I disconnect the call and put the phone on the bedside table. I always sleep closest to the door, a square of mattress real estate that my bride has stolen with her sleeping position.
Rolling her over to her side of the bed, enjoying her soft grumbles in her sleep, I move behind her, her back against my chest, tucking her legs under mine as I pull her tight against me. This may not be a traditional honeymoon, but I intend to enjoy every moment of it… and give my bride enough orgasms to keep her soft and obedient for the duration of our stay here.
***
The next morning, Sorcha wakes to find me between her legs, my mouth on her pussy, licking her with long, cat-like strokes.
“You are the most delicious thing, wife.” I grin, nuzzling her clit as her hands blindly find my hair, still half-asleep. She’s pink and swollen from last night, and already wet for me. When her hips start shifting, I hold her down and lick her through her first orgasm.
Moving up her body, I slowly kiss every new inch of her soft skin. Her fair skin is unblemished, she’s never going to tan. Grabbing a fistful of her silky hair with lazy possessiveness, I nip at her earlobe.
“Good morning,” I murmur, kissing her jaw, her cheekbones, and her eyelids before they flutter open to look at me.
My cock is hard enough to punch a hole in the wall and I groan in relief, sinking into her. She’s slick enough from her orgasmto take me, but she winces, so I slow down.Fuck.The heat of her snug pussy… she’s so tight, and the silky feel of her walls clutching my dick makes me clench my teeth. I think of turnips, rashes, ointments… the most unsexy things I can picture to keep from embarrassing myself.
Sorcha is wide awake now, her legs spread wide by my arms hooked behind her knees and she stares up at me, wide-eyed. Her arms go around my shoulders, trying to hang on as my thrusts jolt her.
“You’re too tight, sweet girl. You’re making me work for it, forcing my dick into your silky little body.” She’s gasping, her mouth open and trying to suck in oxygen, and I push it right back out with another forceful thrust. Gripping her ass, I move faster. “Are you a screamer, darling?”
“I- I- I don’t kn- know,” she says between thrusts.
I chuckle, then groan as a ripple goes through her pussy, making me brace my feet against the footboard to thrust harder. “You’re so close to coming, aren’t you, sweet girl? Your cunt is clamping down on me. I think that you will undeniably be a screamer. Come for me, be a good girl and let’s find out.”
When I lightly slap her stiff clit, she proves me right about the screaming.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which we find that Sorcha’s forced and hasty wedding is not unusual in the MacTavish scheme of things.
Sorcha…
I’m in the hot tub that overlooks the ocean.
Even the warm bath that Alastair drew for me couldn’t soothe the aching mess that is my body. Not that it wasn’t worth it. I had no idea I could come like that. Over, and over, and then again, to the point that I was weakly trying to push his head away from my center.
It seems my husband not only has a singular focus when it comes to his organization, it carries over to the bedroom as well.
And the shower.
The living room.
On the railing on the deck with the waves crashing under us and Istillcame, even with my severe anxiety that someone might see us. I found out after overhearing him speaking with one of the guards that everyone had to turn their backs to the house or he’d, “stab their eyes out.” I’m sure he was having a cackle with them.
I think.
For the last three days, he’s cooked for me, taken me out on his huge boat - which he casually mentions is the smallest of his yachts - and given me massages when I was too weak to walk.
“I don’t believe that you need that bikini top.”
Opening one eye, I see him standing over me, his gaze hidden behind his sunglasses. He’s wearing a loose white linen shirt and looks inexcusably handsome.
“Shouldn’t you be taking over a small country right now?” I ask, swirling my hand through the bubbles. “Buying a new business, splitting it up, and re-selling what’s left?”
“I am not a venture capitalist,” he says, looking a bit insulted. Not insulted enough to not pull off his shirt and drop his shorts, instantly and magnificently naked as he joins me in the hot tub. “Are you enjoying our honeymoon?” He pulls me onto his lap and I can feel his cock stiffening against my arse.
Mother Mary and all the Saints is this man perpetually sporting a stonner?
“I don’t know what a real honeymoon would look like,” I admit. “Or how a regular couple falls in love and shares a wedding with all their family and friends.”
