Seeming pleased, he pulls out his wallet, doling out the cash for each vendor, both older women of Native American descent.
I walk over to where he stands and snake my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss onto the soft cotton of his T-shirt-covered shoulder, inhaling his scent. “I’ll pay you back. I thought we were just going for a drive, so I left my purse at the villa,” I whisper as the vendor speaks up.
“Are you two on your honeymoon?”
“Yes,” we say in unison, our proud need to share that information with anyone obvious with our enthusiastic reply. Once our purchases are bagged, we browse along the other tables picking out new treasures, each of us procuring silver spoon rings with turquoise stones. The next table over, I find a hand-carved wooden Christmas ornament with a tiny dream catcher hanging inside of it and decide I have to have it. By the time we make our exit, Easton’s hands are full of bags of locally crafted, one-of-a-kind gems, each bought from a different table. As we retreat back to the parking lot, we’re waved away with warm goodbyes and congratulations. The feeling continues as we reach the convertible. I breathe in the day, and Easton secures our haul into the trunk. Smiling, I glance over at him, and it’s not reciprocated.
“What?”
“You’ll pay me back?” Easton stares over at me across the convertible. I’m thankful his Ray-Bans are on, so I’m unable to see his complete mean mug.
“I don’t know how we’re going to do money yet, and I can buy my own shit.” I shrug as his jaw ticks. “Fine, I’ll consider it my wedding present,” I concede, getting into the passenger seat and buckling in before he orders me to. “Now we have to figure out your wedding present, and it has to be good. Something special and one of a kind,” I demand as he takes the driver’s seat.
Famous last words.
Easton’s wedding present turned out to be a gift a little harder for me to bear, literally. “Easy, baby,” Easton grits out, the strain in his voice evident as he tries to ease into me, and I whimper at the discomfort. In the last few hours, we’ve gone from emotion-filled love-making to downright filthy and experimental fucking. I’ve given my body over to him as I have my trust, my heart, and my future, which is why I’m on all fours now on a plush towel he laid out on a large ottoman in our heavily mirrored bathroom. Easton towers behind me, gloriously naked, our eyes connected in our reflection, his mouthwatering cock in view as he pushes another inch inside me. Seeing me wince, he eases back out.
“Don’t stop,” I protest.
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” he murmurs as he massages my backside. With that, he grips my hips pulling me toward him before dipping to ready my exposed flesh with an explorative tongue. My last orgasm still dripping between my thighs, Easton laps at me from behind, gathering my wetness onto his fingers before pushing one of them back inside a formerly untouched place. The second I admitted I hadn’t explored that particular sexual boundary, I could see the fireworks go off in his eyes and knew exactly what my wedding gift would include. Before he could voice it, I fled his arms, running around our villa, and he gave chase while I screamed like a banshee.
He caught and punished me by running his tongue between my legs for endless minutes. In return, I surrendered, my white flag inching higher with every orgasm. Not once since we got back to the resort has his stamina wavered, nor has he gone more than a few minutes without growing hard—and I’ve loved every literal fucking second of it. He stands behind me now, the man I’ve fallen hopelessly obsessed with, sun-tinted dark olive skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes hooding as he gently probes me.
“Better?” he murmurs after adding another finger and pumping them in and out of me until he’s able to do so more easily. My eyes go half-mast, mouth parting as the foreign sensation becomes oddly pleasurable. The carnal lust in his own hooded eyes spurs me on as I gaze at his reflection, just as lust drunk. Jade-amber fire licks flames down my reflection as he positions himself back where we started on our second attempt. In the last several hours, he’s made diligent work of claiming as many sexual firsts as I’ve listed, this one his final frontier.
“Push out, baby,” he orders gruffly, and I do as he thrusts in. My legs nearly give out as a wave of pain courses through me.
“Look at me, Beauty,” he orders, “watch me take your ass.” I do, soaking in the pleasure in his expression, not wanting to deny him this or anything else for that matter. Abs glistening, eyes darkening by the second, he keeps me engaged as he grips my hips and pushes in further, claiming. I can practically see the ‘mine’ in his eyes even as he whispers encouragement. “Almost there,” he grits out. “Fuck, you’re so goddamned tight.”
“Easton,” I whimper, the shake in my voice a dead giveaway. “Do it, now, please,” I beg, the discomfort becoming close to unbearable.
He thrusts all the way in as I arch my back, the pain briefly blinding me as he mutters, “Jesus Christ.” His eyes frantically search my face. “Okay?”
“Hell no,” I croak, “but don’t stop.”
“Sure?”
“Easton,” I whimper, the pain overtaking any pleasurable sensation.
He guides my hand between my legs before gripping a lone finger and running it along the side of my clit, the result surprising as pleasure comes instantly. “This, right here, is your sweet spot.”
Apparently.
“Don’t stop,” he orders, and I nod, bracing myself with one arm while massaging myself with the other. The pain subsides slightly as he dips and darts his tongue along my back. “So fucking sweet. Ready?”
“No,” I pant.
“You have to relax.”
I narrow my eyes. “Want to switch positions real quick, husband, so I can give the same lecture? Pretty sure this wasn’t anywhere in the brochure.”
He barks out a laugh. “Baby, we can stop,” he pants. The pleasure due to his subtle movement quickly draining all humor away. “Let’s stop,” he murmurs, palming my back as I object.
“Don’t you dare! We’re doing this. Just…make it better.”
Expression tense, nostrils flaring, I know he’s restraining himself as he slowly pulls back and thrusts in. When he manages a few more without an answering whimper, I start to relax a little. The second I do, his strokes become easier as he starts a rhythm, lust oozing from him as he watches me massage myself.
“Better?” He grits out, running a palm over my ass cheeks.
“Yessss,” I hiss as I relax a little more, the foreign sensation overtaking me in a slightly more pleasurable way. He picks up his pace watching my every movement, his jaw going slack.
“F-f-feel g-good?” I ask as I begin to sync into the slow-building rhythm with him, the worst of the discomfort behind me.
“So fucking good, baby, I love you so much,” he rasps out, his voice velvet. “You’re so goddamned beautiful. I can’t get enough.”
“Then take more,” I order as I push back, meeting his thrusts. The act spiking my arousal further as his hunger increases, his eyes flaring unmistakably.
“Fuck, Natalie…don’t, I’m going to fucking explode.”
But I do, and in return, I elicit a groan I’ve never heard from him that spurs me on as I massage myself faster and begin backing onto him with every thrust. He slows our pace enough to press thick fingers inside me before running them along my walls. Sensation instantly overwhelms me as he simultaneously seems to push every button I have. Within a few more targeted strokes, my entire body succumbs before seizing. Pleasure rips through me like a tsunami as I toss my head back and scream out his name. A string of curses leaves him as he bites his lip, grips my hips, and begins pounding into me, prolonging my orgasm before he himself capitulates, belting out a harsh “Fuck! Fuck!”