moved, faster, tighter around her clit. It was one of the many ways they were perfect for each other.

“Fuck,” Justin said again, his breathing getting louder. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He didn’t necessarily speak poetry while fucking her, but that wasokay. She cared more about the way he touched her than what he said to her, how his body felt against hers. And it felt good. It always did.

There was a chest under the bed filled to the brim with restraints, vibrators, even a cute little flogger. They’d tried it all. They’d licked chocolate off each other, role-played as gruff handyman and bored housewife, taken turns being blindfolded, masturbated while staring deeply into each other’s eyes. And while it was always fun to try new things together—they made each other laugh as often as they made each other orgasm—they both agreed that there was nothing better than the simplicity of skin on skin, no accessories required.

“Lola, please,” Justin said, moving his hands down her body and finding her hips.

“Fine,” she said, as though she didn’t love when he took control.

He smirked as he pushed himself deeper into her, faster now, more urgent.

Her eyes were glazed now, appreciating the way his muscles rippled below her, but she was also thinking of someone else: smug smile, Tom Ford sunglasses.

None other than Aly Ray Carter.

Maybe not the sunglasses, she thought. The Aly in her head—Fantasy Aly—wasn’t wearing more than the T-shirt she’d had on this morning. Even her shiny, brown hair was free of its claw clip.

Fantasy Aly was looking at Lola with a kind of unbridled desperation.Please let me go down on you, she could hear Aly begging.Please. Lola, I’ll die if I don’t taste you.

She imagined resisting.We can’t, she said to Fantasy Aly.I have a boyfriend. I love him.

I don’t care, Fantasy Aly said.I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life.

Fine.She pictured giving in.If you really need to. But be quick.

I do need to. I need you.

She imagined feigning modesty as she opened her legs and allowed Fantasy Aly’s pink tongue to push gently into her clit.

She imagined…nothing else after that. She started to come, and her thoughts turned blank. She couldn’t even hear how loudly she was chanting “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Her orgasm felt like being launched into zero gravity. The most intense heat followed by nothingness. Infinity. Floating. She collapsed on top of Justin and then rolled to the side, trying to catch her breath.

“Wait,” Justin said, laughing. “I’m not done yet.”

It was true; he was still hard. She shot him a wicked grin. “Oh, I amso sorry,” she said. “How can I make it up to you, babe? Do you want to come on my tits?”

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