Averill _A Secrets Novella

by D. B. James

  Since his hands are resting on my ass and his head is heavy on my shoulder, I know it’ll wake him if I try to move, which truly sucks because my tote bag with my phone in it is sitting near the door where I dropped it when I came in. Guess I won’t be texting or calling anyone in the near future. It’s probably for the best, as I’m sure Rhys would like to tell her the news personally.

  Sighing, I lay my head against his and close my eyes. What am I going to do with my sad husband?

  As the day turns into evening, I’m getting ready for what was supposed to be a group dinner at a restaurant off the resort property. What should be four friends enjoying their last night in Cancun is now three friends and one asshole not enjoying their last night in paradise.

  Why is Brant still going to dinner, you ask? Because my husband is attempting to be the better man here and told him—via me, I should add—to still join us for a night out. I have no idea why. Since we woke up tangled together in the chair, he hasn’t said one word about how he’s feeling.

  When I called to inform Tessa of Brant’s proffered invitation still standing for the evening out, she was furious—and slightly drunk. She admitted to spending most of the afternoon at the tequila bar. When she’s stressed, she indulges. It’s one of her vices, and I can’t fault her for it because we all have at least one.

  “Are you almost ready, Tiger Lily?” Rhys calls out from the other room. He’s been agitated and bothering me about my readiness for at least twenty minutes.

  “Last time I checked, which was five minutes ago, I still have at least half an hour until we meet them in the main lobby, but yes, I am almost ready.”

  “Okay.”

  Knowing he’s upset and it’s not with me, I give him a free pass to keep asking if I’m ready over and over again. He has every right to be pissed. I’m more than pissed, and it didn’t happen to me. Deep down, I’m hoping Brant has a valid excuse for doing what he did. But what if he doesn’t?

  I’m not entirely sure Rhys could survive it if he doesn’t have an amazing excuse for keeping the letters from him. If it was truly to keep his family from him for nefarious reasons, it’ll break him. Not much bothers him, but this? This will wreck him.

  He doesn’t get the chance to ask me if I’m ready again because I walk out of the bathroom to find him in the kitchen, rummaging through the mini fridge.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  I don’t bother asking him what the hell he’s doing; maybe he’s helping the maid out and getting rid of the leftover food we’ve accumulated over the last week. We leave early in the morning, and he could be being helping by cleaning it out.

  “Great, let’s go. We’re not waiting for them, and before you say anything, I already talked to Tessa and she’s okay with meeting us there. I didn’t want to share a car with him.” There’s venom in his tone, like he loathes the person he’s referring to. It’s not like I can blame him—I also sort of hate Brant at the moment. I can only hope dinner tonight doesn’t end in my husband resorting to violence again. He’s already broken his nose; I believe the point was made.

  “Okay. I wasn’t too keen on riding with him either.” I’ll tell you what I am keen on: not seeing the asshole at all. I’m also partial to him suffering a bit at dinner tonight. “We can make this dinner impossible for him, if you want.”

  Reaching down for my hand, he threads our fingers together, leading me out of our bungalow for one of the last times. I’m going to miss this small slice of paradise, but I’m more ecstatic to see Rome, Capri, and Naples, along with the other cities peppered throughout Italy.

  “What do you have in mind, Tiger Lily?”

  The clicking of my heels on the paved path is the only sound as I ponder what I truly meant about making the night awful for Brant.

  “Honestly? I have no clue.”

  “Neither do I. Besides, I think this evening will be hard enough for him. It’s why I still left it open for him to come. I know it’ll kill him to be out eating dinner with us if we all act like we’re happy and ignore the elephant in the room. He’ll go crazy. It’s punishment enough.”

  “Why don’t we be horribly selfish friends and go someplace else? Tessa may get pissed, but she’ll understand. He doesn’t deserve to be graced with our presence tonight. I know you’re trying to be the bigger man here, but you already are, simply by existing. Let’s go live it up on our last night in Cancun. We can sleep on the plane in the morning.”

  After all, we invited them along in the first place, and it’s our honeymoon.

  Not adding in Brant’s deception, we shouldn’t need to be spending our time with them anyway. It was all a ploy to get them together in the first place, not a friends vacation like we claimed to get them to agree to coming. It’s still our honeymoon.

  “Screw it, I like your idea way better. Let’s do it.”

  “Great. Now for the hardest part…do we let Tessa know before they leave for the restaurant or after?” If she wasn’t going, I’d automatically vote for after, but she’s almost as upset by this as I am. I’m going to let him make the decision though. He’s going to call the shots the whole night, from where we go to what we eat, drink, and do.

  “Since it’s Brant, I want to vote for after. Since it’s Tessa, I want to vote for now. How about we leave it up to a coin? Heads we tell her now, tails for later.”

  “Sounds perfect to me. At least a coin is fair and we can say we left it up to fate—or the coin gods, I suppose.” Smiling at him, I reach into my clutch and hand him the first coin I find. Yeah, he probably has a few of his own, but he’s tossing it, so I may as well provide it.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  He launches the coin high into the air, and we both watch it wordlessly. It bounces off the fronds of a palm tree before hitting the ground with a silent thud.

  “I’m too scared to look,” he admits.

  “I’ll do it. Fun fact about the Trevi Fountain to remember for while we’re there: legend claims if you toss a coin into the fountain, you’ll be sure to return to Rome again.”

  Walking over to the coin, I peer down to see tails facing up. Shit, Tessa is going to be super pissed off.

  “It’s tails.”

  “Shit,” he grumbles. My thoughts exactly. “Let’s go babe, we have a cab to catch.”

  Grabbing my hand yet again, he pulls me along at a brisk pace, and I’m sending up prayers the entire time we hustle through the resort. Please don’t let Tessa spot us, please don’t let Tessa spot us. It seems as if fate is on our side in this fight—we make it through the resort and into a cab without getting caught. Breathing easier, I let him know about my wanting him to call the shots tonight.

  “Whatever we do tonight, I want you to decide. After the day you’ve had, you need to let loose. Anything we do is in your talented hands.”

  “Talented, huh?”

  “Obviously. Why do you think I married you? Exclusively for your hands. Pffft, the rest was just an added bonus.” Picking up one of said hands, I continue on with my display. “These guys right here”—I gesture to his fingers—“are some of my favorite parts of your body. The way they feel when they’re inside me, what they do to me…mmm, I get hot just thinking about what they can do.” Not caring if the cabbie hears me makes me a tad bit bolder. He’s probably heard it all before anyway. I’m usually timid when it comes to sexual talk, but something has me feeling more daring, freer.

  “Forget about going out, we can go back to our bungalow. Why go out when all I want is in this cab?” He leans in closer and whispers in my ear, “We can fuck against the wall—I know how you love it.”

  He’s correct, I do love it against the wall. It makes me feel…ravished. My favorite nights are the nights I come home from work to him greeting me at the door and not letting me past the entryway.

  “Mmm, how about we get dirty and wild? It’s our honeymoon, we should be adventurous. You, me, packed dance club, bathroom.” Visualizing it has my panties wet
and I wiggle in my seat, trying to get some relief.

  “Deal. Dinner before or after?” he asks.

  In lieu of answering, I let my eyes speak for me.

  “Ah, I see. I assumed your wiggling was for the reason I was hoping, and now your eyes tell me it is.” Smirking, he looks like he’s won the lottery. It’s the closest thing to a smile I’ve managed to get from him all day, and I’m thrilled to see his smugness.

  “Hey man, can you pull over here please?” Rhys asks in perfect Spanish. He never ceases to amaze me. Until this trip, I wasn’t aware of his knowing the language so well. We chose Cancun purely for the tropical setting, and we chose Italy for the Blue Grotto and my slight knowledge of the language.

  We get out near a few places full of college-aged people spilling out from the various brightly lit buildings, music filling the evening air. It seems we’re going to dinner after. It’s not like we need to actually spend much time in the club. Basically we can walk in, do the dirty, and leave. We can be eating dinner within the hour—hell, we could be back to our bungalow within the hour.

  “Any certain one calling to you, Tiger Lily?”

  “You get to pick, remember?”

  “Closest one it is,” he declares.

  Again, he grasps my hand and hurriedly pulls me along, only this time we’re not running from our friends, we’re running because we’re horny. If I tell Tessa we ditched her to have dirty, wild sex in public, she may forgive me faster. Maybe I can disclose that much information to her…maybe.

  We pay our cover charge and are through the doors of Uno Dos Tres in under two minutes. The club is packed for it only being 7 PM on a Thursday evening, but I guess when you’re on vacation, the time of day doesn’t actually matter. If you want to drink and dance, you drink and dance. When in Rome.

  Spying the women’s restroom, I pull on Rhys’ hand to alert him. Then it’s my turn to pull him along behind me. If you had told me yesterday I’d be on my way to a public restroom with my husband to indulge in public sex, I’d have called you a liar. I’m all about embracing my boldness, but this is something I’d never normally think of doing.

  Of course, there’s a line.

  Of course, Rhys isn’t ashamed to be standing with me.

  Of course, the looks cast our way are judgmental.

  Of course, we don’t give a shit.

  When one group of girls calls Rhys out when he walks into the restroom with me, he merely turns to them and says, “Honeymoon.” They all shut their mouths but still throw judgy eyes our way. Bitches.

  Luck is on our side and when our turn comes, we score the biggest stall. The second the latch is hooked, his big hands are on my body, tugging me against him. My fingers sink into his shoulders, holding on as I kiss him furiously. Since everyone knows what we’re about to do, I decide not to be quiet in my pleasure. Whatever the music doesn’t cover, I don’t care about. At least they’ll all know my husband’s a fantastic lover.

  Wordlessly, I begin to unfasten his belt, followed swiftly by his pants. I carefully pull his zipper down, brushing his boxer briefs aside. I stroke him once, twice, and on the third time, I palm his balls. He lets out a loud groan that vibrates all along my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

  “I need to feel you inside me. Right. Now.” I’m incredibly turned on. The thrill of knowing someone could pound on the door or alert security adds to the excitement.

  Without uttering a word, he pushes me harder into the wall, lifting one leg then the other so they’re wrapped around his waist. Grinding his hips into mine, he kisses me—desperate, hungry, impatient. His teeth nip my bottom lip, causing me to moan. Reaching down between our entwined bodies, I slide my panties to the side and guide him home. He pushes into me in one hard thrust.

  “Harder.” I sigh into his ear, biting his earlobe as he pounds me into the wall. His fingers are quick to join, stroking my clit in a rhythm matching the music pulsing throughout the club. It doesn’t take long before I’m shouting out my release, tossing my head from side to side, biting my bottom lip from screaming too loud. Forget what I said before—I don’t want to bring too much attention to what’s happening to me because I don’t want anyone stopping us before we’re finished.

  “You feel incredible. Your wetness is dripping down my balls.” Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks my essence from his fingers. “Mmm, my favorite taste in the world—Tiger Lily.”

  His words combined with the visual of him licking his fingers and one last hard thrust causes me to go over the edge again.

  “I’m coming again, Rhys…yes…yes.” He continues to pound into me over and over again, finding his own release.

  “Fuck,” he shouts as he drives into me one final time. His hips grind into mine and my legs tighten around his waist, holding him closer to me.

  My lips seek his once our breaths steady out and we’re both able to move. Gently, he places my left leg on the ground, followed by the right. His hands steady on my waist and he asks, “Can you stand?”

  “Yeah, I think I can.”

  The second the words leave my mouth, someone starts pounding on the door. “Hurry up in there, I have to piss.”

  Sighing, I glance up at Rhys and begin laughing. At least no one reported us.

  “They’ve been pounding the whole time. You didn’t hear them until now?”

  “No, I had no idea.” Now the laughter comes rolling out. I was completely oblivious to our surroundings; all I heard were the sounds we made. Once the stall door is unlocked, we begin to hastily make our exit. The girls gathered near the sinks start cheering.

  “Way to give it to her,” yells one.

  “You get it, girl,” shouts another.

  “Hey, handsome, wanna give me a go next?” comes from one slutty whore. The glare I send her tells her to back the hell off. Try me, bitch.

  Rhys doesn’t acknowledge any of them, just keeps on walking, pulling me along with him. He doesn’t slow his stride until we’re outside the club.

  “That’s one way to say goodbye to Cancun with a bang.”

  My husband the comedian.

  Two days later, I wake up to the Italian sun.

  Trust me, it’s a different sun.

  The last night in Cancun turned out to be one of the best evenings we spent there. Once Tessa found out the real reason we ditched her, she wasn’t too upset. She claims I’ll owe her another favor in the future but whatever, I don’t care—it was worth it.

  I’d never have guessed I was a fan of such public sex. Yeah, we’ve had sex outdoors, I’ve groped him in public, and one time we did the deed in a church parking lot, but I never pegged myself as a person who’d get off on getting off in public.

  Knowing someone was literally on the other side of the stall door was exhilarating, stimulating, electrifying. We could never claim to have a boring sex life.

  Rome is…the most magnificent city I’ve had the pleasure of visiting in my whole life. I’m extremely happy we decided to spend a decent chunk of our honeymoon here, because if we hadn’t, I’d be begging to extend our stay. It’s awful enough that I asked to cancel the days we’ll be spending in Naples in order to spend more time in Rome, but the argument presented to me is a clever one: nowhere in Italy besides Naples can we have real authentic pizza in the city where pizza was born. Being lovers of all things pizza, we must go to Naples.

  Today on our morning stroll to a lovely café for coffee, we made sure to stop by the Trevi Fountain. I wished on every coin I could find and tossed them into the flowing waters. One day, if legend is true, we’ll come back to Rome.

  We’re now getting ready to see the Vatican Museums. Our guided tour starts in less than an hour, and it’s a good thing our hotel is a short walk away. We opted to take the guided tours because word has it if we do, we’ll get the pleasure of someone accompanying us on a guided visit to St. Peter’s Basilica as well.

  Along with being a romantic trip, we wanted to explore as much of the count
ry and its history as possible. Once we’re outside Rome, we’ll take a more leisurely pace and settle back into the way we were in Cancun—maybe not quite as much sex, but still plenty. We want to experience Italy for the beautifully historic place it is as well.

  “Are you ready to leave again, babe?”

  “In a minute,” I call out.

  My feet are killing me. We’ve been in the city for less than thirty-six hours and my feet are stupid achy. Currently I’m soaking them in a mix of different herbs a woman at the store told me were excellent for calming down screaming feet. She called them nature’s godsend, and I must admit, I feel rather blissful at the moment. I’ve been wearing sensible shoes, but all this walking doesn’t agree with my cute little piggies.

  “We can take a taxi if you like,” he offers from the bathroom doorway. “Or go on the tour tomorrow, and your feet could rest tonight. I’ll go out and grab us some dinner, and gelato—lots and lots of gelato.”

  His offer is tempting, but I’m not letting such a minor thing affect our time in Rome.

  “Hell no. We’re going on this tour. We’ll eat gelato immediately after it’s over, maybe go shopping in the Trastevere neighborhood, splurge on lots of needless knickknacks, and then grab some dinner and more gelato, all before coming back here and having dessert. Then tomorrow we’ll get up and do it all over again when we go to the Colosseum.”

  Pulling the plug in the tub, I grab a towel and stand from my seat on the edge. My feet feel better after only a twenty-minute soak. This crap truly is a godsend.

  “As long as I get to do it all beside my absolutely stunning wife, I have no complaints—wait, yes I do: there’s not enough gelato in your scenario.”

  Laughing, I embrace him in a hug as I attempt to make my way past him. “You’re going to go home thirty pounds heavier, and not from all the pasta but from the gelato.”

  “Nah, gelato was the main reason I wanted to come to Italy.”

  Pushing away, I break the embrace and gaze up into his mirth-filled eyes.

  “Liar,” I call out while walking away to grab my shoes. “Hurry up or we’ll be late for our tour.”