by Mj Fields
“Would you like some help?” I ask when he cracks the first one.
“No.” He sets the shell back into the carton then reaches over and pushes the shirt aside, exposing me even more.
I reach up and take the necklace in my hand. “Thank you.”
His lips curl up as he cracks another egg. “You’re welcome.”
I touch the earrings. “For these, too.”
Looking at them, he nods. Then his eyes slowly move down my neck, across my chest, and land on the necklace.
“And this.” I hold up my hand and smile. “It’s beautiful. They all are.”
“We’ll get married the weekend after Labor Day.” He shrugs and looks back down at the bowl where the eggs are floating around. “Your father said that’s when business slows down.”
“You told my dad?”
“I asked Babička”—he looks up and then back down as he cracks another—“and then your father.”
“Before or after he kidnapped you?”
“Before,” he says as he turns and walks to the cabinet to grab a glass. He walks back over and cracks two eggs in it then drinks them down.
Immediately, I am sick to my stomach.
I stand up. “Excuse me for just a minute.”
I walk slowly out of the kitchen—I am in heels after all—but then I kick them off and sprint to the nearest bathroom where I make it to the sink just in time.
He doesn’t say a word, but I can imagine the smug look on his face, that look of I told you so. However, I don’t want to fight with him … so I won’t.
When I’m done throwing up and have finished dry heaving, I rest my head against my arm as I reach up to turn the water on, needing to rinse out the sink.
He beats me to it.
I feel his hand on my back. He begins rubbing it gently with one hand, then turns off the faucet.
Keeping my head on my arm, I rest it on the side and look up at his reflection in the mirror.
I want to laugh at the “angry” look he’s giving my ass, because if I didn’t know the looks Vincent gives when he’s fucking, I might confuse it with angry. This, this is not angry.
Panties, soaked.
How does that even happen after I have just thrown up?
I reach for the toothbrush in plastic wrap—Valentina always has extras—and purposely lean back so my ass brushes against him as I peel the plastic off. I watch him lick his sexy, full, red lips, still looking at my ass. I reach to turn on the faucet and for the toothpaste, squirting it on the brush, and again lean back to brush my ass against him before standing and brushing my teeth.
He now has his hands on my hips, while my back is against his chest. He releases one of my hips and pulls the shirt back again as he looks me over in the mirror. I lean down to spit the paste out of my mouth and rinse with water I cup in my hands.
When I have rinsed well enough, I bend again, this time rubbing against his now hard erection, and open the cabinet below the sink to toss out the toothbrush. Then I reach up and pull at the string of my panties, wiggling as I pull them down and step out of one side.
I stand up and lean against him again. Lifting my arm, I reach back and run my hand up his neck, through his thick, dark waves as I lift my leg and rest my foot on the counter.
I love the way he watches me, with sinful intent in his dark eyes.
He gently pushes me forward and strips me of my shirt—his shirt—before removing the one he’s wearing then sliding his jogging pants down. His cock falls out, hitting me in the ass.
Self-realization at that moment: I may have just came a little.
I reach between my legs and grab him, guiding him to my waiting pussy, and rub it against my slick folds as he reaches around me, pulling me back against him. He then unhooks my front clasp and grabs my tits, squeezing them.
It hurts. Dear God, it hurts. At the same time, I don’t want him to stop. But when I see his reflection as he watches me, his eyes smiling, his touch becomes just a little bit gentler.
I arch my back as I press against him, taking him slowly inside me.
He removes one of his hands from my breast and reaches down, pushing my hand away to begin rubbing my clit as we both watch his cock now slide more easily in and out of me the more wet I become.
When we are both near the edge, I take his hand and put it on my hip as I lean over and grab the counter’s edge. “Vincent.”
He looks away from our connection and into my eyes, moving in and out at a painfully slow pace.
“Fuck me like I’m yours.”
“I’m trying to hold back,” he hisses between his teeth.
I narrow my eyes and tell him, “Don’t you dare.”
He slams into me, and I fall apart within seconds, and so does he. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps fucking me until he comes … again.
Later, we lie in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, and he tells me that he had Cyrus look into Warren Black, and that there is enough to send him and possibly several others to prison for fraud. He also tells me that he wants to look into it further to see if the others had any clue what they got involved in before he ruined people who he used for his own personal vendetta.
I tell him that I still can’t and won’t believe I am pregnant so I don’t want to talk about it again. He tells me that he read only twenty percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage before the first trimester ends, and he’ll be just fine not knowing until then, as long as I take vitamins and stay away from things that could be harmful if I am.
I don’t tell him I’m already being cautious, but I’m sure he knows.
We spent two days fucking, talking, and boxing up Valentina’s and the girls’ belongings. They won’t be coming back to the states anytime soon, and when they do, they want to find a place together.
While doing the girls’ room, they Facetime him. Watching him with them is almost awe-inspiring. They clearly look to him for answers, are comfortable enough to rib him, and he’s comfortable enough to allow it. When they tell him that they love him at the end of the conversation, and he says it back, they are speechless. Then Francesca starts doing her nervous giggle, and then they all end up laughing, even Vincent.
He tells me he wants them in the wedding. It’s the first we have talked about it. I tell him it may cause problems with my other friends’ children, and he says they can all be in it, but the twins will stand with him, Franco, and Dominic. If not for them, he would never have been able to open up to the idea of trusting. And if not for me, he would never have allowed himself to utter words that still don’t seem strong enough, but he will say them anyway, because he likes the way I look at him when he does.
When the house is packed, we leave in my car, him driving, which is fine by me. There is never a lull in conversation, and we easily and effortlessly talk about everything under the sun.
I tell him I don’t want to be mayor, that planning a wedding and ensuring he makes returns on his investments by doing what I do best and … whatever else comes along will be too much. He understands, but suggests maybe giving the information he got from Cyrus and whatever he finds out on the other business owners to crush Warren on all fronts, and I quote, “Because murdering him would put me in jail for too fucking long, and life is just starting to get good.”
Swoon.
He tells me he has an idea. Immediately, I know he’s talking about Pace.
I tell him my fears about Pace knowing everything I hid, coupled with the fact that Pace has become the biggest manwhore on the entire island and surrounding areas. Add that to my fear that he is drinking too much, and I’m not sure he could handle it or that he would even want it.
He reassures me that I could not have caused any of Warren Black’s behaviors any more than he could have his parents. I got it. I truly got it. And for him to be able to talk me through it, through the pain and guilt I have had since returning home, I love him even more.
But, because he’s Vincent, he pushes and says he thinks
we should work on Pace, help him see that he is more than what he cannot control. Then maybe, just maybe, Pace will someday be as happy as we are at this very moment. And we are. We are blissfully happy.
I sleep and talk as he drives and talks, and as we come to the “Welcome to Savannah” sign, he pulls off the highway.
He puts the car in park and turns to me. “Tell me what you think when you see this sign,” he requests sincerely. “Because after your father and I talked, he mentioned that he believed you left to make your mark, and that you never wanted to be like your mother, like Babička; that he knew you weren’t like them, that you had different dreams. He thought maybe this wasn’t enough for you. Tell me, Paige; is this enough?”
“It’s more than enough.”
“Does this feel like a place you want to call home again?”
I nod.
“Are you sure?”
“I never wanted to be a housewife. I wanted to be more.”
“Your dad said you wanted to be a Viking warrior princess.” He laughs. “Said that you used to get in so much trouble for running away, but after the first time, they knew where you’d end up. Do you remember where you ended up, Paige?”
I nod and laugh. “Hiding on one of the boats.”
His eyebrow raises, again sitting high above me, casting down judgment. “But you get seasick.”
It takes me a minute to realize just how odd that is.
“I think you need to give boating another chance.”
“Are you kidding me?” I laugh. “Now isn’t really the time to figure it out.”
“Now meaning when you’re not pregnant?”
I smack him in the arm, and he laughs.
“Fine, just promise me that you’ll give it a shot, when you’re not not having morning sickness.”
I nod. “As long as you promise to not be angry or leave me if I can’t get over it.”
He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, then sighs. “Fine.” He points back to the sign. “Is this enough for a woman like you?”
“Honestly, when I was younger, I never thought they had been given the opportunity to realize they could have it all. Until I left, until all those years of feeling like I was missing something. I now realize they did have it all. They had everything they wanted. I also left remembering all the bad things, but this past week, with you, seeing Joe and Caroline, it brought back all that was perfect about the place I called home.”
“And?”
“This is home.” Tears fill my eyes again. “This is our home.”
My words cause him to take in a quick, deep breath and to squeeze my hand instantly.
When he relaxes, he leans forward and kisses my forehead, whispering against it, “Our home. I more than love you, Paige.”
“I more than know.”
“You always will, lady.” He kisses my head again. “Always.”
Epilogue
Two months later…
Paige
Yawning, I stretch and smile. Who says you can’t have it all?
I look over my sunglasses, watching my fiancé, sex god, could-be model, who is tanned and shirtless with khaki shorts on, driving his ship/boat, which is actually a yacht. To think, I get to have that whenever I want it. And God … I want it more than I did when he first came here.
I wonder what I look like when I look at him. I lift up my phone and snap a selfie. Then I type a message.
Do I look horngry?
(Definition: a cross between horny and angry... that he’s not on me right now.)
I send it to Mel, Nikki, Laney, and Valentina.
When I look at the picture, I laugh because I don’t think I look angry or horny. I think I look desperate and needy, which I am, and have no shame in it. None.
“What are you doing?” Vincent laughs when he sees me making a face.
Busted.
“Trying to look sexy and failing?”
He walks toward me, and I freak out.
“You can’t leave that going at this fast and walk away!”
He throws up his hands. “For the hundredth time, there is no one to be seen for miles. I could fuck you going twice this speed and no one would be harmed.”
When he’s in front of me, I raise my foot and push it against his abs. “Go. Just … please, Vincent, just stop it, and then come fuck me.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “So, you’re going to tell me what to do, and then expect to get fucked?”
I grin and nod. Then we both start laughing.
“Trust,” he calls over his shoulder, walking back to the helm. “Trust needs to be added to our list.”
“Compromise, add that, too.” I stand up and walk over to him, wrapping my arm around his waist. “I’m on your ship every weekend, all weekend.”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Because, if not, all you want to do is work and fuck.”
“You’re no different,” I remind him.
“Which is why this is necessary.” He winks. “And you love it.”
“Now that I’m cured of my seasickness, I do.”
He laughs and looks away.
When I hear my phone, I kiss his back then run over to get it.
I open my messages.
You look beautiful, but pouty. - Mel
Beauouty. - Laney
You look like a woman whose dreams are all about to come true. - Valentina
Aw, I think and send her a kissy face.
You look like you need a nap. I bet he’s going to tear you up tonight. - Nikki
Vincent wraps his arms around me from behind and laughs. “Does it ever stop?”
I hold up the phone, snap a selfie of us, and then type.
He better. - Paige
I lean back to kiss him when I realize we’re going even faster than before and he’s not at the wheel.
“Vincent!”
He shoves his hand down the front of the tiny sliver of material he called a bikini when he dumped a bag full of them on the bed and I told him there was no way in hell I was wearing one of those.
“You’ll wear them all, and you’ll do it because you love me.”
“Fine, then lose the shirt, because you love me.”
I knew why he wore it—to cover the scars. But if I was going to put my phat, ass on display, that’s the least he could do. The man was … gaww.
As he toys with me, teasing me and distracting me from the fact he isn’t where he should be, he whispers, “We have places to be, but my lady has needs. I’m a talented man, Paige. Trust that I can multitask.”
Then he gives me a loud, wet kiss on the neck before walking away.
Ten minutes later…
Vincent
“Paige,” I groan as she pulls out my hard as fuck cock and sinks to her knees. “Now isn’t a great time.”
She waves my dick around like it’s a fucking flag. “This looks like a good time, but do carry on, Captain.” Then she licks slowly up my cock.
She can’t get enough of my cum, and that’s been a power struggle for the ages, because as much as she seems to crave it, I love saturating her with it, and me with hers. The problem is often solved with a sixty-nine or a fuck so damn hard, so good she is rendered speechless. But now, right this very minute, it’s really not a good fucking time. Getting the message to my cock, however, is impossible.
She shoves me back so I’m sitting in the captain’s chair and proceeds to suck the life out of me. My cock is in the back of her throat, and she’s hollowing her cheeks while stroking my base so …. fucking good I can’t tell her to stop. And this, this is when my brain goes blurry and I am lost to her, always her.
When my phone sounds off, I blink away the blur and look away from her. I have to drop her tit to answer it.
“This is Vincent.”
When I feel her clamp down on me, with fucking teeth, I look down at her, ready to ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing, but she’s glaring at me.
I ignore her and answer the voice on
the other end of the line. “Yep, as planned.”
My cock falls out of her mouth. She shoots daggers out of those beautiful blue eyes before walking away.
“See you in ten.” I pause, watching her stomp toward the chaise. “No, she doesn’t.”
She turns around quickly and looks at me.
“Yeah, she’ll be annoyed, but she’ll get over it. Talk to you then.”
“Who was that?” she asks.
“Dominic,” I answer.
“No, she doesn’t what?” she asks, more like demands.
“Come over here and I’ll tell you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together and exposing more skin. Actually, there’s a near nipple slip and it looks fucking delicious.
She snaps her finger at me, and I look up.
I shake my head and do the only thing I know I can do to get her over here. I grab my cock and start to stroke it.
She swallows hard, then looks away, then looks quickly back. She licks her lips, and then she looks away again. She’s being stubborn. I need to step up my game.
“Fuuuuck … yesssss.”
She snaps her head around, totally avoiding looking at my cock, and looks in my eyes.
“Come here,” I groan.
She pushes her nose in the air then walks toward me.
When she gets to me, I grab her before she can grab me and turn her to face the water. I point to the horizon and ask, “Do you see that?”
She leans forward and looks, and her fucking hand somehow gets ahold of my cock.
“Jesus, Paige,” I hiss as I pump into her greedy, little fucking hand. She leans back and licks her lips. I crash mine on hers and lick inside her fucking mouth because I can’t fucking help it. Then I force myself to pull back.
“Vincent, is something wrong?”
The obvious hurt in her voice from me pulling away from her twice burns my chest.
Redirect, fucker, I scold myself.
“When I was younger, right before my father stopped coming around, we went to the circus, just him and me. I loved the lions. Even dreamed of becoming a lion tamer.”
