Swinging in Amsterdam (At the Swingers' Club, #1) by Polly J Adams Page A

Vondelpark, and ridden the trams for miles just to see where they would end up; they’d navigated the shopping throngs on the Damrak and then last night they’d relaxed on a champagne canal tour before dinner at a classy little Vietnamese place in the Jordaan.
    They lay facing each other now, and Martin’s dark eyes fixed on Selena. They were the kind of eyes you could lose yourself in so easily, meet that look and just forget everything. Being taken from behind, hard up against the glass, had been such a turn-on earlier, but in that position it hadn’t been possible to make eye contact and Selena liked nothing more than locking eyes with Martin as he climaxed. That was such an intense and beautiful thing.
    She raised herself onto an elbow so she could lean forward and kiss him. It was a gentle pressing of lips, all the more intimate for that brief, delicate contact.
    As she pressed against him she felt that unmistakable stirring as he started to respond.
    The trip had been all that Selena had dared hope. They’d packed so much in and seen so many fabulous sights. It had been pretty exhausting, though, and right now a quiet, rude evening in their hotel room seemed the perfect option. This was their not-quite honeymoon, after all.
    Martin was smiling. “Come on,” he said. “One more night. Let’s go out and explore. What shall we do?”
    He could read her like a book. He’d known she was about to suggest staying right here, ordering food and champagne up from the hotel’s restaurant and not budging until morning for the tram ride up to Centraal.
    She reached down and took a firm hold of his shaft, and immediately that first, tentative response she had felt nudging against her became something more definite. She tugged gently, then had to change her grip as his shaft pushed upwards.
    She ran her thumb over the exposed head of his dick, so wet already.
    Then she raised an eyebrow and said, “Really? You want to go out? Okay. Let’s get ready.”
    With that, she pushed away from him, releasing her grip so that his dick slapped against his belly.
    Standing by the bed, she looked back down at him, loving the way those dark eyes explored her nakedness.
    “Well what are you hanging around for?” she said. “Let’s get ready.”
    §
    They ended up drinking white beer at a canal-side bar, a short walk from Dam Square.
    “You happy?” Martin asked.
    Selena nodded. “Never more so,” she said, and it was true. She’d just turned thirty when she met Martin almost a year ago. She’d never married, although she’d come close. In each of the three big previous relationships in her life, she’d believed it was the real thing, that this was how love was , but it hadn’t worked out. With Martin, though, she could see just how different the real thing was, how those previous relationships had only been vague approximations of what she had with him now.
    They’d agreed early on that marriage wasn’t for them. Martin had been there before and emerged with the scars, and now that Selena had Martin nothing else mattered to her.
    “We don’t need paper and certificates,” she’d told him. “We just need us .” So instead of having a wedding, they’d had what they called a Weddon’t, a big party where they stood before friends and said of course they were going to make this thing last because why would you not ?
    And now... here on their not-quite honeymoon, they sat by a Dutch canal watching the world go by.
    “You want to explore?” she said now. This canal led up into Amsterdam’s Red Light District, a part of the city they had only seen in passing from their canal tour that morning.
    They drained their drinks and stood, then hand in hand they followed the canal-side street north.
    A short time later they paused, leaning on cast iron railings by the canal. Further up Selena could see the bulky form of the Oude Kerk, the old church at the heart of this district, an odd feature of an area that was coming alive