When she smirks beneath me, I lose all sense of control and start hammering inside her. Sweat drips from my forehead as we fuck in broad daylight underneath the Californian sun. It’s sweltering, but the sun has nothing on the heat she brings me with her sassy mouth.
After a few more pumps, I’m releasing, coating her walls with every ounce I have, and she’s moaning beneath me. Looking at her lying across my hood, I want her to be pregnant with my child. As I pull out, my cum slips from her, and it takes all of my self-control not to scoop it up and shove it in her, then fuck her ten more times, just to be certain she’s filled to the brim with my seed.
Shaking my head, I’m thrown out of my mind. How could I want that when she’s a practical stranger who’s so young and doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You’re thinking too hard, boss,” she muses and readjusts herself. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.”
I open my mouth to speak and am at a loss for words. “That’s not the problem,” I mutter.
“Either way, you’re okay to fuck me bare. I kind of like it.”
“Let me show you then,” I challenge.
“Again?”
“Are you challenging my stamina again, Sous?”
“That’s not the sound of your cock filling me, Tobias. I’m starting to think it’s all talk.” She no sooner gets the words out before I’m filling her to the brim with my steel length again. She moans loudly, and I have to slap a hand over her mouth. Her legs rise, and I wrap them around my waist as I sink all the way in. She makes a choked noise when I pull out and slam inside her, and fuck if I’m not on the brink of coming already.
“Right there, ohmigod.” Her muffled moan surrounds my hand. Her teeth dig into me as I rut into her. I’ve never felt so complete than I do at this moment. Not only is she my wife now, but her moans bring me solace, her fight brings me happiness, and her cunt brings me pleasure like never before.
I pull out and slam into her time and time again until my balls tingle, and I’m emptying into her. She’s breathing heavily, and as she stands, my seed seeps from her, streaking her thighs. It’s an image I never want to forget. One that’ll be prime jerking material for the rest of my life.
“Guess you should come live with me, wife.”
“Wife. I can get used to that,” she muses, touching her chin. I grip the same flesh.
“I can get used to watching my cum spill down your thighs.”
She smiles with red tinting her cheeks, and before I let her leave me again, I reach between her thighs, swiping my seed that’s dripped out, and with the most purposeful hand ever, I force it into her cunt over and over again as she whimpers. Then when she’s practically falling, I rub her clit until she coats my fingers all over again.
“Next time you want to challenge me, Sous, I’ll take your ass, just as I promised last time.”
“Promises, promises, Tobias. You keep saying you’re going to own me, but I think you’re mistaken.”
I growl and pull her mouth to mine, biting, nibbling, making sure she has bruises, whether visible or not.
“This is the start of us, little chef. Just you wait.”
“I’ll believe you when my ass is a little less virginal.”
Twenty minutes later, she’s following me into my hotel room, and I’m fucking her in every position. I make sure to finger her ass, preparing her for the next time when my cock takes its place.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Past
Toby
“You’re happy,” Frankie muses, sitting next to me. We’re driving to Hollow Ridge to see Gene. He promised me Mom’s ring. And while the story behind it isn’t the prettiest, it matters to me. It’s all I have of my family. Or will be, once it’s mine.
“I love her so much,” I respond, gripping the steering wheel. Love makes us mad, yes? Well, Joey’s love makes me sane. Absolutely sure and secure. It breathes life back into me.
“Does she know why you guys are leaving all of a sudden for Cancun?”
“No, but she’ll be freaking the hell out when you, Gray, Nate, Bobbie, Gene, and her dad show up.”
He smiles, his face full of happiness. I thought for sure he’d be jealous of our happiness. It’s not like I could hide my own jealousy when Jase and Lo got married. But he seems at ease. Like this information makes him as happy as finding love himself would.
“Nate doing okay?” Francis’s jaw clenches.
“He’s not horrible. You know how he gets,” he mutters. It’s not disappointment lacing his tone, it’s worry. I feel the same, though their friendship is longer and more intertwined than Nate’s and my own.
“Do you think I shouldn’t have invited him?” Not having him there would feel wrong. He’s meant to witness this. Something happy. No more guilt.
He wears that like a full body tattoo. No amount of scrubbing can clean his conscience, not in his mind.
“With Bobbie there, I think it’ll be okay. She grounds him.”
Understanding fills me. Bobbie is his as Joey is to me, his hope. He may not see it—the drugs and depression may cloud him so much that he can’t see it—but she’s going to save him. When he’s ready, maybe she’ll even allow their love to be real between them and not full of lies.
“I’m excited to marry her. For real this time,” I mention as we drop the heavy subject.
After we meet with Gene, I’m holding the ring in my hand. The one that’s my mom’s. It’s beautiful and perfect for Joey. I drop Francis off on the way home, and while Joey is still at Mi Casa, I pack it in my bag, hoping it doesn’t get lost.
Days later, when we’re at the cabana in Cancun, my body hums with acknowledgment. She doesn’t even know it, but today is the day.
She’s perfect in her short burnt orange sundress that makes her pale skin beam and her eyes seem even brighter somehow. Her hair is down in waves, tangled with the wind, and blowing toward me, begging me to pull it as I thrust into her deeply.
While Clay—her father—wanted this wedding for show, to make it seem like this big-ass notion for his campaign, it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Joey.
My one stipulation was Marsha couldn’t come. It’s obvious she’s an absolute waste of air, especially while in the presence of my wife, but I truly wanted her dad to be here.
She may say he doesn’t matter anymore, but I know that’s a lie. She loves him endlessly, even while he’s forgotten what it means to be a father.
She grabs my hand as she hops in the sand, her eyes alight with joy and promise. “Sex on the beach?” she asks, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure that’s illegal in every country, Sous.”
Playfully, she smacks my chest, a giggle escaping her. “No, you perv, a drink.” When I smirk, she rolls her eyes. “But that other thing,” she whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. “Wait for tonight and I’ll sit on your lap while no one can see what’s going on beneath my dress.”
I bring her in for a fierce kiss, the ache in my dick present as she leads me to the bar that’s surrounded by water. The first day we came out here, I about died. Unlike my Sous, swimming with the sharks doesn’t appeal to me, and this bar is entirely in the water. It’s not deep, but every chair is barely above the surface. So when you’re sitting, your legs are with the fish. Literally.
We take a seat at the bar, and I fall more for her as her eyes take in the ocean. She’s breathtaking like this. Carefree. Happy. No sorrows to consume her.
That’s why it’s perfect that we’re getting married soon, at sunset, when everything will be in place. She told me she wanted something special for the two of us eventually. Getting married didn’t have to be a show, but she wanted to experience it with me. For real.
Where booze and bad decisions didn’t guide it.
She orders her drink while I sip a virgin mojito. I don’t have an entire hold over my addiction, which is why I’ve been att
ending weekly AA meetings. My sponsor takes care of me, and I own up to everything.
It’s that one step.
The making amends.
I’ve nearly skipped it.
While it doesn’t make me any less dedicated to going further with my recovery, it does staunch my ability to let Joey fully in. That’s why we’re here.
I’m ready.
She’s mine.
I’m hers.
We’re perfect for each other.
After we talk about her ideas for a French version of Su Casa, I’m wondering if France is in our future. What if I could fix her memories like I promised? Take them away by expanding the restaurant she wants to be a part of so much, while extinguishing her demons?
Noting that idea down for someday soon, I lead her away toward our suite.
Later that day, when we’re supposed to be going to dinner, I tell her to dress for a fancier place. Though not many exist on this resort, no matter how distinguished it is.
She does.
Fuck does she.
My wife steps out of our ensuite with her hair cascading down her back. Red fire flaming lips greet me with a smile. Amber golden hues watch me with anticipation all while I barely hold my dick down in my pants. Down, boy. Later.
“Absolutely breathtaking, Sous,” I whisper. My voice a mix of huskiness and admiration. She’s perfection. When we first met, you couldn’t catch her in a dress, but somewhere along the way, that changed. She became in love; maybe it was our constant need to fuck in the open, or maybe she’s growing into the beautiful woman I’ve seen since day one. Either way, she’s radiant when she’s comfortable and happy with her body.
I love it.
I love her.
Her cheeks redden, matching the color of her lips.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice small, meek, and so unlike my wife that it has me smiling.
“Ready?” I offer my hand, and her small one attaches itself to mine a moment later. Heat overwhelms me, flooding my system with her fire and presence, and I’m in love with this very moment.
In a country far from home, a place that has only brought us closer, I’m in love. The scents, the colors, everything intertwined is welcome and beautiful.
Leading her out the door and down the elevator, she follows, not asking a single question. The vibrant coral and tangerine sky bleeds across the horizon. Enveloping and sublime, it’s perfect for tonight.
“An outside fancy restaurant?” she muses, her eyes full of wonder. As we walk, I stop us. “Shoes off.”
“Bossy, old man?”
“You don’t complain when I’m sinking inside you.”
Her face lights up, and that red tint comes back, making me well aware of where her mind just went. She reaches down, but instead of letting her take them off, I kneel.
She peers down at me with so much heat I’m sure the sun’s rays are weak in comparison. Her eyes twinkle, and when I kiss her ankles, the tiny moan that escapes her has my dick jumping.
Fuck.
How are we supposed to get married when she’s filling me up with these kinds of emotions?
I continue kissing her exposed flesh before undoing the straps of her heels. She uses my shoulders to keep from falling as I kiss the pads of her feet. Then as I repeat this with the other foot, I swear I hear her moan again. She’s killing me.
I slip off my own shoes and lead us down the beach. Our hands are entwined, our hearts following suit, and as the sun paints the sky with more vibrant colors, we finally make it to our destination. Stopping where I’m at, Joey’s eyes scan the area.
Amusement flickers at the edge of my lips. Tamping it down is near impossible, but somehow, I do. She turns back to me, her face one of confusion. “Where’s dinner?”
A chuckle escapes me. Only she would be worried about food when we’re on an abandoned beach and a bunch of people are standing in the distance.
Gripping both of her hands, I kiss them, making sure each finger gets enough attention from my lips. She’s smiling, but what else is present is the love I constantly feel. The pull of seduction and amorous sensations are something I’m very used to now, but it still amazes me that someone as perfect as Joey could love me. All the bad parts included.
She dived in with me, she loved me, and she hasn’t stopped seizing to amaze me.
“Josephine Ellis Moore,” I recite, my voice thick with everything currently rushing through me. Her eyes glisten, like her body is aware of what I’m about to say before I actually follow through with it.
“Toby,” she says, her voice airy and tight with affection. It’s beautiful to see every emotion she has to offer, ones most would be ashamed of. The kind that people hide behind and pretend don’t exist. Joey lets them flow through her freely. Allowing them to bleed to the surface without causation.
The thud as my knees connect with the wheat-colored sand almost yawns in the air with how silent everything else feels. The crashing waves on the shore are neither loud nor quiet. The sun has neared its apex and right now couldn’t be a more perfect time.
“We’ve been through a lot in the year we’ve been together. Probably more than the average couple since I’m a dick by nature,” I muse. A sharp intake of air followed by a small choking laugh escapes her. “But fuck, Sous, I love you. If the world told me you didn’t pick every star in that sky and hang them yourself, I wouldn’t believe it.”
Tears fall, the little droplets wetting the sand by my knees. She’s a beautiful sight. I savor every drop, knowing it’s an honor to be given that kind of emotion and experience this level of love and adoration.
I’m a lucky fucking bastard.
“You’re my sunshine, Sous. My goddamn little chef who cooks me food that shouldn’t be real. You’re perfect. Scars, sadness, and all, you’re perfection.”
She starts bending to my level, taking my mouth with hers, but I need to get this all out. She deserves this.
“I’ve never felt more in love in my entire life. Not a single human compares, or even comes close. You’re my happiness. When you hurt, I hurt. When the days are endless and barren of love, I experience that with you. And fuck, when those eyes leak with emotions, like they do now, I feel pure, like I found the one and deserve to have this happiness with you. I love you so much, Sous. Will you marry me... again?”
At the little added touch of that last word, her mouth breaks into a smile, and she’s nodding while her eyes fill to the brim with more tears. I’m up in a flash, lifting her, bringing her body to mine, right where it fits, and then I’m taking her mouth and consuming her emotions and sharing my own.
I twirl us around, because fuck, I’ve never felt this hyped or happy, and then our mouths are fused together again. When she reaches for the button of my dress shirt, I swat her away gently.
“I should’ve asked, will you marry me... right now,” I whisper into her ear, and she stops moving. We break apart and wonder is written all over her face.
“Right now?”
“Yes, beautiful. Right fucking now.”
“But I don’t—”
“You look perfect, and there isn’t a better moment than right now while our families are standing a hundred feet away, waiting.”
“What did you do?” she muses as a myriad of feelings wash over her.
“I decided we should have a real wedding where you’re the queen and the whole fucking world bears witness.”
She grabs my face, and we resume kissing. It’s consuming. Effortless. Blissful. If this is the start of the rest of our lives, I’ll never wish for another thing again.
She’s all I need.
“Let’s get married then, old man. Wouldn’t want you to die of old age first,” she teases, smirking at me. I set her down entirely and smack her ass.
Squeals escape, and then I’m leading her to our forever.
The place she’ll truly be mine.
Josephine Ellis Hayes, my wife. My lifeline. My sobriety chip.
; Chapter Thirty-Seven
Present
Joey
I bottle the resentment and hatred as one would a black widow and praying mantis in a jar, wondering which would strike first and who would conquer all.
One time, Wes caught one of each in two separate jars. It annoyed me that he captured two beautiful creatures just to hold them hostage and watch them waste away.
He set the glasses side by side, mirrors, almost doorways, to see how calculated each species was.
The intrigue in his eyes terrified me, let me know something inside him may be darker than I bargained for, yet I did nothing but watch.
His fingers caressed the one housing the bright green mantis. He leaned in close, his eyes narrowing on the stillness, I'm sure.
When the insect didn't move, only keeping a stock-still position, I wondered if maybe fear kept it frozen in place, but like Wes knew something I didn't, he smiled.
The way his lips tilted at the edges conspiratorially made my insides squeeze uncomfortably. As a predator or person with a lack of empathy would, he gave me chills, but for some reason, it didn't force my eyes away.
Like the impact when music hits really loud, the bass bumping throughout your body, I could only prepare for the cacophony of bulldozing emotions.
After deciding whatever he needed, he stared at the widow. Its red stomach patch faced away from us as it protected itself by hiding in the lid, but Wes saw. Tapping the lid several times, we watched as the spider plopped to the bottom.
He bit the inside of his cheek wordlessly, causing an insane curiosity to bite at my mind.
It made zero sense.
This was barbaric, but I didn't do a single thing to stop this from escalating.
He unscrewed the lids, lifting both cylinders at the same time. Nothing could prepare me for what I witnessed next.
Anxiety gnawed at my stomach, creating an untamable distress to bubble through my chest. It burned and ached, acting as an early warning system as the two foes faced off.
Neither moved.
They both stood motionless, almost calculating, watching, observing the opponent.
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