Honeymoon With a St. Claire

by Tina Martin

  “Monty.”

  “Yes, lover?”

  Her eyes twinkle.

  I keep a straight face.

  Her eyes narrow again. “What’s going on with you today?”

  “What do you mean, baby?”

  “You’ve been quietly nostalgic.”

  I grin. “What does that even mean?”

  “You were taking pictures of me today, looking at me like you were reminiscing or something and right now you’ve been hitting me with contemplative stares. That’s not like you. That’s usually me.”

  I take a napkin, wipe my mouth and pour more wine in our glasses. “I’ve been soaking all of this in,” I tell her.

  “All of what. Be more specific. That’s what you would tell me.” She winks.

  I smirk. It is what I would tell her. “Being with you is different. It’s a lot for me especially since being married was never a part of my plan. I was supposed to be the man dedicated to the company—the man who didn’t form any romantic entanglements with anyone. The man who didn’t need anyone and for years, I was that man. I thought I would always be that man. I was set in my ways or so I thought, then you happened. Is that specific enough for you?”

  “Yes, Mr. St. Claire. It is.”

  I bite my lip, feeling desire flow through my bloodstream as I imagine everything I’ve done to her and yet still long to do.

  “We should totally adopt one of those tortoises.”

  I crack a smile. “Baby, we’re not adopting none of those tortoises. The most I’m willing to do is buy you a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt or an action figure or something.” I chuckle harder than I have in a while.

  She laughs. “Look at you crackin’ jokes and laughing. Is this my Monty?”

  I take a sip of wine. “The other day when you were talking about how you thought we were on different levels and all that, is it clear in your mind that I don’t care about status or who you were before you met me?”

  “Yes. I understand now.”

  I reach across the table with my left hand open, waiting for her to place her right hand on top. She does so and I close her delicate hand inside mine.

  “Even if you don’t fully understand and you’re telling me you do just to appease me, do you think I’d ever let you go?”

  Her hand jerks inside mine. She knows the answer. I’ll never let this woman go. That rock on her finger stays forever through thick and thin and whatever else we encounter along the way.

  I raise my brows awaiting her answer.

  She finally responds, “No.”

  “That’s right. I won’t. Never. We’re forever joined in this life and beyond, Cherish. I handed you my life the day I showed up at your door, begging for your help. I sealed the deal when I put that ring on your finger. This marriage, this honeymoon, being with you has me feeling like a new man. A man who has purpose. I love you with all my heart for making me feel this way.”

  Her eyes glisten with tears. She blinks, keeps them at bay. “Monty…what am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me. Give me your body until you’re exhausted. Give me babies.”

  The waitress comes to the table – asks if we want dessert. Cherish orders some cheesecake. When the waitress brings it back, she gets up and slides her chair next to mine. She eats, then takes some on a fork and attempts to feed it to me. I refuse it.

  “You don’t want any?”

  “I do, but I want you to feed it to me off of your tongue.”

  She looks around at the rest of the guests here.

  I know what she’s thinking before she even says it so I say, “I don’t give a crap who’s here. Feed it to me off of your tongue, Cherish.”

  The smile falls from her face. She looks more nervous now. “Okay. I’ll…try.”

  She complies – opens her mouth to place the bite-size piece of cheesecake on her tongue then turns to me. I lick my lips and dive right in, taking cheesecake and her tongue into my mouth. I release her tongue and her bottom lip then eat the cheesecake.

  “Mmm…that’s some good cheesecake.”

  “You want some more?”

  “No. I want you,” I say, trying to control my breathing. “Finish that so we can go to the room.”

  I see her shiver. I haven’t touched her yet and she’s already shivering. It speaks to the chemistry between us. How our souls are in sync even when we aren’t physical. When we finally are chest to chest, it’s nothing but fire.

  * * *

  I don’t give her time to think when we step into the suite. As soon as the door slams closed, I have her back pressed against it. I submerge my fingers in her hair. I’m eating her tongue as she whimpers.

  She moans, tries her best to keep up with me but she can’t. I like having that advantage over her. The dominance. The experience. My aggression is something she likes but will never get used to. She’ll have a lot of practice, but I’ll keep her on her toes. Keep her gasping for air. Calling for me.

  I lower my hands to her hips the moment I realize she’s lost weakness in her legs. I delve deeper with my tongue, kiss life and death into her as I taste. When I’m done, she’ll feel like she’s experienced something close to dying and being revived.

  I pull up her dress, toss it somewhere and carry her to the bed where I take off the skimpy undergarments she’s wearing.

  I taste her warm skin. It’s like a chocolate soufflé on my tongue.

  My baby…

  She has no idea what she does to me. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t have a clue. I feel like I’m drunk and high. Her breasts intoxicate me, has me making love under the influence. I suck her navel and circle my tongue around it – dive into the very heat of her. I grip her hips and make her body my buffet, listening to her moans and cries. When her body quivers beneath me, I release her.

  “Monty!” she screams.

  Her body quivers more. More pants come. I crawl up over her and settle between her legs then slide to home base to connect our bodies. I don’t move, just hold the connection and the feeling of being inside of her this way. I look into her eyes. I think of how much she means to me. How lucky I am to have her. How good it feels every time we’re intertwined and lost in each other. I stare down at her. Admire her. I see love on her face and in the depth of her eyes. I swear they can see straight through me.

  “Ah, I wish you had an idea how I feel at this precise moment. Mmm…”

  She purrs, nibbles her lips and whispers softly, “I think I have an idea.”

  I go deeper. “You do?” I ask, taunting her. Regardless of her answer, I know she has no clue.

  “Monty….”

  I began moving. Swimming. Stroking. Holding her still beneath me.

  She circles her legs around me instantly becoming my life preserver as if she’s trying to prevent me from drowning. By now, she should know I want to drown. Want to swim to the deep end. I stroke to stay afloat, keep my head above water. I’m almost there. My breaths are labored like hers. Chest rising and falling, pumping air. Her fingernails stab me, minor pain I’ve come to love. Oh, I love it. It only makes me go deeper. Drives me to love her harder. To lengthen the strokes I deliver into her body when I know I have her primed enough to accept everything I’m giving.

  I find her hands, interlock our fingers and press her hands to the bed above her head. I slow my strokes when I know she’s almost over the edge. When she’s ready to drown with me.

  “Monty,” she cries for me. Tremble and shakes for me.

  And just when she’s used to this rhythm, I go faster – withdrawing and diving – drifting to the deep end. I want us to drown together.

  Her body quivers in a way that tells me she’s there. She screams, belts out my name and squeezes me tighter, her inner muscles doing all kind of gripping and grabbing on me. I groan, grunt and throw my head back, relishing in the feeling of releasing inside of her while powerful spasms overtake me, inhibiting my breathing. I struggle to take deep breaths while exploding, working
my way through it and after I’ve bucked too many times to count, I lean down to capture her sweet, swollen lips.

  I fall beside her and we rest for a moment. I find it amazing how hard it is for me to find my breath. Our chests are pumping in and out still.

  We’re spent.

  Depleted.

  Done for.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” she says, then laughs softly.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t feel mine either.”

  She nudges me, then throws a leg across mine and rests her head on my chest. “You are too much for me, Montgomery St. Claire.”

  “I know,” I say, grabbing a fistful of her hair only because I want to feel it in my hand. “I like being too much for you,” I tell her. “And you like it, too—there’s no need for you to front like you don’t.” I put my weight on her again and take another kiss. I kiss her lips. Her nose. Her eyelids. Her forehead. Her chin. “Mmm, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I smile. My heart is full. “We have a few more days here. I intend to make every moment count.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Then we’re back to Concord.”

  “Back home,” she says.

  “Are you ready for that?”

  “For what exactly?”

  “To be with me. To spend the rest of your life with me. To deal with me getting on your nerves.”

  Her cheeks dimple. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “Good, because there’s no turning back now, Cherish. It’s me and you for the rest of our lives.”

  A smile forms on her face – makes me want her all over again.

  She strokes my beard and says, “That’s exactly what I want.”

  I kiss her lips to seal this verbal agreement then lose myself in the depths of her all over again.

  Chapter 9

  Cherish

  We arrive back home on a Monday night and after a full night’s rest – a much needed one – wrapped in the loving caress of Monty’s hairy arms, I’m downstairs with the ladies now – my friends – Minnie, Isidora and Naomi on Tuesday morning. They’re excited – want to know everything about the honeymoon. I take out my phone and show them pictures of me and Monty on the beach, lounging around the vacation house. Pictures I snapped of him while he slept on the sofa. Pictures of us on the tour. Pictures of me with a gang of tortoises.

  “Lawd, look at all them turtles,” Naomi says, throwing a kitchen towel over her left shoulder. “Chile, I would’ve took off running.”

  “Do you know how slow tortoises move, Naomi?” I ask. “There’s no need to run.”

  “Don’t listen to a word Naomi says, Cherish,” Minnie chimes in to say. “If you see Naomi running anywhere, you best to start running too, ‘cause either something chasing her or the world’s about to end.”

  The women laugh.

  Isidora is tickled to death when she says, “Naomi run like Cherry run when Señor St. Claire is looking for her,” Isidora says. “Rápida, rápida!”

  Her face turns red with laughter.

  Naomi rests against the counter. She’s so tickled, she can’t stand up straight. Neither can Minnie.

  I’m laughing, too, mostly because Isidora’s laughter is contagious. I’ve never seen her laugh so hard.

  Coming off laughter, Naomi asks, “You weren’t scared to be around all them turtles, Cherry?”

  “No. They’re harmless. I fed them and everything. It was an amazing experience.”

  “I bet it was. It ain’t everyday you get whisked off to an exotic island.”

  “No, it’s not,” I respond.

  Minnie asks, “What else y’all do—well besides the obvious?”

  My eyes brighten. I’m sure my cheeks are red. “Really, Minnie?”

  “Well, it was your honeymoon. We know what goes down on a honeymoon.”

  “Honeymoon. Kissy, kissy,” Isidora says, giggling.

  I shake my head. These women are something else, but they’ll soon learn I don’t kiss and tell.

  “Come on over here, Cherry. Let me have a look at yo’ neck to see if we gon’ have a little St. Claire baby crawling ‘round here actin’ like his daddy,” Naomi says.

  “Oh, goodness no!” Minnie says. “We gon’ pray the baby has his mama’s temperament.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for. I done told your husband I used to be a nanny, Cherry, just in case y’all need my services.”

  I giggle. “Is that all y’all think we did? Do you think Monty just kept me tied up to the bed for our entire honeymoon?”

  “Yes!” they all answer together, laughing.

  “She tellin’ on herself, too,” Naomi says. “Y’all hear that? Ain’t nobody said nothing about being tied up. You offered that up yourself, Cherry.”

  I hide my face behind my hands. “I just showed y’all our vacation pictures. We had the full experience.”

  “I’m sure with a man like Mr. St. Claire, you had a real, big full experience,” Minnie says.

  I fail miserably at trying to hide a smile. “Okay—get your minds out of the gutter. Me and my husband had the time of our lives. And Naomi, how are you supposed to determine whether I’m with child by looking at my neck?”

  “It’s a trick I learned a long time ago.”

  I laugh at her. “Well, let me save you the trouble of staring at my neck. I’m not pregnant. Just because I spent two weeks alone with my husband doesn’t mean he’s gotten me pregnant.”

  “Sure about that, Cherry?” Monty asks as he steps into the kitchen, adding fuel to their theories.

  I instantly smile when I hear his deep voice. When I look up to see him, my eyes linger on his face. Man, he sure knows how to turn on that no-nonsense business face of his. It makes tingles run down my spine. Makes me nervous. Makes me happy. This is the man who’s stolen my heart. He’s rocking a light gray suit today. Looks like a billion bucks. In his eyes, I see all the things we did over the last two weeks. I feel hot all over just thinking about it.

  “Woo—the man of the house has spoken,” Naomi says.

  “Y’all ever notice how quiet Cherish gets when Mr. St. Claire sneaks up on her?” Minnie asks.

  Monty cracks a smile. “That’s only because I caught her off guard, Minnie. Ain’t nothing quiet about this woman. Trust me.” He saunters over to me with that sexy walk of his. “Good morning,” he says and gives me no time to reply before he’s kissing me – tongue and all – while he’s walking forward, backing me up against the counter. When I’m finally there, he holds me in place and deepens the kiss, rolling his tongue around in my mouth. Sucking my tongue into his mouth, groaning and carrying on.

  “Oh my…I think they need some privacy,” Minnie says.

  “The laundry room is right ‘round the corner,” Naomi says. “Ain’t that usually where the hanky-panky goes down?”

  “It’s likely to go down anywhere. Y’all best to just stay alert,” Monty tells them, then takes my lips again.

  “A’ight newlyweds, break it up,” Major says. “Don’t nobody wanna see all this smooching and whatnot.”

  Monty looks at his brother and asks, “Are you heading to the office this morning, Major?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then, go so you’re not concerned with what I’m doing.”

  “I thought we could ride together, but I see you’re a little busy at the moment,” Major responds. He looks at me and says, “Now that you can breathe, good morning, Cherish.”

  “Good morning, Major,” I tell him. He’s suited up, too – rocking a black suit this morning, looking dapper. He’s upbeat – a lot better than the last time I talked to him.

  He looks me up and down and says, “I see you made it back in one piece.”

  I chuckle. “Of course, I did. I had my bodyguard with me,” I say grabbing Monty’s hand. “How have you been doing?”

  “If you ask me, he’s been doing a lot better since he’s been talking to that Winston girl,” Naomi says a
ll gossipy.

  Major smirks. “What are you talking about, Naomi?”

  “You know full well what I’m talking about. At any rate, shall I prepare a quick breakfast for you, Mr. St. Claire?”

  “No. Hannah’s having breakfast delivered for a meeting this morning.” Monty turns to me and says, “It’s going to be a long day for me. Everybody up in arms because the CEO took some time off.”

  I’m holding his hands when I say, “I’m sure it’ll be good for the CEO to get back to work, though. I know you miss it.”

  “Not as much as I’m going to miss you today.”

  “I’ll stop by and see you. Maybe you can squeeze me in for lunch.”

  “I don’t have to squeeze you in, baby. It’s a date,” he says. “Meet me at one.”

  “Okay. One o’clock it is.” He takes another kiss and whispers in my ear, “Once I have you in my office, anything goes.”

  His whisper makes me squeeze his bicep. He pulls back to look at me, smiles, then kisses me again.

  “I thought y’all got all this out the way in the Seychelles,” Major says.

  “Then you thought wrong,” Monty replies. “I could never get enough of these lips,” he says, then swipes his thumb across my lips. “And you don’t have to ride with me, Major. You can go.”

  “I’m not riding with you. You’re riding with me until the jetlag wears off. Mother’s idea. In her words, we don’t need no more accidents.”

  “No, we do not,” I say.

  Monty sighs. He’s not ready to fall back into his normal routine just yet. He wraps his arms around me and says, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah—one o’clock. We know,” Major says.

  I giggle at his impatience.

  Monty turns to Naomi and says, “Make sure she doesn’t do any work today.”