By the time we get into Kenton’s car and head to the airport for our honeymoon, my eyes are so heavy that I’m not sure how I will keep them open. I make it onto the plane and find a seat as Kenton talks to the stewardess and pilot. I can’t imagine living the life Sven does, but he always seems so down to earth. I adjust my wedding dress and lean my head back, just wanting to close my eyes for a few minutes before I go take the dress off.
I wake up, feeling a kiss to my lips then forehead. My eyes slowly open and Kenton’s face is the first thing I see before I look around, seeing the sun streaming through a set of open doors. Bits and pieces of last night come back to me, but most of it is hazy.
“I missed all the good stuff, didn’t I?” I ask.
“You slept like the dead, babe.” He chuckles, kissing my nose.
“I even slept through you taking off my dress.” I close my eyes in disappointment. I had on a beautiful, strapless, lace bra and panties that matched it. I know he says that he loves my plain undergarments, but even I thought I looked hot in what I had on under my dress.
“I loved the lace, but I prefer you as you are now,” he says softly, his hand moving under the sheet along my belly then up, cupping one breast before traveling down to run along the top of my pubic bone. His tongue runs over my nipple and he pulls away, blowing on it and watching as it puckers. “Yes, I love you like this.”
He smiles, pulling my nipple into his mouth. This time, the heat has me arching back and grabbing a handful of his hair. His mouth travels from my breast, up my neck, and to my mouth, where he kisses me deeply as his tongue delves into my mouth. His long, thick fingers slide between my folds and down over my clit before entering me, curling up, and then hitting that spot that makes my toes start to curl.
“Yesssss,” I hiss.
“Already so hot and wet for me.” He bites my earlobe before licking and sucking down my neck. He moves so that his body is over mine and his thighs are pushing mine apart. His hands hold each of mine, pulling them up near my head. I lift up, biting into his chin. His mouth takes mine, and I moan when I feel the head of his c**k touch my clit before it lowers, bumping against my entrance. Then the tip slips inside before pulling out, going too far. My mouth pulls from his and I try to lift my hands, wanting to grab his ass to pull him into me.
“Please,” I beg.
“So sweet,” he whispers, bending his head, biting and sucking one nipple before moving to the other one and torturing it the same way.
My hands are fighting to get free, wanting so badly to grab him. His hands shift to hold on to my wrist, forcing my hands flat down on the bed. His hips shift forward and he enters me again, this time thrusting fast and hard. My hips rise up to meet his, my legs wrapping around his waist.
I start to feel that deep tingle in my core, but just when I know I’m going to come, he pulls out, his hands release mine, and his body shifts. Then his hands push my thighs farther apart and his mouth lands on my center, pulling my clit between his lips. I come on a scream, my hands holding on to his hair as I ride out my orgasm.
His mouth lifts, and before I even come down from my high, he flips me to my elbows and knees and his hand slides up my spine to the back of my neck, pressing my head deeper into the mattress. Then his hands go to my hips and lift them higher, and he surges deep inside on a swift thrust.
“God, yes,” I moan and start to get up on my hands when they are grabbed from the mattress, pulled behind my back, and used to pull me back into him so hard that the slapping of his skin against mine causes a slight sting against my ass.
“Give it to me, baby. Give me what I want.” He thrusts harder, and this time when I start to feel the pull to come, he releases my hands and pulls me up against his chest. His mouth moves to my ear. His hands separate, one zeroing in on my clit, the other pulling one nipple. I come hard and fast, bucking against him. “Fuck, yes,” he mumbles in my ear, his thrusts slowing until he plants himself deep inside me, where I can feel him pulsing.
His hand releases my breast, traveling up my neck and turning my face towards his before he takes my mouth in a deep kiss. He pulls out of me, making me whimper, then flops down on the bed, pulling me down on top of him. I lie there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of water while feeling the slight breeze coming from outside glide across my damp skin.
“Where are we anyways?” I ask, getting up on an elbow so I can look down at him.
“Go look out the door.” He smiles, and I debate on whether or not I want to get up before pulling myself away from him.
I find his shirt at the end of the bed and quickly slip it on over my head before walking to the doors. The closer I get to the doors, the brighter it gets outside. My breath catches as I take in the view before me. There is a pink beach that leads to water so blue that it looks like a painting.
“Oh my God,” I whisper and feel hands slide around my waist. My hands slide over Kenton’s and I tilt my head back so I can look into his eyes. “Where are we?”
“The Bahamas.” He smiles, bending down to kiss my mouth.
“Is the beach pink or are my eyes playing tricks on me?”
“Wow.” Who would have thought there was a place in the world with pink-sand beaches?
“What do you say you put on that bikini I saw in your bag and we go snorkeling?” he asks.
I smile and nod before completely turning around in his arms. “Thank you for this.” I get up on my tiptoes, press my mouth to his, and then duck under his arm, running back into the room so I can put my suit on. I hear him laugh and the sound only makes me smile bigger.
The rest of our honeymoon is spent either in bed or on the beach. I can’t imagine it being any more perfect.
“Babe, get the door!” Kenton yells from his office.
I roll my eyes and drop the shirt I was folding to the bed. “You could say please!” I yell back, bouncing down the stairs with Tubs right behind me. I hear him laugh but don’t hear him say please.
We have definitely fallen into the role of a married couple—except I don’t cook or clean. We have a housekeeper who comes once a week, and Kenton cooks dinner most nights, because anytime I get near a stove, it’s a recipe for disaster.
I swing the front door open and my world tilts. “Mom,” I whisper in shock. Before I realize what’s happening, her hand is coming across my face in a slap so hard that my head flies to the side.