Number Six (The Villains #3)

Epilogue

S ixteen degrees, thirty minutes, nine-point-one seconds south by one hundred fifty-one degrees, forty-two minutes and point-five-six seconds west was beautiful. Monique had been indulging her inner lazy bunny for six months and loving every minute of it.

Every night at sunset, she and Ottilie would take to those beach cane chairs, Mai Tais in hand, and watch the golden ball dip into the water while they talked softly.

Her fear that she’d miss her sex work hadn’t come to pass, although she did miss one or two favorite clients, Mrs. Menzies most of all.

On Monique’s last day in Vegas, June Menzies had clung to her in a long, wordless hug in Monique’s room. “Thank you,” the front desk manager had whispered. “For everything.”

Monique had tried to give her the name of another sex worker who would be perfect for her, but June had shaken her head. “I’ve met someone. I don’t need another name.”

“You’ve met someone?” Monique had exclaimed in delight. “Anyone I know?”

“Actually, yes.” Mrs. Menzies’s cheeks reddened delightfully. “She works in the accounts department. You talk to her every three months each time you settle your bills.”

“Laura? Oh, she’s a hoot.” Monique smiled. “Hilarious woman. It’s about time you had someone fun in your life. You’re long overdue.”

Mrs. Menzies had gone even redder. “She’s someone I never would have been open to dating if not for you. I didn’t realize how bad my marriage was—the constant insults and disrespect—until you showed me it could be so much better. And now Laura… She’s shown me it can be incredible.”

“I’m so pleased for you, darling.” Monique stepped back and lightly slapped Mrs. Menzies’s voluptuous ass. “For old times’ sake,” she teased. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

She harumphed. “Yes, well, none of that nonsense from you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Monique said. “A great deal.”

Mrs. Menzies hesitated, then said, “The hotel gossip network is in overdrive about you leaving. I must say, it’s a relief after all the wall-to-wall carrying on since Carrie Jordan was arrested here.”

“What’s the scuttlebutt about me?” Monique was well aware of the charges against the disgraced singer regarding some “deeply concerning” images found on her seized phone that were part of an “ongoing investigation.”

“Is it true about you and Ms. Zimmermann?” Mrs. Menzies asked.

“Well, June, if everyone’s suggesting that Ottilie and I are off to an undisclosed Pacific island where there will be obscene amounts of cocktails, beaches, and sex, then yes. It is true.” She beamed in happiness.

“So, you really weren’t lying,” Mrs. Menzies said earnestly, “all those times you told me. You really do love us older, rounder women.”

“I really wasn’t lying. I love clients in all shapes and sizes, but you were always my favorite, darling. And you’ve always been sexy to me, even when you didn’t believe me.”

That earned her another abrupt, surprising hug, and an amused June Menzies murmuring in her ear, “Anytime I hear the number five, I will think of you.”

“As will I, darling,” Monique replied.

Then Mrs. Menzies pulled away and strode off, cheeks as red as stop signs. Adorable .

Ottilie emerged from the shower, shaking Monique back to the present.

She was naked and gorgeous, toweling down slowly. “I see the exotic island lifestyle agrees with you.”

“Oh?” Monique peered at her over her reading glasses.

“Lounging in bed at eleven.” She smiled. “I’ve had time to do my yoga, take my daily beach walk, chat to the cook and the cook’s groupie, read another chapter of Oryx and Crake , and have a swim. The water is glorious today, by the way.”

“Well, I’m stuck answering Ray’s emails. He still wants to debate EVs with me.”

“How exciting,” Ottilie said dryly.

“Yes, darling. Lithium extraction in Tibet is as exciting as it gets for us corporate types. At least I’m also planning my exciting next podcast. Special guest is Las Vegas’s sensation, Cleopatra. Its working title is ‘Showgirls, Sex, and Razzle Dazzle.’”

Ottilie snorted. “That’ll be popular. But it’ll be hard to top ‘Finding Your Clitoris—Repeatedly .’ ”

Monique grinned. “I’m happy to report that that masturbation podcast got a million followers faster than any other podcast in history this year. It’s now a viral sensation. Never underestimate people’s interest in getting off.”

“Sex sells.” Ottilie shrugged. “On that note, did you say yes to that publisher?”

“I’m still negotiating. I may be a debut author, but I’m not taking the first deal they offer. They’re not the only publisher interested. I know my worth.”

Ottilie smiled. “I like that about you. By the way, Hannah would love us to swing by for lunch today. Says she’s cooking something delicious.”

“Is it challah again? God, I love that bread of hers. Divine.”

The best part of Ottilie’s friend coming to stay in one of the guesthouses for a few months was her sublime cooking. Hannah’s repertoire was being enhanced lately thanks to Ottilie’s cook, a maternal middle-aged Bora Bora woman living on the far end of the island whom Hannah had befriended. The two women were thick as thieves in the main kitchen most days, with Hannah declaring herself the woman’s “oldest, most devoted groupie.”

Hannah was a delight, and appreciative of having an island getaway while her granddaughter enjoyed her honeymoon.

Monique had loved Hannah the moment she’d first said hello to her.

Hannah’s eyes had lit up with recognition at her voice. “Oh, it’s you! The podcast lady?”

Monique had preened.

“Hannah?” Ottilie had asked in astonishment. “You listen to her show?”

“Oh, I’m a loyal follower. There really is only so much I can fill my days with. I listen to all sorts of media, but Monique’s show is by far the most entertaining.” Hannah leaned in confidentially, adding, “I appreciated the one called ‘Bad Hips, Great Orgasms.’ Very useful. Not everyone is so young and flexible anymore.”

And that was the absolute first and last time Ottilie had mentioned Monique’s hobby to Hannah. There were some things Ottilie apparently didn’t need to know about her friend.

Now Monique couldn’t wait to meet Hannah’s granddaughter, when Michelle arrived at Christmas with her new wife, Eden.

This year’s Very Bora Bora Christmas would also include Cleo and Rochelle.

Cleo would, of course, bring more U-Haul jokes than ever, as well as one of her old glittery dance outfits, as per Hannah’s request.

Monique was most looking forward to bringing together the two career dancers so they could bond. Hannah had been counting down the days with much enthusiasm.

How interesting life had become. There would be food, fun, friends, and sunsets.

Friends?

That was taking some getting used to.

Christmas should be survivable…assuming Michelle and Ottilie didn’t rile each other up too much. The duo couldn’t seem to resist a little low-level head-butting whenever Michelle Skyped the island to talk to her safta.

Monique wondered whether she should have a quiet word with the former Fixers’ CEO at some point. She could explain that Michelle was free from media scrutiny only due to Ottilie, that before she’d moved to the island, all Ottilie had spent her retirement doing was threatening anyone even thinking of linking Michelle to her previous company.

Would that make things weird? Michelle feeling suddenly beholden to Ottilie?

Or maybe Monique should butt out. Leave the two to their amusing little love-hate dances that really just boiled down to them both caring about Hannah.

It suddenly occurred to Monique that Ottilie was taking an awfully long time to dry off after her shower. A curl of desire slithered through her. Was this an invitation? Well, well. She perked up.

“You know, it’s very distracting, you standing there stark naked.” Monique’s eyes roamed Ottilie’s nude body. She loved how full and curvy and soft it was. “I’m suddenly thinking there’s something else I’d prefer to be doing than talking about sex.”

“Oh?” Ottilie asked innocently, hanging up the towel. “And what would that be?”

Monique patted the bed beside her.

Ottilie shook her head. “Lose the laptop. I’m too old to be banging into hardware.”

“Too old?” Monique chuckled. “Please, ever since we’ve been on Sixteen Degrees, you’ve been getting younger and younger. Having no stress suits you.”

“Sixteen Degrees is not its name, you know,” Ottilie observed, but her gaze never left her lover as Monique began whipping off her clothes.

Not that Ottilie had ever actually succeeded in pronouncing the island’s name correctly herself, although she’d never admit it. Five languages and she couldn’t master one extra-twisty native island name?

Speaking of wrapping her tongue around things… She smirked at Ottilie’s expression as Monique’s shirt went flying and her breasts bounced into view.

“No bra,” Ottilie observed dryly. “I’m living with a bohemian.”

“No bra,” Monique confirmed, shimmying her underwear down her legs next. “Did you know I almost came thinking about you naked in the shower earlier? But I have some self-restraint.” She moved her laptop off the bed onto a small cane table next to it.

“You…with restraint.” Ottilie climbed onto the bed, kneeling at Monique’s feet, and studied her. “I’d like to test that theory.” She gave Monique an intense look. “Spread your legs for me?”

Monique licked her lips, and her pulse kicked up. She spread her legs. “Now what?”

“I like to look, you know that.” Ottilie lowered herself between Monique’s legs but didn’t touch her.

It was true. Ottilie was an observer. In their months of exploring each other’s bodies, sometimes she simply enjoyed studying the slick, soft folds between Monique’s legs.

Once she’d used a feather on her, which had driven Monique insane. Another time, her breath. Nothing else but a whispered caress, explaining all the ways she’d tongue her later.

Ottilie licked her index finger and then traced Monique’s folds lightly. She discovered the arousal at her entrance. “I see you weren’t making that up.”

“You inspired me.”

“What were you thinking about? When you were being inspired?” Ottilie’s finger shifted to the base of Monique’s clit, and she leaned in, licking gently. She pulled back to wait for a reply.

“I love the way you look when you’re turned on. The way your eyes blaze when you want me. I’ve never felt more wanted than when you just lock eyes with me. When I can see your desire, your hunger for me.”

“I can certainly see your desire right now,” Ottilie said, entering her achingly slowly.

Monique gasped at the sensation, and a little spasm of delight shuddered through her.

“I’d like to take you from behind when you’re on your knees, I think,” Ottilie said matter-of-factly. “I’ll lick you until you come. Or maybe…a strap-on?”

Monique twitched between her thighs. “Oh?” She tried not to sound too desperate, but her cool facade was long gone. Her lover had seen her in every kind of disarray there was.

“Would you enjoy me being in charge?” Ottilie asked, as if she weren’t in charge most of the time. As if she didn’t prefer being on top, sitting on her, and rubbing her wetness all over Monique’s stomach while Monique frantically thumbed her clit.

Ottilie was powerful to watch when she was aroused. She would throw her head back sometimes and just moan. Long and low. As if fucking Monique were an overwhelming sensation.

“You love being in charge,” Monique pointed out. “What if I did that to you? Hmm? If you’re thinking about taking me from behind, you must enjoy the idea.”

The finger inside her froze and then began pumping in and out more vigorously. “We’ll both try it,” Ottilie announced. “And see which we prefer.” Then her mouth descended on Monique’s clit.

She began to gasp. Nothing at all had ever prepared Monique for what having sex with someone she loved so deeply would be like. It made everything sharper. More colorful. The sensations were powerful.

They hadn’t exchanged the words yet because it had felt too soon. Although, the day Ottilie had explained how she could not adapt to being without Monique was declaration enough. Being accustomed to Monique was an I love you from anyone else.

Whatever they labelled it, though, the feelings were just getting deeper. And the more Ottilie looked at her like that , as if Monique were essential to her breathing, the more Monique wanted her.

It was constant now.

Ottilie’s tongue tap-danced across the tip of her clit, then slid up and down, playing, toying with it.

Monique was going to come a lot sooner than she’d hoped. She could feel the building pressure, loving the sight of Ottilie folding herself in half with her pendulous breasts pressed into Monique’s thighs. Those pillowy breasts shifted as she did.

Monique would taste her nipples soon. Weigh them, stroke them, pleasure them, and make Ottilie gasp out those little huffs of air. Ottilie was never loud, but her gasps said everything.

Ottilie’s tongue was doing amazing things to her. That just reminded her of how much Ottilie loved being tongued. She became undone whenever Monique pushed her tongue deep inside her and then ran her pinkie down to her anus and teased around her puckered hole. She’d go bright red in the cheeks every time, but she never asked her to stop.

Ottilie had only once ever asked her to stop, and it had been when her neck had started spasming. She’d accepted a gentle massage instead.

She loved cuddles too. Monique wasn’t sure what she thought a former spy might be like in bed, but cuddles hadn’t been on her list.

Cuddles were vastly underrated.

“Are you still with me?” Ottilie’s lips drew away. Her fingers, though, never stopped playing with her. “I feel you drifting.”

“I’m sorry,” Monique said. “I was thinking about how much I love cuddling you.”

Ottilie nodded. “I do like your cuddles. They’re so good that I’m surprised they weren’t on your menu.”

“I didn’t share all my special skills with my clients. I like to hold some things back for the women I’m intimate with.”

“Women? Plural?” Ottilie glanced dramatically over her shoulder. “Should I be worried you have a harem tucked away somewhere?”

“No harems. Just the one woman I’m wildly into. And I’ve been thinking of adding another item to my menu that’s only available to you.”

Just then Ottilie thumbed the side of her clit, Monique’s absolute weakness, and said in a low tone, “I’m yours.” Her eyes were dark and flinty and she rubbed her hard, again. “And you’re mine. Do you understand me, Ms. Carson ?”

Monique didn’t know what it was about those words, but they were hot as fuck. She groaned, arched, and came in a quiver. Possessive Ottilie was both a rare and arousing treat. “Oh, I hear you.”

Ottilie slithered up her body and wrapped her arms around her. “That was glorious.”

Understatement of the year.

“So, what would be this mysterious new menu item that’s reserved just for me?” Ottilie asked casually.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Monique said, drawing in a ragged breath. “Before I tell you what it is, I should mention that I’m very much in love with you.”

“Yes,” Ottilie said, not looking the faintest bit surprised. “If it helps, I have known for some time I’m in love with you. Obviously.”

That was so Ottilie that she chuckled.

“What?” Ottilie asked. “As if you didn’t know.”

Yes. She did know. It turned out she knew the Book of Ottilie intimately and had read it cover to cover. That didn’t stop the warmth in Monique’s belly or the brilliant smile she knew had lit up her face. “There’s only one item on my new menu: Number Six.”

Ottilie waited, gaze locked with Monique’s.

“Love Me.” Monique cheeks felt like they were on fire at how that sounded. Corny as hell. So much for having any cool whatsoever around Ottilie Zimmermann.

Silence fell for a long moment and then Ottilie murmured softly, “Well, then, Ms. Carson, I’d like to order a Number Six.”

Monique’s embarrassment fell away, and her heart suddenly seemed too big for her chest. Smiling, she said, “Now and forever. Number Six it is.”