I can promise you I couldn’t be wetter if I’d just waded from the ocean, and my knees were seriously considering buckling under the weight of this torture. I made a true effort to scowl at him. He was utterly enjoying this, and he would pay in spades.
“Your hair. I keep forgettin’.”
Two more pings and another piece escaped. At this point, I regretted not having worn a damn ponytail to the wedding.
He rested his hands back on my waist. I was starting to look like Medusa, my hair a nest of snaking curls.
“Ya have such a tiny waist. I can fit my fingers all the way around it.” His squeezed in demonstration, and then his hands relaxed, his fingertips sliding southward. “And your hips…such beautiful curves.” He pivoted my body and nipped at one. Then he skimmed his nose across my belly, his tongue leaving a trail of moisture right above my pubic line before he nipped the other. “You taste delicious. And I haven’t come near to the dessert course yet. Well, maybe just a little taste.” He slicked a finger through my wetness and licked it. “Mm. So sweet.”
“I give,” I said breathlessly. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
He turned me back toward the mirror. “Well, there’s the matter of these last curls, ya see. And there are an awful lot of pins left.” He tutted. “This may take a while longer.”
♥
There was no lip separating the shower from the rest of the floor. The door and two walls were clear glass from top to bottom. The others were fashioned in pale marble. To further torment me, he turned on the shower but blocked the entrance. The room quickly filled with steam, the lilies’ rich perfume riding the swirls of moist air.
Wound so tightly I was ready to come without any provocation, I harnessed my pent-up frustration and focused it all on retribution. “You’ve had your fun,” I breathed. “Now it’s my turn.” I grasped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, but didn’t remove it. I licked one of his nipples and then blew on it. When it pebbled, I clamped down hard with my teeth and teased the nub of skin with my tongue. I then let go and lightly ran my fingernails over his ribs, making sure to hit every ticklish spot. With his head and arms trapped in the sleeves, he jerked furiously.
“Squirm all you want, boy, but if I had a whip right now, I’d beat you with it.” I roughly unbuttoned his shorts. “Let me have a look at what I paid so dearly for.” When he sprang free, he was flippin’ enormous. Clearly, his evil assault had taken its toll on him as well.
“I’ll give ya more than a look,” Pete promised, finally escaping his bondage. His voice was deep and husky, and his eyes glowed fiercely.
I grasped his shaft in one hand and smeared the milky tear over its head with my fingertip, drawing endless circles on the silky skin. “Yes, you will.” When I replaced my finger with my tongue, he moaned and thrust his hips forward. I pulled back and stood. “But not yet,” I smirked smugly, raised an eyebrow, and proceeded to lead him into the shower by his erection. “Do keep up, dear,” I taunted.
The showerhead was a giant square, set flush against the ceiling. Rather than a spray, water simply fell onto us like a heavy spring shower. Under the deluge, we were slick and alone in a rainforest. Pete hoisted me onto his hips and pressed my back against the wet marble. “I will have you.” His eyes locked on mine. “Now.”
“Ahh,” I sighed as he entered me. I raised my arms, carelessly bracing them against the wall behind me, and savored the luscious movement. Enveloped in a fine mist, our mingled moans, the soothing songs of chirping birds filtering in through a tiny screened vent, and the sound of pouring rain took my mind to places it had never been. Alone, I was everywhere and nowhere; together, we were one entity, alive and dancing. As our movements grew frantic, I buried my face in his neck, short gasps my only source of air. We finished quietly, and a peace I’d not known in months spread over me like a great blanket.
“I love you,” Pete whispered.
“I love you,” I said, kissing his soft, wet lips.
After a very thorough washing, Pete was partially erect again. “I know it sounds kinky,” he said, drying me with a thirsty towel, “but I want to make love to you in an actual bed.”
28
Barbaragate
I awoke to gentle kisses. Smiling dreamily, I looked into the twinkling green eyes that would forever fascinate me. “We’ve got some serious choices to make after breakfast,” he murmured, running his lips down the length of my stomach. “Then we’re hittin’ the beach.”
After fully enjoying the amenities of our bathroom, I lumbered to my suitcase.
“You are one lovely woman,” Pete said, watching me dress.
“I am one starved woman,” I replied, kissing him soundly. “But I think I’ll save you for dessert.”
As we followed the terracotta-tiled hallway, tiny lizards scampered into the tropical foliage. A brown-skinned woman in a tidy maid’s uniform furiously swept the steps. She offered us a bright morning smile as we stepped past.
Pete offered me his elbow, and we strolled carefree until the smell of food pulled us to a welcoming portico. Met at the door by an army of cheerful faces, we were seated at a table covered in brightly colored cloth and topped with silverware and overturned coffee cups.
The large dining hall’s ceiling soared, coming to a point under a thatched-style roof. The morning light spilled through its high set windows, bathing the room.
“Buenos días,” our waitress said. “Coffee?”
“More than you can possibly imagine—I mean si. And agua?”
She laughed. “Coffee and water coming up. And for you, sir?”
“The same, please.”
Almost instantly, a man rushed over, carrying a sweating pitcher of water and a carafe of steaming coffee. I sipped greedily on the rather fantastic elixir. The waitress returned with a basket of rolls, and said, “Please help yourselves to the buffet.”
A world of choices presented themselves: eggs, sausages, smoked salmon, refried beans, fried potatoes, cold cuts, a salad bar, cereal, all types of cheese, French toast—anything. I loaded up on yogurt and various breeds of melon. Pete opted for the traditional male route of meat, eggs, and more meat. We circled the Mayan pyramid of pastries with unapologetic awe.
“To married life,” Pete said, tapping my coffee cup.
“To us,” I returned.
I was famished in an inhuman way. Returning with seconds of a far less healthy nature, I ate until I was near exploding. “I’m so going to pay for this later,” I muttered, tearing off a piece of chocolate croissant.
Changing into our suits, I threw on a coverlet, and we headed to the beach. Lounge chairs in perfect rows lined the shore. We grabbed thick brown towels from a nearby stand and claimed two chaises under the playful fronds of a large palm tree.
“Drinks?” a uniformed waitress asked, shuffling through the sand in white tennis shoes. Pete ordered piñas coladas, and we decadently drank the frozen cocktails far too early in the day.
Winking, he said, “There’s fruit in it, so I’m considering ’em brunch.” Not two sips later, he set his glass in the sand and met my eyes sincerely. “Okay, I can’t wait a second longer.” He pulled me to my feet, and we scrambled into the warm, crystal water.
Unlike the turbulent Atlantic, we could see to the bottom no matter how far out we swam. Nearly phosphorescent sand reflected the sun from the depths, making the whole ocean glow brightly. I threw myself into Pete’s arms, and we floated effortlessly in the extremely salty water.
When we finally sought shore, lifeguards were busy dragging out bright yellow sea kayaks, small catamarans, and a host of windsurfing boards. Several jet skis floated in the water inside a roped off area. “We’re doin’ all of that,” Pete remarked as we found our chairs. “But first, let’s take care of business.”
“Alright,” I said with a humored smirk.
“There are about a thousand excursions we can take, some Mayan ruins nearby, and an eco-amusement park, called Xcaret
, that’s got river caves you can ride through and a heritage show in the evening. There are also beach horseback rides, sunset cruises, helicopter tours, parasailin’… The sky’s the limit.” He had fully loosed his inner child.
His voice faded into a lovely lilting sound as he excitedly rattled off about twenty more activities. I was perfectly content lying on this cushion, drinking tropical drinks, and listening to the palm branches clatter woodenly in the ever-present breeze—and would have been so for the entire week.
“So what’s it gonna be?” Pete finally asked, pulling me out of meditation.
“Pick the ones you most want to do, and I’m with you,” I replied.
“As you wish. I’ll be back shortly.”
Closing my eyes, I breathed in the ocean air, scented with various brands of sunscreen, and drifted off into a lovely dream.
♥
“Twelve?” I choked out at lunch. “You signed us up for twelve excursions?”
“Ya told me to pick the ones I most wanted to do.”
“Yes, but we’re only here seven days.”
“See, I’ve got this all figured out,” he said, laying out his utterly ridiculous plan.
“No, I am not going deep sea fishing with you!” I interrupted. “I’ll be in the spa getting a massage, thank you very much.”
“Aw c’mon Susie-Q, I know how much ya love fishin’,” he said, winking. “Alright, a couples massage instead of fishing. But we are definitely goin’ cliff divin’!”
“Sure thing,” I responded with much eye-rolling.
Early the next morning, we wandered the ruins of a nearby Mayan village. The rock pyramids and ancient tumbledown structures edged a high cliff. I shot about a thousand pictures, while Pete dutifully read every sign.
Standing on a large outcropping of black rock, I stared out at the miracle that was the Caribbean Sea. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I remarked.
He nibbled my ear. “Yeah, and the ocean’s pretty, too.” I turned to find him looking at me in the most love-filled way. “I am such a lucky man,” he whispered.
His golden hair tugged deliciously by the wind, and his luminous eyes, reflecting the sun’s pure light, reminded me once more that he was more god than man. “Me, too.”
“Wait, you’re a man?”
“Shut up,” I said, kissing him. Alright, a goofy god, but still.
We braved lunch at a small cantina in the tiny village of Tulum. After some rather awesome quesadillas, we wandered the street-lined shops. Pete pulled me into a store hawking sarongs, bikinis, and fairly slutty clothes. “What do you think of this dress?” he asked. It was white, super short, and even on the emaciated plastic model, skin tight.
“Seriously? So not my style.”
“I bet you’d look great in it, though. Try it on.”
“Ew. No.”
“C’mon, Susie-Q. Model it for me.”
From his expression, this request was fairly non-negotiable, so I shrugged. “Since we’re on our honeymoon…” I took the flimsy thing into the dressing room and slid it on. “See? Hookers R Us.” I turned in a circle.
“Man,” he said, whistling softly. “Your butt looks fantastic. Absolutely kissable.”
“You think?” I turned, straining my neck to see in the mirror.
“Yeah. Know what I’m thinkin’?” His low, seductive voice left me squirming with erotic thoughts. I would totally wear this for him in our bedroom.
“What?” I asked breathily.
“It’d look even better covered in sequins, and maybe if ya had a little veilin’ in your hair.”
His smile grew huge, and I gasped. “You saw the picture?”
“Pictures,” he corrected.
“Pictures?!”
“Tina texted me about ten. Ya looked like you were havin’ a really good time.” Then he smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t think your party was as quiet as ya let on.”
I dropped my shoulders and sighed. “I don’t even remember half of it.” Then I narrowed my eyes and poked his chest. “What about yours?”
“Nothin’ to tell. Went to a couple of bars. Got stupid drunk.”
“And then what?”
“That’s it.”
“No women involved?”
“Nope.”
“No strippers?”
“Not a one.”
“No late night rendezvous?” I hissed.
He scrunched his golden eyebrows. “Where’s that comin’ from?”
“Just answer the question!” I spat, fighting back the angry tears that threatened.
He threw his arms around me. I fought to free myself, but he held on tight. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, but absolutely not. I did think about comin’ to Anita’s and climbin’ in your window. Does that count?”
“Babs. I’m talking about Babs!” I pushed hard on his chest, and he let go immediately.
“Babs? What about her?”
Sure, I was implicating myself, and maybe we’d have a discussion about personal privacy at a later date, but at the moment, I didn’t care. “Babs’ proposition?”
He looked supremely confused, but then again, he was a very good actor. Finally, he laughed. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”
“Did you or did you not meet her before, during, or after your bachelor party?”
He shook his head no. “Susan, Babs is a sad lady. When she drinks too much, she lets her fingers do the talkin’. Me, Jimbo, anybody she ever dated, probably.”
“She dated Jimbo?”
He sighed. “She dated everybody.”
“So, you have no feelings for her?”
He shook his head, his expression turning rather grave. “The only feelin’ I have for Babs Fisher is pity.”
“What about when I was gone? After we’d split? You didn’t turn to her for comfort?”
“I didn’t turn to anyone for anything. I didn’t talk to anybody I didn’t have to. I was dead inside. You had my heart. You always would.” He wiped an errant tear from my cheek. “You always will.” Then he took my face in his hands. “Did ya not hear my vows? I meant every word.” He kissed my forehead and shook his head. “Every single one.”
“Are you mad about the pictures?”
He smiled genuinely. “One, I know Anita a lot better than you do. That whole excursion was just payback for some of the things I’ve done to her. Two, after all the weddin’ plannin’, I imagine ya needed to blow off some steam. Three, ya looked amazing.” He gently touched his lips to mine.
“Nothing happened!” I blurted out.
He raised an eyebrow. “And four, I have complete faith in you.” He tipped my chin and looked deeply into my eyes. “You need to have the same kind of faith in me. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Ever.”
When I stepped out of the dressing room, sans hooker garb, he placed a book in my hand.
“What’s this?”
“The Bible.”
“The Bible?” I looked around the gaudy little shop. “Where did you get a bible?
“The lady behind the counter. I noticed one sittin’ on the shelf behind her. When I asked to borrow it, I believe she decided I was havin’ a religious moment. Gave me this, too.” He held up a white plastic rosary. “I’m not convinced Hail Marys are in order at present, but I imagine I’ll need this at some point.” He draped it over the Bible and placed his hand on top of both. He then looked at me quite soberly and repeated his wedding vows. When he got to the “I’ll be faithful to you” part, he stopped and looked at me pointedly before continuing.
“I’m sorry I was jealous,” I said as we climbed into a scary-looking taxi.
“I’m sorry to break it to you, Mrs. Walsh, but you’re gonna have to prove it when we get back to the room.”
“Mrs. Walsh still sounds so odd.”
“Get used to it, sweetheart.”
29
Ham Sandwich of Death
“I
can’t believe you talked me into this,” I grumped as we climbed into a cramped van. “I’ll snorkel, but I am not jumping off a cliff.”
“We’ll see.”
After meandering down a path peppered with birds and insects of varying degrees of terror, we came to a placid lake. A peaceful and lovely place, it seemed innocuous enough, however, the cliff above looked some hundred feet high. I glanced at Pete and mouthed, No way in hell! He flashed a challenging smile as our excursion guides dispensed gear.
“Okay amigos, enjoy.”
With flippers for feet, we waddled like penguins to the small dock. Pete winked and pushed off as we’d been shown during yesterday’s coral reef excursion.
The still and shaded cenote was chillier than I expected and altogether different from the ocean’s rampant wavelets and brightly colored sea life. Instead, the fish here were silvery and ethereal. I followed Pete into a shallow cave opening, where light danced in exaggerated geometric patterns off its limestone walls.
He ripped off his mask. “This is fairly awesome, don’t ya think?” His excited voice echoed oddly off the dome above.
“It does not suck,” I said, grinning madly.
“Did ya see that big eel?”
“Eel?” I squealed. “I’m out of here!”
Just as I scrambled onto the dock, our guide said, “Okay, amigos, time to go. We’ll visit a private beach next and have lunch.”
The group boarded the stifling van, the heat fully evaporating the water from our skin in seconds. We turned off the highway onto an unmarked dirt path that was quickly swallowed by jungle overgrowth. Emerging in front of the ocean, blinding noonday light bounced off the windows of a deserted-looking building set on a rocky point. We grabbed a pitiful-looking picnic table, and as the men unloaded cargo and dispensed boxed lunches, the guide explained the area’s unique geography.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 21
