“So, I guess you don’t want dessert first?” I ask weakly.
“Oh, I’m having dessert,” he says. “Take those very tiny knickers off and hand them to me.”
“What if someone walks in on us?” This is pitiful, my hands are already bunching up my skirt so I can get to my undies.
“I’ll kill the first man who walks through that door,” he says, taking off his jacket, his cufflinks and rolling up the sleeves of hiscrisp white shirt. It’s Arm Porn. Tan, thick with muscle and his tattoos.
“I really don’t want you to murder anyone on our honeymoon,” I say. “Surely that is a reasonable request.” Oh, for god’s sake, my panties are already halfway down my thighs.
Mason lifts me onto the dining room table. It’s a huge slab of walnut and looks very sturdy. “Darling, everyone aside from the captain is below deck for the night, and Jacques, no doubt, is nursing his emotional injury with a bottle of my very expensive port in his stateroom.”
He flips my skirt up and slides the scrap of white lace down my legs and puts it in his shirt pocket. “Open wide,” he says, sitting on his chair and pulling it closer. “I’mstarving.”
Bracing my feet on the edge of the table, he spreads my knees and runs his fingernails up the skin of my inner thighs. My back arches and my eyes slam shut.
“Open your eyes, I want you to watch me. I want you to remember who’s doing this to you. Your husband. Licking your cunt. Spearing my tongue up inside you.”
“You have a very dirty mouth,” I moan.
There’s a guttural chuckle. “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”
Mason never does the same thing. Sometimes, he licks me with the flat of his tongue, like a cat. Or, he’ll suck on my clitoris and drive his fingers up inside me. The most excruciating are the delicate licks and nibbles that are so close to making me come… and then he stops.
Tonight, he’s greedy, messy, putting his whole mouth over my center in a filthy, wonderful, carnal kiss. He bites and sucksand when two thick fingers slide inside me, he practically purrs. “Look at the mess you’ve made of my fingers, my sweet girl. My dirty girl. So wet and slick for me.”
Mason’s voice is a weapon, dark and sultry, and it goes even deeper when he’s turned on, wrapping around me in a coiled embrace. Now, he’s talking against my center and I can feel his lips move on me and his rumble sends a jolt of lightning up my spine.
“So fucking beautiful,” he groans. “And all mine, aren’t you?”
“I’m yours, yes. Uh-huh.” I’m babbling mindlessly but he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m so close…” I reach down, running my fingers through his hair and I tug hard. He growls.
“Again.”
I pull his hair while he eats me as though it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His tonguevibratesagainst me and I come, so hard that my thighs tighten against his head and I feel him laugh this time, the vibrations rippling through my wildly sensitive center. He doesn’t stop, his fingers still pumping inside me as he circles my clitoris with his tongue.
“Sensitive!” I wheeze. “Please.”
I hear the faint jingle of the ice in his drink and when his mouth returns to me, it’s cold, latching onto me and I come. Again. Maybe two more times I don’t know but when he finally lifts his head, his lips and chin are glistening from my slick and he surges up to kiss me, making me taste my orgasm.
Mason carries me into our stateroom and opens the French doors so the ocean breeze can flow in. He pulls off my gown and rips away his shirt and kilt and I will remember this forever. His scent, the warmth of his skin, the way he growls in my ear and the shocking heat tearing through my channel as he thrusts intome. I scream, just the way he told me I would. Shuddering and gasping and he laughs breathlessly as he forces me up and down again.
Then, the explosions.
The first one sounds like it’s right outside our room and I screech, startled and clenching down on him so tight that he groans. Pulling loose, he grabs his gun and steps out onto our deck, naked.
Another boom shatters the night, making the glass rattle in the windows and I scream. “What is it? Are we under attack?”
I can see the reflection on the water, blue and red streaks and I hurry toward the balcony, trying to wrap the sheet around me.
Sighing, he puts his gun down. “It’s fireworks.”
Another monstrously loud explosion and my eardrums bulge ominously. This one is a fountain of gold and silver sparkles, raining down on the ocean.
“Are you kidding?” I gasp. “It sounds like World War Three is kicking off!”
The sheet slips from me as I slam my hands over my ears. This explosion is a rainfall of green and purple and Mason grabs the sheet, wrapping it around me and sitting on a deck chair, putting me on his lap. We watch the rest of the fireworks, more like a percussive attack, really and the finale is a magnificent array of blues and purples, then red and pink, finishing with a thousand gold and silver stars.
My heart’s thumping like it’s one beat away from a myocardial infarction and my hands are a little shaky. “It was beautiful,” I offer. “In a really terrifying, overwhelming way. Your cousins, I’m assuming?”
