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I want all of her. And I want to show her the most precious moments that don’t seem like much but have connections to my past. Right now, she’s the only one I can share them with.
I’ve never been romantic, but fuck me if this doesn’t feel perfect—Kat wrapped in my arms, her thick curls tickling my chest as we stand on the main deck of the yacht in the soft glow of the rising sun that’s still behind Zion.
“There, see?” I show her a whale sliding out of the water. “Another one.” I point in a different direction.
Kat is awake now. I tilt my head to have a better look at her expression. Her beautiful lips are parted in that precious look of wonder that I’ve gotten to know so well.
I pull the sheet from around her, then cover her front and press her closer to me, her bare back tight against my front.
“Enjoying the morning?” she murmurs, nudging her butt against my crotch. My dick can’t handle her teasing very well and stirs in curiosity.
“Yeah,” I exhale with a smile as I pull her hair back, baring her neck, and plant little kisses on her skin.
She’s an eager, naughty thing. Her sexual energy matches mine. Her hand snakes behind her, between us, and palms my erection through the fabric of my boxers.
“Wanna go back to bed?” I whisper, licking her earlobe.
She drops the sheet and drags it behind her between her fingers as she sashays through the terrace doors and toward the bedroom, swinging her hips.
I don’t hurry, enjoying the view of Kat’s body in front of me.
She drops the sheet as she nears the bed, crawls on it on all fours, then leans onto her forearms, burying her face in the sheets.
Her ass sticks up in the air for me.
Fuck.
I kneel on the bed, take the offering in my hands, and slide my cock inside her.
“Kat…” I can’t help but call out her name. “Fuck, kitten.”
She feels so good, her morning pussy wet and hot for me.
“Breakfast,” she murmurs.
I grin like a clown as I fuck her with no hurry.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” I say.
It used to be whiskey, now it’s Kat’s pussy.
My habits have changed for the better.
And as I fuck her slowly, I wonder if I’ll ever have enough. If I’ll ever stop wanting her so much, even after I had it all.
44
KAT
164 feet.Five staterooms. Main level full-beam master—“That’s where you lost your back-door virginity,” Archer adds with a proud grin. A full bar. An extended beach club with a pool, a hot tub, and a bridge deck. Cream and beige interior with stainless steel. Birds-of-paradise themed art and authentic, white peacock freaking feathers. Conference room, too?
“You kidding me,” I whisper and touch every surface Archer points to just to make sure it’s real.
The yacht looked like an apartment last night. Now, it looks like a floating mansion.
Archer is giving me a tour. It’s extraordinary. We go up to the top deck withal fresco dining—Jonshu would’ve choked from amusement at my extensive vocabulary—then take the stairs down to the lower level and the transom. Archer is telling me about theEmpresslike he’s doing a sales pitch, a permanent half-smile on his face, his eyes studying me like he’s trying to figure out which part of the description will finally give me an orgasm.
I’m sure none of his friends were impressed before. Those guys are born on yachts and in chateaus with platinum Amex’s in their mouths.
