by Melody Eve
He dips his head down and sucks the sweat from my pebbled nipple. I arch my back pushing my breast toward him shamelessly begging with my body for more contact. He bites down hard and licks the pain away, and I come harder than I ever have before spurring him toward his own climax. He pumps in and out of me until I feel the hot fluid filling me, taking up the little space left inside of me as he stiffens in my arms yelling my name.
We cling to each other panting and trying to catch our breath as the yacht sways gently around us. “You… my God, Aria, you are absolute perfection, the crown on top of the queen of ecstasy. You’re so open and willing and responsive. I had no idea this would be so exactly right.”
He speaks with reverence, worshiping my body, complimenting my existence. How could I have been about to marry someone who knows so little about women?
He kisses me on the forehead, both cheeks, and my nose before sliding out and pulling me into his arms. “I want to get you something to drink, but I don’t want to leave this bed.”
I look up at the ceiling imagining Juan listening from the top deck.
“He can’t hear us. He listens to books with headphones on his phone.”
“Ah, well, one of us is going to have to get up then.”
“I’ll go. I’m not letting you out looking like you do even if it is just Juan on board. He doesn’t like women, but you look so good, he might be tempted.”
I scrunch up my face. “I’m all sweaty and sticky, and my hair is a wreck in this braid. I don’t think I would do much for him gay, straight, or bisexual.”
“I don’t know, you look sexy as hell to me. I’m already getting hard again.” I look down and damn if he isn’t right. I didn’t think that was physically possible. Roman is a machine—the best kind—a sex machine.
I shove his shoulder and giggle. “Go, drinks, hydrate. I’m dying…” I throw my hand over my forehead and gasp dramatically. He tickles my side and rolls off the bed walking down the short narrow hall to the living room and kitchen area at the stern of the ship.
He is a vision after a day of being in the sun. His skin is a golden brown, his hair is a mess of wild black curls, and the way his muscles flex when he walks makes me want to follow him like a rat follows the Pied Piper.
I roll over and squeal into the pillow kicking my feet like I’m swimming. I just slept with that man. He worshiped me, and I have a feeling he’s nowhere near done.
This is the greatest honeymoon ever! And the best part is I’m not married to… to… David. Dammit I thought I’d forgotten. I had my doubts about Roman’s pledge to make me forget about David, but after what I just experienced, I have renewed hope.
It won’t be long, and I’ll be saying, ‘David who?’ I can’t wait.
Chapter 4
I’m drunk. “Hey, Roman! I’m drunk, drunk as a skunk, who’d a thunk?” I laugh so loud the table next to us rolls their eyes, but I don’t care, because, as I said, I’m drunk.
Roman approaches from the bar holding two more blue swirly things with tons of fruit and an umbrella in them. “Those are pretty,” I slur taking one of the hurricane glasses from him and setting it on the table too hard. “You are pretty. And very, very loud, my dear. You need to keep it down, or they’ll kick us out.” He kisses the top of my head before sitting next to me.
“Ouch,” I raise my hand to the top of my head where he kissed me. “My brain is burned, you know.”
He smiles. “No, I didn’t know, but I think your scalp got a little too much sun this week.”
“Hey, they can’t kick us out, you own this place!” I yell when it occurs to me I can do whatever I want. Roman owns the resort.
“That’s true, but I’d like people to keep coming here, and if they know there’s a crazy, sexy, blonde, belligerent drunk in the bar, they might not.”
“Sure, they would cuz I’m fun.”
“You are the most fun I’ve had in years, yes.”
I suck on the straw in the drink. It tastes wonderful until the brain freeze hits my head, and I cry out in pain. “Shit!” I open and close my eyes wide several times trying to make it stop, but I can’t. “Frain Breeze, so bad.”
“Okay, that’s brain freeze, and you finish that one, and we’re going back to my room for the night.”
“Oh goodie, your room’s the best.” I look at him, one of the two of him, and whisper, “Are we gonna hump like bunnies till morning again?”
He throws his head back roaring with laughter, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing.
“What? No?”
“I’m sorry, beautiful. It’s just the look on your face was priceless.”
“Why?” I grab his hand so the room will stop spinning, but it doesn’t help.
He lowers his voice and moves closer to me so only I can hear. “Because your expression was bunny-innocent instead of fuck-me-hard-all-night-long, which is what you’re asking for if I’m not mistaken.”
I feel the smile spread across my face. “Yesss, that’s what I want… more raw, hot fucking. Come on, let’s go.” I tug on his arm and try to stand up unsuccessfully.
“Whoa there, I think I’ve created a monster. Come here, I’ll carry you.” I reach for my drink, but he pushes it away. “Sorry, that was a bad idea. I think it’s time to cut you off.”
“I like it, it’s yummy. Can I take it with me?”
“No, you’re better off without it. Believe me.”
I feel my shoulder go up in a shrug, but I don’t remember telling my shoulder to do that. “Okay, take me away!” I sing, and he scoops me into his arms like I’m nothing. I have lost six pounds after all. I used to be a compact five-foot-five, curvy woman.
I lose weight without trying when I’m stressed. When I found the photographs of my fiancé and my best friend my appetite vanished. Lynn mentioned the gap in the back of my dress on my wedding day. I’ll bet she felt smug knowing I was getting gaunt as a result of her boning my man. Bitch.
Anger wells up from my chest and spills out of me in the form of tears. I tuck my face against Roman’s neck. “Roman?” I say with a catch in my voice.
“Yes, beautiful, what’s the matter? Are you crying?”
“Uh huh.”
“Whatever for?”
“Do you think I’m scrawny?”
I feel his chest jerk, and he lets out a snort. “Scrawny, good grief no, why would you ask?”
“My dress was loose. She couldn’t make my dress fit right.”
“What dress, and who couldn’t make it fit?”
We arrive at the door of his suite, and he carries me inside setting me on the counter in the kitchen.
“My wedding dress.”
He closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, they’re soft and full of adoration. “You are the most gorgeous, delicate, soft, delicious woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with. I do not nor have I ever thought you were too thin. I like every inch of your skin, every pound of your luscious body, and every lovely part of your personality. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
His voice is smooth and sexy. I hear most of what he’s saying except for the parts that fade in and out as a result of the alcohol in my veins. I believe him because I need to so badly. I need someone to validate that I am not a skinny, loser who couldn’t make her man happy and be a good best friend. I hadn’t realized until this moment that I’ve been blaming myself for far too much of what happened.
“He’s a douche. She’s a whore,” I slur.
He sighs deeply. “I’m going to make you forget about the douche and the whore, all right?”
“Yes, make me forget.”
“Put your arms up.”
I lift my heavy limbs, and he works my shift dress up my hips and over my head tossing it on the floor leaving me bare. I would usually be self-conscious, but the alcohol has taken my inhibitions and hidden them away.
Roman’s eyes take me in, and I rest my head against the kitchen cabinet behind me. “Now what?” I ask trying
hard to see him through my heavily lidded eyes. He better start making me forget before I melt off this counter into a puddle on the floor.
“Up,” he says, patting my hips. I push up on the counter as best I can in my weakened condition, and he slips my lace panties down my legs. With his hands on my knees, he pushes my legs open wide and reaches into the drawer under me for something.
“Put your arms over your head.” I do, and he produces a black scarf using it to tie my wrists together and then to the long vertical handles of the cabinet. I am on display with my arms up, legs open, naked, and vulnerable.
He steps back and shakes his head looking me up and down. “My God, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Every line of your body, every curve and dip are perfection.”
He reaches back for a chair at the small dinette in the kitchen and pulls it close sitting in front of me. My core is level with his eyes as his hands slide up my calves. I feel his warm breath near my crease, and I drop my head to watch him service me. His dark hair begs me to run my fingers through its waves, but I’m trussed up unable to move.
His mouth burns a trail along the inside of my thigh from my knee until he pauses to kiss my throbbing mound sliding his tongue between my folds.
I gasp and open wider for him greedy to have more of his mouth on me. Over and over he brings me to the edge of climax with his skilled tongue only to find a way to make me wait.
First, it’s a kiss on my navel as he slides his hands up my sides to plump my breasts. Then he stands to kiss a fiery trail all the way to my mouth and back down pausing only to suck the sensitive bud of my nipple.
When his mouth touches my clit again, I lose control thrashing against the cool granite counter, rattling the cupboards with my arms, crying out his name when I come so hard tears spring to my eyes. My drunkenness is replaced with sudden sobriety, and I am weary allowing myself to hang out away from the cupboard from the scarf with my chin to my chest.
I need to rest physically and mentally, but I still find myself wanting more of Roman. I crave his touch, his mouth, and his cock between my legs. “I want you inside me,” I pant.
“I don’t think you can handle it, beautiful. You’re exhausted. I’m putting you to bed.”
“But…”
“No. Bed. Now.” His commanding tone sends a shiver down my spine causing the opposite reaction he had intended. I want him more than ever when he speaks to me like that. Roman is so confident and sure of himself. He knows what he wants, and he takes it—no ifs, ands, or buts.
He rises from his chair and unties my wrists. I collapse into his arms and allow him to carry me to his enormous canopy bed where he tucks me in and sits down next to me. “Did you forget, beautiful?”
“Forget what?”
“That’s my girl.” He kisses my forehead, and I search my mind for what I have forgotten coming up blank. “Are you thirsty? I can get you some water, you’re going to need it.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“I am sleepy, very sleepy, but I still want you inside me. Can you, please? Even if I’m a wet noodle unable to properly participate?”
“You’re too drunk, I’m afraid. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“What do you call what just happened in your kitchen?”
“That was me helping you out with something. It was all for you.”
“Please, I need this, too.” He goes to stand, and I grab his wrist. “Where are you going?”
“Water, remember? I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” My voice is tired and small. I fight to stay awake, but it’s useless. My eyelids fall to the sound of Roman rummaging around in the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
In the morning, I wake to bright, island sunshine on my face, and Roman spooning me from behind. I’m uncomfortably hot, my head is pounding, and nausea keeps me from getting up to empty my bladder.
Why did I drink so much? I was already dehydrated from too much sun. I should have known better.
I was having fun, something I have steered clear of most of my life for this very reason. I usually don’t have the luxury of being able to hang out on the couch all day while I recover. I’m busy working, and when I’m not working, I used to be busy taking care of… what was his name? David. My God, am I beginning to forget him for real?
Roman has a way of doing that, mostly with his tongue, but also with his charm and generosity. If a girl is going to have a rebound, he’s the best kind.
Chapter 5
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks in a sexy, gruff voice.
“You’re awake.”
“So are you.”
“I didn’t know you were awake.”
“You sure know how to state the obvious, beautiful.”
“I meant how did you know I was awake?”
“I think you’re still drunk.”
I try to roll away from him, but his arms tighten around me. “I’m not drunk, just inquisitive.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“What do you call it?”
“Overthinking.”
“You’re going to be overthinking wet sheets if you don’t let me go to the bathroom.”
He chuckles kissing the back of my head and pushes me toward the edge of the bed. I stand on wobbly feet and turn to look at him. He is lying on his back with the sheet twisted around his waist, naked with serious morning wood.
That’s when I remember last night’s tie-up in the kitchen and how he was left unsatisfied. I point at his thick cock tenting the sheet. “I don’t know what you’re having for breakfast, but I’ll have that.”
He looks down at his protruding member and laughs. “I’m pretty sure that can be arranged. I can even hand feed it to you if you like.”
I don’t have the strength or dexterity at the moment to sashay away swinging my hips seductively, so I smile and pad out as gracefully as I can under the circumstances.
Why did I just offer him a blowjob when I have a Richter nine hangover? I must be losing my damn mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of being cheated on by a long-term partner? I’ll bet that’s it. This whole fling with Roman is David’s fault. I like blaming him for all of my problems, and it feels good.
What doesn’t feel good is my stomach. I glance in the mirror on the way to the toilet and gasp. Yikes. I look awful. My eyes are rimmed with smudged eyeliner and mascara like a raccoon. My lips are swollen from kissing, but that’s kind of hot. I always wished I had fuller lips. But the worst thing is my sunburn. My cheeks look like a mask, and my shoulders are covered in tiny blisters. I’m a mess. If I were a man, I wouldn’t want a blowjob from me.
I pee and try to remove my eye makeup with a cool washcloth, but it hurts so I stop. I need a shower. That’s the only way to save my tangled hair, and it might help the burn if I use cool water.
I turn on the water and step in gasping when the cold water hits my pink skin. I turn the knob a little to the left, so it’s not icy and stand under the spray wetting my hair.
“What happened to breakfast?” Roman says entering the bathroom without knocking. It is his bathroom, I suppose, but he could have at least announced himself. What if I had been on the toilet going number two?
“Sorry, I’m a mess. I can’t believe how burned I am.”
“I should have put sunscreen on you more often. Being in the water makes the sun stronger.”
“And I drank a few too many mimosas, too. No more drinking. I’ve had more booze in the last few days than I have in the past six years.”
“I would have to agree with that. You don’t seem to know when to stop.”
“Thanks, you make me sound like a lush.”
“When given the opportunity to drink shamelessly, you take advantage. Is that a better way of saying it?” He opens the shower door and steps in quickly stepping back when he feels the temperature of the water.
“Good God, why so cold?”
“
Lush alcoholic has a sunburn, remember?”
His mouth twists into a smirk, and he steps to the faucet and warms the water. “Tepid water is better for a burn.”
“Oh.”
“Making it cold just makes you uncomfortable. Tepid will make it feel better. Turn around.” He makes a spinning gesture with his finger, and I do as he says. I hear a bottle open and close before he begins to wash my hair starting at the bottom and working his way to the roots where he barely touches my head.
“I didn’t put much soap on your scalp, rinsing might be painful. Go ahead, you do it so you can control the stream of water.”
“Thanks.” I glance down and see he still has his morning problem. How do men walk around with a giant boner and not act turned on? Maybe morning wood isn’t sexual at all? David never had it. Probably because his dick was so tired from fucking my best friend at the same time he was doing me.
“You just went somewhere bad. What are you thinking?”
I have my head tipped back rinsing my hair. How could he know I was thinking about something unpleasant?
“What makes you say that?”
“Your neck tightened up, you frowned, and your pulse quickened.”
I stop what I’m doing and look at him standing in front of me washing his body with a loofah. “Huh?”
“I took a class on how to read people’s emotions, liars in particular. Working in banking, I thought it would be beneficial to know if my clients were telling me the truth about their income and credit before I wasted my time checking it myself. Your carotid artery bulges from your neck, and I can see when your pulse quickens.”
“Oh, wow.” Note to self, wear turtlenecks when I go home, so no one will know what I’m thinking.
“So? What were you thinking?”
“Honestly, I was thinking about your impressive erection this morning and how my ex never had that because he was probably worn out from fucking two women regularly.”
“This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”
“What is?”