“Fuck, that’s right, baby,” he whispered as she climaxed. “I can feel you clenching around me. God, you feel so fucking good. Keep coming for me, love.” He paused in his strokes and kept rubbing her clit, and she kept coming. And coming. And it felt like it was tearing her apart at the seams . . . in a good way.

By the time he’d wrung every last shudder out of her, she was limp on the bed, dazed with pleasure. He kissed her again, and her own response was languid. “God, I love how drowsy and well-fucked you look,” he murmured, and thrust hard into her again. “Makes me want to come. Right. Now.” He punctuated each word with a hard thrust.

“Yes,” she breathed, dragging her fingers through the curls of his hair. “Come for me, Sebastian.” And with a wicked grin, she added, “Stud.”

His laugh choked off and his hands tensed, his eyes closing. His next thrust was wildly rocking, and she felt his entire body jerk as he came, giving in to the pleasure. Then he collapsed on top of her, pressing more kisses to her neck. “Fuuuck.”

“Yeah.” She sounded so pleased. So utterly sated. She hugged Sebastian’s sweaty body against her. “Okay, so that was pretty amazing.” She patted his shoulder. “You did good.”

He laughed, rolling onto his side and pulling her along with him. “Just good?”

“All right. Let me think up a Sebastian comparison.” She tilted her head and then offered, “You did as well as expected.”

He groaned and nipped her jawline. “Damning me with faint praise, woman.”

“Not really. My expectations were really, really high.” As he continued to press soft kisses to her skin, she sighed with pleasure once more. “Really high.”

“Then I am as pleased as . . .” He thought for a moment. “As . . . a lottery winner.”

Giggles erupted from her throat. “That is quite possibly the worst comparison ever.”

“What? Have you ever seen a sad lottery winner? I don’t think you have.”

Her laughter bubbled, and she hugged him close. “I am the happiest lottery winner myself, then.”

“Want to take a shower?”

“Sounds good,” she said between kisses. “Give me a moment and I’ll join you. I need to de-gear.” She gestured at her skates.

He nodded and pressed one last kiss to her mouth, then bounded up from the bed, seemingly full of energy despite the intense round of sex they’d just had.

She watched him go appreciatively, enjoying the way his ass bunched and flexed as he moved. He really did have the nicest ass. Small and firm, like an apple. Then she chuckled at her own bad comparison. She slowly got up from the bed and began to unlace. She paused, then looked to the bedside table for her phone. It was there.

She grabbed it and texted Pisa.

Chesty: Who’s got two thumbs and just had amazing damn sex with her new husband?

Pisa’s reply came immediately.

Pisa: OMG!! SHUT UP! YAY!! I’m so happy for you!!

Chesty: Right? And two orgasms! Two!! One earlier in the locker room to boot!!

Pisa: So that’s what Cherry was texting me about! She said you got some in the locker room. I thought you got into a brawl!

Chesty: Nah! I GOT LAID!

Pisa: Yayyy!!! Next time we hang, drinkies are on me!

Chelsea grinned and sent a quick “bye, bitch” to her friend, then texted Gretchen, as well.

Chelsea: Remember that thing I told you about at lunch the other day? Turns out I lied. Sex with Sebastian is awesome.

Gretchen: Woohoo! Does this mean you don’t need the handcuffs? Because I will take them off your hands.

Chelsea: Uh, ew. And I’m going to keep them, thanks.

Gretchen: Party pooper. But seriously, I hope you came for days.

Chelsea: NAILED IT.

Gretchen: YISSSSSSS. GET SOME.

Gretchen: We must celebrate tomorrow with bridesmaid gown shopping. I’ll pick you up at one. You are not allowed to decline.

Chelsea: Ok! Sounds good.

Gretchen: Also go get you some more booty. The night is young!

Sounded like a good idea to her. She tossed her phone aside and finished undressing so she could join Sebastian in the shower.

Chapter Twenty-one

Gretchen stopped by Sebastian’s town house the next day right on time in a chauffeur-driven sedan. Chelsea emerged from the house in sunglasses and a hat, since there were a few photographers camped out near the door. Rufus was with her again, since the paparazzi tended to pay more attention to her when she was accompanied by a big scary bodyguard.

It was clear that Gretchen did not give a damn about photographers, though. She opened the door to the sedan and blew a party horn, then handed Chelsea a plastic crown as she got into the car.

“What’s this?” Chelsea asked, putting the crown on her head. It had a gigantic zero in the front. “We starting the bridal shower games early?”

“No! That is a ‘Congrats on the Big O’ crown!” She blew the horn again, earning Chelsea an embarrassed look from the driver and a frown from Rufus.

She giggled and adjusted the crown. It wasn’t a zero, then. It was an O. “Hooray for good sex,” she agreed.

Gretchen high-fived her. “I would have made you a cake, but that seemed cliché. And I’m dieting.”

“Still? You look gorgeous. You can come skate with me in Central Park if you want. My regular workout partner moved away.”

Gretchen made a face. “Hard pass. I think I’d rather eat salad. I’m allergic to sweating.”

“Uh huh.”

She fluttered her lashes. “This is my party anyhow. Don’t ruin it with talk of workouts and things. Let’s talk about . . .” She held up a bridal magazine. “Hideous bridal party dresses. I’m thinking something that rustles and has hoops. What do you say?”

Chelsea’s lips twitched. “I think your sister would kill you.”

“Which is half the fun, right?” She flipped through a few pages of the catalog. “I’m thinking something Grecian. One shoulder, etcetera. You have any heinous tattoos we should probably cover up?”

“Not me. Where are the others?”

“Oh, Greer was feeling a little under so she and Taylor are going to meet us at the bridal shop. Audrey’s working, of course. Kat’s in Germany for a publishing thing. Edie had a cat thing.” Gretchen flipped through a few more pages. “What about . . . Grecian and hoop skirts?”

“How about no?” Chelsea adjusted her crown.

“You might get outvoted.”

“Oh, somehow I doubt that.”

Gretchen pointed at the magazine. “You’re not jealous, are you? Of the fact that I get to be bridezilla for a year and you hauled off to New Orleans for the world’s quickest wedding? Because if you are, I can totally shut up.”

“No, I like hearing about the bridal stuff,” Chelsea said, smiling. “I don’t mind in the slightest.” Actually, her mood was pretty fucking spectacular at the moment. It felt like nothing could bring her down. “And I’m glad we didn’t have a big wedding. You saw all the photographers outside the house. That was because we quietly got married. Imagine what it’d be like if there was a big to-do?”

And it’d have taken her that much longer to sleep with Sebastian. The idea seemed criminal.

“I’m still not entirely sure why you two jumped the gun,” Gretchen said, flipping open a perfume insert in the magazine and sniffing it.

“We just . . . fell in love.” The lie felt weird on her tongue, and Chelsea frowned, her mood deflating a little. The story was starting to feel a little thin. Especially now that their relationship was moving away from just friends to something else. What were they now, exactly? Married friends with benefits? She didn’t know what to call it.

She still didn’t know what they were, and it was a little depressing, especially after last night. When they’d gotten out of the shower, they’d made love again, slow and sweet, Chelsea in her uniform once more. Then he’d held her for hours and they’d just talked while he lightly traced the veins under her skin. She’d felt cherished, adored, and loved.