CHAPTER ONE

An isolated beach on a clear spring day was a wonderful place to think. As Olivia Forster lazed on a towel in her red bikini, the thought she worked on was this: She and her husband James were different from their married friends.

Olivia couldn’t say why exactly. They all had similar high-powered jobs and comfortable houses on Long Island. They’d all been married around two decades and were within a stone’s throw of forty from either side. In Olivia’s opinion, all of them were attractive, though some of the women tended to obsess about their weight. They weren’t necessarily intellectuals, but neither were they idiots. Their marriages had reached the vintage where they knew relationships needed work. More importantly, none were so lazy or uncaring that they wouldn’t put in that work. All of them had at least one child who’d reached adulthood more or less in one piece.

Despite these similarities, Olivia had observed that although she and James were happy, their friends were—to greater or lesser degrees—habitually dissatisfied with their lives.

Her inner perplexity must have shown in her expression. James, her darling husband of mumble-mumble years, rolled toward her on their shared beach towel. He was tall and dark and just as handsome to her as he’d been when he was twenty. Every day, they worked together at the multimedia firm they’d founded twelve years ago, which could have been awful but turned out to be the best job either of them had ever had. Olivia still loved seeing James in his suit and tie, though—as head of accounting—she rarely wore anything fancier to work than a blouse and jeans. He teased her about that, but never angrily. He seemed to like that she couldn’t be swayed from her favorite things.
Since he was one of those favorite things, she supposed that made sense.

“Hey,” he said now, tapping her furrowed brow. Hardly minding the interruption, she turned her head toward him. As she did, he gave her the killer grin that had seduced her the day they met. It was boyish and crinkly and genuinely affectionate. Every time she saw it, her heart warmed impossibly.

She was so lucky he’d fallen in love with her.

“I know we’re playing hooky today,” he said, “but now you’re playing hooky from me.”

She wriggled around until she lay on her side as well. Her wavy red locks fell forward, reminding her she could use a trim. Despite their unkempt state, she didn’t sweep them back. Like a background that was meant to lull them into precisely this intimacy, the Atlantic waves broke foamingly on the shore. Olivia almost felt like she was dreaming when she spoke.

“I was wondering why I look at you and feel happy, while Sherri looks at Mark and sees everything she wishes he’d fix about himself.”

“That’s easy. Clearly, I’m perfect.”

“You are not,” she said, shoving his admirably buff chest. “No more than I am.”

“You’re perfect to me.”

“What about my snoring? Or the way I need to organize everything?”

James shrugged one muscular shoulder. “Neither of those things are worth getting upset about.”

“Why aren’t they, though? Why does Kevin go ballistic when Kim buys a pair of shoes he thinks she’ll never wear, and you and I let stuff like that roll off us?”

James’s dark brows puckered above his hazel eyes. “Are you suggesting we ought to fight about those things?”

“No. I’m just wondering why we’re different.”

“I believe I told you why we’re different the day I proposed. You and I are soulmates. We’ve been married in lots of lives before.”

Olivia rolled her eyes even though she loved hearing him say this—as she was sure he knew. James was endearingly proud of being romantic. “How do you know our friends aren’t soulmates as well? Can’t soulmates be grumpy?”

James cocked his head, his expression the one he got any time he heard an idea that started gears turning. His willingness to entertain other people’s viewpoints was part of what made him an excellent CEO, not to mention a stellar spouse.

“I suppose they could be,” he said.

“And,” Olivia said, encouraged by his attitude, “how do you know for sure I’m everything you need in a partner?”

And then she saw it: the tiniest shadow shuttering his friendly hazel eyes. At first, she thought the emotion the shadow inspired in her was fear. Her chest did go tight, and adrenaline certainly surged into her veins. When she looked inside herself, however, fear wasn’t what she found. James loved her. That she knew as surely as the earth going round the sun. Strange as it sounded, she thought her reaction to the idea that James had a secret might be excitement.

Intrigued, she sat up and looked down at him, her hand pressed to the place where her heart pounded in her chest. They both liked to swim every morning before they drove to work, and she was nearly as fit as him. Her red bikini wasn’t something she was embarrassed to be seen in. On the other hand, the way her nipples beaded painfully tight beneath it, made her just a bit self-conscious. Luckily, James was peering into her eyes right then.

But maybe it wasn’t nice to call that lucky when his expression was so concerned.

“There is something,” she breathed, giving voice to her suspicions. “Something you want that I’m not giving you.”

“Liv,” he cautioned.

“Is it the games?” she asked, her pulse drumming harder. “Do you wish we played them more often?”

He blushed, something he almost never did. His coloring was naturally dark, and usually it hid embarrassment. She glanced at his Speedo, which he carried off a good deal better than most men half his age—and never mind that his choice of swimwear sometimes gave their twenty-something daughter conniptions. If Violet had been around, instead of minding the store at Forster Media, he’d have had to cover himself. His cock was swelling inside the stretchy fabric, the swiftness of its rise and his not insignificant size creating an effect that was thoroughly X-rated.

Apparently, he couldn’t make it go down by reciting baseball scores. As soon as he saw her notice, his hard-on jerked bigger.

Olivia bit her lip and laughed. “You know I like our games, right? I have made that clear to you?”

“I never want to pressure you.”

She cupped his erection gently, hoping the touch was reassuring as well as pleasurable. The latter certainly seemed to be true. His entire bulging package jumped in her hold, his heat and hardness causing her to liquefy.

Violet wouldn’t have wanted to know about that either.

“You never pressure me,” she said. “Some of my favorite memories of us in bed are watching you go wild from me taking charge. What turns you on turns me on. It’s as simple as that.”

To her amazement, tears glazed her husband’s eyes. “I feel the same,” he said huskily.

“Oh sweetheart!” she cried, because he was almost too emotional to get the declaration out.

In that moment, she couldn’t think she was wrong to take such joy in pleasing him. She wasn’t a fifties throwback, as Sherri sometimes accused. James deserved every bit of adoration she gave him.

She swung one leg over his thighs even as he sat up to meet her. He took her face between his strong olive hands. Everything fell away but him, her universe filled with his tenderness. “I love you, Liv. Even more than you understand. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He kissed her before she could swear that would never happen. He might like being dominated, but the way he kissed was all man. Twenty years hadn’t dulled the magic of his lips pressing hers open, of his tongue sliding sleek and hard against hers. He had the best lips ever, narrow but expressive, with smooth skin and firm muscles. Employing them to good advantage, he drew a sound of longing from deep within her throat.
She pushed him back and he let her, both their breath coming quicker with anticipation as he fell back against the towel. James’s diaphragm went in and out, emphasizing the development of his upper chest. Somewhat lower, his big erection prodded her bikini bottom, tempting her to roll on it. Feeling completely wicked, Olivia untied her bikini top.

“Liv,” he breathed. “Here?”

She’d always been on the slender side, her shoulders slightly broader than her boyish hips. Fortyish or not, her breasts sat prettily on her ribs. James’s eyes snagged on them, then rose admiringly to her face. Olivia admitted she liked both stares.

“Why not?” she said, flinging caution to the winds. “We’re behind a dune. And we have the beach to ourselves.”

“What if someone comes close enough to see?”

“Then we’ll run back to the cottage, and some old codger walking his dog will have a story to tell his friends.”

James laughed, his hands coming up to cup and caress her breasts. His strokes were sure, the tips of his fingers deft. In seconds, he had her nipples achy and hard. He liked seeing them that way. He wet his lips as he watched himself tug them out.

“I think you should let go of me,” she said, her voice not as steady as before. “I need to tie your wrists together.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands stilling. His whole body seemed to help him hold his breath.

“Above your head,” she said, pushing his strong arms there.

He didn’t resist as she bound them with her bikini top. He breathed more raggedly instead and got so hard he started leaking inside his Speedo. James had been her first lover, and she’d always been fascinated by his cock—the size of it and the heft, the way it responded so readily to almost anything she did. Their first game—which had happened by accident—had surprised her, because she hadn’t known he could enjoy sex more than he already did. She’d always thought one of his finest qualities was how much he loved fucking. She did too, and it was nice to be kept up with.

“Lift your hips,” she said, wanting to admire the picture he was making.

James lifted and she dragged his snug black swimsuit far enough down his ass to bare him. Digging between his thighs, she pulled his balls up so the elastic cradled them. His testicles were about half drawn up, and she knew she had time to play. Maybe he did too. He moved his hips restlessly, like he was trying to dig a deeper depression into the sand underneath the towel.

Rather than succumb to what she wanted, which was to plunge her aching pussy over that tall thick rod, Olivia stood and skimmed her swimsuit bottom down her legs.
When she stepped out of it, completely nude in the open air, James let out a groan that said better than words how sexy she was to him.

Because she thought it would flip his switches, she stepped over him like a Valkyrie, one bare foot firmly planted to either side of his hips.

“I am your queen,” she said, the words oddly natural.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You’re here to serve me.”

“Yes.”

“Anything I ask of you, you must obey.”

His eyes dipped to the triangle of curls that declared her a true redhead. In her legs-akimbo pose, she was certain he could see her sexual moisture glistening.

“Anything,” he said hoarsely, making it a plea.

She dropped to her hands and knees so quickly he couldn’t help but gasp. She was crouched over him like a cat, unmistakably predatory. As she’d hoped, this flipped his switches too. “You won’t come until I say, no matter what I do.”

This time, her darling husband could only groan.

She kissed him too quickly and too sharply for him to kiss her back. With the in and out rhythm of the waves as accompaniment, she nipped a stinging path down his long lean body. His nipples tightened for her biting kisses, and chill bumps broke out across his skin. His strong legs kicked when her fingers stroked the ticklish spots on his abdomen, and again when she stuck her tongue into his navel. The one thing he didn’t do was laugh.

He was too involved in what she was up to for that.

She’d reached his gorgeous erection. The thing stretched thick and flushed and veiny up his belly. It and he shivered when she blew on it.

For just a second, she wondered what other men looked like when they were this aroused. The thought disturbed her, and she shook it off. She didn’t need other men when she had James.

“I think my servant needs a bit more restraint,” she said.

They’d brought a little picnic down to the beach. Nothing elaborate, just sandwiches and salad and soda pop, bought ready-made from the small local grocery store. Olivia dug into the plastic bag to retrieve a rubber band she thought was the perfect size and thickness.

“Liv,” James said when he saw it, the word wrenched from him.

Liking that, she stretched the band between her fingers. “Tell me if it hurts,” she said.
She bound it twice around the base of his balls. Their skin got tighter and darker, partly from the way the rubber band forced it taut and partly from his excitement. She petted his fullness gently, trying to gauge if she’d gone too far. She hoped not. She really relished the way he looked all trussed up and on display.

People were so wrong about women not being visual.

“Too tight?” she asked.

He shook his head jerkily.

“Will the constriction make it harder for you to come?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It’s really turning me on.”

A shiver ran across her shoulders, his excitement heightening hers. Her pussy was squirming, like it was trying to rub itself. His eyes held hers when her gaze lifted, their goldy-green-blue darkened by the expansion of his pupils. He was no stranger, and yet she’d never seen him as pushed to the edge as this. She felt as if she were a stranger herself, as if together they’d crossed the barrier into Neverland.

Her mind flashed back to the odd second when she’d wondered what other men’s cocks looked like. Outside of magazines and X-rated movies, she’d never encountered one close up.

Momentarily nervous about what her eyes might reveal, she shifted her attention to James’s erection. Surely there couldn’t be a better visual than this. His hole was leaking more than before, the clear fluid trickling down the swollen crest onto his hard belly.

“I want to lick your cock,” she announced.

“My queen should do as she wishes,” was his breathless response.

Slick wet heat ran out from her sex. She wanted James to see it, wanted him to know what this game of theirs did to her. She turned her body to face his feet.

“I want you to pleasure me while I lick you.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “That’s what I’d like too.”

His bound hands settled on her butt, urging her down to him. Once she’d lowered, he shifted them between her legs, his corded forearms pushing her thighs wider. When his mouth settled over the spot he wanted, his thumbs reached back together to work her clitoral hood up and down. Since his mouth was also working her, this meant his thumbs were pushing under his lower lip.

Olivia temporarily forgot what she’d meant to do to him.

Oh he was good at giving head, strong and quick and very sure of himself. She groaned at how close to coming one hard suck pulled her.

“Don’t,” she said, fingernails digging into his muscled thighs. “Don’t make me climax so soon.”

He backed off, and she could think again—enough to take in the view anyway. His cock and balls stared her in the face, a feast of the first order. Olivia was no porn star. She couldn’t deep-throat a man James’s size. She couldn’t moan cinematically or even toss her hair around like one. She’d have felt too silly. Her main advantages were willingness, curiosity, and knowledge of her partner’s sweet spots. And love. That was probably an advantage when it came to driving a man crazy.

Olivia crooked her little finger under the cinch of the rubber band, then let it go with a snap.

“Christ,” James cursed, his body jerking as his mouth fell from her pussy.

Olivia didn’t ask permission. She snapped the band again, drawing a wild cry from him. Then, before the sting on those sensitive nerves could fade from his consciousness, she took the swollen head of him in her mouth. She pressed the soft warm flat of her tongue against it, made sure her teeth were covered, and sucked him once as hard as she could.

He nearly came. The taste of precum flooded her mouth as his body writhed under her. She slapped her arms on his thighs, bearing down with her weight and not coincidentally increasing his sense of being restrained.

Then she sucked him again.

His cry was garbled, pain and ecstasy and shock all rolled into one. She gentled her suckling, but that wouldn’t matter now. She’d already pushed him to the edge, nor would he have forgotten that she’d ordered him not to come.

“Oh God,” he gasped, twisting both to and from her suckling mouth.

“Stop,” she ordered. Instantly, he froze, giving her a heady sense of power. As she paused to decide on her next order, James sucked in a great gulp of air, no doubt hoping to recover his control. “No more thrashing, servant. I want my hands free to work on you.”

“Yes, my queen,” he said in a thready voice. His body tensed but didn’t thrash as she moved her hands to his twitching balls.

She didn’t hurt him again. James responded well to variety and surprise. She cupped and compressed his scrotum, then ran three fingers firmly over the smoothness of his perineum. He had nerves here that liked massaging. Sure enough, his back arched off the towel, and he groaned more luxuriously. When she sucked the upper half of his cock back into her mouth, he returned his lips and tongue to her. His bound hands rested compliantly on his belly, fisting up and then forcibly relaxing as she did things to him that felt good. She wasn’t sure he knew she could see. His reactions made a handy sexual litmus test.

She used this to lull his worries that he’d disobey her by climaxing. Letting him relax, she nuzzled his balls, then licked his penis repeatedly. Down and down she swiped her tongue on his underside, over and over like a metronome. Using her saliva to make him glisten, she painted the stretch between the sweet spot under his rim to the cinch of the rubber band. This would feel good, but it wouldn’t push him over. The muscles in his thighs stopped bunching.

“Liv,” he sighed, the sound pure sensual indulgence.

Deciding it was time for a change of pace, she licked four fingers and pushed them behind his balls, back onto his perineum, where the structure of his cock rooted. His bound hands didn’t fist up again until she teased her rubbing around the pucker of his anus.

He tried to cover the reaction, or possibly deflect her from noticing by stabbing his tongue into her pussy. Olivia was far too accustomed to focusing on him to fall for the ploy. Anal play was a game they hadn’t tried, but she’d seen signs before that he was interested. Perhaps he’d feared she’d find it distasteful, and hadn’t dared bring it up. Whatever his reasons, Olivia decided she’d stop waiting to be asked.

She pushed one wet finger into him to its first knuckle. He jerked and gasped, but in a way that made her think he welcomed the intrusion. Made bolder by this reaction, Olivia pushed the finger to its second knuckle and rotated. James choked out a sound, but she couldn’t doubt he liked what he was feeling. His cock swelled and his hips lurched up, shoving him farther into her mouth. A single pull of her cheeks had more of an effect than she expected. Suddenly he was thrusting with more purpose, his promise not to come forgotten.

More than willing to let him enjoy himself, Olivia wrapped one hand around his throbbing base to prevent him from gagging her. Going on the theory that two fingers were better than one, she drove a second into him. His anal muscles were more relaxed than they’d been initially. Far from resisting, his passage seemed to suck her probing in eagerly.

“No,” he gasped, but Olivia didn’t listen.

He felt smooth in there and warm. She scooted forward for a better angle, pulling her pussy out of reach of his mouth. Way too excited to mind, she started fucking her fingers in and out of him.

She didn’t even know how she knew to do it; maybe these things were instinctive. She felt weirdly sure of herself. This was the speed that felt good. This was the pressure that got to him.

“Fuck,” he swore, thrusting faster in and out of her mouth. The hard, slightly awkward rocking of his pelvis intensified the working of her fingers. Somehow knowing he would like it, she scissored her fingers wider and twisted them in half circle.

Despite the grip she had on his base, he shoved the head of his cock nearly to her throat.

“Fuck,” he said again at the small uncomfortable sound she made.

She didn’t mean for him to stop. She’d have recovered in a few seconds. She didn’t get a chance to convey that to him. He wrenched out of her without warning.

Cloth snapped—her bikini top, she thought—because suddenly he’d twisted their bodies around in two directions and he was looming on top her. Before she could figure out how he’d done it, her wrists were trapped by his hands beside her head. His eyes burned furiously down at her, the blue-green drowning out the gold with anger. Angry or not, he was so excited his cock was dripping precum on her belly. He seemed ready to do anything to her, as long as it involved getting off.

Olivia abruptly understood why being dominated was arousing.

“I’m sorry,” she panted, her pulse pattering in her throat. “I thought you were enjoying that.”

He growled in answer, his teeth grinding. “God, Liv. I can’t hide anything from you.”

Apparently, he could, or she wouldn’t have been confused. “Do I need to apologize?” she asked unsurely.

With another animal rumble, he crushed his mouth over hers.

She didn’t think he’d ever kissed her like this. He was assertive, yes, but this kiss was meant to overwhelm. Before she had a chance to adjust, to let him know she accepted it, his knees butted hers open. His hips came down in the space he’d made, his body as hot as a barbecue.

His grip tightened painfully on her wrists as he probed between her labia with his cock. He must not have wanted to release her hands. After a push or two he found her entrance, grunted into her mouth, then slung inside in one hard thrust. She was so wet, so hungry that all she felt at his roughness was relief.

He gasped her name, tearing free of her mouth.

That was all the pause she got before he started fucking her like a maniac. A second later, she was meeting him with abandon, her hips bucking up at his. They went at each other so hard it felt like they were fighting.

“Yes,” she groaned, hitching up her knees and spreading her thighs wider. He shifted both her wrists into one big hand, then shoved the other under her bottom, controlling her thrusts to move her in better time with him. She quivered so close to coming she knew she didn’t have much time to do what she still wanted.

“Let go of my right hand,” she said, trying to tug it free.

He shook his head and pumped into her harder.

“Yes,” she insisted. “I’m your queen, and I’ll do to you what I please.”

“Liv,” he said miserably.

She didn’t care. She knew he wanted this. The next time she tugged, her hand flew free of his. She spit on two fingers, then decided three would be better. His breath grew choppy as he watched her.

He closed his eyes and shuddered when she pushed all three into him.

He loved it. That was clear from the way his spine arched and his expression grew dreamy. The fact that he’d wanted to hide how much he craved this sweetened her victory. She began to move her fingers inside of him.

The look on his face grew truly beatific.

“I’m fucking you,” she whispered, some demon genius taking control of her vocal chords. “I’m fucking you like a man.”

“Oh God!” he cried.

Suddenly, he was fucking her twice as hard, really slamming into her, as wild and desperate as if the only way to save both their souls was by coming in the next ten seconds. Maybe the rubber band did make it more difficult to ejaculate. He seemed like he was reaching for it hard and couldn’t quite get there. The twisting of his facial muscles pushed more of her buttons than needed it. She started to go, and finally he did as well. She moved her fingers faster and was rewarded by a ragged shout of pleasure.
The shout was only the beginning. His ejaculation gushed heat inside her as he strained to hold as deep as he could. She felt herself clamp around him, and that made them both come harder. The orgasm felt like pleasure was stabbing through her womb—no subtlety to it, just a hard-core explosion of sexual nerves.

Olivia made a sound like she was sobbing. Maybe she was. Even though he’d come, James had started thrusting again, taking advantage before his cock softened. Helpless to stop her sex from reacting, she went over a second time.

Half a dozen jabs more, and it was all over.

“Jesus,” she gasped as he sagged down on her. She felt like a hurricane had blown through her, one that swept everything before it with a storm surge of ecstasy. When she tugged her fingers from James’s body, her hand and arm were shaking. He shivered, and she wasn’t certain it was with pleasure. “God, James. Did I hurt you?”

He moaned, his sweaty face turning back and forth across the crook of her neck. “You—” He stopped for air. “You did that perfectly.”

How did he know? Had he been finger fucked before? She’d been singularly inexperienced when they met in college, but she’d heard young men sometimes experimented, just like young women did. Maybe he hadn’t been fucked by fingers. Maybe he was comparing what she’d done to something else entirely.

She pressed her lips to his temple, unable—or, she guessed, unwilling—to ask him to clarify. Did she want to hear his answer?

He lifted his head and smiled softly down at her. For a second, she drank him in. He was never so beautiful as when he’d just climaxed. His eyes were brighter, his sensitive mouth relaxed. His thick dark lashes blinked lazily.

“Liv,” he said as if she’d done something to amuse him.

“What?” she asked him defensively.

“You’re organizing your thoughts again. Trying to force everything, immediately, to make a sense you’re comfortable with.”

“It’s what I do.”

He kissed her lips so gently her mouth might have been the holy grail. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Just let it be until tomorrow.”

She searched his sleepy eyes. He seemed a little rueful, but not afraid. Whatever he was going to tell her, it wasn’t too terrible. The tension that had taken hold of her ribcage eased.

“All right,” she surrendered. “Go ahead and enjoy your post-coital nap.”

As he laid his cheek against her breast in his favorite spot, she felt him grinning.