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Her palms landed in the sink.
“Lean forward for me, Eesh.”
She obliged him, and he swept her clit with soft, firm flicks of his tongue until she moaned, gasped, and came, shuddering and gripping the faucet.
Licking his lips, he stood, gripped a handful of her hair, and leaned near her ear. “Don’t forget. You asked for this.”
Then he released her, left the bathroom, and returned to his seat, waiting like before as if nothing had occurred between them.
CHAPTER17
The first activity he’d planned for their honeymoon was biking, and the Sydkustleden biking path would take them to their second destination—the beach. It all culminated in dinner, and a night she couldn’t prepare for if she tried. By the time he was done with her, she would be reduced to nothing but moans, hard nipples, and a hot, dripping pussy.
Joel tried to keep his fingers out of Ayesha while they were in public. Then, he’d tried to keep his hands off her on the jet, but she spent the entire flight riding his face or with his tongue inside her from behind.
By the time they landed, she was exhausted, but she caught her second wind when they reached their lodging—a private beachfront cottage.
That first night, she took him to the back of her throat, nearly breaking him. She rode his tongue until she screamed his name, her fingers in his hair. Then, as hard as it had been, he watched her writhe herself to sleep and hoped his teasing wouldn’t backfire, only for him to come the second he entered her.
“What’s first, hubby?” Ayesha asked, her hair whipping about her head.
She was so damn cutestanding in front of him, the sun at her back.Plus, the temperature couldn’t be more perfect for a trip, alone, with his new wife.
“Biking to the beach,” he said. “We’ll know we’re in the right place when we see multicolored bathing huts.”
“Bathing huts? That sounds—”
“Kinky? Yes, I know.”
They found the bathing huts lining the beach, tiny cottage-like homes all facing the water’s edge. He and Ayesha chose a yellow wooden shack with a purple door, and each time she tried to hook her bikini top, he unhooked it. Once she got it hooked, each time she tried to adjust her breasts, he popped one out, bent, and sucked on her nipple until she all but left claw marks on the wooden walls.
It wasn’t like it was his fault.
He loved her breasts.
They were beautiful and the perfect size for his hands. Plus, she had sensitive nipples. Extremely sensitive nipples. Simply knowing that made him hard.
He covered her mouth with his to muffle the cries from her climax. Then, as he went to leave, she dragged him back, pushed him up against a wall, and made his toes curl until his toenails became claws.
Spent and panting, they emerged.
Dozens of people lay spaced out on the sand, only a few covered by umbrellas since it was a lovely day out.
Some read.
Others slept.
Everyone else swam.
Ayesha found them a spot while he headed for the water, and there was a specific reason he’d asked her to set up their area. It was because of this—her walking toward him in a red bikini, looking more toned than he’d ever seen her, a splash of light on the gray canvas his life had been for what had felt like an eternity.
Everyone else disappeared among the greenery, the sand, and the waters. Today, he didn’t care if anyone stared. He didn’t care about the two, three—twelve? What the fuck?—pairs of eyes on her. As a matter of fact, he only made eye contact with three of them, and he didn’t even promise death in his gaze—only blood and broken bones.
She walked right into his arms.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They were in Europe, so this level of PDA was like holding hands back in the United States, and the way she looked at him made him feel like he was the sole possessor of all the world’s riches.
“Sorry,” she said, holding his gaze. “I was just admiring the way you look right now. I never want to forget how you look right now.”
