by Poppy Dunne
“Yes,” she murmurs, which urges a growl out of me in return. My hand fists in her hair, and I line her up against my body. She gasps again, and her hips move against mine. Fuck it. I don’t care if we’re near a luau, with hula dancers and marijuana. I am ready to throw my wife down in the sand, strip off her dress, and show her my—
“Pig.” That’s Charlotte’s word, not mine. She looks over my shoulder, eyes wide. “Babe, there’s a dead pig staring straight at us. I’m so sorry, but it’s killing my mood.”
I turn around, and yes, there is a roast, suckling pig being licked by the flames of a fire. Damn, all I can think of now is that character Babe, from Sage’s favorite movie. If she were here, she’d burst into tears.
I think Charlotte’s right. We need to get the kids off our minds as best we can right now.
“We’ll table this for later, then.” I kiss her once more, but I could kick that delicious pig in the snout for this. Every time we get close to getting closer, something slides into the way. It almost makes you wonder if it’s fate.
“Son of a bitch!”
That cry comes from the other side of the fire pit. Both Charlotte and I flinch when we hear it. It sounds like, and indeed is, the creepy little weasel who was skulking around the buffet earlier. He’s dancing around in the sand, holding his hand close to his chest. His eyes are squinty as he points at one of the baton twirlers. The poor girl looks horrified. “You idiot! You burned my hand!” he howls, shoving the injured appendage in the poor kid’s face. Her knees are practically knocking together.
“I’m sorry! You took a swing at me!” she cries. Everyone’s riveted on the scene now. The man snorts.
“It’s called making a pass, you brainless—” He gets interrupted by one of the hotel guys in white polos coming over. The kid looks furious as he gets in the man’s face.
“Sir, maybe you should get your hand looked at.” His voice is ice, and the creep only sneers at the poor boy.
“I’m suing the hotel for this. You can’t have untrained fire dancers on your property, and you can’t be rude to your guests!”
The kid is about to yell and make this worse. On instinct, I step in between them. The creep looks me up and down and snorts. “Great, just what I need. Some Ken doll to the rescue.”
“You have no right to take legal recourse against the resort.” I narrow my eyes at him. “The demarcation line between the hotel property and the public beach is at least a hundred feet that way.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Also, the hotel staff isn’t here on duty. Isn’t that right?” I look over at the kid, who jerks his head in a nod.
“Yeah. We’re just here for the party,” he grumbles.
“Like I said. You have no legal recourse to take, especially when you tried to grab a girl wielding a flaming baton. In fact, if you don’t want a sexual harassment lawsuit aimed at you, I’d suggest leaving the party now. I’m sure the hotel has a doctor who can give you some burn ointment.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and the creep flushes red. He finally pushes past me, grumbling as he tromps away from the party and back towards the hotel. There’s a smattering of applause, much of it from the baton girl and the two middle-aged guys in hula skirts and Hawaiian shirts. As the sun sets down over the ocean, casting a blood red and orange light over the party, I feel kind of in the spotlight.
And it feels good. Especially when I catch Charlotte’s eye, and see her watching me with…I want to say it’s pride.
Nothing could make me feel taller or more confident than that look. The kid from the hotel shakes my hand, but I can’t stop staring at my wife.
“Dude, you’re the best. Thanks for that. I was about to punch that jackass,” the kid says. I clap his shoulder.
“No worries. Glad I could help.” And with that, I return to my bride. She’s snatched a couple of fruit punches in the meantime, and hands one to me. It tastes spiked. Excellent.
“What should we do now?” Charlotte purrs, taking a deep drink of her punch. She cuddles close to me as they bring out a limbo stick, and everyone starts going to drunken town, trying their best to go under.
“I say let’s do our best with that thing,” I say, nodding at the limbo. “You know. To limber us up for…later.”
Charlotte clinks plastic cups with me. “I’ll drink to that,” she whispers, her eyes hooded with lust. I take a large, healthy swig of sugary alcohol. This night cannot get any better.
This night got a lot worse. I should have remembered to stretch before limbo-ing, because you can’t be as damn young as you were. My back’s twinged now, and Charlotte’s got my arm around her shoulders, helping me back to the hotel path. I know I’ll be fine by morning, but our nightly activities are going to have to be postponed.
Son of a bitch.
“It’s okay,” Charlotte soothes, helping me down the path to the pool. The pools are lit up, all brilliant aquamarine against the velvet tropical darkness. At least we won’t fall in. That’s some comfort.
“So our first day was hit and miss.” I wince a little, but lean over and kiss her. “Tomorrow. I swear.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” She nestles against me, more than I can possibly deserve. I’m so fixated on her I almost don’t notice the kid running towards us out of the darkness. In fact, I almost walk straight into him—he comes the hell out of nowhere.
“Hey!” It’s the boy from the beach, the one who nearly punched the jerk in the face. He grins at us, all the while trying to catch his breath. “I told my boss about you. Mr. Lee. He owns the whole resort, and he said you might’ve saved us some legal trouble. He wants to say thank you.”
“Well that’s…nice of him.” How do I politely tell this kid to get out of here? Maybe Emma’s right. I’m too agreeable for my own good.
“He wanted to offer you both a complimentary outing tomorrow. You ever been snorkeling?” He doesn’t wait for our response. “It’s by this amazing reef a mile or so off shore. There’re supposed to be sea turtles this time of year. It’s incredible.”
“That’s nice,” I start to say, and want to finish with ‘but I’m going to be entangled in a day of eroticism with my wife tomorrow starting first thing, and I only want to be disturbed for room service.’ However, Charlotte lights up.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling. I was a marine studies major in college,” she tells the kid conversationally. I want to go find a palm tree and bang my head against it a few times. I need to stop helping people in legal snafus. It only keeps me from getting laid. “Babe, can we go?”
“Of course,” I say, because how the hell am I going to say no to my wife when she’s excited? Another morning up early, and without sex.
These fish had better be fucking amazing.
5
Charlotte
The humuhumunukunukuapua’a is the Hawaiian state fish, and I realize that I remembered how to spell it from back in the college days. That lifts my spirits even higher as I swim among the little guys, which are sort of shaped like a football and have the expression of a surprised accountant in April. They flutter past me, along with schools of neon orange fish that flash in and out among sprays of pink coral. And yes, there are sea turtles. They glide along beneath me, sedately ignoring the pack of flipping, snorkeling tourists overhead.
Justin’s nearby, peering down at the whole valley of sea life beneath us. Purple spiny urchins, waving sea anemones…man, I’d forgotten how much this all used to interest me. I wonder if the hotel has guides to Hawaiian sea life.
I wonder if Justin can say humuhumunukunukuapua’a five times fast. Or even one time slow. I couldn’t make it halfway through without bursting into laughter.
My husband is going for a deep dive, plunging down beneath the waves and swimming hard to get closer to the bottom. A trail of bubbles rises to the surface, and I just enjoy watching him. When swimming, those glorious back muscles of his ripple, and…well, there’s no harm in being turned on by the man you’re mar
ried to.
God, the only downside of this snorkeling expedition is that we didn’t get a nice, lazy morning to stay in and…not sleep. I could’ve kicked myself when I realized the timetable I’d put us on. But Justin didn’t complain. He’s just that saintly.
Or disinterested.
Screw it. I shove that dumb thought away and swim over as he resurfaces. He bobs in the water, pulling his mask off. His eyes are glowing with excitement.
“You were right to want to do this, Char. I think I almost got clocked by a turtle.”
I laugh, putting my arms around his neck. We float in the middle of the ocean. There are worse fates out there. “I almost want to take scuba diving lessons. Really get a chance to explore the ocean, you know?” Maybe when we get home, I could look into lessons. Hell, if Justin was into it, it could be an exciting couple’s activity…
That is, if we ever find the time. I shake that gloomy thought away. Stay in the present. That’s what I’ve got to try to do.
“That’s adventurous.” Justin says it with a smile. “I like this side of you.”
The side I don’t show the world often enough. The side that’s gotten lost under kids and dental appointments and carpools and—
Enough, brain. We’re surrounded by turtles and my husband has his shirt off. This is what it means to be alive.
“I like…every side of you.” I don’t care that it makes no sense. What matters is that Justin leans close, and his lips brush against mine. It’s magical, and—
And we suddenly go tumbling out of each other’s arms and spin around and around in the water. I try turning over, but can’t. Sea water floods my nose, and I gag, forcing myself not to cough or gasp for air since I’m still underwater. I pitch, twist, and claw my way back to the surface. Once I break, I cough a mouthful of the ocean and spit for good measure. Damn, how is it even during my sexy moments I go ass over teakettle, as my mom used to say? How did I ever breed?
“Justin?” My voice pitches higher as I look around and can’t find him. Oh no. my snorkel and mask fell away, but I’m ready to plunge down and go searching when someone’s arms wrap around my waist. Yelping, I bring back my elbow and jab him in the shoulder…and listen to my husband’s cry of surprise.
“Babe, it’s me! I’m fine.” He whirls me around, grimacing a bit. “And you’ve still got power in your arm.”
“It’s from years of pitching softball.” Maybe I should just swim down and let the sea turtles eat me. I doubt they’re carnivorous, but might as well give them the option. “I’d like to say that’s what we in the marine studies department liked to call a rogue wave, but I think those tend to be a lot bigger and more dangerous. I think we’re just really off our swim game.”
“At least you’re all right.” Justin pulls me close and squints in the distance. The boat and the tourists look much further away now. “We seem to be closer to the shore than the others.” Indeed, the white sandy beach glistens about a quarter mile away. I shrug.
“I think that should be fine. Unless they think they misplaced us and that this expedition turned into a real Open Water type of situation.” Eesh. Even I don’t think getting stranded at sea is funny, no matter how weird that movie was.
“Then I’ll race you.” Justin winks and takes off at a graceful clip. I flip away behind him, speeding through the waves until we wash up on the shoreline. I kick the flippers off and track Justin by his footprints in the virgin sand. He’s waiting for me near an outcropping of smooth, black rocks. I sit beside him as the tide rushes up and gently washes over our toes. The sea foam is delicate as lace. It’s a breathtaking day.
I lean my head against my husband’s shoulder. “I’ll bet this isn’t the way you thought you’d be spending your honeymoon.” I sigh.
“What, spending it with my wife?” Justin plants a kiss on the top of my head. It’s an affectionate…friendly kind of kiss. I try not to cry at the thought. “Baby. Charlotte.” His voice adopts a more serious tone. It’s deeper, a little more, well, commanding. That gets my attention. Justin’s frowning down at me. “If there’s something you want to tell me, you can. I can handle it.”
He sounds actually pained, like he’s bracing himself for something. He even narrows his eyes. I sit up, nearly losing my balance as a rush of water comes up over us.
“Tell you what? How I’m sorry I nearly got us drowned? How the luau last night was probably a disaster?” I swallow the tightness from my throat. “How I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t that into me anymore? How I can’t get the hotel’s TV remote to work?”
“Forget that last one, I can’t figure it out either,” he growls. Justin kneels before me, outlined against the sun. It’s like a golden god suddenly appearing and looking kind of pissed off. I recommend it. “What do you mean I’m not that into you?”
Well, if we’re doing this, we might as well do it on a secluded beach. It’s a lot more picturesque than in a stalled out car on the 405 North. “I’m not saying you don’t love me. Only that it’s clear your attention is elsewhere.” I sit up as well, straight backed, because two can play the golden god game. “You couldn’t wait to get on the phone yesterday when we were nearly rolling around in bed. You didn’t mind going to the luau or snorkeling.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.” He says every word in Lawyer Voice™, like he’s debating someone hard over the wording in a contract. “I didn’t want to put pressure on you to want everything that I want. For fuck sake, Charlotte, if it were up to me we’d have never left the hotel room!”
My body freezes. My mind kind of whirrs, like back in the 90s when your cassette reached the end and you had to rewind. God, how did we survive back in the dinosaur age?
That is not the point. The point is that Justin has a wild, bewildered light in his eyes, and sea spray glistening on his chest and shoulders. It’s an erotic, amazing sight.
“I thought…I thought you were tired of me. You know. Boring. Mom. Does nothing but be a boring mom.” Might as well admit everything while we’re about to get drowned by the incoming tide. “I figured that was at least one reason you spent so much time at the office.”
“Tired?” Justin releases that word with a breath. His face goes slack, his expression amazed. “How could I get tired of you?” He leans down, sending me pressed back into the sand. He’s on top of me, an almost predatory light in his eyes. My heart’s pounding. I could not be more aroused than I am right now. “How could I let you feel I’d gotten tired of you?”
“Well.” I swallow, then slide one leg around his back, pulling him flush against me. “How are you going to prove I’m wrong?”
“Like this.” With that, he claims my mouth in a searing kiss. His deliciously stubbled cheek rasps against mine, and he kisses down my neck. I arch beneath him, moaning as he slides one bathing suit strap off my shoulder, and then another. I gasp as he pulls my suit down, exposing my breasts and stomach to the Hawaiian sun. My natural impulse is to cover up, because how can anyone find the same body sexy after fifteen years? And I am not an exhibitionist; I never once dressed like a slutty cat or fire fighter or Predator during Halloween.
But the way Justin regards me now, his chest heaving, a wicked light dancing in his eyes, is enough to make me forget everything. Everything but him, and how much I need him inside of me.
“You’re beautiful.” He’s not paying lip service in that moment. I know that it’s real. I gasp as he falls on top of me, lavishing kisses on my breasts. I gasp as he sucks my nipple until it’s hard and peaked. His tongue flicks against it, making my breathing come hotter and heavier. Yes. More of that. Lots more.
“Even now? After all this time?” Damn, I’m a strong woman. My voice shouldn’t quake when I ask my husband this question. But he looks at me, those blue eyes of his blazing with need.
“Even more,” he whispers, and kisses down my stomach. My hips wriggle as he slides my bathing suit completely off. Fuck, I don’t care. All I care is that he lifts my hi
ps a little off the ground, and in one wild instant I feel his tongue lap against my sex.
Every practical thought in my head, and there are a few of them—that we’re on a beach, that the tide could come in, that someone could photograph this and put it online and my kids will see it someday twenty years from now and be scarred for life and never come home for Thanksgiving again—all of those thoughts pack the fuck up and fly out the window. Because the moment I feel Justin’s mouth on me, I can already feel the orgasm building, pushing me to the brink.
“Justin.” I start crying his name, looking down at him. He looks up at me, his eyes burning with desire. Yes. Desire for me, and for my body, and I can’t believe this is real right now.
“Just relax,” he whispers, and licks me in a sweet, hot line. I lie back against the sand and close my eyes, the roaring of the surf around us receding as my husband flicks his tongue against my throbbing clit, again and again. My whole body begins to shudder as I gasp and writhe, Justin holding my hips steady. His tongue spears inside of me, and he moans in appreciation. “You’re so ready,” he whispers reverently.
I am, indeed, wet and ready for him. I grind against his hand as he slips one, then two fingers inside of me, pumping rhythmically while he continues to lap at my clit. There are sunbursts behind my closed eyes, and a second later I arch up off the ground, calling his name as the orgasm spirals through me, shaking my body to its core.
“Justin. Oh, fuck,” I moan, trembling as he climbs up me and lays me down again. His mouth claims mine, hard, and I taste myself on his lips. I’m moaning and bucking against him, my hips grinding against his. I feel his erection, and I’m betting it’s harder than it’s been in ages.
“Charlotte.” His voice is low, husky, nearly a growl. He pulls down his suit, and his cock is hard and ready for me. He settles on top of me, running the tip of his cock up and down the wet seam of my pussy. Whimpering, I wrap my legs around his back and try to slide him inside of me, but he resists. He goes in to the tip, then pulls out, then rubs my clit again. By the third time he does it, I’m delirious and panting with need.
