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Montana dropped to his elbows, careful to keep his weight off Dahlia, lest he crush her.
Her eyes were closed and, like him, she was breathing rapidly. Their chests were pressed together enough that he felt her heart racing. Or maybe that was his.
Vadisk’s grip slackened and after a moment or two, he slowly withdrew, Montana shuddering with each lost inch.
Once he could move, Montana lifted his hips, falling heavily to Dahlia’s side. Vadisk claimed the other and they looked at each other across their wife’s body.
“That was incredible,” Montana said, wishing he could have come up with a better description.
“Amazing,” Dahlia added.
“Perfect.” Vadisk had found the best word, and Montana nodded.
“Perfect.” Dahlia flipped to her side, facing Montana.
Given Vadisk’s tired chuckle, Montana suspected she was giving their husband that same wiggling ass move of hers.
“We should get a shower,” Vadisk muttered, his arms coming around Dahlia, pulling her more firmly against him, making it clear he didn’t intend to follow through on his suggestion.
Montana snuggled closer to Dahlia’s front, his arm snaking over her so that he could rest it on Vadisk’s hip.
“Now that’s what I call a honeymoon,” Montana mused, his voice little more than a whisper.
His spouses—and now lovers—both breathed out quiet laughs, as Montana decided the three of them had certainly earned a catnap.
They’d briefly discussed doing something from their itinerary, but given the fact they’d changed the plan, moving away from their covers and on to that of three lovers frolicking in—to quote Sinaver—immoral acts, they decided to remain at the villa.
They remained in bed for most of the day, kissing and touching, talking and laughing. They only left the bedroom for a few minutes, grabbing the dishes and bringing them to bed after the room service they’d ordered for a late lunch arrived. They took turns feeding each other before falling back to sleep.
Montana wasn’t sure how long he managed to sleep when his phone beeped, dragging him out of a surprisingly deep slumber. Given the lack of light through the crack in the curtains, he would say it was the middle of the night.
His phone beeped again, and while Dahlia didn’t rouse, Vadisk sat up. “What is it?”
Montana reached for his cell and plugged in the code. He’d programmed his phone to notify him whenever there was action on Sinaver’s phone that matched certain parameters or contained key words in Russian or Ukrainian.
His blood ran cold as he looked at Sinaver’s incoming message. He scrolled through the pictures, then raised his phone face out toward Vadisk. “He has pictures of the three of us by the pool.”
Dahlia stirred, coming awake quickly as she grasped Montana’s wrist so that she could see the screen as well.
“He took the bait,” she whispered, though she suddenly looked pale. The idea of being intimate in the open had been her idea, but he could see that the reality of having been recorded and photographed wasn’t sitting easily with her.
Montana hated it as well, though their plan had certainly served its purpose. Looking at the phone again, Montana watched in real time as Sinaver attached three images—the ones where their faces were in focus, to an outgoing message. “Sinaver’s sending them to someone.”
Those words were the equivalent to a bomb going off in the room.
“Who?” Vadisk asked. At the same time, Dahlia said, “It worked.”
“Ispaniya,” Montana replied, spelling the word. “Must be a name?—”
Dahlia and Vadisk both shook their heads. “No, that translates to Spain.”
“Like the country?”
“Yes.”
“He sent pictures of us having sex…to the country of Spain.” Montana almost laughed at the absurdity.
“Of course he uses fucking code names,” Vadisk cursed, frustrated. “But you can figure out who it is from the phone number, right?”
