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“I love you,” I say, moaning as the sweet wine coats my tongue. “This is so fucking good.”
“Easy to please,” he says, sipping his own wine. “And a cheap date.”
“Who you callin’ cheap, brother?” she asks, laughing.
We’re in the hot tub of the way-too-huge beach rental he procured for our honeymoon. I’m on his lap, straddling him as I sip the cold, sweet, bubbly, summery Moscato. We’ve already enjoyed an amazing lobster dinner as, I’ve discovered, Grisham is an amazing cook. Who knew?
“So, earlier, you asked if I was feeling adventurous,” I say, grinding on his lap, kissing his neck. “Whatcha got in mind?”
“Eager, are we?” he asks, smirking.
“Always eager to have you inside me,” I say in his ear, giving it a lick.
He groans and stands, holding me against him, the water sliding off of both of us as we drip our way in to the house. He deposits me, still wet, on the kitchen table.
My bikini is gone in an instant and I shiver, having gone from the hot water to the cool, evening air. My nipples are hard nubs, my breasts creamy and white where my tan doesn’t touch them. Grisham takes one nipple between his fingers, the other into his mouth. I arch into him, loving everything he does to my body. Every touch, every kiss, every lick goes straight to my core.
He makes his way slowly down my body, his mouth stopping at my belly button, his teeth grazing my pelvic bones, driving me crazy. When he kisses my sex, he starts outside, licking at my folds, only parting them once he’s sure I’m crazy for him. His tongue works my clit, then down to my pussy, into the hole, his fingers following.
“Mmmm,” I groan. “I love your fingers in my cunt.”
“I love how dirty the word cunt sounds on those sweet lips,” he says, still between my legs. “I love how sweet you taste.”
He works me to a frenzy, turning me to a smorgasbord, a dessert course. His dirty talk intensifies along with the build up that has me ready to explode into space. When I’m so close, unable to formulate real words, he flips me over, pulling my ass into the air.
I cry out in protest and he smacks my ass, a sharper slap than the playful one outside. His hand caresses me right after, though. His mouth finds my pussy again, but ventures quickly up toward the smaller hole, lingering. He chuckles as I tense, his laughter vibrating against my backside.
His fingers find their way back to their earlier ministrations and I moan, pushing back toward him, oblivious until he slips another finger into my ass to work along with his tongue.
I yelp, “Backdoor!”
Grisham cracks up at this but doesn’t stop. It makes me laugh, which makes my insides clench deliciously. This whole thing is out of my comfort zone, totally. I’m still pretty vanilla when it comes to sex, but I trust my husband.
His finger keeps moving inside my ass, two other fingers in my pussy as I move against him, feeling both embarrassed and wanting. It’s a weird feeling that I want to hate, but I just don’t. The juices flowing from inside of me tell him the same, and he picks up the pace working me back up, pushing me to the edge.
“One of these days,” he says.
He doesn’t need to finish. I know just what he was going to say. I push back against him, inviting him in. He says, “Come for me, baby,” and I don’t need any more of an invitation. I explode, the orgasm so intense I think I might die of a heart attack.
I cry and writhe and come and he works me through it all, coaxing and teasing until all that’s left is a boneless woman and some aftershocks.
He pulls me back against him, picking me up from the table and carrying me to the bed. When he lays me down on the soft, down-filled comforter, he studies me as I watch him sleepily.
“Tanzie, I need you to know what I feel for you,” he says. “I know I can be a stubborn bastard. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel. I know I retreat into my old habits sometimes. But I love you. I hate the way you came to me, but I’m glad you did.”
I reach out, my hand not quite reaching him. He leans in for a long, lingering kiss.
“Was that a thank you for letting you play with my asshole?” I ask.
Grisham barks a loud, unexpected laugh. “God, baby, you are ... the best,” he says, kissing me again, smiling against my mouth. It makes my heart do funny things to see him smile to much these days. I think he spent a lot of time unhappy. I feel like I won a gold medal in the Olympics to have gotten him to the point where he can be happy.
When he enters me, it’s slowly. We make love, our bodies joined wherever they can be. Every neuron and atom is connected between us. I’ve never felt so close to another person.
When he comes, I come with him, our joint ecstasy only the tip of the iceberg of what we feel for each other, what we can do together. Having his body would be enough. I know his heart and he doesn’t have to say pretty words for me to know he cares.
Later, while he sleeps, I trace the lines of his body, memorizing every inch the way I always do when he’s unaware that I’m looking. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man, a specimen so suited to my tastes. Sometimes I thank the stars that I was kidnapped. It sounds crazy, right? To be glad that Spree took me, forced me to Grisham’ bed. But I was trapped with my father. I was dying to explore, to live a life.
I wouldn’t have chosen to go through what I did, to be hurt the way I was. I wouldn’t have hoped for Kit’s death. I wouldn’t have ever guessed that my father and Grisham would have formed this unlikely partnership. Or that Grisham would ever see me as more than some dumb girl that got left on his bed to claim. But here we are, married, lovers, and ready to move on to a life as a family with Shannon.
It’s impossible to predict what will happen tomorrow, let alone next month, next year, or twenty years from now. Club business can be dangerous; that’s a fact that will never change. I worry for my father, now that I know more about what the club life really means. I worry for Grisham.
One thing I know is that I love this man. I love our life together. And I feel completely free for the first time in my whole life.
*
