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"James," I whisper, then gasp when he plunges in deep, holding me to him. My hips angle into his and he leans over with my thighs molded to his, holding us up with one hand flat to the bed. James rears back and slams into me. His lovemaking becomes needy and his hands are groping every inch of my bare skin. This position couldn't be more perfect for us to come together. He’s striking my clit and pounding into my wet pussy while he angles my hips to reach a deeper spot for himself. He's going to leave bruises on my body when he's done from how hard he's gripping me. Everything becomes an afterthought when that first prick of euphoria assaults me in the highest way possible. We don't conceal our lust, instead we allow any sound to express how we feel when we're this deep into the moment.
My heart is racing double time now. I don't need a piece of paper to know that he's mine and I'm his. We already know that. There's no reason to put a label between us. We have a good thing going. Why ruin it?
Some of the best and longest lasting relationships are ones without any type of label.
I don't want marriage, and I hope that’s something he can understand. I love him and he loves me. That's all that matters.
Right?
Four
I'm not a fruity drink kind of girl, but I am on vacation.
I like to try all the touristy drinks and foods native to the country we're visiting because I know when I go home, no matter what I do, I'll never be able to recreate it. Manhattan is thriving with just about every kind of cuisine one could want, and while I'm not complaining, it's just not the same.
Tahiti has a drink native to the island called The Tahiti. I laughed over the name at first, until James reminded me there's a Long Island iced tea and a Manhattan Special where we live. Whatever, all I know is it has pineapple-and coconut-infused juice with some rum that's made here and a sprinkle of ginger. It's delicious, and I'm on my third and feeling amazing in my man’s arms.
James and I are sitting on the beach under a massive umbrella in a lounge chair together. I'm between his legs lying back against his bare chest. I love to be in his arms every chance I can. When he came out of the bathroom earlier dressed in only board shorts that sat super low on his hips, I had to fan myself. He's too damn good-looking and his sexuality is way too damn alluring. I told him I want to chain him up in our basement and keep him all to myself. He said he was cool with that.
James has his leg propped against the arm rest, his hand on my hip with the tips of his fingers under my bikini bottoms, lounging away with me.
I never want to leave here.
"Want a sip?" I lift the glass over my shoulder. I ask him every time and every time he takes a sip to appease me, even though he despises sugary drinks. I just ask to be nice, really.
"You're almost out. Do you want another one?"
I finish off the rest and place the tall glass on the round mosaic table next to us. My hands find his and I lace our fingers together, shifting so I'm laying my head on his arm. I kiss the inside of his bicep and snuggle up to him, breathing him in.
"James, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me drunk."
I feel him shrug. He has no shame and I love that about him. "Two words. Drunk. Sex."
I giggle. Alcohol does one of two things for me: I'm either giddy, or I want to have sex. I pause in thought. Actually, make that three. Sometimes I like to drop it low and shake my ass.
"Drunk sex in the ocean?" I suggest.
"You're too wild for the ocean when you're drunk. I may accidentally drown y
ou."
I laugh and pick up my head to look at him. Laughter dances in his blue eyes. "You make me that way. It's all your fault."
He smirks and I feel it in my belly. He has no regrets. "You're welcome."
Reaching higher, I drop a quick kiss to his lips and sit up. I try to pull back, but he cups the back of my neck and holds me for a longer kiss. Sometimes I can't concentrate when he does that. Like when his thumb is pushed up under my jaw.
Grabbing his hand, I break the kiss and pull up to stand. I'm a little tipsy but not drunk.
"Come on, let's go swimming. I want to feel the water on my skin."
James’s eyes roam the length of my body, making sure he doesn't miss an inch of skin. He makes me feel so beautiful. So wanted. So loved.
"Sweetheart?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"When we go snorkeling later, you're not wearing that."
