I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, a challenge. I accept. So how’s this? The two of you are everything to me. You’re all I ever want.”

“Can we name her Paige then? Or Jessica? Or Sarah?”

I shake my head. “Or maybe Finn or Caleb for a boy?”

She shakes her head, and laughs. “Some day, we’ll find names we both like.”

“Yeah, I bet we’re going to be those parents who pick the name as they leave the hospital with the kid,” I say.

Then I curve a hand around the back of her neck, and pull her in for a deep kiss, searching her mouth with my tongue, tasting the sweet sugary Coke on her lips. Her hair tickles my stubbled jaw, and I kiss her harder, needing more of her, wanting all of her. I hold her tight in my hands and kiss and kiss and kiss until my lips feel bruised and my dick’s about to burst in my underwear.

“Harley,” I tell her, as I pull apart. “It’s our last night here, and we need to go christen the beach.”

“We do?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you think?”

“Isn’t beach sex overrated?”

“Have you ever had beach sex?”

She swats me with a pillow. “You know the answer to that.”

“Well, I haven’t either. So why don’t we go find out?” I suggest as I slide a hand between her legs, and grin wildly as I touch her. “Because I’m pretty sure you want to.”

“Grab a blanket and let’s go.”

It’s past three in the morning and the beach is quiet, the moon and the ocean our only companions. But you never know, so we find a spot near the rocks, shielded on one side. The glow of the full moon spreads across the water, lighting up a path along the ocean as I spread out a blanket. I tug her down next to me, and wrap a second blanket over her shoulders. “For privacy,” I whisper, as I sit and pat my thighs. “Climb up on me.”

She follows my directions, wrapping her sexy legs around me. She’s wearing a long T-shirt and underwear, and I’m still in my briefs. I push against her once, feeling her heat through the cotton layers. She sighs happily.

“I have a question for you,” I say. “Before we were together, for real, back when we were friends, did you ever masturbate to me?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No.”

I pretend to pout. “Not once?”

“It’s never really been my thing.”

“You didn’t even think about me?”

“I thought about you a lot, but I never masturbated. Why? Did you?”

I nod, and wiggle my eyebrows. “All the fucking time.”

Her brown eyes widen with surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Does this shock you? Yeah, of course I jerked off to you. I was fucking crazy about you and I wanted you, and I had to deny how much I wanted you, so I had no choice but to jack off.”

“What did you think about when you masturbated?”

“You want to know?”

“You say that like I don’t.”

I bend my head to her neck, lick a path from her throat to her earlobe, and flick my tongue against her ear. A whimper escapes her lips. “Almost always, I thought about going down on you.”

“You did?”

I kiss her jawline now, and she stretches her neck, giving me more room to burn a trail of hot, wet kisses along her delicious skin. “I love tasting you. It’s my favorite thing in the world. I went down on you so many times in my fantasies, Harley.”

She starts moving her hips against me, rubbing her damp panties against my erection. “Tell me more,” she whispers in a ragged voice.

I roll my hips against her. “I pictured eating you out in a million positions. Sometimes you were on my bed with your legs spread wide open, like the first time. Sometimes, you were against the wall and I was down on my knees, licking you while you grabbed by my hair. Other times, I’d lie down on the bed, and you’d crawl up on me, and sit on my face, like you did the first night here. Sometimes I’d picture you on all fours and me going down on you from behind, licking you that way.”

She gasps, and starts to gyrate against me. “Did you like that?”

“Feel how hard I am. You tell me,” I say, thrusting against her.

She closes her eyes momentarily as she feels me, rock hard. “I can’t believe you love going down on me as much as I love it when you do it.”

“It’s like the perfect symbiotic relationship,” I joke.

“Do you want to go down on me right now?” she asks, as she rocks against me, her panties growing damper by the second.

“I always do. Will you let me?”

She pulls back, shakes her head. “Not outside. But I think I’m going to come pretty soon, so I’d really like to have sex here on the beach,” she says, scooting off me momentarily to remove her panties. She glances from side to side, and then cranes her neck to make sure no one is walking nearby. The coast is clear; our only company is the dark of night that blankets us. I take off my underwear, and pull her back onto me, but she stops before I can enter her.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Show me,” she says, her eyes all wild with lust. “Show me how you touched yourself when you got off to me.”

“Gladly,” I say, and I slide my fingers between her legs, coating them with her. I take my cock in my hand, slide her wetness over me, and stroke myself up and down. “So much better when I have you on me,” I say, watching her eyes as her gaze lowers. She stares, gape-jawed, at me touching myself. “This is what I did thinking of you, so many fucking times. Always you. Only you. I wanted you so much. I wanted to touch you again, and taste you, and make you come over and over,” I say, and my breaths come faster as I stroke harder.

“Oh god,” she says, leaning her head back. “Please.”

There’s only one answer to that, so I grip her hips, lift her up, and bring her down on me. She cries out, and then silences her moans by biting down on my shoulder. I fucking love that she’s so turned on, she has to muffle herself.

“You feel so good,” I tell her as I guide her up and down.

“So do you,” she murmurs. Then she brings her lips to my ear. “I love that you used to masturbate to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I love that you thought about me.”

“All the fucking time. I always wanted you. I will always want you,” I tell her, as I roll my hips up against her.

“I want to watch you sometime,” she says.

“You would?”

“Yes. But the thing is, I love fucking you so much, I’d probably make you stop so you could be inside me every time.”

“It’s my favorite place to be,” I tell her, and she starts to move faster. Her breathing becomes labored, and I know she’s not far now, and I’m on the brink, too. “Harley? Can I fuck you hard right now?”

“Yes,” she says, and I grab her hips and thrust into her. Long, hard, deep strokes, and she moans with each one, her cries all I need to keep up the pace, and soon her mouth is on my shoulder again, and she’s biting down, and I feel her clench around me, and draw in a deep, endless breath. And I do the same, coming hard and fast inside her.

“I love California,” I say.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Trey

The flight is packed, and we’re in the second to last row. I peer at my boarding pass once more, then at Harley’s, as we wait for the family ahead of us to stow their luggage. The flight attendant helps them find room in the cramped compartments.

“Crap. You’re in 34E. I’m in 35E,” I say over Harley’s shoulder when I notice the seat assignments.

She pushes out her bottom lip. “Bummer. I’ll have to write you notes and slip them into your seat like in high school.”

“Make mine dirty.” I place our bags in the overhead.

“Have a good flight,” she says, as she takes 34E.

“You too.”

As I buckle my seatbelt, the woman next to me clears her throat. She’s knitting something silvery, maybe a sparkly scarf or something, and her dark blond hair is pulled into a clip. “If your wife doesn’t mind a middle seat, I’d be happy to switch,” she offers.