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“And the hair?” I press. “The makeup?”
“Yep.” Sliding her hand over my belly, she bewitches me with a single touch. Instantly, my cock turns hard and my stomach rolls with giddiness. “So that’s what we’re doing. We’ll be back in time to get dressed.”
“And you’ll be careful, right?” I can’t tell her about the potential—low as it may be—that all the food in Jamaica may currently be riddled with anticoagulants. I can’t even tell her my suspicions. “Save your appetite for this evening, okay? The feast I’ve organized is gonna fill you up for weeks.”
“We’ll eat breakfast here before we leave. Then we’ll be back around lunchtime.” She hitches herself up on my lap, her movement smooth, and her bare pussy, like fire as it rests over my cock. Just like that, she rises over me, the sun low in the sky through the glass at her back, creating a halo and lightening her hair.
So easily, she fulfills all my filthy fantasies without even trying.
“What are you gonna do today?” Reaching between her legs, she fists my cock and squeezes just tight enough to ping-pong the thought of work straight out of my mind. “Hang around and chill with your brothers?”
“Probably gonna fuck you first.” My breath comes achingly fast. My heart hammering in my chest. Rearing up on the bed, I fist her hips and help lift her over my engorged cock. Then I groan as she lowers, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull and that thundering pulse of mine, slowing till I’m probably clinically dead.
But I can’t find an iota of concern for the matter. “Jesus, Mayet.”
“You should stay on the boat.” She glides over my hips, swallowing me up, heart and soul. “We’ll be back within a couple of hours.”
“Okay.” I drop my head back and bite my lip until it hurts. “Then I’m marrying you. Three o’clock.”
“How long does a traditional wedding take, you think? Twenty minutes? Thirty?”
“Fuck knows,” I groan. She steals my sanity. My willpower. She steals my very essence and locks it away so I’m just her captive. “Maybe an hour.”
“Then I guess we’ll continue this at four.” Like a fucking she-devil, she climbs off my cock and twists to place her feet on the floor. Meanwhile, I’m not sure my pulse has come back, and with it, my brain function.
“W-what?”
“It’s bad luck to fuck your husband on the morning of your wedding.” She grabs her camisole and slips it on over her head. “Allegedly.”
“Minka!”
Picking up the pair of panties I tossed aside somewhere about one this morning, she steps into the sheer fabric and wriggles until they’re up. “I love you, Archer Malone. Can’t wait to marry you in a few hours.”
“Minka!” I shove up in bed and snarl. “Get your ass back over here and finish what you started.”
“Or…” She meanders to the door and glances back with a playful smile. “You can finish it for me. At four o’clock.”
“Babe—”
“It’s called delayed gratification.” She brings a hand up, blowing a kiss my way. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“It’s called torture! Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted you to touch me,” she sniggers. “I want you to be inside me once more. But we don’t get to come until the vows have been spoken.”
“We already spoke the vows! Five fucking months ago.”
“You started this.” Stopping at the door, she peers back, her smile wide enough to make her dimples pop. “Play along. For the rest of today, you’re gonna be on the edge and desperate to finish.”
“Ya think!”
“So hold on to that energy. Then chase me down at four o’clock and let us get to the end.” Opening the door and checking the hall, she tilts her head left, then right, to ensure the coast is clear. Because she’s in her underwear, and this boat is filled, perhaps for the first timeever, with five Malone brothers at the same time.
“Minka—”
“Love you.” She glances back one last time before ducking through the door and escaping from my life once more.
Dramatic, I know.
