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  Damn. My step-dad’s a doctor. I should have seen that one coming.

  Then mom takes a step back and scrunches up her features. “If you don’t walk out that door, I’m going to have to use force.” I almost laugh at her, because, like me, she’s not very tall, and the way she’s crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing me reminds me of an angry club bouncer from my college partying days.

  But she’s right, dammit! I need to walk out that door. James will be fine. I couldn’t possibly leave him in more capable hands. Besides, my husband needs this. Truthfully, I need this. Deep in my heart I know it’s true. I just wish the thought of leaving my baby boy wouldn’t feel like my heart has been ripped open by a meat cleaver.

  Chapter Two

  Andrés

  I can’t believe we’re doing it! We’re going to the coast together alone. I have no idea what Christina’s mom said to her in the bathroom, but the woman is a Godsend. I’ll have to remember to thank her later. I’m excited about the prospect of buying a second home, one we can escape to when life gets too hectic.

  First on my checklist is a place on the water, one with a private ramp so I can dock my boat. I don’t have one yet, but I should be able to afford it in a few years if business keeps going well. That is, if Christina finally agrees to let me get one. So far, we haven’t seen eye-to-eye on the whole idea. She says it’s not practical for a young family, and she also insists I get nautical training before I even consider buying one.

  What she doesn’t get is I’ve driven my Tio’s boat plenty of times. I’ve also worked on boats at my uncle’s shop, too. Though it’s been ages since I went fishing with Tio, I’d love to pass down the family fishing tradition to James. Christina used to love to go out on the water when she was younger. I think if I can just get her out again, feeling the spray of the salt water on her skin and the sun warming her cheeks, she’d change her mind. There’s no feeling like going out on the ocean and reeling in a big fish, then taking home your catch and feeding it to your family.

  Other than the occasional sniffle, she’s been as still as a statue ever since we left her mom’s house almost an hour ago. I know I need to lighten her mood, but how? Then I think about our unfinished business this morning, and that little devil on my shoulder whispers an idea in my ear.

  Keeping one eye on the highway, I grab her slender hand and pull it to my mouth, brushing a tender kiss across her knuckles, surprised when she shifts in her seat and bites her lower lip. So I turn over her hand and kiss her palm. Her lips part as she moans softly. She bats her eyes coyly and tries to pull back, but I pull harder and nip a finger.

  “Andrés,” she groans. “Stop teasing me.”

  “This isn’t teasing, mija,” I say on a low growl. “Just wait until tonight.”

  Christina crosses one leg over the other and leans her head on my shoulder. When she snakes her hand across my thigh and cups my growing erection, I realize she’s called my bluff and raised the stakes. I vaguely remember seeing a rest stop sign a few miles back and wonder how crowded it would be, because I’m thinking I’d like nothing more than a round of quickie sex, or at least a blowjob.

  Then I give myself a mental kick in the ass. I haven’t been planning this getaway for over a month just for more quickie sex. But aye Dios mio, that woman is still stroking my dick. She circles my head before sliding back down, cupping my balls and starting over.

  Even though it kills me to do it, I grab her hand and still it on my thigh. She giggles, nibbling my ear, and fuck me, I want her to stroke me some more. My dick is so hard, the strain against my zipper is painful. I shift and try to adjust the weight pressing against the denim, but it’s no use. These jeans fit a little tighter than when I bought them a few years ago. Goddamn, I’ve let go of her hand, and she’s stroking me again and biting my ear harder, making it difficult for me to focus on the road.

  I veer to the right when I see the rest stop sign, not caring the car behind me had to slam on its brakes. By the time I pull into the farthest parking spot at the rest stop, which is thankfully empty, Christina has unzipped my jeans and shoved my cock in her mouth. I tilt the seat back and watch my wife work her magic.

  “Fuck yeah, baby,” I say as she swallows my whole dick, grinding the head against her tonsils. I’m so turned on, not just by the way her tongue feels darting across my sensitive foreskin, but by watching her devour me, moaning against my thrumming flesh like she’s an addict and my dick is her crack.

  I have no idea what prompted Christina’s sudden change in mood, but I get the feeling it’s going to be a fucking good weekend.

  * * *

  Christina

  My mom’s admonition has been reverberating in my brain ever since we left her house. “Don’t forget the other man in your life. He needs your attention, too.”

  The realization hit me like a blow to the head. I’ve been so consumed with caring for our son, I have been a terrible wife.

  She’s right, damn her. Damn me! I have been neglecting my husband.

  I was caught up in a vortex of emotions as we left, wracked with heartbreak over leaving my baby and guilt for the way I’ve treated Andrés. After taking several steadying breaths, I gradually calmed down by reminding myself James was in good hands. But what about Andrés? Who was taking care of him?

  When Andrés kisses my hand, he reminds me exactly who is supposed to take care of him: me. And what better way to take care of him than by giving him what he wants? The only problem is our destination is another three hours away, and I know I can’t wait that long. After this morning’s sexual frustration, my lust is like a wind-up toy, wound as far as it can go and ready to spin out of control. I am so damned horny, I let all of my inhibitions go, pushing aside the fact that we are in a moving vehicle. Even though Andrés’s truck is lifted, I’m sure passing truckers can see us, but I don’t give a damn. All I care about is showing my husband how much he means to me.

  I unzip his jeans and slip his dick into my mouth before he has time to protest. I still when I feel the truck swerve, but then I suck harder when Andrés puts it in park and reclines the seat. I don’t dare lift my head to see where we are or if anyone can see us. This need to have Andrés inside my mouth is so powerful, I can think of nothing else but making him moan. As soon as he scoots the seat farther back, I angle myself over the console and take him in deeper, his moans growing with each thrust as I slip and slurp my way up and down his shaft.

  “You’d better stop,” he warns.

  I know he’s going to come. I can feel it in the tingling of his flesh as it thrums between my lips. He warns me again, but I ignore him, swirling my tongue across his sensitive foreskin while stroking his balls with an upward motion. I feel the swell of his erection, followed by the warm, salty liquid spraying down the back of my throat. I don’t come up for air until I swallow every last drop. By that time, my panties are soaking, and my pussy is aching with need.

  I lift my head, toying with the hairs on my husband’s navel while looking into his smoky gaze.

  “You are a very bad girl, mija,” he drawls. His hands fall limply by his sides, and his lids are heavy as if he’s drunk a six-pack. As if sensing my desires, he grabs the base of his shaft and taps my swollen mouth with the tip of his cock. “Wanna ride?” he asks.

  No need to ask me twice. I have no idea how I manage to slip off my shorts and panties, but I do in record time. I climb over the console and seat myself on his erection with a groan. Then my husband does the sweetest thing. He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes and kisses me, first gently on the nose, and then with more pressure on my mouth. Then he holds me there, continuing to nibble on my lip while I slide up and down his slippery cock with fevered urgency.

  I haven’t been this horny in a long, long time. My climax is building fast, approaching like a steaming locomotive, and I have no desire to stop it. I cry out when the first wave hits me. Andrés flexes his hips, burying his shaft to the hilt, his swollen head pressing aga
inst my weeping center as my channel pulses around him. I throw back my head and cry out. Dear God, the orgasm is glorious. My pent-up stress and worry ebb with each euphoric pulsation.

  I fall against his chest, emitting a deep, languid sigh. Andrés slips his hands beneath my shirt and strokes my back as tiny, pleasurable jolts rock me. I am vaguely aware of him kissing my forehead and whispering Spanish words of love into my ear, but then reality soon sets in.

  I lift up and look down into my lover’s smoldering eyes. “Holy shit, Andrés,” I gasp. “Did we just do this?”

  A languid and devastatingly sexy smile spreads across his face as he digs his fingers into the globes of my ass. “We did, mija.”

  For the first time since Andrés parked, I take a chance and peer outside. An elderly couple has pulled up to the restrooms at the end of the drive, but I don’t see anyone else. Thankfully, Andrés’s truck has tinted windows, but I’m fairly certain all the tinting in the world couldn’t mask my moans or bouncing silhouette rocking the truck. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

  “I don’t care,” he says with a wink.

  “Omigod! This is the craziest thing we’ve done. Ever.”

  Andrés lets out a contented sigh, his hard dick still seated deep inside me. “I hope to God, mija, that we do it again.”

  Chapter Three

  Christina

  For some reason, I’m tired for the rest of the trip to Galveston, and I end up taking a nice power nap with the seat reclined. Andrés holds my hand the entire drive. Even while I sleep, I’m vaguely aware of him stroking my fingers with the pad of his thumb. It feels nice.

  We’ve decided to rent a condo for the trip. Andrés thought it would be a good idea to see the condition of one of the units, since we’re considering renting out our vacation home when we’re not using it. The condo is lovely, a beachfront unit with white wicker furniture and a huge terrace. I stand beside the patio railing, inhaling the crisp smell of the ocean and relishing the feel of the noonday sun on my face while a warm breeze ruffles my hair. An elderly couple waves to me as they stroll hand-in-hand along the beach. Children’s laughter fills the air as they build sand-castles along the shore and splash in the surf. I could definitely get used to spending my summers at a place like this. I know James would love it here, too.

  Since Andrés is getting the luggage, I decide to call my mom. I have been really good about not bugging her. I only checked in once while we were on the road. Besides, she had told me to call her when we got here, so technically, I wasn’t being a neurotic worrier.

  Mom answers on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart. How’s the condo?”

  “Lovely,” I say before inhaling another deep breath of salty air.

  “Good,” she says curtly. “Now go enjoy time with your husband.”

  “How’s James?” I ask before she hangs up. Okay, I get it. I need to spend time with Andrés, but that doesn’t mean I’m supposed to totally forget about my baby, does it?

  “Your step-dad took the boys to hit some balls at the field.”

  And just like that, my heart hits the floor with a resounding thud. My first reaction is to freak. I mean, I know my step-dad is good with kids, but two rambunctious boys and a toddler? Is he insane? And hitting balls? My oldest brother is a hell of a slugger. I’ve seen him hit them out of the park and he’s only eight-years-old. What if a foul ball hits James? Images of my baby with a concussion flash through my mind.

  “All three of them? B-by himself?” I stammer.

  “They’ll be fine, Christina.” I can hear my mom’s audible sigh on the other end. “They’ll only be gone for a little while.”

  But a lot can happen in a little while. I mean, I wasn’t expecting my parents to stay inside the house the entire time and lock James in a padded room, but a ball field? What if there are more little leaguers out there? What if balls are flying everywhere?

  “Will you call me when they get back?” I hate the note of panic that slips into my voice. I can’t control this hopeless feeling that overpowers me. My baby is without me at a ballpark, and if anything bad happens, I won’t be there for him.

  “No.” Mom’s voice is hard, unwavering. “I will not interrupt your time alone with your husband. You can call me before James’s bedtime and say goodnight. I don’t want to hear from you before then. Love you, sweetheart.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, she’s already hung up. My brain is numb from shock as I stare at the blank screen on my phone. What the hell?

  Andrés comes up beside me with a glass of wine in each hand, waggling his brows as he hands me a drink. Obviously, he didn’t get the memo that I’m on the verge of having a mommy crisis.

  “It’s so early, Andrés,” I protest.

  “Where do we have to go, mija?” He leans a hand on the railing, the hard lines of his tanned biceps glistening in the noonday sun. My knees go weak when a gleam flashes in his amber eyes, as I’m reminded of our mid-morning fuck in the front seat of his truck. What had I been thinking? That had been bad, so very bad. But I get the feeling Andrés isn’t having any regrets about our tryst. If anything, I would say he’s ready for round two. He sets his wine glass down and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. The hard length of his cock presses into my abdomen.

  I settle a hand on the swell of his muscular chest. “Um….”

  “We’re not looking at houses until tomorrow,” he breathes against my cheek as he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “And you’ve only had one birthday orgasm. Drink.”

  I smile at him over the rim of my glass as I down the contents. Okay, maybe I will take my mom’s advice and enjoy a little alone time with my husband.

  * * *

  We make love the rest of the afternoon, and I’m talking three hours of marathon sex. Thank God for all those Mommy and Me yoga classes, because I try a few limber moves I haven’t used in years. I have to say my favorite part is when I climax in Andrés’s mouth. After we fuck like rabbits on the bed, we soak our tired muscles in the hot tub. Yes, this condo has an amazing tub, which is one more necessity for our vacation home checklist; we must have a hot tub with ledges wide enough so I can lay back outside the tub while Andrés licks me senseless. That’s exactly what he does, too. He spears deep inside me with that blissfully long tongue of his while circling my clit with his finger until I explode. And rather than let me slink back into the tub in a puddle of over-orgasmed goo like a good husband, Andrés keeps tongue fucking me and stroking my aching slit until I think I may die. But I don’t die. Instead, I come hard, maybe even harder than I’ve ever come before. The unforgiving granite of the tub’s exterior digs into my back as my whole body tenses when the climax consumes me, keeping me suspended on that fine point between pain and pleasure for several seconds before I slowly start to unravel. Andrés pulls me back into the tub then, and I taste my essence on his tongue as we share a long, languid kiss. I melt into him, exhausted from the amazing love making as the heat from the hot water seeps into my bones.

  Andrés lifts me from the tub and dries me off. “Happy birthday, mija,” he whispers into my ear as we snuggle beneath the covers.

  “Mmmm,” is all I manage to say before I’m fast asleep in his arms.

  We wake up famished, so we get dressed for dinner. I know how much Andrés loves it when I wear my hair down, so I let it fall to my shoulders and add a bit of curl at the ends. Lately, it’s been so much easier to throw my hair in a messy ponytail. I hardly have enough time to shower, much less make an extra effort to look good. Tonight, I take the time to do my makeup. I even wear the priceless earrings Andrés gave me this morning for my birthday. I top it off with a mini skirt, a sequined strapless tank top, and beaded sandals. I love how his eyes light up when I step out of the bathroom. He loves it when I dress nice for him. I make a mental note to do it more often.

  We go to a fancy Italian restaurant. I practically scarf down an entire plate of chicken parmesan and spaghetti. The waiter brings
out a hot fudge brownie sundae with ice cream, whipped topping, cherries, and a sparkler on top. The whole staff sings “Happy Birthday to You” and then they leave us alone to enjoy the dessert. And, wow, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m fairly certain The World’s Best Brownie has just been beat, because this brownie is freaking phenomenal. We devour every last bite before Andrés pays the bill and we head home.

  As soon as we get in the car, I dial my mom on the truck phone and we wish James a goodnight. My mom assures me James responds with a smile, but I don’t hear anything other than him crying for his “Nana.” I do my best to put it behind me, though. She told me to enjoy my husband, and after the afternoon we spent together, I’m more than ready for another round.

  We decide to make the most of the sunset and go for a barefoot stroll on the beach. I’m amazed at how compact and smooth the sand is, and we have to wade ankle-deep into the water before I feel it squish between my toes. I heave a sigh of contentment as the waves lap at my feet and a mild evening breeze teases my hair. Andrés stands behind me, circling his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head. I lean into him as I watch a cargo ship sail off into the sunset.

  We stand there as the sun dips beneath into the horizon, the water vapors retreating into the rays of the sun’s last light. We stroll wordlessly along the beach until the stars light up the night sky, and then Andrés leads me back to our condo where we make love well into the night. I never thought anything could top the amazing first time Andrés and I had sex on my twenty-first birthday, but I was wrong. Today has simply been the best birthday ever.

  Chapter Four

  Christina

  Andrés is already dressed when I come out of the bathroom. His dark hair is slicked back, and he’s simply gorgeous in a button-up shirt and dark jeans. When we were first dating, I called him my Spanish Adonis. Andrés may have added a few extra pounds around his midsection, but I think he’s sexier than ever, mostly because despite my obvious neurosis, he still loves me. He works hard at his day job and comes home with dinner every night, not even complaining that all I want to do is talk about James. He’s the most unselfish, thoughtful man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t care if all of his hair turned grey and fell out. Andrés will always be my Spanish Adonis.