Before I knew it, Rayna pulled me into a seat near the center blaze and gave me the most indecent dance in public. Her hips gyrated at varied but consistent rhythmic speeds. Her ass swayed in my crotch, my face, and at one time on my shoulder. She bent low, displaying the feminine curve of her spine that led out to the bump of a cherry that was her rear. The globes of her breasts stayed contained in the two thin pieces of material that was detached, deliciously displaying her neck down to her abdomen, though her pebbled nipples couldn’t be concealed.
I sat and raptly watched her twirl her ass incessantly, to the beat of the live drum, to the point of sweat beads covering her perfectly bronzed skin. Her eyes stayed on me just as mine were stapled to every inch of her. I’d barely heard the roaring whoops and cheers from the crowd, especially by the head female dancer who was clearly impressed with my lady’s moves. My wife. I could only hear the breath she extracted in my ear as she bent down at one point to lick the rim. My muscles went rigid—every tissue in my body came alive while in that chair watching my wife bring art to life with her delicious body.
At the show’s end, I found her gazing down on me, intently, still in performance mode. I, myself, was still enraptured by her carnal cadence. I heard the blood rushing through my head. My heart rate peculiarly increased in excitement. My pants all of a sudden felt tight. There was only one thing to do.
Caveman is right.
I rose from the chair, dipped to toss Rayna over my shoulder, and marched to the hotel suite where we were registered to stay that night. After throwing Rayna’s ass on the bed, I doffed my clothes, and watched her eyes and mouth collapse. Roaming my eyes around the room, an idea comes to the dome and I walked to the bathroom. When I returned, I peeled her out of her long taupe dress, tie her to the bed with the belt of the hotel’s bathrobe, and used Rayna’s body as the instrument she presented it as on the beach. I licked her ferociously and then fucked her properly. Rayna’s cries were unrestrained. Her expressions of ecstasy were a bonus because I couldn’t help but plunge into her body as though it was mine to exploit. Damn right, I’m barbaric. She’s mine and each orgasm she reached that night confirmed it.
My honeymoon was fucking great. It didn’t last as long as I’d liked it to, because of Rayna’s obligations at work. Nonetheless, I married the first and only woman who makes my heart leap and my toes fucking curl. I thought I’d been on top of the world before, but this feeling trumps any contentment I’ve ever had.
I finally have Rayna.
My life.
Chapter 13
Rayna
I’m exhausted. Absolutely drained as I sit at this table, entertaining my family before their flight back to Jersey in a couple of hours. Chyna and Tay are buzzing with youthful energy, Azmir is tapping away at both his phones while we wait for dessert, and my grandmother’s discomfit in a restaurant is on full blast by the way she’s sitting up in her seat, posting her chin in the air. Also, her high pitched formal tone rings each time a waiter offers her more bread and to refill her drink.
Funny thing is, we strategically decided on this restaurant, DiFillippo’s, minimizing the pretentious air that formal ones Azmir has been known to take me to hold. This one is quite modest and private, something I relish at this point in his career. There will likely be no cameras flashing or paparazzi hanging out in bushes once we exit. That would freak my grandmother out and, of course, thrill the girls.
This restaurant is nestled just outside of Santa Monica and we’re seated in a private section in the rear corner. Azmir and I are seated together on a loveseat with brocade jacquard upholstery. The girls, across from us, are sharing the same furniture, and my grandmother is in a tall chair at the head. The dim lighting plays on my mood of needing to relax…with Azmir…in the comfort of our home…alone.
The waiter comes to clear our dessert plates and offers to refill my glass of pinot noir, to which I decline. Azmir ordered one of the most expensive bottles in the house for me to have consumed just a glass of it. I would’ve been content with just a glass and not have wasted his money. It wouldn’t be a good look to increase the level of buzz I have going now.
I’m humming with desire for my husband. We returned from our honeymoon three days ago and haven’t been intimate since. We’ve been practically separated from the moment we arrived back in Southern California outside of taking Erin on Azmir’s cabin cruiser the day after we returned home. He was extremely generous in taking off a few hours to help get us reacquainted. Azmir virtually went right into work, and I acclimated myself at home, sorting laundry and mail while entertaining our houseguests. Then earlier today I concentrated on grooming by getting my hair, eyes, nails, and feet done and treated my grandmother and the girls, too.