The crew greeted us with professionalism that suggested they had served wealthier, louder, more demanding clients than us, yet they still took pride in ensuring every detail was perfect. They guided us through the yacht, the infinity pool on the main deck, the lounging area overlooking the water, and the dining space set up with soft lighting and crystal. Then they opened the door to the master suite, and for a moment, I lost all ability to speak. The room was enormous, all white and gold with floor-to-ceiling windows thatmade the ocean feel just within reach. The bed looked fit for a goddess to sleep in, the bathroom was marble and indulgence, and the private terrace made me feel like we were floating between the sea and the sky. I didn’t need to tell him how much I loved it; he could sense my reaction without a single word.
“You like it?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I leaned into him instinctively, because that had become my favorite place to exist.
“I love it.” He kissed my neck, the slow kind that carried promise, ownership, and gratitude all at once.
“Good,” he whispered, his voice dropping to the kind of tone that made my heart skip. “Because tonight, I plan to feed you, drink with you, sit on that deck and watch the sun disappear beside you, while I disappear inside you.”
I smiled at the confidence in his voice, the deliberateness of it; he never hid how deeply he wanted me.
“Ambitious,” I teased, and he corrected me with a smirk.
“Confident.”
We spent the afternoon exploring every inch of the yacht, drifting from champagne on the upper deck to quiet moments leaning over the railing, letting the Aegean breeze carry away whatever stress had lingered after the chaos of the past month. For the first time in a long time, I felt my body unclench. No fires waiting on me. No emergencies. No crowds. No cameras. No woman stalking me or him. No fear. Just us, floating on water clear enough to see the reflection of the sky.
By the time the crew called us for dinner, the sun had stretched itself across the sky in rust-colored streaks, and the deck was transformed into something that looked like a scene from a movie—candles flickering, soft ambient lighting, wine chilled to the perfect temperature, and dishes that reminded me just how far from home we were.
He was shirtless, with only linen pants hanging lowly on his tall frame. And he had a big Cuban around his neck. He’d ditched the watch. He was so relaxed, and the deep V cut made me lick my lips.
I was in a classic snake-skin thong bikini with a mesh cover-up.
We sat facing each other, the ocean shifting under us, and I had this moment where it hit me—Out of all the versions of my life, I ended up here with him. He looked at me like he knew it too, as if we had both fought our way into something neither of us planned but both needed.
I didn’t rush the moment. Neither did he.
“I know we just got married,” he said quietly, thumb brushing my knuckles, “but I want you to have my babies, Lo.”
I didn’t flinch from it. Didn’t shy away.
“And I want to have your babies. I told you that. I won’t make you wait long, but I want to love you… just you… for a little longer.”
His eyes softened under the glow of those candles. “Really, Lo?”
“Really. Is that selfish?”
“Hell nah,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what a nigga like me wanna hear. When it happens, it happens.”
“Exactly. And to ease your mind, I froze my eggs a while back, just as a precaution. But I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”
His smirk was sinful. “Shit, I’m tryna fuck right now.”
I laughed, warm from the wine and the way his gaze kept tracing every inch of me. The night air had cooled, but he had this retirement blunt sitting in the ashtray—fat, rolled tight, smelling like peace and freedom. He picked it up with two fingers, sparked it, and leaned back in his chair.
He took a long, slow pull, held it, and then lifted my chin with his free hand. “Come here.”
I slid out of my chair and into his lap because that tone always compelled me to obey. He exhaled smoke the second I settled against him, the scent drifting between us—earthy and warm, blending with the sea breeze.
We let the wine warm our blood and loosen the edges until we weren’t separated by a table anymore. We were wrapped in each other, bodies angled close, the ocean stretching out behind us like it was keeping watch.
“What about—” I started, meaning the crew, the timing, the dinner we hadn’t even finished.
“Lo.” He turned my face toward him, that deep voice vibrating through my bones. “We just got married. We’re on our honeymoon. The only thing we need to worry about is each other.”
I kissed him, tasting smoke and wine and that satisfaction he never hid from me.
“These muthafuckas know to get lost and stay that fucking way after a certain time,” he murmured against my lips. He trailed soft kisses along my jaw. His hands slid up my thighs before he gripped them roughly.
“You keep kissing me like that, we’re not making it to the bedroom in the back.”
