By the time we're done brushing our teeth and are crawling into bed, Alec has gone quiet.

  But she's the one making noises.

  Rafe and I glance at each other, then laugh quietly. "There were a few reviews about noise traveling, but I assumed they meant, like, the living room. Not that the bedroom walls were paper thin," I whisper.

  "Their bed is right up against the same wall," he says, gesturing. "So they're, like, right there."

  We look at the wall behind our headboard, knowing theirs is just on the other side. I get a mental image that I probably shouldn't—Darcy on her knees for Alec while he fucks her mouth. That's probably why we couldn't hear her when we came in, because she was occupied with his dick, muffling any noises she was making.

  But now I'm pretty sure he's going down on her, because the wall is thin enough that I can hear the occasional word. Fuck and there and yes and baby and Alec and more and don't stop.

  "She's pretty loud," I whisper to Rafe, and he grins at me in the dark.

  "Some people are pretty loud."

  "But usually it sounds like they're faking it. This definitely sounds real."

  My orgasms tend to be quiet. I gasp against Rafe's skin, moan into his mouth, speak in hushed tones. I know this because we taped ourselves once. It was our anniversary and we were a little drunk, a little high, and taking full advantage of a child-free night. After watching porn we decided to try and make some ourselves. It was hot, but the next morning I insisted on deleting it. Sometimes I think of trying it again, to see how we sound and look on different occasions, but I'm always concerned that the risk isn't really worth the payoff.

  But unlike me in our homemade video, Darcy is loud. And like I told Rafe, it sounds real. It doesn't sound like a movie, where it's obvious they're acting.

  I wonder what a tape of Darcy and Alec would be like.

  Rafe's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You like it?"

  I look over at him, he's smirking. I roll my eyes.

  "Well, yeah, they're hot. You don't?"

  He snakes his hand into my underwear, finds me wet, and his grin widens.

  "No, you really like it."

  There's a pause in the sounds coming through the wall, and I think they're done. I almost hope they're done, because I shouldn't be getting this turned on by them. For the sake of our friendship it would be best if there's only silence from that side of the wall for the rest of the week.

  But then they start up again, and I can hear both of them. He's done going down on her and now they're fucking.

  My pussy clenches at that realization and Rafe's finger is still probing me gently so he feels it.

  He chuckles.

  "Shut up," I say, burying my face in his chest so he can't see me blush. Apparently I'm a teenager again, blushing when it comes to sex stuff. "It's hot, okay?"

  "It is," he says, finding my clit with his fingers and applying the perfect amount of pressure. He knows me so well and can unlock me like no one else has ever been able to. I sigh against his skin.

  "I'm also really digging that you find it hot. Tell me what you think they're doing."

  "Rafe," I say, looking up at him, because he's talking about our best friends here. "We have to sit across from them at the table tomorrow morning."

  "Is he on top or is she?"

  "He is," I say immediately, without thinking. That's what I'm picturing—she's spread out under him, feet flat on the bed as she arches up towards him. He's propped up on his elbows, muscles straining as he holds himself off her so that he can nip at her tits. This time the 'V' of his Adonis belt doesn't disappear under his shorts. It points exactly where it's meant to: right at the cock that's fucking her, that's disappearing and reappearing with every thrust. Maybe every once in a while, they glance down and watch themselves, watch as his cock slides in and out of her pussy, thick and fast and hard.

  From the other side of the wall, I can tell their pace based on her moans, and the way they're punctuated every second or so.

  "Tell me more," Rafe says, and I can't believe we're doing this, but I do it anyway. I tell him everything I'm picturing, how she slaps his ass and scratches at his back. How she grasps his hair to pull him away from one tit and direct him to the other, and how that long, low moan she just made could be because he scraped her nipple with his teeth.

  Rafe starts thrusting his fingers into me in time with the rhythm we're hearing, and I wrap my hand around his cock. It's like we're doing this all together, all four of us, except they don't know we're participating. But when he starts to groan I press my mouth against his, capturing his noise.

  "We can't let them hear," I whisper. "They'll be so embarrassed."

  I'm not entirely sure that's true—Darcy's more open when it comes to sex than I am. If they heard us, I'd probably die of embarrassment. But if tomorrow we told them that we could hear they'd just shrug it off. Laugh and apologize and say that they hope we got a good show.

  Still, I don't think I want them to know that we heard. I'm afraid they'd be able to tell just how much I enjoyed it.

  He nods and rests his forehead against mine. We pant as we fuck each other with our hands. "Shit," I whisper when he brushes his thumb against my clit.

  "Fuck," he groans quietly when I reach for his balls with my free hand.

  "I'm gonna," he says eventually, and I shake my head, slowing down my hand.

  "Hold on, I'm not quite…"

  But then he strokes my G-spot. Rafe isn't the only guy I've slept with, but he's the only one that's ever figured out that part of me. He's the one who discovered that with the right touch I can come in no time at all. We've started jokingly calling it my instant orgasm button.

  The catch is, it's the one thing I'm not quiet about.

  "Fuck," I groan, and it's loud. Louder than any other noise we've made, and for a moment there's silence on the other side of the wall. Shit. Did they hear us? We freeze, my hand wrapped around Rafe's cock and his fingers buried deep in my pussy, barely even breathing, until we hear some whispers—I can't make out the words—and the noises start up again.

  I tell myself this is good, but only because I'd have felt bad if we'd killed their groove.

  Rafe's fingers graze my G-spot again and I shake my head, not sure I can be as quiet as we need to be. His grin is wicked as he holds up a clean finger to his mouth, signaling that he wants me to try, and then rubs his thumb across my clit.

  I bury my face in his neck, sucking on the skin there, hard, to keep my mouth busy and quiet. His fingers keep moving, focusing mostly on my clit, but occasionally he brushes against my G-spot, and I know it's on purpose. He's teasing me and even though it makes staying quiet harder, and I fucking love it.

  My hand speeds up again, and soon we're both moving at the same tempo, matching the rhythm of the noises from the other side of the wall. I swear they're louder now, they're not even attempting to be quiet, almost like they know we're listening and getting off on it, even though that's ridiculous.

  It's obviously not the case.

  "Bex," Rafe gasps, and I can tell by the way he's losing control that he's close, and he focuses on my G-spot to make sure I'm as close as him. I whimper against his skin, trying to be quiet, to not reveal ourselves to Darcy and Alec. I dig the nails of my free hand into Rafe's back to try and hold on, knowing my frantic suckling at his neck is leaving a hickey that's going to be impossible to hide.

  And then I gasp and come, body spasming in time with every stroke of Rafe's fingers. A millisecond later I feel Rafe's warm release on my stomach, and then almost immediately I hear Darcy on the other side of the wall.

  She's so fucking loud as she comes. Dramatic, which fits with her personality. Yelling Alec's name, swearing, moaning, and then there's a groan that's unmistakably Alec. Honestly, hearing the two of them orgasm at almost the exact same time we did, just a few feet away—even though we're separated by a wall—stirs something deep in me that I can't fully put into words. I look at Rafe and he looks the same, like he's a little bewildered and doesn't want to pick at why, because these are our best friends and we probably shouldn't have done this.

  "They can never know," I whisper, still out of breath from the orgasm and what we just did. He nods.

  "We probably shouldn't have…" he starts, then stops and looks embarrassed, as if he's not sure he should finish the sentence.

  I chew on my bottom lip for a second before adding, "It was really fucking hot, though."

  A look of relief crosses his face, like he's glad to discover that we both apparently have this same kink. He pulls off my shirt to wipe us off, and then I go to the bathroom to clean up. When I come back out, he motions me to the bed. And when I crawl in he flips me on my back and hovers over me for a kiss.

  It's a soft one, gentle. We've used up all our sexual energy for the night, but this is intimacy, romance, love.

  He confirms it by following up with a quiet, "I love you."

  "Love you too," I say, and he gives me one more kiss before stripping my underwear off. He pulls my back to his chest and slips his arm between my breasts as we spoon. We're both naked, skin to skin all the way down, and I snuggle against him, comfortable, safe, and loved.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning I take my time getting ready, not wanting to face Darcy and Alec.

  "It's not that big a deal," Rafe insists as I pull my swimsuit on. Apparently I'm the only one whose dreams consisted of the two of us sitting in a big armchair in the corner of their room, watching as Darcy rides Alec, or as he fucks her doggie style, tits bouncing with every thrust.

  Really, what's wrong with me? Fantasizing about women is nothing new, but fantasizing about Darcy? That definitely is. I don't understand why I can't get the idea of her and Alec out of my head.

  Rafe can tell that I'm distracted. He drops down to my eye level. "Stop thinking about Alec's dick," he teases.

  My face flushes warm, because that's not what's keeping my mind occupied. "I think I'm more interested in Darcy's boobs than Alec's dick," I confess. "I mean, I'm sure his dick is great—after all, the rest of him is. But if I had to choose…"

  "Hot." He wraps his arms around me and nibbles softly at my neck, the tiny bites tickling my skin. "Can I watch?"

  "Shut up." I give his shoulder a playful shove, laughing. "And no more hickeys—yours is big enough for both of us."

  "It really is." He pulls away, examining the big purple bruise I left on his neck in the mirror. It's the price he paid for playing with my G-spot while I was trying to keep Darcy and Alec from hearing us. "Too bad it's not turtleneck season."

  "I'm sorry," I say, shrugging irreverently.

  "How about next time you leave one where they can't see?"

  I give him a look. "Like your dick?"

  "Please don't bruise my dick," he starts, then smirks. "Actually, why don't you try. No teeth, just sucking."

  He gives my neck another soft nip and I push him away, laughing. "Maaaaybe," I say as I turn around with a swish of my hips. I'm entering the kitchen before I realize he's distracted me enough to leave the bedroom. When he walks in behind me, I point at him accusingly. He just wiggles his eyebrows, giving me another one of his irresistible smiles.

  "Gonna let us in on the joke?" Alec asks.

  Rafe doesn't look up as he pours us coffee. "Nope."

  The kitchen has a little bar where Alec and Darcy are sitting, and I settle next to her. "Did you guys sleep well?" I ask.

  Instead of responding, Darcy starts coughing, choking on her orange juice.

  Shit. For a second there I'd forgotten about overhearing them.

  Alec thumps her back a couple of times until she can speak again. Motioning to her throat, she says, "Sorry. Wrong pipe."

  Rafe has started frying eggs for breakfast sandwiches, assembling them as we make small talk, and I make a sincere effort to avoid any discussion of last night.

  But when Rafe turns to give Darcy her plate, she frowns. "What happened to your neck?"

  "Curling iron," Rafe says smoothly, and Alec snorts, holding up his plate for the food.

  "Your hair does look good, though," Alec says, and Rafe pretends to toss his hair over his shoulder.

  "Hey!" I say with a laugh. "Watch yourself, I'm right here!"

  Rafe shrugs. "Sorry, babe, I've got a thing for guys who play soccer."

  "I mean, I can understand that. I've got a weakness for them myself." I prop my chin up on my hand and gaze at Rafe, batting my eyelashes at him playfully. Eventually he looks my way with a grin, and I fan myself, pretending to swoon.

  "Speaking of giving each other hickeys," Darcy says once she's swallowed her first mouthful of food, "Have I earned the shower yet?"

  "Oh my God," I say dramatically, raising my hands in mock-exasperation.

  "Stop asking!" Alec says, before Rafe can chime in, and all four of us laugh.

  ***

  Our plans for the day are obvious—you don't drive five hours to the Texas coast and not spend your first morning at the beach. Even if it is just a Texas beach.

  "Another two-piece?" Darcy asks as I slip out of my cover-up once we've arrived.

  It's a legitimate question, considering I tend to pick more modest swimsuits. But I figured this was the trip to try something new, so I only brought two pieces—real ones, not just a tankini. My stomach might not be as flat as I'd like, and my thighs might be a bit thicker than they used to be, but I'm going to rock the hell out of my suits anyway. I'm approaching forty, but we're with friends who aren't going to judge me, and based on the way Rafe watched me wriggle into my suit this morning, he's a fan.

  "I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone," I admit, and Darcy grins, eyes trailing down my body and then back up again.

  "It looks really good, Bex."

  As she speaks my eyes get drawn to her mouth where she's licking her lips. Her tongue is the perfect shade of pink and her lips lo—

  These are the exact sort of things I've never thought about her before this trip. The sort of things I shouldn't be thinking about my best friend.

  "Thanks." I gesture to her suit. "You too, though."

  Today she's wearing a one piece that's just as unreasonably sexy as the one she wore yesterday. Like me, Darcy's body is probably what people would consider pretty average, but when I look at her all I see is how great she looks. Yesterday's suit was eggplant-colored and strappy, with cutouts along the sides, and I've spent a not-insignificant amount of time trying to avoid thinking about the tan lines it would leave. The way she'd look naked, stretched out, a patchwork of pale and golden skin.

  Today's suit is black, but to call it a deep 'V' would be an understatement. The neckline almost reaches her belly button, and I'm not entirely sure what's keeping it in place. A large wave could probably flip the fabric over her boob. When she starts playfully striking modeling poses, I smile and then scan the water for Rafe so that I have an excuse to look anywhere other than the expanse of skin in front of me.

  I'm also wondering if the waves are large enough to knock Darcy's swimsuit off-kilter. I decide they probably aren't, and stand up to find my husband.

  "Hey," he says a minute later, when I've excused myself and caught up to him. Instead of answering I grab his hand and drag him further into the water, only stopping when it's halfway up my chest.

  He raises his eyebrows at me. "You okay?"

  I nod and glance to make sure there isn't anyone near us, then reach over, grasping him lightly through his swim trunks.

  "Whoa." He laughs, but his hand grips my wrist. "What's bringing this on?"

  I wrinkle my nose, considering whether or not to be honest, but it's Rafe, and we talk about these things. "Feeling guilty because I'm having dirty thoughts about someone other than you."

  He grins. "Alec?"

  "No."

  The grin widens. "Darcy?"

  "Shut up and let me give you a penance hand job!"

  His expression changes from teasing to serious, thumb softly stroking the underside of my wrist. "You know you don't have to get me off just because you had dirty thoughts about someone else, right? So long as I'm the one you come home to at the end of the day, you're allowed all the dirty thoughts you can handle."

  What he's saying makes sense, and we're honest with each other when we find other people attractive. One of the benefits of my being bi is that a lot of the time we notice the same women—it turns out we have similar tastes. But this feels different.

  "It's just weird. It's not dirty thoughts about the barista at Epoch, it's Darcy. If you were having dirty thoughts about Alec—"

  "I'm not having dirty thoughts about Alec!" he interrupts, and I roll my eyes.

  "I know, that's why it's called a hypothetical. If, babe, if you were. Wouldn't that be weird?"

  He takes a deep breath. "Well if I were, do you think I'd need to go down on you every time? Should we start an orgasm exchange where every time we have dirty thoughts, we get each other off?"

  I roll my eyes. "Obviously you wouldn't have to tell me. Nor would you owe me orgasms."

  He doesn't say anything, instead just raises his eyebrows.

  "Fine," I say with a mock-beleaguered sigh. "I won't give you a hand job."

  His face turns back to playful and his grip around my wrist tightens as I start to pull away.

  "Whoa whoa whoa. All we determined is that you don't have to give me a hand job. Not that you can't. Two totally different things here," he says.

  "So, you want one?" I give his cock a quick squeeze and there's a sharp intake of breath.

  "Have I ever said no?"

  I fix him with a stare.

  "Look, a hand job under the table at a restaurant the first time I met your parents doesn't count."

  He's probably right, but I'll still hold it over him forever. I pull him down for a kiss with the hand that isn't rubbing him through his trunks. He groans, and I laugh.

  "You gotta look casual, babe. Not like I'm getting you off."

  Rafe takes a deep breath, and then shoots me a wink. "Can do."

  I think he does a pretty good job of looking like he's not getting a hand job in the middle of the ocean. I know, of course, because I've cataloged what his arousal looks like: the way his breath hitches, the way his jaw flexes, the tension in his neck. He lets out the tiniest little groan and it's all I can do to keep from pushing my bottoms aside and fingering myself at the same time, but we're deep enough in the water that I need the other hand stretched out to keep the waves from tipping me over.

 

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