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If this were the way Foster wants it, I would gladly torture him until he begs to come. I place my hands on his shoulders and begin to slowly lift off his cock, gently squeezing my inner walls around him. His eyes darken as the storm continues to rage outside.
With each torturous stroke, I watch his face, frustrated that he isn’t reacting. I speed up, closing my eyes, working my hips over him. When he finally touches me, he flips me onto my back while remaining inside me. He props my legs on his shoulders and slams into me.
“You know how hot you are? You lost the game of wills, Paige, and you’ll scream my name when you come.”
“Fuck you!” I growl, angry that he is taking control. I scratch at his arms.
“Go ahead, mark me,” Foster taunts. Leaning over me, he places his hands on either side of my head. I squeeze him inside me again, causing him to hiss. His mouth finds mine, and he nips at my lip in retaliation. My orgasm builds, and although I try to stop it, there's no stopping a speeding train. I scream Foster’s name so loudly as he makes me come that my ears hurt. He keeps thrusting into me, and my head arcs away from the arm of the couch.
“That’s my girl! Wrap your legs around me.”
I barely have enough strength, but I obey as he bites into my nipple, sending ripples of pleasure to my core. Breaking rhythm, he gyrates his hips, grazing my tortured, sensitive clit.
“Again,” he insists
“I-I can’t,” I pant.
“You can!”
Another rub of him against me has me gritting my teeth, but still, he continues. Seconds later, without warning, I am coming for a second time as Foster pumps his cum deep inside me. My heart is racing, pounding against my chest like the raging rain pounding our villa. The next few minutes are a blur as I barely register Foster carrying me to the bedroom and placing me on the cool sheets. The last thing I remember is the warmth of his body next to mine.
I have no idea how much time has passed when I wake up. Foster is spooning me, his arm possessively around my waist. I turn my head to kiss his stubbled cheek, and his eyes flutter open.
“How are you?” he mumbles.
“Sore. Very sore.”
“It was intense.”
“You’re intense, Foster. Why is this the first time I’m seeing it?”
“Nonsense. You’ve seen it before. You’ve heard it before.”
“Not in the bedroom.”
“I can be tender or commanding. Whichever you prefer.”
I smile. I’m not sure which one I like better, but I do know one thing—I was his. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with Foster throughout the past few weeks, and I don’t want us to end.
Foster surprises me every day of our honeymoon with food, drinks, midnight walks on the beach, and lovemaking while the moonlight filters through the windows. It is a fantasy come true. I don’t want it to end, but the life of a CEO is never an easy one. Several times he interrupts our time together with a phone call. I tell myself it’s a part of being married to a successful businessman.
On our last night, Foster has the resort set up dinner on the beach. He escorts me to our patch of sand, where I notice a round table. Several tiki torches light our way, and two waiters stand at attention, waiting for our arrival. I’ve dressed for the occasion in a white-flowered sundress. Foster is wearing a white linen shirt, and khaki slacks rolled up his calves, no shoes required.
The sand is still warm from baking in the sun all day, and I squeeze it between my toes as I sit down at the black-clothed table. One of the waiters nears, filling our empty flutes.
“What should we toast to?” I ask.
“A long, happy life together. I love you, Paige.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I force them back as we clink our glasses together, savoring the creamy richness of the Krug Clos du Mesnil.
“Thank you. This is fantastic, and it’s not the champagne.”
“This is special, just like you.”
We feast on a variety of seafood—lobster tails, shrimp, mussels, and clams served on beds of cilantro lime rice. Dessert is an individual, decadent chocolate mousse cake that Foster insists on feeding me. It is a perfect evening I hope we can repeat many times over in the years to come.
At the end of dinner, we thank the waiters, and Foster guides me back to our villa, devouring my neck after we are behind closed doors. His hands roam my body and hike up my dress to rip aside my delicate pink lace panties. Minutes later, he is buried inside me, thrusting upward while murmuring my name. Our night is spent making love until we fall asleep from exhaustion in the weak hours of the morning.
