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Chapter 38
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6:40 PM SATURDAY
I take my wife by the wrists and slam her against the bedroom wall of my yacht so hard, the boat rocks.
“Tell it to me again, darl,” I growl, my nose against her gorgeous, perfect nose. “And if you skimp on detail…I’ll punish you.”
Sammi giggles. She’s not the kind of woman who giggles frequently—and especially not while sober. But while her lips might always taste of tequila to me, for once, I’ve got her in my arms with the full confidence that she could pass a breathalyzer test.
“Maybe Iwantyou to punish me.” She arches a gorgeous, perfect eyebrow in a way that makes my cock even harder than it already was.
And I didn’t think that was even fucking possible.
“I’m a bad man, Mrs. Williams. I might just punish you either way for making me wait so long to make you mine.”
And then, as if in demonstration of my own rottenness, I dip my lips down to her collarbone and sink my teeth into her skin.
Sammi hisses and gasps, struggling against me one moment then easing her body closer to mine the next. I can almost feel the pleasure chemicals coursing through her veins, relaxing her muscles, and washing over her gorgeous, perfect brain.
“I might just like it,” she admits in a whisper.
For not the first time today, I run my tongue over her skin and think about how goddamn much I love my gorgeous, perfect wife.
I think about dropping the subject there and just fucking taking her. It’s what my cock wants. Christ, it’s what my whole body wants: Samira Williams nee Brighton, writhing in passion beneath me and moaning my name.
But it was such a stroke of genius…
I’ll only want her more if she’ll just tell me the story one more time.
“Play it again, Sams,” I tell her, and I feel her body shake with laughter.
“That’s a misquote, you know.”
Typical fucking Sammi.
I pinch her ass, then smack it, just to let her know I don’t care.
“Mm,” she moans, low and deep. “What should I start with, honey? The part where I left Eggs at the altar to come fuck my real husband on his big, sexy yacht?”
“How about the part where you put Ladyboy Celine Dion in your wedding dress and marched her down the aisle instead?” I suggest. Firmly.
And as with every firm suggestion I make, I accompany it with a firm thrust of my cock against her thigh. Just to let her know that I mean it.
“She seemed happy enough to play along,” Sammi laughs, thrusting right back. “I just didn’t think she’d actually go through with the rest of the ceremony, too.”
“And you thought Eggs would?”
Sammi shrugs. “You know how he likes Thai ladyboys, honey. I think they’re going to have a lot of fun together.”
“Not as much fun as you and I are about to have,” I tell her.
Then I tear her fucking top off her.
I have just enough time to enjoy the way her tits spring out of it—big, gorgeous, perfect tits—before she puts her foot against my abdomen and kicks me to the ground.
“That wasn’t very nice, husband.” She smiles as she takes my wrists in her own hands, pinning me to the floor of the yacht.
