Page 33 of Down and Dirty Celebrity Edition

Savannah kissed a line along the inside of her thigh, then did the same to the other side. Then she moved her lips to the crease of Amy’s hip, which might as well have been the most tender spot ever. Amy groaned. Then groaned more when Savannah’s mouth hit her center. Savannah hummed against her, and before Amy could beg for her tongue, Savannah muttered, “It’s funny, isn’t it?” Her breath was so hot against Amy’s center, her legs threatened to give way completely. But instead of elaborating, Savannah locked her mouth around Amy’s sex and stuck her tongue into places it had every right to be.

Amy’s fingers automatically went to Savannah’s hair, getting stuck in the tangles. Savannah’s tongue slid up from her entrance to her clit and back again.

“Wow,” Amy croaked out. “This is fucking amazing.”

Yet she couldn’t let it go. What was funny? Amy’s stomach? The way her belly button didn’t go in completely. Or maybe it was the strip of pubic hair that had started growing out despite the four laser treatments she’d undergone the weeks before Outlast Her started. Or maybe Savannah wasn’t that night blind after all, and she could see that funny-looking row of stretch marks on the inside of her right thigh.

Amy had to know.

“What is funny?” Amy asked when Savannah’s tongue wandered away from her folds toward the crease of her hip. Then back again. And although Amy would’ve preferred to keep Savannah’s tongue right where it was, she was more than desperate to hear the end of that sentence. “What’s so funny?”

Savannah’s grip on her waist loosened just a fraction. Her tongue paused, then fell away completely. “When I first saw you on this island, I literally thought about quitting,” she said softly. She laughed a singsong laugh that felt like the sun lodging itself in Amy’s chest. “I honestly never thought I would end up falling...”

But the sentence just hung there like mist.

“Falling?” Amy asked after a few agonizing seconds. Falling for her? Falling in love? Falling apart? Which was it?

Savannah cleared her throat. “For you,” she added, but her words sounded less than convincing, like there’d been another word she would rather have used. A word Amy had thought about for the two seconds Savannah had taken to reply.

“For me,” Amy muttered back and nearly asked her if that was all she meant, but then Savannah leaned in again, closing her mouth around Amy’s clit while her fingers squeezed Amy’s ass in a way that had Amy feeling like she was about to combust into a thousand tiny pieces. Her legs weren’t just threatening to give way this time. They already were. Amy was pressing so hard against Savannah’s head, it was like she was using her as a crutch.

“You need to stop,” Amy muttered breathlessly as her orgasm shuddered through her. “But also don’t. Don’t ever—”

Suddenly a glint caught the corner of her eye. She blinked into the dark. Was that—?

“I see it!” Amy blurted. “I see the bag.”

Then, before she could stop to process how wildly rude it was to abandon a woman on her knees, Amy bolted toward the glint.

“What are you doing?” Savannah called after her.

But Amy was already stepping over a root. She grabbed the bag from the ground and didn’t waste even a second. She ripped the main buckle open, tipped the bag forward, and dropped to her knees. It didn’t matter that she was still naked and that her tits were completely exposed to the air. Nothing mattered.

“I’m going to forgive you for leaving me hanging,” Savannah said. “But this is a strike against you, Sandler.”

“Shit,” Amy spat under her breath as she remembered Savannah. Beautiful, lovely Savannah who had just made her orgasm with nothing but her tongue. “I’m so sorry,” she called back. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Did you find it?”

Amy rummaged through a pair of silver Alo Yoga leggings, two sweat-wicking tank tops from Lululemon, an old Swiftfield United T-shirt, and a few mismatched socks. Her hands flew through the clothes like a woman possessed. Then her fingers hit something thick and stiff tucked flat against the back lining of the bag.

She froze.

“Amy,” Savannah called from the same place Amy had left her moments ago.

Amy had briefly forgotten about Savannah’s night blindness. “Yes,” Amy called back, then quickly jogged back to where she had been standing. “I think so.”

“What does it say?”

Amy glanced up at the pale slice of moonlight that hung through the canopy. It gave just enough light to illuminate the envelope. She fumbled with the flap for way too long. Savannah rested her chin on Amy’s shoulder, her warm breath delectably stirring the stray hairs at Amy’s neck, and that was all she needed to pull out the slip of paper.

Amy took a deep breath. Then she exhaled and read, “This is the ultimate advantage. The holder of this advantage has the ultimate power to send one pair home. Use it wisely.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Then Savannah exhaled so loudly it was as if she’d held her breath for a lifetime. “Is that it?” she asked softly. “Because I didn’t hear you say that it has to be played at The Sending.”

Amy stared down at the card, then turned it over. There was no fine print, no clause, no sneaky little asterisk, just those three sentences written in black. She ran her thumb along the edge, as if another set of instructions might somehow appear beneath her fingers. But there was no hidden message waiting to reveal itself. This was Outlast Her, and most of the time, what was written in black and white was exactly what you got.

“No,” Amy murmured, feeling a strange prickle of cold heat trace up her spine. “It doesn’t mention The Sending at all.”