We usually have it open at night, and I want to fuck him once or twice more there, with the ocean breeze and the mosquito netting down.
I also want to open up the roof cover so starlight comes in and fuck him. I want to fuck him again in the pool. Swim naked in the ocean.
I want to greedily cram everything in.
What he does is walk me back to the house and give me a gentle push to the bedroom as he starts across the living room floor to the kitchen. "Get changed. The dress is on the bed. Heels, too."
My heart sinks. "We're going out?"
The other side of the small island is for people my age andyounger. It's a party vibe, and there are also a ton of exclusive shops and places to eat. The two resorts here boast highly regarded restaurants.
This side is more sedate, as this is where all the beach properties are. It doesn't take long to get from one side to the other.
He pops a cork from a bottle. "Of course. We leave tomorrow. Now, go get dressed."
The resorts and the other side of the island might be jumping, so to speak, but they're jumping with rich kids.
I guess I don't want to leave my side of the island.
I don't want to leave here.
I jump in the shower and then get ready. Funny, I once wanted to have all the freedom from Enzo I could get, now I long for the freedom to shut myself away with him. Hold out my wrists and ask him to shackle me.
Pathetic.
I put on my makeup and twist up my hair, securing it with a silver comb that's on the vanity.
Since it wasn't there before, and it's there now, it must be a gift from Enzo.
Though, when did he find the time?
I unzip the bag with the dress that is on the bed and gasp as I pull it out.
It is gorgeous. White and silver shimmery material I know will drape and cling and show off the tiniest bump that's Squish.
When I put it on, it looks even better than I imagined.
There is, of course, no underwear.
He's such an ass, thinking I love going commando. Though, for him, I do.
Then I slide into the silver pumps, pick up the bag, and head into the living room.
He stands there, a model for a fashion magazine, onehand in his pocket, and he's wearing an immaculate black plum-colored suit.
"Fucking stunning," he says.
"You're not so bad yourself."
He comes over and picks up a glass of bubbly. "Faux champagne?"
"Apple juice?" I ask, delighted, sniffing it.
"Only the finest." Then he kisses me.
I take a sip.
He smiles. "I thought about getting you nonalcoholic champagne but remembered how much you liked this brand of apple juice."
