“You might taste different now that you’re a married man,” I said before I licked the thin line of pre-cum that dribbled from the tip of his cock to pool on his stomach. “Yep, sweeter.” I worked his cock until he was a quivering ball of nerves then moved to tease his ass open with my fingers and tongue.
“Fuck me, already,” he yelled, probably louder than he intended. Not that I gave a flying fuck what the people in the room next to ours thought.
“I’m just warming up, Sunshine,” I said, fighting the urge to give into his demands. All I had to do was remember how he tormented me and I found the resolve I needed.
“Gabe, please. I want to feel you inside me.”
“I am inside you,” I replied, twisting my two fingers up to massage his prostate.
“I want your cock!” His eyes were wide and pleaded desperately for the relief that only I could give him. He pitifully moaned when I removed my fingers from his ass, which left him empty and hungry for more.
I pressed my lubed cock against his puckered entrance. “I don’t think the people across the river heard you, Sunshine,” I said, then pushed in until I was buried balls deep inside him.
“Fuck me, Gabe!” He was beyond desperate by that point, and it felt cruel to draw out his torture for another second.
I captured his lips in a searing kiss and began to love him in earnest, catching his every groan and sigh in my mouth. The sound of our flesh slapping together echoed in the room and spurred me on. Josh lowered his bound hands and looped them around my neck like he needed to touch me.
He slid his fingers in my hair and tugged seconds before he broke our kiss. “Yes, Gabe!” I only had to peg his prostate a few more times before he came apart beneath me and all over me. His ass put a stranglehold on my cock, sending me over the edge after him.
I collapsed on top of him, careful to keep the bulk of my weight on my elbows, while I labored to suck oxygen into my lungs. I slid out from beneath his looped arms and untied his wrists. “You know what I want to do now?”
“Recharge and do it all over again?” Josh asked hopefully.
“Eat apple tarts!”
“Never change, Gabe,” he said.
“Some things will never change,” I assured him. “My love for my man, my family, my country, and apple pie.”
I wasn’t remotely concerned about the lack of sleep the next morning when we set off for our honeymoon because I knew there’d be chances to nap on the flights. I worried less about people’s opinions about the matching shirts Gabe and I wore on our first full day of marriage. My mom had them custom-made for us, and we fell in love with them. The white T-shirts had kissing caricatures that looked just like the two of us in our tuxedos with the words “Just Married” beneath them. We wouldn’t know what other wedding gifts we received until we returned from our vacation and opened them, but I knew those shirts would be my favorite.
The layover at LAX was longer than the flight there, but I was too happy and excited to be bored. Plus, our T-shirts became a conversation starter with a fun couple we met at the airport restaurant.
“Can you imagine if Gram had shirts made for us, babe?” Ben asked his husband.
“They probably couldn’t be worn in public,” Xavier replied.
We learned that Ben and Xavier had been married for a few years and spent as much time traveling as they could before they started a family. I figured by the sweet smiles they exchanged when they talked about their future children that it might happen sooner rather than later. Laughing and joking with them while we had breakfast made the layover pass by faster and took the sting out of paying fifteen bucks for an omelet, two pieces of toast, and orange juice.
Before we parted ways, Ben asked me to find out where my mother purchased the shirts. “We’re going to be making a special announcement soon that calls for custom T-shirts.” My mom was happy to help them.
“They’re a fun couple,” I told Gabe as we boarded the plane.
“Yes, they are,” he agreed. “Does that mean you’re going to invite them to Sunday dinners from now on?”
“I would invite them if they lived closer. My food is good, but I’m not sure anyone would drive from D.C. to Ohio for it,” I replied.
“I would,” Gabe said with a warm smile.
I had never been one to fall completely asleep on a plane, but I did take a few catnaps during the long flight to Honolulu. My husband didn’t have any problem falling asleep and staying that way. He snored softly through at least half the flight while I read an advanced copy of Chaz’s next book release, but I thought the sound was more endearing than annoying. I had hoped for some mile-high action, but neither of us took that risk.
Needless to say, Gabe’s steps were a bit peppier than mine after we retrieved our luggage, but that changed the minute I stepped outside the airport and into the brilliant sunlight. We might’ve traveled for more than twelve hours to get there, but it was only five o’clock in the evening due to the time change. The sunshine and the smell from the flowers in the lei I wore around my neck revived me.
We decided that we didn’t want to stay in a touristy part of Hawaii, so we rented a home that afforded us a lot of privacy. The house was a short drive from the beach and surrounded by lush landscaping, trees, and waterfalls that made us feel like we were in a private oasis. I had big plans for that waterfall, but it had to wait until after we returned home from dinner and grocery shopping.
I made a pitcher of sangria and carried it out to our private swimming pool where Gabe waited naked for me. I plopped my bare ass down on the chaise lounge chair beside his and poured us both a tall glass. “This is stunning,” I told him, looking at the pool that picked up the rays of the setting sun.
“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Gabe said huskily. I turned my head and found him watching me.
“Charmer,” I said.
“Honest,” he replied. “I’m looking forward to skinny dipping with my husband.”
“When can we expect his arrival?” I asked.
“I also have big plans for that sassy mouth. Drink up, Sunshine.” Gabe took a sip of his sangria and said, “Whew, that’s strong!”
I would’ve made fun of him, but he was telling the truth. I must’ve fucked up my measurements because that drink was going to my head quicker than Gabe’s kisses. My eyelids started getting heavy, and my body was warm all over by the fourth sip.
Gabe chuckled warmly beside me, causing goose bumps to pop up all over my skin. “Lightweight,” he said softly.
I fell asleep before I could argue and didn’t stir until Gabe lifted me off the lounger. I had no idea what time it was, but the sun had set completely, and the stars were out in full force.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I told him.
“For bed,” Gabe said humorously.
“It’s our first night here, and we need to have sex,” I protested when he laid me on the bed and covered me.
Gabe got in bed beside me and pulled me against him. His body heat was lulling me back to sleep already. “We’ll make up for it tomorrow,” he promised.
“K,” I said sleepily. “I’m going to ride your ass all over this bed.”
“Aw, you should’ve put that in your wedding vows,” Gabe remarked.
“Your level of snark is getting out of control,” I told him, but couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“I learned from the master,” Gabe said.
“So did I,” I replied. We both knew I wasn’t talking about our personality traits. Gabe was the first man I topped and he’d be my only.
“Get some sleep because I have something special planned for us after you ride my ass all over the bed,” Gabe said, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.
We woke early the next morning feeling rested, and horny. I rode Gabe’s ass hard as promised then he took me on the most amazing day adventure after breakfast. The Big Island was known for having beaches with three different colors of sand—green, white, and black.
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“I’ve planned day excursions to all of them,” he told me excitedly.
I didn’t know there was such a thing as green sand until I saw it with my own eyes. It was a damn good thing that Gabe fixed a hearty breakfast because getting to the green sands of Papakõlea wasn’t easy, but damn it was breathtaking.
We parked our rental car at a small harbor and hiked for a little over two miles before we reached the lava cliffs above Green Sand Beach. Our journey didn’t end there because we had to walk down the lava cliff on one side of the bay to reach the sand. It wasn’t a steep climb, but it was fucking exhilarating. I stripped down to my skimpy swim briefs—I mean the fabric was barely enough to cover my junk—and hit the water with my husband fast on my heels.
He tackled me in the water when it was deep enough, and we splashed around trying to pull each other under water. I soon found something more interesting to do with my hands than splash water at Gabe. I stroked his erection through his swim shorts and smiled at him in a way that projected my wicked intentions. We were alone on the beach that morning, and I decided to take advantage of it by looping my arms around his neck and pulling myself up until I could wrap my legs around his waist.
Water might be sexy and do wonderful things for your libido, but it’s not your friend when it comes to having sex and should never be confused with lubricant. I loved Gabe more than life itself, but unless he wanted to backpack me to the car after he wrecked my ass, we would have to settle for some good old-fashioned frotting.
Gabe gripped my ass hard and held me tight against him like he feared I would swim away. There was no chance in hell of that! I tangled my hands in his hair and gave him a slow burn kind of kiss, the ones that start out with just a hint of tongue then eases into a sexy glide. I sucked his tongue into my mouth wishing it could be his dick but settled for the insane thrill that raced up my spine when I began grinding our erections together.
In the grand scheme of things, getting off by rubbing our dicks together through our clothes seemed innocent and immature, but the landscape and the emotions involved elevated it to an erotic encounter like nothing I had ever experienced when I was young and innocent. The intensity of our kisses matched the activity going on beneath the water. The closer we got to our orgasms, the harder we kissed one another, and they slowed to savoring sips as our bodies came down off our climactic high.
“Did we break any environmental laws by unloading spunk into the ocean?” I asked Gabe once we dropped down on the towels he laid on the sand.
“Nah,” he said calmly. “It’s just basically salt and water, so the marine life won’t notice the difference.”
“Oh, I bet there’s a sea turtle out there appreciating that you ate cinnamon muffins and drank pineapple juice with breakfast,” I said.
“Breakfast of champions to help you choke it down like a champion,” Gabe said. He tilted his head to the side like he was thinking about putting that slogan on a T-shirt.
We lay on the beach for a while longer before Gabe pulled out bananas, water bottles, and granola out of his backpack. “What else do you have in your bag, Mary Poppins?”
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” Gabe said smugly. “You about ready to hike back?”
“I guess,” I said. I wasn’t very eager to leave that piece of paradise.
“I have more surprises for you,” he said cajolingly.
I used to hate surprises but not when it came to Gabe. His surprises were the absolute best. I hiked back on sex-weakened legs and talked Gabe into stopping for a Hawaiian ice that was way better than the versions we got back in Ohio. The sugary cold treat was what I needed to fuel the rest of our adventure.
Gabe’s surprise that night was taking me to a luau where we were served amazing food and drinks while we watched stunning performances by musicians and dancers. The men were virile and strong during their muscle dancing, and the women were fluid and graceful during their hula dancing. I even managed to stay awake long enough that night to recreate some of the moves with Gabe.
“There’s no way you can top the magic of this day,” I said into the darkness before I fell asleep. I should’ve known that Gabe would see that as a challenge.
I readily accepted the challenge my husband threw down and the rest of our trip became a fun contest where we tried to outdo each other. We both came out as winners, regardless of who picked the adventure for the day. It was hard to consider it “losing” when we went on helicopter rides, snorkeled with sea turtles, or made love against the black, slick rock behind a waterfall. No one was keeping score and Josh’s laughter and smiles were the best part of it all.
There were also days that we spent being lazy by the pool or strolling through an outdoor mall holding hands while buying souvenirs, or trying to make some of the Polynesian recipes in the cookbook Josh found in the kitchen of the rental house. There were seamless days of adventure and nights of passion, peacefulness in my soul, and more joy in my heart than I ever dreamed possible. There were times I felt it so acutely that it took my breath away and I knew I had to be dreaming. I was certain that at any moment I would wake up gasping for air like when a person wakes from a dream about falling. I’d reach for Josh to pull him closer only to find that he wasn’t there. I’d sit up and look around only to discover I was back in that rental house alone, not in the new house I bought with my husband. But I wasn’t dreaming; Josh was real, and so was our marriage.
Away from our everyday worries, which often included a threat of some kind, I could relax and enjoy our time without looking over my shoulder or trying to split my attention between loving Josh and protecting him. The likelihood that Jimmy found a way to follow us to Hawaii was slim, so I let my guard down and just soaked in the good stuff while I could. Being on vacation, however, didn’t mean that I ignored my responsibilities as an officer of the law and ignored trouble when I saw or heard it.
One day, Josh and I were sitting at an outside café sharing lunch when I heard a woman shouting for help. I leaped from my seat and saw the woman pointing to a fleeing young man who’d stolen her purse. I chased that punk for two blocks, but I finally caught him—well, tackled him—in someone’s front yard.
“Get off me, fucker!” the punk demanded.
I heard the screen door open quickly and slap the side of the house. “What the hell is going on here?” a woman asked angrily.
“Ma’am, can you please call the police? This punk stole a woman’s purse from the market,” I told her.
“Is that true, Raymond?” she asked angrily, ignoring my request.
“Ma, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” the punk said from beneath me since I had him pinned to the ground.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, sounding angrier with every word she spoke. “Is a hot pink Coach purse what you’re carrying these days? I wasn’t aware you’d become such a queen.”
“Get off me,” Raymond demanded, “unless you want to use my asshole to get off. Will that make you forget what you saw because I can make you forget that twink you were with at the café.” Raymond tried to push his ass against my crotch to entice me, but that only pissed me off more.
I dug my knee harder in the back of his leg making sure I hit a nerve that would render it numb for a minute. “That’s no twink,” I told the dipshit. “That’s my husband, and there’s not a damn thing you could do to make me forget him.”
“You think?” Josh asked from behind me. “’Cause I’m not so sure from where I stand, Gabriel.” I didn’t know that he’d followed me.
“Quit busting my balls and help me out by calling nine-one-one,” I told him.
“Please don’t,” the woman said. Her tone of voice caused me to snap my head up and look at her. It was more than sadness; it was desperation. “He didn’t steal the purse for something bad like drugs,” she told me. “Well, I guess it’s for drugs, but they’re legal.” She removed her ballcap and exposed her smooth scalp. “He was only trying to get money for my chemo pill
s this month. My social security wasn’t enough, and they cut his hours at work. He’s a good kid.” She turned her gaze back to her son and said, “This isn’t the way, Ray Ray. I’ve completed the paperwork the social worker at the hospital gave me, and we need to have faith that the Lord will provide.”
“Yeah, he’s done a great job so far,” Raymond said bitterly.
Raymond’s mother let out a long-suffering sigh, and I had a feeling they’d had that same conversation more than once. “That doesn’t mean I want you to snatch purses, Raymond. If I’ve learned one thing these past few months, it’s that there are no guarantees on time. I don’t want to spend the time I have left visiting you in jail, Ray Ray.”
All the fight left the kid, and he released his grip on the purse that we’d been fighting over like it was the after-Thanksgiving sale at Macy’s or something. I grabbed the purse and rose to my feet then offered my hand to Raymond to help him up. He hesitatingly accepted, which was smart because I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt once he stood in front of me.
“Do what your mother says, Ray Ray. Stop making things harder on her and spend some time with her. And don’t ever insult my husband ever again.” I used my most menacing voice, which seemed to work because he swallowed hard and nodded his head sharply. I turned loose of him and faced his mother. “Ma’am, I’d be happy to help you if you’d let me.”
“You’ve helped me enough,” she said proudly. “Thank you.” I wanted to insist that I could help her, but I saw in her eyes that she wasn’t receptive to the idea. “Just make sure that purse gets back to its rightful owner.”
“I promise,” I said. “Good luck to you, ma’am.”
“Bless you,” she said to me before she turned her attention back to her son. “Get your ass in here so we can Netflix and chill.”
“Ewwww, Mom. That’s just gross,” Ray said. His face turned a flaming red color when Josh laughed so hard I worried something would rupture. “That doesn’t mean what you think.” Ray shivered hard and walked into the house with his mom.
Welcome to Blissville Page 91
