Copyright © 2017 by Suzanne Halliday
HONEYMOON ANGEL A Family Justice Novella
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is meant for mature readers who are 18+.
It contains explicit language, and graphic sexual content.
Edited by editing4indies.com
Book Cover Design by ashleybaumann.com
Formatting By Champagne Book Design
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Other Books
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A naked happily ever after on a secluded tropical island paradise
To the fans of the hunky lawyer and his desert angel
I heard your pleas for their honeymoon story
This one’s for you!
“HAPPY?”
Angie rose and leaned on her arm. She smiled at her new husband and took a moment to admire his naked body on the chaise lounge next to hers.
With a cheeky shrug and a mild eye roll, she muttered, “Sure.”
He immediately sat up, swung his legs off the lounger, and sat there staring at her. “Are you serious? Sure? That’s all you say after I bring my bride to a private Tahitian island with five-star accommodations?”
“You took away my clothes.”
“Are you sure you want to lead with a pouty reprimand?”
A well-executed hair flip had the potential to be many things. A flirty come-on. An emotional giveaway. A subtle fuck you. With the flick of her fingers, she set the stage and went with cheeky impertinence.
“Yes.”
She flinched when his hand shot out. When two fingers slid beneath her honeymoon collar, he tugged until she sat up.
Being entirely alone on a gorgeous tropical isle surrounded by crystal blue water was surreal enough. But Parker had to take things to an eleven. Upon their arrival, he’d immediately ravished her on the beach. Afterward, naked and thoroughly fucked, he let her know that neither of them would be wearing any clothes for the duration of their stay.
Angie was searching for something to say when he produced her honeymoon collar. It was different. Woven into an intricate design from strands of brightly colored cord, it reminded her of a bondage wrap, and Angie liked it very much. It matched the setting and was one more indication of the thought and care her hunky husband had put into this special time.
She was maybe three inches from his face, suspended from the collar he kept hold of.
“I’m enjoying your journal, Mrs. Sullivan.”
Her journal? Oh, my. She felt her cheeks begin to flame when she thought about the unique form of communication her husband had brought into their relationship. Some of the things she’d written about were extremely personal, and her honeymoon wasn’t where she’d expected their inner musings to be part of the plan.
He’d left her alone with his journal for twenty minutes. Trembling when he took it out of her hands, it didn’t surprise her that he was a deep thinker. Hell, she’d known him for her whole life. What gave her pause was how vulnerable and open his words were. She married an extraordinary man.
“The pirate fantasy is especially dirty. You like being possessed.”
His sexy growl and the way his warm breath felt on her face made Angie especially wicked.
“I like the idea of a hot, sexy pirate stealing poor, innocent me right out from under my daddy’s nose. Nowhere did I say anything about you being that pirate.”
Her words triggered a lusty explosion that conveyed in his expression. He kept hold of her collar and reared back to ogle her naked body. With a pinch of one hard, aching nipple, he growled, “These tits say you want me to be your pirate.”
Whimpering softly, she bit her lip and tried to pull away.
His hand reached into her hair and yanked hard. She was helpless and unable to move.
“I have just one thing to say.” His eyes bored into hers as he spoke.
She held her breath.
“Run.”
He let go of her hair; she started and then took off. Jumping off the porch of the cabana where they’d been lounging, she ran across the sandy beach and picked up speed as her bare feet pounded out a rhythm along the waterline.
She could hear him catching up with her. A fierce drumbeat knocked her chest as Angie’s heart worked to meet the effort of her running escape.
“There’s no escape, little girl,” he bellowed.
She yelped and willed her legs to move faster. He caught her around the waist and lifted Angie off her feet. Screaming with alarm, she flailed her arms when she felt her body sailing through the air. She hit the water with a tremendous splash and went under.
He was right there in all his naked glory when she found her footing and tried to stand. Sputtering and wiping wet hair from her face, she struggled against the arm banded about her waist, but he easily pressed her back against his aroused body.
“You will pay for trying to escape, kitten.”
The deep growling drawl when he called her kitten made Angie quiver.
It was all kinds of alpha hot when he dragged her from the water by her hair. Back on the beach, he hoisted her over his shoulder and swatted her ass.
The laughter started about ten yards from the house. When the absurdity of their naked honeymoon with fantasy role-playing added for flair hit her, she couldn’t hold back.
Parker’s husky grumbling as he stomped into the bedroom just made her laugh even more.
“Giving me shit for what’s got to be the best honeymoon ever and running away.”
“You threw me in the water,” she screeched with laughter.
He swatted her behind again before tossing her like discarded clothes onto the bed.
“That I did,” he drawled. “And do you know why? Because everything is better when wet.”
Angie dissolved into amused hysterics. He was on top of her seconds later. When she caught her breath, he proved his better when wet comment. Twice.
Parker rolled to his side and stretched. He was sleeping like a baby now that the wedding was behind them. People weren’t just sarcastic when they discussed bridezilla stress. Only in his case, he’d been Groomasaurus Rex. He might never recover from being faced with dozens of shade options when all he wanted was sapphire.
Flinging his arm to the side and expecting to find his nubile bride, he quickly opened his eyes when air and linens were all he found.
Growling, he sat up, scraped a hand through his hair, yawned, and eyed the emptiness next to him.
He would have to sit his desert angel down and have a serious talk about the rules again. She knew that skipping out to leave him to wake up alone was a hard limit for him.
The subtle aroma of coffee circulated after a gentle breeze moved the swaths of sheer gauze draping over the massive, oversized poster bed.
Ah, he thought with a good deal of husbandly satisfaction. Maybe grading his wife on a curve was necessary when she trampled the rules.
&
nbsp; Scooting to the side of the playground-size bed, he swung his legs to the floor, pushed the covers out of the way, and stretched his arms out to the sides and then over his head.
Slapping his stomach, he paused for an ego-stroking snicker. The hours he spent working out before the wedding paid off in a big way. It wasn’t just the bride who wanted to present well. If he wanted Angie to drool over him, then he had to do the work. So he did and was rewarded for his efforts with a serious six-pack and all the rest of the topographical delights his lady took pleasure in.
One of those physical features, his dick, especially enjoyed the honeymoon of naked tropical debauchery Parker had painstakingly created. Angie Sullivan, deprived of clothes and dropped in a five-star island paradise, turned out to be his very own, personal erectile enhancer. She was better than a bucket of Viagra.
And she was in the kitchen getting into trouble.
“Dammit. Shit. Really?” Angie loudly complained. “Come on.”
She grunted and shifted position, hoping a different angle would help—but nope. No matter what she did, her boobs were in the way, and it was damn hard to wield a sharp knife when she couldn’t see what she was doing.
Dropping the tool, she wiped her hands on the front of the ridiculous 1950’s apron—one of the few exceptions her husband allowed on their birthday suit honeymoon. The ruffled garment screamed sexy housewife and got a laugh from her when she found it hanging on a hook in the pantry.
The other thing her wicked husband allowed was shoes. High-heeled fuck-me-harder shoes. Unless she was prancing about in hooker heels, she was barefoot. The flirty apron begged for performance shoes, so she made sure to slide them on while she was tying her hair back. If she was going to play the part, she was doing it with flair!
But the boobs in the way thing was getting on her nerves.
She bit her lip and glanced around. Maybe she could tie the apron above her chest and hope that even a little coverage would help. The idea got quickly dismissed when the visual popped into her mind. It might be funny back home, but here, it seemed out of place.
With a determined sigh, she went back to chopping what she needed for the breakfast potatoes Parker loved. It took longer than usual because she had to slow down if she didn’t want to lose a finger due to a visibility issue.
“Grrr,” she growled. “Damn boobs.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when a large, warm body pressed into her from behind. An involuntary whimper escaped her mouth when she felt her husband’s hard cock nestle against the small of her back.
His big hands slid around her and cupped the boobs she’d been complaining about.
“There,” he drawled close to her ear. She shivered at the husky purr in his voice. “Better?”
Was she instantly ready to forget about making breakfast?
Absolutely.
He squeezed both mounds and growled. “Finish what you’re doing.”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. She took a shuddering breath and concentrated on the task before her.
At first, he just leaned in and fondled her breasts. She had to admit his hands on her tits did make things easier.
A rippling chuckle made her stomach move.
He reacted by firmly pulling her into more direct contact with his aroused body. A second before his lips touched her shoulder, she let out a surprised yelp.
Just like that, anything remotely resembling cultured and ladylike flew out the door on a breeze.
Liquid heat slammed into her core. She shuddered when her pussy melted and became wet with desire. Without thinking about it, she arched back and wiggled her ass against her husband’s powerful erection.
When he started mauling her neck, she put both hands on the counter. It seemed the safest thing to do since she had a knife in her hand. Angie was yanked from the bliss cloud descending around her when he pinched her nipples and grunted into her ear. “Continue, kitten. Weren’t you about to feed your husband?”
Shaking slightly, she groaned her reluctance but did as he commanded. Parker got off on the domination dance they were learning together.
The things he did to her shoulder and neck while she carefully finished preparing the ingredients on the cutting board tested her in ways she had a hard time with. Grinding his cock against her back didn’t help either. She was powerless to stop her body’s desperate plea and simply quivered and moaned when her ass moved restlessly—searching.
Parker’s smile tickled her skin as his sexy chuckle hit her ears. “What are you trying to tell me? Hmm?” He sucked her earlobe and bit it. “Does my sexy honeymoon angel need my cock in her ass?”
The ridiculous question made her laugh—involuntarily. They weren’t there just yet, but she knew it’d happen soon. He was having far too much fun training her ass to hurry to the finish line. Or that was what he kept telling her.
“What your honeymoon angel needs at the moment is to put all this stuff in a pan. If you want to eat breakfast this year, that is,” she added with a saucy shrug.
He sucked on her neck until her legs shook and she fell apart. Breakfast would have to wait.
She let go of the knife and let her hands fall limply to her sides. Turning her face away, Angie offered more of her neck and waited. It was complete surrender; a sign he would recognize.
Wrapping an arm under her breasts, he held on tight. His other hand untied the apron and then landed flat on her stomach before sliding excruciatingly slow to her melting pussy. She was desperate for his touch, but just as his fingertips caressed her bare mound, he stopped and pulled away.
Grunting with disappointment, she had little time to get her head around the change in approach. His only command was a tug on her collar and a hand on her neck as he walked them to the sofa on the extensive outdoor patio. Her heels tapped out a rhythm on the wood as she obediently followed.
He threw a seat cushion on the ground, sat on the sofa, spread his thighs wide, and told her to kneel. As she sank to the cushion, Angie was deliciously aware of the warm wet at the top of her inner thighs. She responded to his masculine demands with eager passion.
Watching her husband’s big, manly hands lazily stroke his swollen cock made her breath catch.
“Suck,” he commanded.
She held up her hands in silent question. He nodded briefly, and his smoldering gaze rocked her world as she reached for him and took over.
He’d taught her how to pleasure him with her hands and mouth. Lessons she put to good wifely use. Wanting to excel orally was the same thing to her as being a good cook. Angie didn’t care if the critique of her abilities centered on the kitchen arts or her ability to blow him till he saw stars. It was all the same to her because Parker Sullivan deserved the best. And that was what she would give him.
He watched her through hooded eyes as she fondled and caressed his beautiful manhood. Parker’s big, thick cock was a wonderful thing to behold. She cooed and purred, licking her lips with mouthwatering anticipation as she teased his flesh and made his shaft throb.
With a big smile, she blew him a wet kiss and bent over his staff for a tongue-flicking hello. Her hands tightened their grip as she lovingly worshipped the smooth, fat head of his cock. She swirled her tongue in circles on the knobby ring of flesh and licked the tender tip with exquisite slowness.
Parker stroked her hair and murmured appreciatively. She felt like a wanton cherub making love to a lusty god with her lips.
Her fingers played with his balls as she took him into her mouth. He grunted and shifted his legs farther apart. The hand stroking her hair turned demanding and insistent.
She liked a desert sunrise and the way the hot, dry wind felt on her skin.
She liked hearing her mother sing.
And she loved sucking Parker Sullivan’s dick.
Rushing for the sake of getting it over with wasn’t her style. In Angie’s mind, slow, wet, and lusty was the only way to go. She took her time and savored the sensations. His thick cock sl
iding on her tongue made her insides turn to goo.
When he grunted and groaned, stroked her hair, or took a commanding grip on her neck, she got tingly all over. His pleasure became hers, and she greedily drank it in.
Sensory input bombarded her brain. Her hand on one of his thighs savored the masculine feel of muscle and coarse hair. The other hand gripped her husband’s manhood. She liked the look—her small hand wrapped just so with her thumb massaging the underside.
Overcome by greedy urges, she answered her desires with her lips. Swirling her wet tongue slowly on the fat head, she sucked and moaned with her eyes glued to his face.
Her husband’s hooded gaze watched everything she did. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath. The husky grunts and soft hisses of pleasure fueled her fiery passion.
“You are perfection, Angel,” he growled.
She smiled into his eyes and melted at the lusty intensity she found staring back. Satisfying Parker’s powerful sexual desires was all she wanted to do. In case he hadn’t figured that part out yet, she demonstrated just how hungry she was for his pleasure and slowly lowered her head as his enormous shaft slid against her tongue and breached the back of her throat.
He growled and then let out a sexy grunt, lifting his hips for more. Enflamed by his reaction, she lost herself in the sensation and gave herself over to a sensuous throat fuck that further swelled Angie’s desperate pussy and made arousal dampen her thighs.
When she paused for air, and a thick ribbon of saliva dangled off the tip of his cock, she shuddered and quickly gasped. An unexpected orgasm hovered on the edges of her senses. She smiled and licked her lips. Coming for her new husband while his cock was buried in her mouth seemed like a wonderfully sexy honeymoon gift—one he’d surely find pleasing.
Just when she was about to go at it again, he put a finger beneath her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. If he looked at her like he was now for the rest of time, she’d be the happiest woman on the planet.
He gave her a lecherous smirk that made her tingle and offered his praise. “I chose, and I chose well,” he murmured. “Mrs. Sullivan,” he drawled with a blend of humor and demand. “I do believe you like sucking my dick. Am I right?”
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