Benny is in pussy-eating heaven. His eyes are closed under the shades blocking the sun, his feet swinging back and forth from a sniper position over the sunbathing mattress. His arms tighten around my waist for deep, sweeping strokes of his tongue. The faucet between my open legs and I erupt into his mouth, jerking my hips and dropping my gelato on the deck. Benny’s low rumble of laughter tickles my skin as he presses soft kisses to the insides of my thighs before he licks me clean.
I roll away and adjust my bikini. Best believe I would talk my finest shit if I weren’t panting like a big dog in the summer sun.The slow glide of his fingers down my belly pulls my side-eye. What kind of stamina drugs did he put in his breakfast?
He reaches between my legs to twist the jeweled anal plug. “Almost ready.” His fingers brush my pussy, dipping through my parted lips in lazy swipes.
Freak.
“The day is yours,” he says with a kiss on my shoulder. “What would you like to do? Snorkeling again? Fishing?”
“I see you have jokes this morning.” I shoot a look for his bottom lip to meet his top. “My body still hurts.”
Benny erupts with laughter. His back hits the mattress and his abs shake. Just chortling in my face. Even the dick print in his swim trunks is laughing at me for jumping overboard to save the fishing rod that fell. I scared the fish on the rod and myself by how I had belly-flopped into the sea.
A mess.
“How about we leave the fishing to me?” He pulls me to his side.
“What about a tour?” I laugh at his groan. “Don’t roll away.”
“We did walking tours. Food tours. A wine tour. Gallery tour. Cultural tour. I can’t take another without killing someone, love.”
“The fact that I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious is why you need therapy.” I remove his sunglasses. “Did you not just say the day is mine?”
“Not for another fucking tour,” he mumbles.
“Benny?”
He deadpans when I pinch his cheeks. I smile. “Happy wife, happy what?”
“A pain in my ass.”
I smack his chest, igniting a rumble of laughter. He holds my stare, his fingers rubbing circles over my bikini strings. “Do I make you happy?”
My answer is the brush of my lips over his. He deepens our kiss, pulling me closer for our hearts to touch.
Our honeymoon in Mazara del Vallo has been perfect. A luxury sailboat has been our home for the week. No crew, work, or distractions. Just us.
Benny showed me Salvatore on this trip. I’ve seen him in small doses, glimpses of the man who learned his nonna’s recipes, his mother’s affection, and his father’s pursuit. I enjoy learning my husband and I want more.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Where are we going?”
I kiss his jaw. “Show me the part of you that helps others.”
“Salvatore!”
“Ciau, Domenico.” The two hug with heavy-handed back pats.
Benny’s face lit up when we arrived at the port. He couldn’t contain his smile and hasn’t stopped since speed walking down the dock toward the burly man in some type of fishing overalls.
Their animated Sicilian exchange turns to English after Benny motions toward me. “This is my wife, Bianca.”
Gray brows rise to a receding hairline. “Wife? Where was my invitation?”
Benny’s sandal digs into a slat. “It was spur-of-the-moment. Don’t tell Sarina.”
Domenico laughs. “I have to live with my wife, not you.” He lifts my hand to kiss and covers it with his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Domenico. I run his fishing fleet.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say.
