My core clenches when I hear him say dick in his gruff voice. I can only imagine what he’s like in the bedroom. Based on the way he acts around me while we merely pretend we’re madly in love, I presume he’s just as impassioned, if not more so. And I bet he’s one hell of a dirty talker.
“No.” I fight against the heat washing over my face at the idea of Julian’s bedroom voice. “I didn’t nickname his dick. And he certainly never gave me mind-blowing orgasms.” I add the last part as an afterthought.
“So who’s Mr. Winky?” he inquires, and I’m grateful he doesn’t push the Trevor issue. In fact, until Julian brought him up, I haven’t thought of Trevor all night, regardless that he’s also here with Theresa. I’m simply too consumed with Julian and everything he is. The way he dotes on me and takes care of me doesn’t leave any room to worry about Trevor.
“Only the best battery-operated boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
He laughs loudly and slings his arm over my shoulders. “I love that you’re not embarrassed to talk about this stuff.”
I shrug. “It’s my job to talk about sex. Literally. Nothing fazes me anymore. I’ve seen it all. Some things I wish I could unsee.”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You definitely don’t. All I’m saying is there’s a fetish for everyone and everything. And I do mean ev-ry-thing.”
“Duly noted.”
I turn my eyes back to the shore, able to make out the sound of the crashing waves and the fizzling of foam as the saltwater spreads across the sand. It’s a cloudless night, the stars twinkling above us against the dark. There’s a slight breeze, as there usually is along the coast, causing a chill to run through me, despite the moderately warm temperatures.
Noticing me shiver, Julian shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, draping it over my shoulders. I glance behind me, offering him a smile of thanks. I expect him to return to my side. Instead, he wraps his arms around my body, pulling me against him, my back to his front. As if this were a dance we’d done dozens of times before, I melt into him, reveling in his embrace. Nothing about this feels stilted or awkward. It’s so natural, so familiar, so effortless.
Bathing in his warmth, I smile at a few nearby guests as they assemble to watch the fireworks. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Trevor standing with Theresa. I must admit, he’s rather handsome in his tuxedo, his hair freshly trimmed. Twelve years together and this is the first time I’ve seen him in a tux. The thought should anger me more, but it doesn’t. Maybe if I’d never met Julian I’d be sitting on Chloe’s couch, lamenting about how Trevor could leave me for someone boring like Theresa, but it no longer bothers me. Julian’s right. So is Chloe. Why should I want to be with someone who doesn’t appreciate me for me?
As I observe their awkwardness, struggling to see any connection between the two, Trevor glances in my direction and our eyes meet. He swallows hard when he sees me safe and secure in Julian’s arms. Julian must notice Trevor staring. His embrace tightening, he caresses my stomach with his left hand, the one closest to Trevor. The gentle contact sends a rush of exhilaration through me, each brush of his thumb moving higher and higher. I hold my breath as he nears the curve of my breast.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “I’ll stop if you say so. No hard feelings.”
“Don’t stop,” I exhale. There’s no way I could tell him no. Not now. Not when I’m wound this tightly. I’m fully aware it’s just for show, to make people think we’re a real couple, but if that’s the only reason Julian’s putting on this display, so be it. Who cares if it’s not real? All I do care about is savoring in this moment. And in this moment, I just want Julian’s hands on my body.
“Goddamn,” he hisses as he grazes the bottom of my breasts. When he pulls my body even tighter against his, he groans, grinding against me.
“Down boy,” I joke. Feeling how turned on he is gives my confidence an added boost. Say what you will, but there’s nothing as empowering for a woman as knowing she has the ability to turn on a man, to bring him to his knees, to make him desperate for just a taste, a feel, a touch.
“I can’t help it. He has a mind of his own, especially when you’re around.”
Music fills the exterior speakers and, seconds later, a loud boom echoes. Everyone “oohs” and “aahs” as their attention shifts to the horizon, the brilliant colors of the fireworks bright against the dark canvas. But Julian’s attention remains focused entirely on me.
When his hips circle a slow, sensual rhythm against my body, I moan, leaning my head against his chest. I try to concentrate on the fireworks in the sky, not the ones erupting in my core at the sensation of his seductive teasing. My nipples strain against my dress, my body’s reaction at odds with the warning my brain sounds, telling me to retreat, that I’d drawn lines for a reason. I couldn’t retreat now if I wanted to, a carnal need to experience more of Julian driving me forward, regardless of the possible consequences.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought of you these past few weeks?” His teeth skim against my neck, causing a jolt of electricity to rush through me, hot and needy. Surrounded by all these people, I fight to maintain my composure. With each word, each nip, each touch, it’s becoming more and more impossible.
“How many?” I manage to squeak out as I keep my eyes glued to the gorgeous display in front of us commemorating our country’s independence. I can’t help but feel that this weekend marks the start of my independence, too. The start of a new chapter in my life.
“I lost count. At the office. In the shower… In my bed.”
I bite my lower lip, fantasies clouding my brain. Barging in on Julian when he’s at work and seducing him at his desk. Surprising him in the shower and having him slam me against the cool tile, the way he fucks me hungry and insatiable. Then crawling in beside him in the middle of the night. Without a word, he’d show me the tender lover I sense is hidden somewhere beneath the mask. I barely know this man, yet the fantasies in my head are so real, as if someone’s able to show me a piece of him I’ll never be able to have.
“Have you thought of me?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer, squeezing my legs together as pressure slowly builds inside me, on the brink of bubbling over. I fear if it’s not released, I’ll explode into a vibrant show more brilliant than the fireworks in the sky.
He runs his hands along my stomach, my muscles clenching. With each journey north, he retreats with a path traveling farther south. He presses me into the ledge, shielding curious onlookers from noticing when he dips his hand into the slit of my dress.
“Have you thought of me during one of your dates with your so-called Mr. Winky?”
Normally I’d giggle at the sound of anyone else calling my battery-operated boyfriend by his name. But I’m too turned on to find humor in anything right now. Instead, all I can do is answer truthfully.
“Yes.”
“When was the last time?”
“Last night.”
“Fuck.” His grip on me tightens. The warmth of his hand brushing against the waist of my panties causes my breathing to increase, my chest to heave at the promise of what’s to come. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” I adjust my stance, parting my legs slightly, signaling him with my body how much I want this. Chloe and Nora have done the no-strings thing. I can do that, too. I hope. “God, yes.”
When he slips his hand beneath the line of my panties, I grip the ledge harder, my jaw clenching as I do everything in my power not to draw attention to us.
“Is this okay?” he asks once more as his fingers leisurely make their way farther south.
“Yes.” I’m no longer standing on the verandah of a ridiculously opulent mansion in the Hamptons overlooking the ocean as we watch an excessive fireworks display. I’m flying, the ground nothing but a speck of dust.
He groans again as he brushes his fingers against my skin. “He really did make you get waxed, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
When he grazes my center, I whimper, in another place, another time, another universe. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.”