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“Please,” Alessia pleads.
I reach over to the bedside for a condom.
“No,” she says. “I started the contraceptive pill.”
What?
“It’s okay.” Her eyes sear mine.
And I can’t wait any longer. I kiss her again, grab my dick, and guide it to where it wants to be… “Ah!” I breathe as I ease myself inside her.
Skin against skin.
A delectable first.
She’s tight and slick and wet with want, and she curls her arms around me, her hands moving to my arse, her legs winding around my calves as I start to move and lose myself in the pleasure of her.
In the passion of her.
In the love of her.
My wife.
On and on.
Her fingernails etch her desire on my skin as she gasps and moans close to my ear. She’s building, and climbing, as am I, and suddenly she’s stiffening beneath me as she cries out, her orgasm pushing me over the edge.
I cry out as I come, and the world around us fades, and it’s only me and my wife.
My love.
I lean over her, propped on an elbow, smoothing her hair off her face, as she stares intently at me. We’re still intimately connected, and I don’t want to move.
“How was that, Lady Trevethick?”
She smiles, lighting up the room and my heart. “That was wonderful, Lord Trevethick. And for you?”
I move then, so she’s lying on top of me, and kiss her hair.
“That was muchly.”
She giggles, and I kiss her hair again.
“In fact. I’d like to do it again very shortly. But perhaps you’d like some champagne and strawberries first?”
Alessia lies beside me, fast asleep. Her dragon nightlight is with us, a sweet sentinel watching over her, keeping her safe from the dark. I’m delighted that she’s brought him with us. I snuggle closer, inhaling her soothing scent, and marvel at how much I enjoy just lying here beside her… just being. Is it because she doesn’t make demands on me? Is it because she makes me feel needed? Loved? I don’t know. Whatever it is, I’ve never felt as content as I do now. Content, yet excited. Tomorrow we get to explore her capital city and just be. Together.
Closing my eyes, I kiss her hair.
Until tomorrow, and the rest of our lives, my love.
Chapter Nine
The sun glints off the sparkling Caribbean in Endeavor Bay as my wife paddleboards over the turquoise sea. Her tongue is sticking out as she concentrates on staying atop the board. It’s alluring, and I’ve seen a great deal of that tongue recently—teaching her to paddleboard, play poker, play pool, use chopsticks, give head…
Fuck.
The thought of my wife with her lips wrapped around my rigid dick fellating me has an immediate and significant effect on my body. I shift on the board trying to bring myself under control but lose my balance and fall into the Caribbean with a loud, undignified splash.
When I surface, Alessia is laughing. At me. At me.
She’s wearing a skimpy, bright green bikini we bought at Pink House, the local store, and her body is beautifully bronzed all over. She looks gorgeous, but she’s laughing at me.
Right! This is war.
I grab the paddle, vault back onto the board, and, grinning like a maniac, pursue her.
She screeches and turns her board to the shore and begins to paddle frantically.
The chase is on.
But she’s no match for me, and I catch her just before the shallows, leap off my board, and grab her, throwing us both into the sea.
She screams, but the water silences her, and she surfaces coughing, spluttering, and laughing. I reach for her as I’m within my depth and pull her into my arms and kiss her.
Properly.
She tastes of happiness and sunshine and crystal-clear seawater. She tastes of my beloved wife. “That’s better,” I murmur against her lips.
“Je trap fare!” She pushes at my shoulders but I refuse to let go.
“I take it that wasn’t a compliment.” I nuzzle her nose, and she giggles.
“I said you are an arsehole.”
“Talking dirty again?”
“I am learning from you.”
“Hmm… am I a good teacher?” I capture her bottom lip between my teeth and tug gently.
Her dark eyes shine, and her cheeks flush beneath her tan. “You tell me,” she whispers.
I grin. “No complaints here.”
“My grandmother said the best foreign dictionary is a lover.”
Of course, her English grandmother married an Albanian.
“Lover, eh? Does husband count?”
She wraps her limbs around me, cups my face, and kisses me—all tongue and lips and love—weaving her hands into my wet hair. I hold her fast against me. And we’re skin on skin, and my body responds, hungry for her again.
Will I ever have my fill of my wife?
I am utterly in her thrall as I surrender myself to her kiss, her tongue… her love.
When we come up for air, I’m aroused and ready for her. “Shall we fuck in the sea?” I whisper breathlessly, half in jest. “There’s no one here.”
