Page 3

CHAPTER 3

ALKA LENNON

W e’re not staying on the island of nude beaches, but since this is an adult resort, they don’t get too strict about whether you’re wearing clothes—not that I’m walking around nude. I’m lying on a towel on the sand just outside our bungalow without clothes. It’s impossible to get rid of tan lines when it seems they’re permanently etched onto your skin.

I have one about mid-thigh and another at the edges of my shoulders. At the back of my neck. And low on my ankles. My ass is as white as the blinding sun. It’s awful. I’ve learned to wear a hat so there isn’t always a raccoon line around my eyes from my sunglasses. Small victories.

Unlike my husband, who’s fucking tanned from head to foot. I suppose when part of your workday is keeping your tan consistent for the camera, it’s a priority/necessity. And we live in sunny California, so it’s possible without a tanning bed.

Thinking of Oscar always makes me smile. Even though I know he’s only a few dozen feet away inside, taking a shower, and I’ll see him any minute now, I love the way just thinking about him brings a smile to my face.

That’s how you know you love someone. Just the thought of them makes your chest all warm, brings butterflies to your stomach, and makes you grin like your relationship is brand new. No matter how long you’ve been together. We celebrated a decade together last month, but I still fall in love with him like we just met over and over again.

I know how lucky I am. How many people can honestly say that about the person they’ve been with for ten years? I’m not talking about just loving their spouse. I would hope everyone loves their life partners, and I mean living every day like you’re still experiencing new relationship energy.

Sometimes, it feels as though thinking about Oscar summons him. His shadow falls over me, and then he’s straddling me. I grin into my arm as his fingers begin to dig into my muscles. No one gives better massages than Oscar. He knows what to do with his hands.

I sigh, and it turns into a groan when he hits one of my muscles just right.

“Why are you always so tense?” Oscar asks. I can hear the smile on his face.

“So there’s always a reason for a massage,” I answer.

He chuckles.

“I don’t feel tense,” I say. “I think it’s just left over from school. Keeping those kids in shape when there aren’t games coming is a challenge.”

“You weed out those serious about going pro from those who simply want a scholarship.”

I nod. “Yep. Expertly said. It’s kind of exhausting though. Why am I putting in the effort when they’re not?”

“How about if you don’t?” Oscar counters. “If they lose their scholarship, that’s on them. Concentrate your effort on those who put the work in.”

I already kind of do that. This last year was particularly obnoxious. I had a damn good team for the season, but at least half of them started slacking off in January when we came back from break. It got so bad that in March I made a frustrated decision to tell them to get off my pitch if they weren’t going to put in the effort. I wasn’t going to waste my time on them, and their mere presence wasn’t going to be enough for me to recommend them back for the following season with another scholarship. I’m not rewarding laziness. Fuck that—and fuck them for wasting my time.

I left out that last part, but you best believe I thought that shit loudly. I’m confident it showed on my face.

“I did what I threatened. I did not recommend back at least a third of my team, which was as frightening as it was liberating. That means I’m going to have at least ten new kids on my team.”

“Good,” Oscar says, his magic hands moving down the sides of my spine. “You still let Harper scout for you, yeah?”

“Yep. She’s in charge of recruiting talent all year. I’d much rather focus on honing skills during the year than judging people’s talent. Not only do I not like it, but I’m shit at it. How do you know if they’re just having a good night or an off night? I’m crap at recognizing potential and keeping them straight from team to team. Besides, it takes up a lot of time.”

His shadow nods in understanding. When we first got together, there was a year that Oscar tagged along with me while doing high school visits. He was much better at keeping the guys straight as far as what I thought and felt about them between visits. Even with my notes, it felt like watching someone new every time.

Then my assistant coach Harper came along, and she was a game changer all around. Not just at scouting high school athletes but also as a coach. I daresay that she could totally run the team without me entirely. She’s just that good. Sometimes, I let her. I’m not at all thinking of retiring, but I’ve made it clear that when I’m ready to move on from Rainbow Dorset as their soccer coach, she’s got my endorsement. Loudly.

Sometimes, I think about doing something different. I love soccer. I miss playing, but I think I was built for coaching. It’s where I thrive, but sometimes I think that maybe I’m ready for something new. Especially after coming off the spring season I just had with half my team needing to be kicked in the ass.

“There are two months before you need to think about soccer again,” Oscar says.

“Mmm.” I hum in agreement as he continues to move further down my body and begins digging his fists into my glutes. Seriously, the way all my muscles turn to putty with his hands! I can’t get enough of this man’s massages. I’ve considered taking a few massage therapy lessons just so I can return the favor.

“What do you want to do this afternoon?” Oscar asks.

“Have we checked in with the guys yet? See when or if they’re coming this year?”

There are a handful of couples that we’ve met since our first visit who, like us, visit year after year. Two of which we swing with every year just to mix things up. It keeps our relationship strong, though I’m not going to pretend I understand why. I think it has to do with possession. Afterward, we get really possessive in bed.

Our sex life is always great. I think it’s a combination of being deeply in love with my partner, being incredibly attracted to him in a way I never have been with anyone else, and being married to a porn star. But there’s something that heightens between us after trading partners, making it feel… more. It’s scorching. We’re on fire for each other.

There are a couple others that we just hang out with. We go on excursions together and generally just catch up from the last time we talked, which is rarely outside of our summer times on Kala. Once we made plans to meet up with the couples we swing with over winter break, and… It was just weird. We haven’t done that again. It’s very obviously a Kala thing, and we’re keeping it that way.

“Cole and James and Jake and Henry will be here next month. I’ve already set up our rendezvous.” I nod in acknowledgment. “Blake and Joseph are having issues with their oldest son and aren’t sure if they’re going to make it this year. ”

“What happened?”

“I guess he’s gotten into some trouble.”

“Are we talking being a shit or, like, with the law?”

Oscar shrugs. “Blake didn’t say. I haven’t heard back from Thomas and Jack yet, but Isaac and Lewis will be here in a couple weeks. They’ll let us know the dates once they lock them down. Something about a wedding.” He pauses, his hands stilling. “Or a funeral.”

I laugh. “Those are very different things, Oz.”

He snorts. “I mean, I suppose in principle, sure. But in a way, they’re both celebrating love.”

I twist under him to meet his eyes. “Please, do tell me.”

“The end of someone’s life is sad because they were loved. Otherwise, no one would care that they’re gone, right?”

“I’m impressed that you made that make sense,” I say, turning my face back into my arm.

“I’m not saying that it’s not a sad occasion. There are days when I still can’t believe that I’m living in a world without my meemaw in it, and she died when I was ten. But the loss of her only hurts as much as it does because of how much I love her. I imagine that there’s a direct correlation between the new love you’re celebrating at a wedding and the long love you’re grieving over at a funeral.”

“That’s a very nice way to think of it,” I say. “I’m going to try to remember that at my next funeral.”

“As if you attend them often.”

I grin. “I’m glad I don’t.”

“So yeah. I’ve heard from most of our friends, but none of them are here right now. Which brings back the original question. What do you want to do this afternoon?”

“Well, it’s been like six hours since I’ve gotten off,” I say, teasing.

Oscar laughs quietly. He leans down, his body heat making me shiver. He puts his lips to my ear and murmurs, “If you want to get off, I’m happy to oblige, my love. ”

I’m not sure that I need to get off or even if I want to get off. We have a very active sex life, so it’s not like I ever go without. However, that sexy tone he uses makes my dick twitch in anticipation.

“Yep. I want to get off.”

He chuckles, low and sexy. The tip of his tongue touches the shell of my ear, and I swear, it’s an injection of arousal. My body instantly burns. There’s a reason this man has the following he does. He’s sex on a fucking stick. Every damn thing about him.

His fingers immediately dip between my ass cheeks and rub my hole. He hasn’t been inside me in a few days. Oscar is very much of the mind that good sex doesn’t always have to include penetration. I wasn’t necessarily in agreement with him when we met, so he’d made it his mission over the first year of our relationship to prove to me he’s right. There were times that he got me off with nothing but his words. Yeah, not kidding. The man is that good.

Spoiler—he’s fucking right. The fact that he can turn literally any part of my body into an erogenous zone is true fucking talent. I tease him that he must have trained with Kama Sutra experts and graduated with flying colors to become a sex god.

His lips brush my ear, then my neck, while his finger lazily teases my hole. I can’t stop my hips from rising, trying to get more. Always more.

I feel his smile against my skin. “How do you want me?” he murmurs, tone low and sensual.

As if I can string together a coherent sentence right now. And fuck, he’s barely touching me!

“I don’t know,” I answer. “Surprise me.”

He chuckles. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“I think you should carry lube with you everywhere,” I call after him.

“Will do.”

I’m practically humping the sand beneath the towel by the time he gets back. All in anticipation of my husband. “Come all over me,” I demand.

“All right,” Oscar says.

If we had roles of dom and sub in our relationship, I would be the sub in the sense that I like what he does and let him take control. I think it’s primarily because I’m rarely in the same position twice. It’s like a countdown calendar where you get a new surprise every day for the month of December in the lead up to Christmas. It’s the same thing, a thrilling treat every time I tell him to surprise me.

I’m surprised this time when he lies on his back and pulls me on top of him. “Keep your legs together,” he tells me then pushes his dick between my thighs. I can feel it break through the other end, rubbing against the bottom of my ass cheeks.

My cock gets squished between us as he shoves up hard. His dick feels like a rod covered in flesh—stiff. Unforgiving. Erotic as fuck.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, right? I mean, this position is primarily Oscar getting stimulation.

Yet I don’t find that true at all. He pulls out, and his mushroom tip rubs roughly against my balls. It jabs against my taint, pressing harshly into my sensitive skin as he slides through, then his head teases my crack as it comes out the other side.

Teases is definitely the most accurate word for this. Every thrust is a tease. Everywhere his cock touches just isn’t enough. It drives me insane, wilder with each stroke.

His hands grab onto my ass like a handle, bracing me for each hard jerk of his hips. They’re slow at first, making sure I feel his hard tip against me right up until he’s practically at my ass crack. Then he shoves through, his body slapping against mine. My dick getting the brunt of the clap.

It’s definitely stimulating. More and more, I writhe on top of him, gasping with each hard rub against my balls. With each slap of his body against my cock. Each and every fucking tease of my crack that never comes close to my hole.

My fingers dig into his hair as Oscar sucks on my neck, right in that sensitive spot that makes my entire body vibrate.

“You going to come for me, Alka?” he murmurs in a voice that’s pure sex. “Just like this, love. Come for me.”

Sometimes, I like to pretend I can resist him. Sometimes, I lie to myself and think I can prove him wrong, that everything he does won’t get me off.

We both know that’s a lie. I nod desperately as he continues to dry fuck me. My body burns. I feel so damn frantic for release that my fingertips tingle. It’s coming.

“It’s coming,” I repeat out loud. Maybe in a fraught plea that he does not stop. He has to keep going so I can come. I’m going to explode if he stops. I’m going to sob. I’m going to?—

My orgasm crashes over me like a wave. I swear I can hear the way it hits the shore as I moan through it. It takes several wild heart beats before it ebbs back again, and my husband slows his thrusting.

I’m about to demand that he hold up his promise and cover me with his cum when I feel how sticky the back of my thighs and ass are. He already did.

My body collapses on top of him, my muscles wrung out.

“That didn’t take the whole afternoon,” Oscar teases. “So I’m going to ask you again—what do you want to do this afternoon?”

I bite his shoulder, making him laugh. For all I care, we can stay just like this. There’s no better way to spend the day, anyway.