Page 57 of The All-Inclusive

“I have to—” He stops himself, dragging his forearm over his mouth like he’s wiping away what just happened. “I need to—fuck!”

He sprints for the door, flinging it open and fleeing before I can stop him. I’m still naked and trying to deal with the condom and the beautiful woman who’s watching him run with a dumbfounded look in her eyes.

She swivels to face me, her cheeks going pale as she stares at the condom. A drizzle of come leaks from the edge as I snatch it and tie it off quickly.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, though I’m not sure it is. We have Plan-B here for occasions like this, but I have no idea how she feels about that.

“I’m on the pill.” It’s almost like someone else speaking, like a ventriloquist took over her body. “I—I’m not worried about that.”

That, being a rivulet of semen squiggling from the top of her thigh to her still-swollen folds. I’m the professional here, but I’m not sure what to do first. Grab her a washcloth, or go after her freaked-out boyfriend?

Sara’s comfort takes priority, so I lean in and kiss her, then make a beeline for the bathroom. “Be right back.” I rush to the sink and wet down a white cotton cloth while getting rid of the condom. I’m cursing myself and the prophylactic at the same time.

Why the hell did I kiss Trent?

But he kissed me first. That’s how it happened, though admittedly, my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now. I start torace back to the bedroom, then order myself to slow down. Someone should be calm here, and that needs to be me. I paste on a smile that I hope looks serene as I fold the washcloth into a perfect triangle.

Sara’s sitting up with her sexy black lingerie askew and her hair a rumpled mess. She’s watching the door like she thinks Trent might return any second. At the sound of my footsteps, she swivels to face me.

“Did that really just happen?”

I sit down beside her, trying to keep my voice even. “You might have to be more specific.”

She looks at my mouth like the answer lies there and I find myself aching to kiss her. To press her back on the bed and have her again becauseGod,she felt so fucking good. That tight little body, her sharp cries of pleasure, the squeeze of her slick walls around me. She’s so fucking perfect I almost can’t breathe as I force my gaze back to her face.

She sits there, blinking rapidly, still trying to process what happened. “You fucked me and the condom leaked.” She sounds like she’s reading from a risqué teleprompter. “Trent came in my mouth and then kissed you.”

“Yeah.” The sequence of things sounds a little bit off, but that’s pretty much how it went. I’m sponging her gently with the washcloth when she catches my wrist to stop me.

“Let me do it.” Dragging the cloth from my hand, she mops herself up and straightens her lacy black underthings. She’s not saying much, which seems like a bad sign.

“Sara? How are you feeling?”

She looks up and steadies her gaze. “Up until the moment Trent ran from the room, I was feeling pretty fantastic.” Her pale forehead furrows. “Sounds exactly like the night of my bachelorette party, come to think of it.”

I haven’t heard this story yet. “What happened then?”

“I was tipsy and told Trent we should get married right then,that night.” Her gaze goes to the window and her voice sounds far away, like she’s back there again. “I said we should have a sweet little clandestine ceremony a few weeks before the wedding, so we’d have this deliciously filthy secret, just the two of us. We could have all the sneaky sex we wanted without anyone ever knowing. Our special little hush-hush hookup, you know?”

“Yeah.” And I also know something she doesn’t.

Why words likehush-hushandsneaky sexandfilthy secretmight send Trent spiraling.

“Now that I think about it,” she says, “It makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.” She looks down at the limp cloth in her hand. “He told me after he got here that during our breaks, he had sex with other people.”

“He did?” Interesting. “What did he tell you exactly?”

“I guess he’s tried a lot of rough stuff.” She doesn’t sound as upset as I might’ve expected. “Spanking and handcuffs and ropes and hand necklaces.” A pink flush floods from her chest to her cheeks. “I had to Google that last one.”

“Yeah, it’s—a common fantasy.” I get at least two requests a week in the app. “Did that upset you?”

She shrugs, still twisting the cloth in her hands. “Not as much as you’d think. Honestly, I always assumed he hooked up with other women when we were apart. In a weird way, Iwantedhim to.”

I need to tread carefully here. She’s fragile, though probably stronger than I’ve given her credit for. Taking the cold, wet cloth from her hands, I set it aside on the nightstand. “Why do you think you wanted him to have sex with other people?”

---