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74
CARTER
SAINT LUCIA – THAT NIGHT
I’d made love to my wife, slow and soft, in the perfect storybook setting (her words). It really was bliss, though, with Diana wrapped up in my arms, and the white-sand beach, palm trees swaying, and the aquamarine sea (that we’d see better in the daytime tomorrow) right outside our open door.
Eight hours earlier, with Secret Service protection, we’d wed in D.C. It’d been perfect, even with Diana’s parents there to “give her away” at the courthouse. Griffin, Camila, and Dallas had also attended. Dallas was currently staying with Oliver while Diana and I honeymooned.
In my paranoia, I’d called in a favor from a former bad guy who owned a hundred acres of property in Saint Lucia. It was highly secure, and we’d hopefully be untouchable from the likes of The Collective. After everything we’d both gone through, we deserved a week to ourselves as husband and wife.
I’d had another friend of a friend set us up with a jeweler here, and we’d picked out two bands and had our initials interlocked and engraved inside them.
Then, I’d carried her over the threshold, and she’d immediately spotted our “wedding” cake. Devil’s Food, of course. The woman had me taking selfies again, even with bruises still lingering on my face, as we made more memories. Smashing cake against each other’s mouths had come next.
Now there I was, happily married and tangled in the sheets with my wife.
Diana lifted her hand, staring at the simple platinum band, a match to mine. Despite not being a jewelry person, she’d promised this would be the only ring she’d ever love wearing and cherish.
“Diana Dominick.” She wiggled her fingers, studying her wedding ring. “Feels like that name’s always been mine, like it was written in the stars.”
I turned toward her, resting my hand on her hip. “Maybe that was the writing on the ceiling back then, we just couldn’t see it.”
“Mmmm, my hopeless romantic. Who would’ve known?”
“Don’t dare tell anyone,” I teased, smirking as I went in for another kiss.
That kiss turned into something more as it always did with us. Our tongues met, and my cock grew, ready to go again. But maybe this time, we’d . . .
“Angel?”
“Yes?” she whispered, hooking her leg with mine, arching into me.
“Any chance you’re ready for me again?”
She chuckled. “I can feel you most certainly are.” Shimmying against my cock as I snaked my hand around her side and gripped her ass cheek, she whispered, “I’m definitely ready, too.”
“Good.” I untangled our bodies, rolled off the bed, and bent down to retrieve my black slacks where I’d dropped them earlier that night, removing the belt from the loops.
She sat back on her heels, her tits in the air, and chin lifted. Eager and ready for something we’d never done.
I snapped the leather between my palms and winked. “Don’t worry. Not on your ass.”
“Was never worried.”
I closed the space between us and turned my belt into makeshift cuffs, looping and tightening them around her wrists.
“We’ll start slow,” I rasped before sitting on the bed. “On my lap. Facedown. Pussy positioned against my cock so I have access to your ass.” The commands came out rough. My eagerness obvious.
“I haven’t been a bad girl, though. Still going to spank me?” She stood before me, her glorious body on display. Her blonde hair lay heavy over her breasts, and I stood and reached forward, shifting her hair to her back so I didn’t miss an inch of perfection.
“I do recall you doing something I told you not to.” I nudged my chin in the direction of my phone on the table in the room.
“Ohhh, about that.” She wet her lips, drawing her tongue along the seam to tempt me.
“I told you what’d happen if you sent me a nude photo.” She knew exactly what she’d been doing texting me that picture.
Sitting, I patted my thigh, reminding her of where she belonged.
