Twenty-One
Lola
Sex with Justice was so much hotter than I remembered. I slowly opened my eyes to the early morning darkness and smiled. My body was deliciously sore. I rolled over to nuzzle my lover and found that he wasn’t in bed next to me anymore. And then the enormity of what we’d done hit me. Relax, Lola. It was only sex. That’s all. Remember you’re here for the money. We’d win the contest. And then I’d get my life back.
“Rise and shine, Mrs. Hamilton.” Justice held his flip phone in front of my face and a tinny version of the theme song from Rocky blasted my eardrums.
I batted the phone away. “Shut that thing off!” I sat up in bed, the sheets falling and exposing my bare breasts. “When’s breakfast?”
“After your ten-mile run.” His gaze dropped to my chest. “Unless you’d rather work out in bed today.”
I was considering it when he grabbed my hand and jostled me out of bed. “Get your ass up now.” He slapped me on the butt. “Get ready. I’ll make coffee while you get your trainers laced up.”
“Are you seriously thinking of running ten miles?”
“Nah. Running that far wouldn’t help our surfing any.” He winked. “Five miles.”
I smacked him with the pillow. “One.”
He placed his hands on his hips and towered over me. “Three.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“There’s no fighting with you.” I grinned and stuck out my pinkie. “Three it is.”
We drank coffee, ate protein bars and hit the trails behind the motel. Justice was extremely familiar with the area and all the hiking trails. It made me realize that he’d had an entire life that hadn’t included me.
My feet pounded the dirt trails, dust kicking up, my heart hammering in my chest. Justice moved quickly, pushing me to my athletic limits up and down the terrain, the scent of sage heavy in my nostrils.
As I ran behind Justice, I checked out his fit body. Damn. There ought to be a law. His calf muscles flexed with every move, and his strong arms pumped up and down as he made his way up the hill. The combination of my hunky lover and the exercise had me out of breath, but I was in shape. I picked up the pace and passed him.
Justice huffed and puffed behind me. “Oh no you don’t!” He trotted to my side and smiled. “Moving pretty good. For a girl.”
“You said you wanted a workout?” I ran faster.
We ran this cat-and-mouse way for another mile, and Justice finally grabbed my arm, stopped me and spun me around. His blue eyes stared into mine. “I like your spunk. How about another fifty miles?”
I brushed sweaty hair out of my face. “How about one more and then breakfast?”
“You want to win or not?”
“Jesus Cristo, of course!” I smiled a devious smile. “I can already see my suits on the catwalk in New York when my bathing suit line goes big.”
“Okay then. He broke into an easy run up the hill and called over his shoulder, “Catch me if you can.”
I took in the spectacular seaside landscape mixed with towering pine trees as I followed my handsome husband and thought about how bizarre it was that I was here with Justice on our fake honeymoon.
When I was a kid, I had thought of marrying Justice and how much fun we’d have together. Funny when I think about it because this trip—driving up the coast and surfing together—was exactly the type of honeymoon I’d always fantasized for us.
Once upon a time Justice and I had been right for each other.
We had everything in common.
We were the same age.
We loved to surf together.
We shared a love of B grade horror movies.
I smiled at the recollection of how we’d loved to hang out together and devour those truly awful scary movies. Movies with titles like Halloween and Scream. I didn’t admit this to anyone, but one of my guilty pleasures was streaming a gazillion hours of those old movies on the weekend, closing all the blinds, making a ton of popcorn, sitting down with a pint of ice cream, and having a scream fest.
The life I envisioned with Justice would include lazy weekends where we surfed all day, made love all night, and spent relaxing afternoons watching those crazy fun movies.
But I had no business thinking that way. What we had was a total ruse, and after the contest, we’d both go back to whatever it was we’d been doing before.
And what exactly was that?
I huffed out a breath as I thought of how I’d been living my life. I worked at the bank; I made decent enough money; I had a fantastic creative life with my bathing suit business.
But where was the love?
Just because Justice had screwed my brains out last night didn’t mean we were in love.
Sure, he’d uttered those three little words to me last night, but that was just his lust talking. What the hell? It was nothing more than a moment of passion. We were together. It was easy. We slept in the same bed.
How exactly did I think this trip would turn out? It was laughable to think that we wouldn’t have ended up screwing.
I lifted my chin. I could have sex with the best of them if I wanted to.
That’s all this was.
I glanced at the toy diamond ring. I still wore it because I thought it was adorable. That’s all.
I ran harder my breath coming in gasps.
No way would I allow Justice into my heart again.
So what if he’d been thoughtful enough to get me this cheesy ring? So what if the way he looked at me smoldered with sexuality, lust, and his blue eyes twinkled with love? So what if we had slipped right back into our old ways of feeling super comfortable—best friends comfortable—with each other?
If he had really wanted me, he would’ve gotten in touch years ago.
But he didn’t. I was just the latest pit stop interrupting his adventures. Justice had his own life, and I had mine.
We finished the run and trotted back to the motel.
“Towel off, put on a dry shirt, and I’ll take you to my favorite breakfast burrito shack. Then it’s back to the workout,” he said.
* * *
Justice’s breakfast spot turned out to be a trendy food truck overlooking the Pacific Ocean called Nirvana Vegan Experience.
Justice handed me a vegan breakfast burrito with a sideways smile as he settled into the wooden picnic bench across from me. “One Get Shacked Vegan Special for my one and only wife.”
I accepted the food and wrinkled my nose. I lifted up the tortilla and inspected the contents. Tofu, bean sprouts, vegan cheese, salsa and something that looked suspiciously like kale. “Since when did you get all into health food?”
He poured a generous serving of hot sauce onto his own burrito. “If you slather it in this stuff, it tastes better.” He took a bite, swallowed, and smiled. Dang it. I couldn’t look at Justice’s smile without swooning. Stop it, Lola. “To answer your question,” he said, “I’m not strict. Eighty-twenty rule is what I always say. Eat this way most of the time, then the rest of the time I pig out on whatever I want.”
I lifted the tortilla. “Where’s the beef? I think I’ll stick with my Hungry Man breakfast.”
Justice took a swig of coffee and placed his hand on mine. “Hey. About last night.”
I looked away. “What about it?”
“Was it okay?”
It was fucking fantastic! “It was fine.”
His lip curled at the corner, his eyebrows raised. “Fine? First time I’ve been accused of that.”
“What do you want me to say?” I set my burrito down. “I’m here. You’re here. We sleep in the same freaking bed.” I narrowed my eyes. “First time you’ve been accused … How many women have you slept with?” I waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, just forget it.”
“Whoa, slow down, babe. I didn’t mean to get all serious.” His tone softened. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “We’re married, right?” I took a deep breath and met his gaze. “This is what married couples do. Might as well enjoy it.”
“It’s just—”
I held up a hand. “Save it.” Then I thought I had best go easier on Justice. “Listen, we’re old friends. We fit together.” And the sex was goddamn fantastic. “If we can’t be comfortable together, we won’t win the contest, right?” I gave him my most dazzling smile even though inside I felt crazily conflicted. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”
“Fun in the sun and income too.”
I gazed heavenward. “You come up with the stupidest lines.”
After breakfast, we headed back to the beach parking lot, and Justice put me through the paces of his workout routine. First, he attached elastic workout bands to the van’s door handles. “Come on baby, I want to see you sweat. Pull harder.”
My muscles burned, and sweat poured off my body. “I’m trying.”
“Harder!”
Then he forced me into a grueling sit-up routine as he held my legs. “Fifty more, Lola.”
We did pushups together. I collapsed after twenty and Justice kept going. “You’re trying to kill me!”
He grunted as he spoke between repetitions. “Death by workout or death by sex? You pick, babe.”
I propped myself up on one elbow and watched. Hot damn. Justice’s body was taut, rigid, and sexier than all get out. Sweat dripped off his forehead as his biceps flexed, his chest heaving with deep breaths, his legs pumping up and down, and I envisioned positioning my body underneath his rock-hard frame. Hoo boy. The man was a marble statue. He could be an underwear model or walk the runway for my male swimwear line.
I squinted my eyes and pictured Justice dressed in a pair of custom briefs with my signature boho look. Maybe something in black and deep purple. I smiled, thinking of how many I’d sell with Justice as my model, his gorgeous hard-on straining against the fabric. Men would want to be him.
After our sit-ups and pushups, we hit the beach and practiced our tandem lifts: the pinwheel, the knee stand, the shoulder sit, and we worked particularly hard on our high swan.
Every time Justice lifted me, I had to force myself to concentrate on our workout instead of the feel of his strong hands on my waist, my legs, my ass.
“Come on, Lola, point your toes harder on the high swan.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder!”
“You really are going to kill me. Is that your plan? Did you take out a life insurance policy on me?”
“Quit whining. And make sure you save some strength for casa.” He pronounced the word the Brazilian way with the S sounding like a Z.
“How do you know Portuguese?”
“I’m married to you, aren’t I?”
We grinned at each other and finally, mercifully, the workout was over.
* * *
We fell into bed that night, and Justice forced his huge cock into my wet pussy and then bent me over the bed and spanked me so hard I thought I’d end up raw.
He gripped the back of my head. “Turn around. I want to see your face when I shove my hard dick in your mouth. On your knees Mrs. Hamilton.”
I loved the possession that Justice took over my body. I loved it when he called me Mrs. Hamilton. But how long could it last? I forced that thought out of my head and enjoyed our lovemaking.
I gazed over my shoulder, my eyes flashing a warning. “And what if I won’t?”
He smacked my ass again. “Then you’ll regret it.”
My pussy grew wet, and I spread my legs. “Fuck me with your fingers.”
“I call the shots around here. On your knees.”
“I said … put your fingers in me.” I knew he was waiting for me to sass him because Justice loved the challenge.
“Oh fuck, Lola. You’re going to be the death of me.” He sank his fingers inside me, and I let out a low moan. “I might have to make you come again. Then you be ready to take my dick in your mouth.” He worked his fingers slowly into my dripping pussy, going straight to my G-spot. “Want me to touch your swollen clit, baby? Is that what you want?” I moaned my agreement. It was amazing what his fingers did to me, and the intensity built fast. “You’re so fucking hot. I love feeling you come.” His fingers worked faster and he sent me over the edge into glorious orgasm, the world blacking out until I collapsed on the bed.
“Get up and suck it,” he demanded.
In a haze, I sat on the edge of the bed and gripped his ass as his cock slowly fucked my mouth. When he came, he filled my mouth with squirts of cum so hard it hit the back of my throat. I swallowed every delicious drop.
We fell asleep that night nuzzled together.
Don’t get too comfortable, Lola. You’re only here to win the contest.