Krista felt her face heat. “Is there a point to all of this?” she asked. Yes. She was on the defense and she didn’t really know why.

  Dr. Dangerfield offered her a smile. “The point is, real intimacy comes when genuine connections are made, when compromise can be made and partners can be sexually transparent and honest with one another.”

  Krista frowned. “So are you trying to tell me that Kendall is keeping secrets from me, other than the fact that he likes to choke his chicken behind my back and has some idea that I should swallow his sperm?”

  Dr. Dangerfield felt the urge to laugh in her face. “No, no, that’s not what I’m proposing,” she clarified instead. “But what I am suggesting, however, is that based on the questions you’d gotten wrong, it would seem that your husband has been keeping parts of who he is sexually from you. A partner should know that his or her partner enjoys masturbation, or what their favorite sexual positions might be.”

  Krista scoffed. “So because I didn’t know that Kendall likes to play with himself, that means our marriage is in trouble?”

  Dr. Dangerfield paused a beat, then said, “Tell me this, Mrs. Evans. After game night, did you talk to your husband at any time once you returned to your villa about any of his answers?”

  “No,” Krista stated.

  “Well, why not?”

  “Because honestly, I didn’t feel like talking about it. If Kendall wants to play with himself—even though I give him sex three-to-four times a week, then let him. But what I do want to know is”—she turned to Kendall—“when are you doing this?”

  Kendall shrugged. “Mostly when I’m home alone. But there are times when I masturbate when you’re either asleep or I’m in the shower.”

  Krista grimaced. “So you’re addicted to masturbating?”

  Kendall shook his head. “No, baby. Nothing like that.”

  Krista raised a brow. “Then what is it?”

  “I enjoy it,” he said.

  Krista scowled. “Well, what or who are you thinking about when you’re doing it?”

  Shit. He should have known that question was coming. He wasn’t about to confess to her that he watched porn. The type that most men would never publicly admit to—let alone tell his wife. So a lie was better than the truth.

  “I’m not really thinking of anything, most times, when—”

  “Oh come off of it, Kendall,” Krista interrupted. “Don’t insult me. You are not going to sit here and tell me that your dick just gets hard and you’re not thinking of something or someone.”

  Kendall shifted in his seat. Of course he thought of something—having his prostate milked. But he wasn’t going to tell her that—not right now. Not after seeing how she was already acting about him masturbating.

  Krista gave him a blank stare. Then blinked. And before he could answer her, she said, “What kind of man likes to play with a dick when he has a wife who screws him whenever he wants sex?”

  Kendall frowned. The kind of man who isn’t getting all of his sexual needs met from his wife, he wanted to say. “It’s mine. Why can’t I masturbate if I want? It’s a part of me. Most times I just milk it. Tease myself. Most times I fantasize about you doing things you don’t normally do with me in bed,” he added.

  Krista scoffed. “Ugh. I don’t even want to know. Not right now.”

  Kendall looked over at Dr. Dangerfield and she took that as her cue to step in. “Mrs. Evans, when a man or woman who is partnered masturbates, it’s not always a reflection on the other partner, nor does it have to do with not having a pleasingly healthy sex life.”

  “Oh, I know it’s not because of me,” Krista said indignantly. “So let me stop you right there.” She shifted her attention back to Kendall. “So again, Kendall, what kind of man is playing with himself, like it’s some hobby?”

  “C’mon, Kris. Stop. I masturbate because, one—it feels good; two, it helps relieve stress; and, three, because sometimes I’m too horny to want to wait until you get home to have sex.”

  Krista grunted. “So you fuck yourself?”

  Kendall let out a frustrated sigh. “No. I stroke myself.”

  Dr. Dangerfield jumped in. “Mrs. Evans, masturbation isn’t some antisocially deviant behavior. Frequency of sex in a marriage has little connection to the frequency of when a partner masturbates. In fact, there are plenty of couples that have extremely healthy sex lives who still enjoy pleasuring themselves. Self-pleasuring—masturbation—is a healthy part of our humanness. Exploring one’s own body is a healthy part of our sexuality.

  “And there are many married men and women who enjoy sex with their partners, while still enjoying pleasuring themselves. It doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with their partners or with their relationship/marriage. In fact, masturbation allows a person to stay in touch with their own bodies and their own sexual needs and desires. Self-exploration brings about self-discovery. For men, masturbation can help them learn ways to control their orgasms, while women can learn how to have orgasms more easily. Simply put, Mrs. Evans, good sex begets more good sex.”

  Krista turned her lips up. “I would have rather not known that my husband likes playing with his dick.”

  Kendall cringed. “Wait a minute, Kris, what exactly are you trying to imply here?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Kendall? You’re the one who likes having a dick in his hand.”

  “Not a dick,” he snapped. “My dick. It’s a big difference.”

  Krista snorted. “Mmph. It’s still a dick, no matter how you look at it.”

  Kendall responded by giving his head a little shake, as if he couldn’t have possibly heard Krista right. He stared at Krista, and then shook his head again in disbelief.

  “You’re joking, right?” Kendall asked.

  “Do you see me laughing,” Krista said.

  Dr. Dangerfield felt like screaming out, “Stroke it! Finger it! Get yourself off. Masturbation is good for the soul!” But, instead, she uncrossed her legs and then shifted in her seat and said, “Self-love is a beautiful thing. It can be empowering to explore one’s own body.”

  Krista just crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes.

  “Judging by your facial expression,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “I take it you don’t masturbate?”

  “No. I absolutely do not,” Krista said incredulously. “I wipe it. I clean it. I don’t need to play with it.”

  “Oh, I see. So tell me, Mrs. Evans,” Dr. Dangerfield continued. “Do you not love your body?”

  Krista huffed. “Of course I do.”

  “Then why not love it in every way?”

  “I have a husband for that,” Krista stated.

  Dr. Dangerfield nodded. “So then what is it about self-stimulation that you find so appalling?”

  Krista stared at her, then folded her arms. “Lust is a sin. And masturbation goes against God, His ways, His word, and His purpose for how a married couple should relate to one another in their union as husband and wife. Period.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Dr. Dangerfield challenged. “Not when it’s in the context of a marriage. Not when a wife arouses her husband, or when a husband arouses her . . .”

  “I’m not going to debate this,” Krista said, annoyance coursing through her. “Kendall should be able to say no to his lustful thoughts. If he turned to Christ and gave his life to our Savior, he wouldn’t allow temptation to control him. He wouldn’t be pulling out his dick or having the need to masturbate.”

  Kendall just blinked, sighed. He was really beginning to think he was fighting a losing battle. Krista was sounding more and more like a certified whack-job.

  Dr. Dangerfield felt like hopping from her seat and smacking Krista upside the head with her folder. “Mrs. Evans, can you tell me where in the Bible it states masturbation is a sin? There is a whole lot more emphasis on adultery, wouldn’t you say? There is absolutely nothing wrong with a married man or woman enjoying both their partner’s sexuality while continuing to enjoy their own.”

  Krista blinked. Ooh, this bitch really wants to go there with me, she thought. The Bible spoke explicitly about sexuality and sinful lust, so why was this ho trying to go there? And before Krista could give it to her real good with scripture from the book of Matthew, Dr. Dangerfield continued, “Although I do understand that sex and sexuality have intrinsic moral implications for many, there is nothing inherently wrong with a man or woman touching themselves to experience pleasure. And masturbation is not always immoral. Clearly, if Mr. Evans is fantasizing about another woman, then biblically speaking, it can be said he is violating his vows.”

  Truthfully, Dr. Dangerfield didn’t whole-heartedly subscribe to the notion of fantasizing being sinful, but from a religious standpoint, she knew how to talk the talk when she needed to. Still, she revered in fantasy. Believed fantasizing was healthy. That it could enhance a couple’s sex life. And—yes, she was probably going to hell in a gasoline hand basket. But she’d go well fucked, and sexually liberated.

  Krista turned her attention to Kendall. “Are you, Kendall? Fantasizing about other women when you’re masturbating? Sinning with your dick in your hand?”

  Kendall swallowed, but he kept his eyes on Krista’s. Of course I am. “No.” The lie was better than the truth for now.

  Krista raised a brow, skepticism now etching her face. “Are you watching porn?”

  Yeah—anything with ass play. “No.”

  Krista shifted her stare to Dr. Dangerfield. “Like I said, if Kendall wants to play with his dick, let him. No. I don’t like knowing that he has urges to pleasure himself, but I am not going to leave him for it. Unless he’s playing with his dick because he really wants a dick?”

  “What the fu—” Kendall stopped himself from going off, but just that quick, Krista had his blood boiling. “My dick is the only dick I have any interest in touching. Period. So whatever crazy notions you have stirring around in your head, get rid of them.” He pinned Krista with a hard stare. “You hear me?”

  Krista shrugged. “I’m only saying . . .”

  “Krista, you’re not saying shit, okay,” Kendall snapped. He rarely ever cursed at his wife. But goddammit, she was crossing the goddamn line. He blew out a frustrated breath. “Damn, Kris. I love you. But shit.”

  “Kendall,” Krista said. “Like I said earlier. It’s your dick. Do with it what you want.”

  Dr. Dangerfield glanced at the time. She would have loved to continue the session, but she was drained. Krista had worked her last damn nerve. And now what she needed was a stiff drink and a hard dick to relax her. But it would be none of that. She needed to detoxify and prepare for tonight’s festivities. The couples were being invited to a night of hot, steamy adult fun.

  “Okay, our time is almost up,” Dr. Dangerfield announced. “But before we end, I want to give the two of you a homework assignment.” She looked between Krista and Kendall, and then right back at Krista. “Mr. Evans, the next time you have the urge to masturbate, I would like for you to invite your wife to join you. And, Mrs. Evans, I would like for you to sit back and watch your husband as he pleasures himself. Are you okay with that, Mr. Evans?”

  No. That was his private time—alone. And no—fuck no, he didn’t want to share it with Krista’s ass. “Sure,” he lied.

  “Great. And you, Mrs. Evans, do you think you can do that?”

  Krista shrugged. “Maybe.” She was still brooding over Kendall’s narrow-minded remark. So that was how he really saw her. Narrow-minded.

  Mmph.

  Dr. Dangerfield offered a smile. “Set the mood. Candles. Music. Allow yourself to simply watch for at least fifteen minutes”—she glanced over at Kendall—“Provided you can last that long,” she said slyly.

  “Rising to the occasion won’t be my problem,” Kendall said.

  Krista shot him a look, but said nothing.

  Dr. Dangerfield nodded. “Then, Mr. Evans, I would like for you to invite your wife over to you and allow her to finish stroking you off to an orgasm. No intercourse, however; just your wife stroking you, loving you with her hands. Mrs. Evans, I want you to stay in the moment, focus on pleasuring your husband. Bring him to a happy ending.”

  With instructions doled out, Dr. Dangerfield shook the couple’s hands, then sent them on their way, while the nagging voice in the back of her head kept saying, “Krista Evans is going to lose her man to another woman . . .”

  Because what one woman wouldn’t do, another always would.

  Dr. Dangerfield knew that reality all too well.

  Thirty-Three

  An oasis of sensuality hidden behind thick mahogany doors awaited the three couples as they climbed out of the chauffeured-driven stretch Bentley. Earlier in the evening, the couples had been told by Dr. Dangerfield in almost a seductive whisper to, “Dress sexy—or wear nothing at all.”

  Club Passion was where discreet, horny couples teetering on sexual boredom and a craving for something salacious came to toss their inhibitions to the wind, releasing their inner freaks without judgment, and without care. It was where carnal desires were fulfilled. And the four-floor exclusive club—each floor more scandalous, more licentious, than the next—owned by the same woman who not only owned the island, but owned another adult club back in the States as well—was the only one of its kind here in the South Pacific.

  The main floor was available to all who entered. The remaining floors required key-coded membership cards for access. And the only way someone gained admittance inside the club was either by way of special invitation or you had to have a membership. And membership came with a hefty price. But the men and women who participated in the couple’s retreat were always granted a special invite to indulge their desires during their stay on the remote island—on the main level, of course.

  And always at their own risk.

  The big red sign over the door read: LOSE YOURSELF TO PASSION

  And on either side of the huge doors stood two of the most beautifully sculpted men Brenda and LaQuandra had ever laid eyes on. They both looked of Polynesian descent. Probably Hawaiian, LaQuandra thought as she nearly choked on her drool.

  Brenda seductively licked her lips.

  And, Krista, well . . . she seemed unfazed by the doormen’s exquisite physiques. She seemed more fixated on the skimpy outfits Brenda and LaQuandra had decided to stuff themselves into.

  Brenda had her breasts nearly spilling out of an extremely short wrap dress that revealed the edges of her big, fluffy ass cheeks. Curvy wasn’t the word that best described her. For a thick woman, she was well proportioned and stacked in all the right places. And Brenda loved every dangerous curve on her body. She exuded confidence and sex appeal—lots of it.

  Yet, Krista fought to keep a scowl from forming as she watched Brenda walk in front of her, her ass shaking every which way. Her thick shapely legs seemingly more elongated in a pair of seven-inch fuck-me pumps.

  Krista wondered if the tramp had on panties.

  Mmph. Probably not . . .

  Next, Krista’s gaze swept over LaQuandra. And this heifer had the gall to wear a skintight black dress with a cutout back and a pair of sexy black six-inch, open-toed heels. Her flat ass didn’t look so flat, and Krista thought she might be wearing silicone butt pads. She couldn’t blame her, though, if LaQuandra were wearing padding in her underwear.

  Every woman deserved to have an ass they could be proud of. Right?

  Still . . .

  Krista couldn’t believe Brenda and LaQuandra would come out dressed like two hoochies on the ho-stroll. Hadn’t they been told to dress sexy, not whorish. Whatever. She wasn’t in the business of judging folks, so if they liked it, she loved it.

  She glanced down at her outfit—a white linen skirt, white silk blouse with matching linen jacket. She normally liked to wear her blazers buttoned, but tonight she’d decided to wear it unbuttoned to show the ruffles in her blouse.

  And then Krista stole a glance down at her white peep-toe pumps. The three-inch heels were already starting to hurt her feet, but she’d suffer through it for a few hours. She hadn’t been to a nightclub in years. And she hadn’t had a drink in about four years. And the only dance she knew was the Electric Slide, so unless they played the Electric Boogie or the Cupid Shuffle, she’d be holding up the wall with a Pepsi in her hand, sipping through a straw.

  Of course, Kendall looked handsome in his white linen pants and white linen dress shirt. The pants hung just right over his white loafers. Krista couldn’t help but grin, knowing they were dressed to the nines. She was still peeved about what had been said in their session, but not enough to allow it to ruin their evening.

  “Girrrrrl,” LaQuandra drawled out as she leaned in to Brenda. “Why in the world is Krissy . . .?”

  “Who?” Brenda asked, giving her a confused look.

  “The church lady in back of us.”

  “Oh”—Brenda chuckled—“you mean, Krista?”

  “Yeah, her,” LaQuandra stage-whispered, and then she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t in earshot. “Tell me why is she dressed like she’s going to a woman’s day program?”

  Brenda nearly doubled over in laughter. “Girl, stop. You are so wrong for that.”

  LaQuandra shrugged. “But am I right? All she needs is the hat and gloves.”

  “Girl, stop. I think she looks cute in her patent leathers.” Brenda opted to not say anything more than that. She decided LaQuandra was the messy one, so she’d let her messy-ass be messy by her damn self.

  LaQuandra grunted. “Uh-huh. She’s dressed like she’s ready for communion.”

  “Girl, be nice. Let her dress how she wants to dress,” Brenda said. And then she shifted the conversation back to the chiseled hunks standing up at the top of the stairs. “If the men in this club look anything like those two up there, I’m gonna need a change of drawz.”

  LaQuandra laughed.

  Isaiah and Roselle scowled at the chiseled men with the wide shoulders and muscled chests and rippling abs.

  What the fuck? Roselle thought as he sized up the two hunks standing up at the top of the stairs. I hope this club isn’t packed with a buncha half-naked niggas. I wanna see some sexy bitches with lots of ass and tits.