Single Dad's Bride

by Melinda Minx

  “The honeymoon suite,” the cabin boy says, gesturing for us to enter.

  We walk inside, and he brings our luggage inside behind us. I look around, awestruck. The gleaming waxed wooden walls are a deep cherry red. The corner of the room is covered in windows that lead out to a private balcony, and through the windows, I can see the whole Miami skyline.

  The bed is huge, and…oh, crud—there is only one bed.

  “Deacon,” I croak nervously. “Didn’t we ask for two beds?”

  The cabin boy looks at us with a confused expression. He quickly forces his face to neutral. “You asked for the honeymoon suite? Is something wrong?”

  He looks at me, and then at Deacon. I see his brain is really straining. He’s probably starting to second guess us, probably wondering why this awkward lady wearing long jeans on a Caribbean cruise would be with this tattooed Adonis.

  “It’s fine,” Deacon says. “We actually did request two beds, but—”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “We don’t usually, uh, have honeymoon suites with two beds. The online booking form probably allows you to make that selection...but—”

  “I understand,” Deacon says, slipping a wad of money to the cabin boy. “This will be perfectly fine.”

  When he leaves, Deacon laughs. “That was awkward, huh?”

  I laugh nervously. Not as awkward as there only being one bed.

  “It’s a big bed, though,” Deacon says. “So…I’m gonna get my swim trunks on. Do you want to hit the pool?”

  “Can we eat first?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “But get dressed and ready to swim so we can hit the pool right after.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait thirty minutes after we eat?”

  I keep thinking that if I can keep delaying swimming by a few minutes at a time, he’ll never have to see me in my bikini.

  Deacon laughs. “That’s a lie I tell Elsie so that I can chill the hell out for a while before I have to watch her swim again.”

  I change into my bikini in the bathroom, then cover it up by putting on another layer of clothes.

  We skip the fancy dining hall and head to the regular buffet.

  “We’ll do the fancy dinner tomorrow night,” Deacon says. “It will be nice to just chill out tonight, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling.

  Even though I have shorts on over the bikini bottom and a halter top covering the top, I feel like I’m basically naked.

  Deacon is wearing a sleeveless shirt and swim trunks. I can see his huge, tattooed biceps, and from the side, I can even see his chiseled abs. I’ve touched his abs when I rode on his bike, but I’d never actually seen them. I had no idea he was in such good shape. I feel myself nervously looking forward to him taking his shirt off when we go swimming.

  We finish eating pretty quickly. The dining room has big windows, and we watch the Miami skyline shrink and light up as we sail away as the sun goes down. By the time we are done eating, the skyline only appears as glittering lights in the distance.

  “Ready to swim?” he asks.

  I nod.

  We head to the pool, where there are a number of people already swimming. It’s a big pool, and it’s lit up with blue lights.

  Deacon takes his shirt off the moment we hit the pool deck, draping it over his shoulder. I find my eyes glued to his body. His chest is wide, and his broad back is thick with muscle. His waist tapers nicely, and his abs are defined with a deep v-cut. The v-cut trails right down past the top of his swim trunks, straight to his…

  I blush thinking about it.

  The last—and only—guy I had sex with was nothing like Deacon. We both felt guilty about the whole pre-marital sex thing. The more I think back on it, the word I can think of that best describes having sex with Brian was polite. Missionary position only, him asking constantly if ‘it hurt,’ even though he didn’t really pack enough punch for it to possibly hurt. He never once went down on me, and when I tried to on him, he told me that we shouldn’t do that.

  I faked the orgasms, naturally.

  The entire experience was so bad that I felt like God was punishing me for not waiting until marriage.

  Well, now I’m married, but not having sex. God is mysterious in ironic ways.

  “I’ll wait for you,” Deacon says.

  “Go ahead…” I mumble.

  My plan was to get my clothes off and jump into the water immediately, not giving him a chance to look at me at all.

  “I’m gonna dive in there, and I don’t want to get you wet.”

  He smirks at me.

  I roll my eyes and turn around. I promised myself not to be such a nervous wreck around him. I take off the halter top and toss it onto one of the pool chairs. My back is facing Deacon, but I can almost feel his eyes watching me. I doubt he’s just staring at me, he probably just doesn’t want to rudely jump into the pool and leave me alone.

  I unbutton my jean shorts and let them drop to the ground. I pick them up and toss them on top of my halter top on the pool chair. Now the fact that I’m not facing him doesn’t help me, because he can definitely see my ass. If he’s even looking, that is.

  11

  Deacon

  My eyes zoom right in on her ass. My eyes lock onto it like homing missiles. Damn! Rita’s got a sweet ass!

  You never would have known it from the way she dresses, but shit, she looks good. I look up as soon as it seems like she’s turning around, and she looks at me nervously. I’m trying to look away, but now my eyes lock onto her tits. This time it’s her tits that are like missiles, not my eyes.

  She’s my wife, though, so I should think of them as her breasts, not tits. Stacy was cool with me saying ‘tits,’ but Rita isn’t the type of woman who would be. Though probably I’m best off if I don’t mention her breasts—or her tits—at all.

  I pry my eyes off them and look up at her. I smile. “Let’s swim.”

  I do a cannonball into the pool. The water is just cool enough to provide relief from the humidity, but it’s not so cool that it’s uncomfortable. I pop my head up above the water and flip my hair back out of my face. “The water’s perfect. Dive in!”

  Rita is walking toward the stairs leading into the pool. I guess that means she won’t be diving in.

  Fine with me. I can watch her as she comes in to join me. This honeymoon might be the last time I get to see her body this exposed. I thought—maybe—that after that kiss we shared, we’d be able to have some fun during this arrangement. She shut me down so hard, though, that I decided to pull back. The last thing I want to do is to scare her the hell off after we’ve come this far. As much as I’d like to have some fun with Rita, Elsie is still the main reason I’m doing this. I can’t lose sight of that. No matter how nice Rita’s tits—and ass—look.

  I swim over toward the steps, watching Rita as she lowers herself down into the water. Her breasts bounce on each step, and I find it’s pretty much impossible to look away. I feel my cock getting hard as I watch her. Luckily it’s hidden underwater, or she’d probably kill me.

  She lowers herself down to her neck, and I finally let out my breath. I realized I’d been holding it, but now that I can’t see her body, the tension is somewhat gone. For now.

  There are a lot of other people in the pool, but most of them are just low-key, floating around, talking to each other in smaller groups.

  “You wanna mingle?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, grinning.

  I grab her hand and pull her toward another couple.

  “Your first cruise?” I ask, cutting right into their conversation.

  They look over to me, and I notice the guy is in good shape. He’s got a close-cropped receding hairline, and the woman with him has dark olive skin and dark hair.

  “Yeah,” he says. “You?”

  Rita and I both nod.

  “It’s our honeymoon,” I say.

  “No shit,” he says. “C
ongrats…”

  “Deacon,” I say, introducing myself. “And this is Rita. My wife.”

  It feels good to say that Rita is my wife. I don’t really know why. It’s been a long time since I lost Stacy, and Rita is...good for me? I don’t know, it just feels good. I don’t have to know why it feels good.

  “I’m Earl,” he says. “And this is Ximena.”

  Ximena smiles. “It’s not our honeymoon; we’ve just been dating forever.”

  Earl gives a sheepish grin. “You don’t want to jump in before you’re ready.”

  Rita laughs nervously.

  “We dated a long time, too,” I lie. “Shit, I’ve known Rita since we were in high school.”

  “High school sweethearts?” Ximena asks. “That’s so romantic.”

  Rita blushes. “I think Deacon is overselling it a bit…”

  “Nah,” I say, elbowing her.

  “Who does your tats, man?” Earl asks, changing the topic. “Those are sick.” He pulls his arms out of the water and holds them up for me to see.

  His tats are serviceable, but I could do way better. Never critique something that is permanently on someone’s body, though.

  “Nice,” I say, leaning in to get a closer look. “A buddy of mine did most of mine...I’m actually a tattoo artist. It’s too bad I can’t do my own.”

  “Shit,” Earl says. “You should hook me up.”

  “Come up to Pittsburgh sometime and I’ve got you.”

  “Too cold,” Ximena says, shivering.

  “It’s nice in the summer,” Rita says.

  Earl laughs. “I noticed Rita doesn’t have any ink. How long until she lets you spoil that virgin canvas?”

  Rita’s eyes bulge.

  Ximena takes her by the wrist and laughs. “Don’t worry, I will never let him talk me into getting a stupid tattoo. No offense, Deacon.”

  “None taken,” I say. “They’re not for everyone. Definitely not for my wife.”

  I like to keep hammering that word. It feels like it makes it more real.

  “We were just saying,” Ximena says, “that it would be fun to do something really stupid, like play chicken.”

  “Shit!” I say, splashing my hand into the water. “Hell, yeah, let’s do it!”

  “What is chicken?” Rita asks.

  “You’ve never played chicken?” Earl and I ask at the same time.

  “Is it…?”

  “Men on top or women on top?” Ximena asks.

  Rita’s face burns red. “Uhh, I don’t think we’re into—”

  “It’s not some swinger shit!” I say, laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, man, it’s totally innocent. Look. We’ll do women on top, it’s easier that way. So you’re going to get onto my shoulders, and Ximena gets onto Earl’s shoulders. Then, Earl and I maneuver you and Ximena around. You try to knock each other off our shoulders. Whoever goes down first loses.”

  “Best two out of three, though,” Earl says.

  I nod. “Give us a minute to discuss strategy.”

  “Yeah,” Earl says. “Us, too.”

  We back up a bit, and I look over at Rita. “Alright, so Ximena is taller than you, which means it will be easier for you to knock her off. You can keep a lower center of gravity, and I can try to get you in close for a big push.”

  She bites her lip, nodding as I speak.

  “You good?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I think so. I’m just not used to like...I dunno, you’re very extroverted, Deacon.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You just went up and made friends with these people like it was nothing. I can’t do that.”

  “What about all your Bible group people?” I ask.

  “That took me months. And I think a lot of us actually kind of hate each other. Like Jessica…”

  “Well, you and Anna are close,” I say.

  “I know, but...never mind. It’s cool, let’s just do this. I’m having fun, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

  I smile, and I feel really fucking tempted to just kiss her. She’s just being so genuine, and I really want to feel her lips against mine again. I want to taste her. But I don’t want to start our fake honeymoon off on an awkward note, and if she pulled away or got weird again, I’d set back a lot of progress.

  “Come on!” Ximena shouts. “We’re ready!”

  I look over and see that she’s already hoisted up on Earl’s shoulders.

  “Here we go,” I say.

  I bend down, and Rita slides onto my back. Her legs feel really nice against my bare shoulders, and once I stand up, I can feel her thighs against my neck and her ass balanced on my shoulders. I have to reach up and grab her legs to keep her stable, and even though it’s just part of the game, I can’t help but enjoy how soft her skin feels against my calloused hands.

  “I’m ready,” she says.

  Earl and I walk slowly toward each other.

  “Keep low,” I whisper to her. “If you sit up too straight, you’ll fall right off when she shoves you.”

  Rita lowers down, and I feel her breasts rest onto my head. Yeah, that’s good. Just where I want her.

  I move in toward Earl, and Ximena’s arms flail out.

  I feel myself pushed back as she connects an arm to Rita.

  I back up in response because I don’t see Rita shoving Ximena at all.

  Earl doesn’t give us any time. He moves forward, and Ximena’s arms become a flurry of shoving motions.

  “On three,” I shout over Ximena’s laughter.

  “What on three?” Rita asks.

  Ximena shoves Rita again, and I feel her thighs slipping against my shoulders.

  “One, two...” I say.

  I splash a huge wall of water up into Ximena’s face.

  Earl laughs, and I shout, “Three!”

  I charge into them.

  I see Rita stick her arms out, not moving them, just stiff. Fine, whatever. A stiff-armed battering ram.

  I lean forward, and her arms shove into Ximena, who is covering her eyes with her hands. Rita’s hands plow into her, and she starts to topple backward.

  I tilt forward just a bit more, and Ximena topples off Earl’s shoulders and splashes down into the water.

  She pops up, laughing, and I grip Rita’s legs, leaving her up on my shoulders.

  “Nice work, Rita,” I say.

  “You didn’t say splashing was allowed,” Ximena says, pouting at us.

  “You didn’t say it wasn’t allowed,” I say, winking.

  I realize suddenly that I’m stroking Rita’s legs with my hands. I also realize she’s not stopping me.

  “Want to switch?” Earl asks.

  “No, no, no,” Rita whispers into my ear.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Rita slips off my shoulders and into the water. She positions herself so I can get onto her shoulders, and then she tries to stand up.

  “Gosh, Deacon,” she says. “You’re so heavy.”

  “Good thing we’re in the water, then.”

  She doesn’t stand up too high; only her head and shoulders are out of the water. She’s barely going to be able to maneuver, but it also means that it will be harder for Earl to knock me off.

  Ximena is taller, and Earl isn’t as big as me, so she can move around a lot more freely, but Earl is an easier target.

  “Best two out of three,” I say. “If we knock you off, Earl, we win.”

  “I know,” he says. “But you won’t knock me off, Deacon.”

  I let out a dry laugh. He’s not knocking me down.

  Ximena moves toward us, and Earl’s hands are out like he’s about to fight a bull, or a bear.

  I give him a cocky smirk, hoping my confidence will strike some extra fear into him.

  “We need to move forward,” I whisper.

  “I’m trying,” Rita says. “You’re too heavy.”

  “Okay,” I say. “We’ll stay stationary then, like a turret. Just forget about moving. Let them c
ome to us, keep your stance wide, and hold me as tight as you can.”

  Her hands dig into my muscular thighs. My cock is pressed right against her neck, but thankfully it’s not getting hard. I’m too focused on making sure I knock Earl into the water.

  “Not even going to move?” Ximena asks.

  “We’re good,” Rita says, voice strained.

  “Get them!” Earl shouts.

  They move toward us, and I strike a similar stance as Earl. Ximena brings him in range, and I take a swat at him with my right hand. I hit his wrist, but he pulls his hand back. Ximena brings him closer in toward me, and I make a surprise strike with my left hand. Just as I swing, Ximena splashes up a bunch of water right into my face. The chlorine hits my eyes and goes up into my nose. I feel my hand hit Earl’s shoulder, but then I feel him grab hold of my right wrist.

  Shit! I try to pull away, and I feel me tugging him toward me.

  “Lower down!” Earl shouts. “Get as low as Rita!”

  As the water clears from my eyes, I see Ximena lower down to Rita’s level, and pulling Earl toward me gets a lot more difficult. He tugs at my wrist, and I make a move to break his grip. Moving my wrist in a big circle, he loses his grip on me—it slides off my wet wrist as I rip my hand away from his grasp.

  I shove my left hand right into his chest, and Ximena tips backward.

  A group of people is gathering around now, cheering us on. Most of them seem pretty drunk.

  “Tattoo guy!” someone shouts. “Go tattoo guy!”

  “They both have tattoos,” someone says.

  “More tattoos guy! Knock bald guy over!”

  Earl and I lock eyes, our hands are both out, but neither of us is ready to make a move again. Ximena has backed up, and we’re just out of range of each other.

  “I’m going to do something crazy,” I whisper down to Rita.

  “Please don’t,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m doing it.” I sink my voice to an even lower whisper. “When I press my heel into you, let me go.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it!”