by Coco Miller
Right now it’s just the two of us.
The sun sears my neck, the skin hot and threatening to burn. The sand under my feet sinks a bit from my weight, and the water splashes harder against our feet. Half of her dress is wet, clinging to the curves waiting for my adoration.
“The rings?” Duncan clears his throat to remind me.
“I’ll slip it on her finger later,” I mumble against her lips as I lift her into my arms and start kissing my wife again.
“I need to find Emmanuel.”
“Mom!”
I chuckle against Zola’s lips and shake my head at the same time. Once we cut the corner, our bodies are hidden by the banana trees. I slam my mouth on hers again and her fingers tighten along the collar of my neck the more I dive my tongue between her lips. My cock is painfully hard and my heart is beating so fast with such intensity, I think it might just beat out of my chest.
Climbing the steps is a bit difficult since I can’t see where I’m going. I’ll be damn if I take my lips from hers. Someone would have to pry me away from my smoking hot wife. My feet pound against the planks of the porch as I walk through the open walls that leads directly into the house. Knowing I don’t want anyone seeing my wife’s body but me, I press the button against the wall that lowers the metal blinds. The sound of them lowering reminded me of an anchor falling into the water.
I lay her down on the bed and flip her over, running my fingertips down the curve of her spine to get to the zipper.
“I am a lucky fucking man,” I say as I unzip the material of her dress. I watch in fascination as the zipper parts, revealing her to me. To her, she’s flawed, because she’s covered in scars. To me, all I see is the most beautiful survivor in the world.
The bed comforter is soft under my palms, giving way to form around my hands as I hover over her and kiss a path down her back. I come up with a pattern.
Kiss. Unzip. Kiss. Unzip. Kiss.
The more I lower the metal clasp, the lower my lips fall.
The zipper tops when it runs out of material to part, and I flatten my tongue against her skin and swirl it along her lower back. I hum in appreciation.
“You taste like vanilla and cinnamon.”
“It’s my lotion,” she moans, gripping the comforter in her clenched fists.
“No, baby, it’s all you.”
I come to the dimples on her lower back, the ones settled right above her voluptuous ass and kiss each dot. I grab the left side of her dress under her arm and then the right and pull down, freeing her body from the tight, sexy constraint. Miles of cinnamon scented skin lay before me as the dress falls from my hand to a useless pile on the floor—right where it belongs.
“My god.”
I worship her ass, squeezing the thick globes in my palms. My cock strained my pants, pushing against the seam, ready to burst to slide into her tight pussy.
“Are you wet for me yet, baby?” I ask as I slide my finger down the silky material of her thong, following it between her crack until I get to the warmth of her folds. The thin piece of underwear isn’t enough to block the heat and wetness.
“I need you to tell me to stop if you aren’t sure,” I whisper, glad she can’t see the look on my face. I’m staring at her back, sad with the thought of not sharing this intimate moment with her. Praying she wants me just as much as I need her.
“I want you more than my next breath, Easton.”
Thank fuck.
I rub her clit through the damp panties a few times, causing her to writhe and moan. Grabbing the flimsy piece of string, I give it a good hard tug, ripping it from her body. “Fuck me,” I curse in revelation when I see her naked body again.
The curves on this woman have to be proceeded with caution because the way I want to ride them would absolutely wreck us. I run my hands up and down her body, not getting enough of how soft her skin is, how good she feels under me, and how she responds to my touch.
I kiss every scar she has on her back and dig my thumbs into her muscles next to her spine, and she moans, but it is a moan of pain releasing.
I kiss up her neck until I’m sucking the skin below her ear. “I’m sorry. I should have done this sooner. I need to take care of you better.” And I meant that. “I need to hire you a massage therapist and acupuncturist for weekly sessions.”
I never want her to worry about pain again, not when I can take it away.
“I’ll take you up on that, but right now, I just want you.” She flips over under me and tears my shirt off. Buttons fly and the small beads clatter and bounce on the floor, the light taps getting further away as they hit and roll.
“Make love to me, Easton.” She lifts her head until her lips are a few inches away.
Her once curly hair is laying in shiny waves down her shoulders. I run my fingers through it, missing the bouncy curls she usually wears. She looks amazing either way, but the natural curls were more her. It’s the only way I know how to explain it.
Unbuckling my pants, I let them fall to the floor and crawl on top of her body. I control her head to control the kiss, gripping her neck as I lick every inch of her mouth. I close my eyes and go with the sensation. I let what I’m feeling for Zola control my moves. I push her up the bed and settle between her legs, letting my cock prob her wet hole for a few minutes.
“Easton.”
A prayer has never sounded so sweet.
“I got you,” I promise, pushing her legs to the side and looking down where we touch. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, I don’t know if I want to watch her face or watch my cock sink into her pussy for the first time.
I decide to watch her face. There will be a thousand times I get to watch my cock slide into her, but the first expression to cross her face when she feels me inside of her? There is only one time for that and I want to memorize it.
We lock eyes, emotions build and pass between us, and I start to press into her tight sheath. Her eyes widen, and her lips part showing the tip of her pink tongue. Her brows crinkle as my wide tip stretches her channel, and inch by inch, I dive further into my ecstasy. The sounds that leave her make it hard to go slow, but I can tell by the feel of her that it has been a while, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her.
My sack presses against the curve of her ass and my cock is fully seated in her scorching chamber. I don’t move. We don’t speak. My left hand glides up her leg, smooth silky skin touching my calloused palm. She’s a goddess and she’s mine. Her stomach trembles when I ghost my caress over her ribcage, then pinching her taut nipple, and watch as my hand falls down her arm and lace my fingers with hers.
I tighten my grip, pulling my cock out until the tip is left, her pussy hugging me trying never to let me go. I slide in slow and deliberate, watching her eyes roll to the back of her head. Fuck the island. This is paradise.
It’s hard to believe my life before her was full of meaningless sex with women I never saw another day with. It seems like so much time was wasted, knowing Zola was out there, made just for me. I wish I would have found her sooner. Lucky for me we have a lifetime.
Her hand claws at my chest when I speed up my pace, slapping sounds against her ass with every wild thrust. Our inhale as she exhales, letting my lungs bathe in her breath, making me feel alive and stronger than ever before.
“Zola,” I groan when the familiar tingle at the base of my spine tickles my sack, warning that my orgasm is close. Too close. Too fast. I want this to last longer.
But we have all day, all night, and forever.
“Come for me, baby,” I growl and press my thumb against her clit, rubbing fast circles to get her there quicker. “Come for me now!”
Her body bows, and her hands fly to her tits, pulling on her nipples that remind me of a sweet morsel that I want to devour and savor on my tongue. Her chute clenches down around my cock, squeezing me so hard and pulling me deeper inside her until she effectively milks my orgasm from me.
“Zola!” I shout her name and plant my c
ock in her depths with every stream of come that leaves me. I catch the majority of my weight on my elbows as I lower my body and take her mouth in a slow kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion I have for her in it.
As the depths of my emotions know no bounds, I know in this moment, I’m handing over my soul to her. She was always meant to be its keeper.
13
Zola
We stay in our own little word on the private island for a week. It has been the best week of my life. We made love so many times, I still felt sore in all the right places. I bite my lip when I think about all the times we had sex.
He fucked me against the wall…carefully.
The kitchen floor…slowly.
Against the fridge…skillfully.
On the bathroom counter…easily.
In the shower…hungrily.
And on the porch…audaciously.
Everywhere in that house on the island, my house, we claimed– and the memory gets me hot. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do about my horniness, because tonight we are having dinner with his parents and telling them the news that we got married.
“How are you feeling?” Easton wraps his arms around me, stopping me from getting ready.
I blow out a breath. “Nervous. What if your parents hate me? I’m sure I’m not what they were expecting.”
He spins me around and keeps his arms locked around my hips, stepping forward, so no place is left between us.
“What do you mean? You’re more than anything I ever expected for myself. I’m a lucky man.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what is it?” he genuinely looks confused and it’s adorable.
“Never mind.”
I try and pull out of his grasp to continue my makeup and hair routine, but he tightens his hold.
“Talk to me.”
“You’re rich.” I point out.
He grins playfully and kisses the side of my neck, right where the pulse of my heart is. “We are rich.”
“I didn’t come from a rich family.”
“Who cares.” He shrugs his shoulders.
I huff a breath of annoyance. “And I’m not white.”
“I love that you’re not white.” He bites the crook of my neck basically blowing off what I’ve just said.
“Easton–”
“Mmmm, you’re sexy,” he growls. “Maybe we can skip dinner.” His hand wanders down to my ass and squeezes.
“I’m serious, Easton. Are they going to have a problem that I’m black? We haven’t talked about it.”
“What?” He leans back, stricken that I’d even say such a thing, but he has no idea what it’s like growing up with needing to ask that. “No, and if they did, I wouldn’t care. You’re my wife. Mine. Not theirs. And if they cause problems, I have no problem writing them off the company so they are no longer a part of it.”
“Easton, you can’t. That company—”
“Is mine now. They get a percentage of earnings that the company makes, and I can take that away now that I’m married.”
“You’d do that for me?” I invade his space and touch my pelvis to his. “Really?” I trace the dark blue collar of his shirt.
“Zola,” he backs me into the bathroom counter, bracketing his arms on either side of me, caging me in. “Do you not know that I’d do anything for you? Because I would.” He tugs on a curl, something he likes to do when he is serious about something. “I’m going to give you the world.”
“I have it already,” I place my palm over his heart and prepare myself to say something I’ve never said to another person before, besides my parents.
“I love you, Easton.”
These are words that Easton told me weeks ago and I didn’t say back. It wasn’t because I didn’t love him; I was scared to say the words out loud because it made real. And it was never supposed to be real. But now I’m not frightened to speak the truth. Easton makes me feel braver than I’ve ever been.
He growls and lifts the end of my robe around my waist. “How can you say that to me knowing we have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes?”
His fingers dig into my inner thighs as he spreads my legs. He gets daring, sliding his skilled, thick fingers against my throbbing pussy, inserting all three into me.
My legs tense around him and a loud, salacious moan leaves me.
“I should leave you aching.”
“I’m already aching,” I whimper.
“I should leave you wanting.”
“I want you so bad,” I counter.
“I should bring you to the edge and leave you there,” he whispers against my ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.
“I’m already there.”
It’s the truth. I knew that if he’d give me a few thrusts of his fingers, I’d orgasm.
“Fuck.”
He removes his fingers and a shout of protest leaves my mouth from the emptiness he leaves me with. The sound of his zipper falling wracks my body with anticipation.
“This is going to be quick.”
“Yes,” I groan when he shoves his long cock inside me with one hard thrust.
He starts a punishing pace, hard and fast, slamming against me so hard, my ass slides against the marble counter. I can’t get a good grip on him from the awkward position, so I move my hands to mirror behind me, stabilizing us as he fucks me with raw, primal need.
He grunts, and groans, and curses under his breath. Easton’s thighs bang against the cabinets beneath us, no doubt telling the entire house what we are doing. His cock drags along a spot inside me that makes an intensity building in my lower belly. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
Without me saying a word, he picks up the pace, his mouth slamming on mine in a wet, sloppy kiss. Heat radiates from his body, sweat drips down his face and over his lips, and I can taste the salt from his exertion.
“I love you so fucking much,” he punctuates every word with a hard thrust of his hips. “Damn it!” He tosses his head back, and the tendons in his neck flex, straining as he fills me up. The warmth of his seed sends me over the edge, my muscles tensing and spasming as I shout my own orgasm, falling over the edge he so expertly put me on.
I sag against his chest which is rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. He yanks my head back by the thick of my hair and owns my lips again.
“We need to go,” he says. “But I don’t want to pull out of you yet. I love it in here.” Easton pouts.
I giggle as I drop my legs, and he takes a step back, both of us groaning when his girth slides out of me. “The sooner dinner ends, the sooner we can go back to that.”
“Mmm, I knew there was a reason why I married you,” he says, stuffing his cock back into his pants, carefully pulling the zipper up.
I shuck my robe off and strut by him naked. My simple black dress lays on the bed with matching underwear and bra.
“Mmm, we all know the reason why.” I remind him of our deal.
“Which reminds me.”
He pulls out an envelope from his pocket as I hook the bra around my back. It pushes my breasts up, making them appear bigger than what they are. I clean between my legs with a washcloth and then dance into a pair of lace panties. Afterwards I snatch the white envelope out of his hands.
“What’s this?”
“I’m a man of my word,” he says.
“Okay?” I questions and tear the envelope open. I unfold the piece of paper, ready to see something like a planned trip or something, but instead it’s my hospital bill with a big red stamp that says “paid in full.” I throw my hand over my mouth. “You didn’t?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. You aren’t alone anymore. Plus, I kept my end of the bargain, now you have to keep yours.” He winks.
“Thank you!”
I jump and wrap my arms around his neck, trying not to get too emotional. I don’t want to look like a wreck when meeting his
parents.
“Okay.” I step back and fan my eyes to dry the tears building up. “I hate you,” I make sure I say with a light voice. “For always making me cry.”
“For always making you cry out in pleasure,” he deepens his voice.
“You’re insatiable.”
I push him away when his eyes gleam with that familiar lust. I take the Gucci dress in hand and slip it over my head.
“Can you zip me up?”
The material feels like butter, melting against my skin. It’s so comfortable and soft. It’s no wonder people love expensive items. The material is not a bargain buy off the sale rack.
“This is killing me,” he whimpers as he zips me up. “My wife is so hot. I rather go to bed than downstairs.”
I roll my eyes and slip on the black Jimmy Choo heels Easton got for me.
“How do I look?”
“Like we shouldn’t leave the bed.”
I take his arm and drag him outside the door. “We need to go. Your parents are going—” The doorbell ringing cuts off the point I was trying to make. “Are going to be here any minute.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”
Confidence and bravery replace insecurity and cowardice as I walk by Easton’s side. As we walk down the swirling staircase, my hand slides down the gold railing, and my back is straight, holding my head up high. The heels would have hurt my back a few months ago, but now that Easton has me taking sessions of physical therapy and acupuncture, the pain is nowhere near as bad.
Easton’s hand grips the door handle. “Are you ready?”
As I’ll ever be.
14
Easton
The door isn’t even halfway open before my dad barges in, pushing right by Zola. She nearly tumbles back since she isn’t used to wearing heels, but I catch her around the waist and pull her to my side safe and sound.
My grandfather is next, puffing on a cigar, and then my mom and nana follow behind them. My lips curl. They couldn’t even bother letting the women enter first. They are so pompous.
