Page 79 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Imogen

Eight days, three weddings, and a ludicrous amount of sex had passed since we’d been stranded on the Wanderlust, and every day, Makai showed us new parts of San Juan Island to fall in love with.

Today, my husband finally felt confident enough to show off his surfing skills, and I was sitting on the beach watching them play in the water. They were both hoping to make it look fun enough that I’d break down and give it a try, but I’d had a series of big events, and all I wanted to do was relax.

Watching them both yank on wetsuits had been good for a laugh, though.

I’d learned a lot in the past eight days. For one thing, Hamish and I both enjoyed kinky sex more than either one of us would have previously wanted to admit.

And more importantly, we both enjoyed Makai. There was something about the laid-back surfer that broke down the careful walls Hamish had built to protect himself. Makai encouraged us, cheered us on, and pushed us both to explore what we really wanted in life. I was almost starting to wonder if Makai was the thing that had been missing in our relationship all along.

Which was an insane thought, because Makai was still treating this like it was a casual holiday fling. And it was, wasn’t it? Our home was thousands of miles away, across a continent and an ocean. And I couldn’t imagine Makai wanting to live in Dorset. Not when he was so at home on his beautiful ranch property.

I was pulled from my dark thoughts as my proper, anxious, risk-averse husband executed a stylish-looking turn on his surfboard, whooping with uncharacteristic abandon as he rode the wave toward shore, making me smile.

They’d both tried to get me in the water today, but my feet hurt and I was exhausted after a particularly difficult—but rewarding—wedding. Beyond him, Makai transitioned from one fluid maneuver to another, his body moving in harmony with the ocean in a way that made my mouth go dry.

Fuck, these men were sexy, each in their own way.

Makai had brought us to a new spot, citing something technical about wind direction and wave breaks that I hadn’t quite understood.

The new break they wanted to surf was in a windswept cove a few miles down from the beach at Cannery Beach State Park, and today, we had it entirely to ourselves. It was just the three of us and the endless rhythm of the waves. Even outdoors, at a beach, where we couldn’t possibly get carried away, being alone with these two men made my body feel like a live wire.

“You have to try this, Imogen!”

Hamish called out as he caught another wave, his face split into a grin I’d rarely seen back home.

“Next time! When I’m not so tired,”

I called back.

He’d fallen a dozen times already this morning, each time emerging from the water laughing, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes bright with determination.

This new version of Hamish fascinated me. He was playful, daring, and willing to look foolish in pursuit of joy. In Dorset, he never allowed himself to be anything less than perfectly composed. Here, with saltwater dripping from his nose and sand clinging to his wetsuit, he seemed more alive than he’d been in years.

Makai glided effortlessly toward him, demonstrating something with his hands—paddle position, maybe, or timing. Whatever it was, Hamish nodded, absorbing the instruction with the same intensity he usually reserved for investment portfolios and wine selections.

After a brief consultation, Hamish paddled back out toward the break, determination written in every line of his body. Makai caught one final wave, making a complicated trick look as easy as breathing, before jogging up the beach toward me, surfboard tucked under his arm.

“Your husband’s a natural,”

he said, dropping his board onto the sand beside my blanket.

“When are you going to try it?”

I laughed.

“Soon, I promise. But I’m wiped out from the wedding this weekend. They were demanding clients.”

“Tell me more. Did you Karen them?”

He tugged at the zipper of his wetsuit, peeling it down to reveal the golden expanse of his chest and abs before letting the upper portion settle around his waist. Water droplets clung to his skin, tracing paths down the defined muscles of his torso that my fingers itched to follow.

“Hardly,”

I laughed.

“I’m never a Karen.”

Makai snorted.

“The first time we met, you very firmly asked to speak to the person in charge.”

“That’s a normal thing to say!”

I protested.

“I only wanted you to move your trailer.”

“Sure thing, Karen.”

I slapped his arm, and he burst out laughing.

Across the beach, Hamish let out a yelp as his board went shooting out from under him and he flipped onto his back, landing in the water with a dramatic splash.

“He’s fallen more times than I can count,” I said.

“That’s how you learn.”

Makai settled beside me on my beach blanket, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine as we tracked Hamish’s progress.

“Just gotta get right back on the board.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

“I’ve never seen him apply this kind of determination to something so adventurous before. But he’s like this when he’s training his horses.”

Makai leaned back on his elbows, his face turned toward the sun.

“What’s it like, your life in England? All castles and royal balls?”

I snorted, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind my ear.

“Hardly castles. Though I suppose our home is rather large by most standards.”

“Define ‘large.’”

“The main house has eight bedrooms. Plus the guest cottage, the caretaker’s cottage, and the old stables we converted into offices.”

I shrugged, feeling self-conscious.

“It’s been in Hamish’s family for generations.”

“Eight bedrooms and two spare cottages?”

Makai whistled.

“For two people? You must get lost looking for the bathroom at night.”

“There are six bathrooms, so they’re easy to find.”

I grinned despite myself.

“Truthfully, we don’t use most of the rooms. They’re just... there. Tradition, I suppose. Hamish’s parents were very particular about preserving the estate as it’s always been. When they passed, he inherited it. I couldn’t very well argue with his desire to stay. To grieve. But now I wonder if it left him sort of… stuck.”

“So he trains horses? Why doesn’t he do that as a job?”

“I don’t know, really.”

“Because they’re terrifying?”

Makai offered.

I laughed.

“He definitely does not find horses terrifying. Do you?”

“They’re just so… big. And stompy.”

I giggled.

“Stompy. Right. Well, Hamish doesn’t find them stompy, but he seems to have lost his way a little since his parents passed. When I met him, he was obsessed with polo, and dreamed of training polo ponies. But their death came as quite a shock. It was a car accident. And his father always wanted him to work in finance, so that’s what he decided to do.”

The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I brushed it back.

“We still have horses—thoroughbreds, mainly. I love them, too.”

“Lady Imogen and her noble steeds.”

Makai’s smile was teasing but warm.

“Do you wear one of those fancy riding outfits with the little hat?”

“It’s called a hunt cap, and yes, I do.”

I bumped his shoulder with mine.

“Don’t mock. I’ve won regional steeplechase races. I’m quite good.”

“Of course you are. And I’d never mock. I would cheer you on, from a safe distance.”

He looked out toward Hamish, who had just caught a decent-sized wave.

“So you’re not a wedding planner back home?”

“No, I’m a homemaker. I manage the property, oversee the staff—we have a housekeeper and a groundskeeper, plus the stable hands, and the horses. It’s quite a lot to do. I also serve on several charity boards, host dinners and social occasions.”

I glanced up to find Makai’s smile had faltered, his body language shifting subtly away from me. Something in his eyes had dimmed, as if he were seeing me—us—differently.

“Sounds very different from here.”

“It’s… a little dull, by comparison.”

I traced patterns in the sand beside the blanket.

“The property is beautiful, but everything I do is about the estate. Recently, I started to want something more. A career, a passion. Which is why I came here.”

“And did you find what you thought you’d find?”

“The jury’s still out. What about you? How’d you find your passion?”

“I grew up in Hawaii. I moved here a few years ago.”

“So you’re an island boy?”

“Actually, a city boy. But Hawaiian. We lived in Honolulu, in a very nice apartment building. My parents run a chain of restaurants there, and they do quite well with it. But not the quiet island life you picture when you think of Hawaii. Honolulu is a big city.”

“Is that what brought you to Washington? A quiet life?”

He shrugged.

“I burned out of the restaurant business and was looking for something different than what my parents planned for me. A pro surfer friend was headed here for a photoshoot, and it was just perfect timing. Right when I wanted to run away, you know?”

“I get it. This is a bit like running away for me.”

“Anyway, when I got here, there was just something about this place. It spoke to me. So when my friend moved on, I stayed. Never left. Probably never will.”

That last statement seemed pointed, directed at me, as if he was making sure we knew that he had no interest in joining us in Dorset.

The conversation lulled. We’d somehow gone from teasing each other comfortably to ruminating on the end of our fun, and I wished I’d kept the conversation light. I wanted to reach out, to coax him back to the easy intimacy we so often shared, but his eyes were distant, focused on some distant point in the ocean.

I looked towards Hamish right as he caught another wave, riding it with surprising skill. He waved triumphantly.

“He’s getting it,”

Makai said, some of the warmth returning to his voice.

“This may become an addiction. We’re going to have to do something very tempting if we want to lure him out of that water.”

“Tempting like what?”

“I think you know.”

Blushing, I looked around the empty cove, hyperaware of our isolation. Nothing but sand, sea, and sky surrounded us. No hikers on the distant trails, no boats on the horizon, not even a seagull to witness what was happening between us.

The realization sent a jolt of reckless desire through me, and I leaned in and pressed my lips to Makai’s, tasting salt and sunshine on his skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, equal parts terror and exhilaration at my own boldness.

Makai froze for half a second, then laughed against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you in that cute swimsuit.”

I didn’t respond with words. Instead, I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him toward me, falling back onto the beach blanket, dragging him down on top of me.

“We shouldn’t,”

he murmured even as his hand slid up my leg to the edge of my swimsuit bottom.

“Your husband—”

“Loves to watch you fuck me.”

I glanced toward the water where Hamish was paddling toward another wave, oblivious.

“And you did want to lure him out of the water.”

Makai’s fingers slipped under the fabric of my swimsuit. I gasped as he stroked my clit, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You want me to fuck you right here on this beach? With your husband watching? What if someone comes along?”

“I don’t care,”

I said.

“I need you.”

His fingers worked magic between my legs. The taboo of it, the wild recklessness, sent sparks of pleasure racing through my body.

“Say it,”

he demanded, slowing his movements.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,”

I gasped, arching into his touch.

“Right here. Right now.”

“Such a proper English lady with such a filthy mouth.”

He pressed two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot that made my vision blur.

“What would all those charity board members think if they could see you now, spreading your legs on a public beach and begging for a cock that doesn’t belong to your husband?”

I should have been offended by his words, but they only inflamed my desire. I reached between us, tugging at the wetsuit still clinging to his hips.

“Off. Get this fucking thing off.”

Laughing, Makai shifted his weight, shimmying the tight neoprene further down his legs. The sight of his cock springing free, hard and thick against his stomach, made me dizzy with want. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his length, feeling him pulse in my grip.

“Your husband’s coming back,”

Makai said.

I turned my head to see Hamish approaching from the water, board under his arm. A fresh wave of arousal washed through me as I caught Hamish’s eyes on us.

“Don’t stop. Fuck me. Let him watch.”

Makai didn’t hesitate. He pulled my swimsuit bottom to the side, not bothering to remove it completely, and positioned himself at my entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me, stretching me in that delicious way that made stars explode behind my eyelids.

“Fuck,”

I hissed, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Yes, like that. Quick, before someone comes along.”

I watched over Makai’s shoulder as Hamish dropped his board on the sand, his steps faltering as he processed what he was seeing. For a moment, he stood frozen, water dripping from his wetsuit. Then, to my immense satisfaction, his hands flew to the zipper on his back, yanking it down with urgent movements.

Makai drove into me with steady, deep thrusts, his eyes following mine to watch Hamish’s approach.

“You like this, don’t you? Your husband watching me fuck you. Getting hard for us.”

Hamish stripped his wetsuit down to his hips, pushing it low enough to free his erection. In a few strokes, he was fully hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

I reached toward him as he knelt beside us on the blanket.

“Come here.”

Hamish didn’t need to be told twice. He moved closer, his cock level with my face as Makai continued to thrust between my legs. I turned my head and took Hamish into my mouth, moaning around his length as the salty taste of his skin mixed with the slight bitterness of pre-cum on my tongue.

“Mm, the proper British ladies would have a field day with you now. Taking two cocks at once on a public beach,”

Makai growled.

“Bloody hell,”

Hamish groaned, his hand coming to rest lightly on the back of my head.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him deeper as Makai adjusted his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside me with each thrust. The dual sensations—Makai filling my pussy while Hamish filled my mouth—overwhelmed my senses. I felt split open, consumed, used in the most delicious way possible.

We could get caught at any moment, but I didn’t care; all I cared about was my desperate need, fueled by Makai’s quiet assertion that this had to end soon. I wanted to take as much as I could of this wild thing between us, to cherish it, to steal every single moment I could.

Makai’s fingers dug into my hips, holding me steady for his increasingly forceful thrusts.

“Look at her taking both of us. Fucking perfect.”

I glanced up to see the two men’s eyes meet over my body, a silent communication passing between them. Hamish reached out, his hand gripping the back of Makai’s neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. They kissed, rough and passionate.

“She loves this,”

Hamish said.

“Being filled at both ends.”

The first orgasm hit me without warning, clenching around Makai’s cock as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I lost my rhythm on Hamish, his cock slipping from my mouth as I cried out.

“Don’t stop,”

I begged, though I wasn’t sure who I was talking to.

“Please, don’t stop.”

I reached between my legs, rubbing my clit as Makai fucked me relentlessly, his mouth still working my husband’s cock. The visual was pornographic—these two beautiful men using each other, using me, all of us locked together in a circuit of pleasure.

Another orgasm built inside me, stronger than the others, making my thighs tremble and my vision narrow.

“I’m going to come again.”

Makai’s thrusts became erratic, his rhythm faltering as his own release approached. He pulled off Hamish’s cock, gasping.

“Fuck, I’m coming.”

I felt him pulse inside me, filling me with hot cum as my own orgasm crashed through me.

Makai slipped out of me and grabbed my husband’s hips, ravenous for Hamish’s cock. The sight of it—Makai’s mouth stretched around my husband’s thick shaft, his throat working as he took him deeper—made me moan. Hamish wasn’t gentle with Makai like he had been with me, he grabbed the back of Makai’s head and began to thrust wildly into the other man’s mouth. And Makai didn’t fight it. Instead, he tilted his head, grabbed Hamish’s ass, and pulled him deeper, until I was sure Hamish was inside his throat.

With a moan, Hamish’s hips stuttered, and Makai only sucked harder, drinking down every last drop of my husband’s cum.

“Well. That’s certainly one way to celebrate my surfing progress,”

he said, his voice rough but amused as he stroked gentle hands through Makai’s hair. Makai continued to gently suckle his softening cock.

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me, genuine and uninhibited.

“Fuck, we need to clean up and get dressed before we get arrested.”