Page 53 of Integrated (Mistress & Master of Restraint #11)
Sitting in the sand, our backs are resting against a fake log, which Cortez finds endlessly amusing. We spend our last evening of our honeymoon watching the sun set and the moon rise, just as we have for the past six nights. It’s exactly what Cortez dreamed for over fourteen years, and I have to agree, it’s pure heaven.
Our honeymoon was about bonding into a stronger partnership without life beating down upon us. No kids, family members, friends, bills, careers, patients, editors, our children’s mothers, the founders, responsibilities and worries. No stress. No Marcus.
Just Cortez and me and the Jamaican surf and sand.
I’ve learned more about Cortez in the past few days than I ever have. We didn’t rehash the past– we spoke of hopes and dreams of the future. Dreams of where we wanted to be next month, next year, in our old age.
Every dream involved both of us and our children and our family.
Cortez showed me all he learned from his stay here last time. Divina the Girl Scout had showed Cortez her sorcery, teaching him how to light a fire, fish, and then clean and cook said fish. There were copious amounts of rum and marshmallows involved. Cortez was in his element as he took care of me, being the provider.
Roarke was absent, because Cortez did just what he threatened. Roarke hasn’t left the safety of the cabin. Happy with his own slice of relaxation, Roarke has his tablet and a stocked cupboard of junk food.
Cortez refused to set foot into the quaint building, so I’d sneak in to steal treats for our comfort and pleasure. Cortez may be able to catch and cook a fish, but he can’t create Oreos from the ether. Ava may be our Monster, but Cortez is our Cookie Monster, and I wanted to provide for my husband too.
We did join the mile-high club. Several times over, and I plan on doing it again on the return flight. But Cort informed me it doesn’t count until it’s done on a commercial flight– the thrill of getting caught seems to be hardwired into Cort’s libido.
Amazing as it sounds, we haven’t had sex. No fucking or even making love. Cortez and I wanted to transcend the sexual. We can do that at home. We can do that anywhere and with anyone. But this– this paradise, where we connect on a higher level –couldn’t be duplicated elsewhere. To taint it with the physical seemed wrong somehow.
We’ve kissed, and held one another, and explored our bodies with tender touches of whispering fingertips. Since Cortez and I have never been innocent, I think we craved it, needed it on our honeymoon.
With that being said, I don’t think we can make it another twelve hours without imploding. Roarke sure as hell wouldn’t want to gaze out the window to see us rutting like wild animals, so the instant we set foot onto the jet, we’re orgasming a week’s worth of pent-up sexual frustration.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Cortez chastises me, but he smiles as he says it. “We’re coming back here every five years for our anniversary… and I hope to God Roarke has found a woman by then.”
“He can have the cabin next to ours.” I relentlessly tease as I weave Cort’s fingers through mine. “Instead of hoping to God Roarke finds a woman, we better pray we like her, seeing as how she’ll be shoved up our asses. We got lucky with Aaron’s Kayla.”
“You picked her.” Cort nudges me. “It’s too bad being an enforcer is a lifelong position. Lurch is a pain in my ass, but he’s the best damn enforcer on the planet. We’re lucky, so I’ll put up with whomever he catches.”
Sighing in bliss, I look out over the ocean as it blazes a brilliant shade of red. The sun sets, casting the finality of the day upon the water. In a way, it’s sad– the end of yet another glorious day in paradise.
The sunset signifies the end of our honeymoon.
Cortez and I have been through so much from birth to now. I pity those who don’t have their own personal Cort. It must be lonely to walk this earth alone, freeing but lonely.
“Are you thinking about home?” Cortez softly asks, voice barely carrying over the cresting waves lapping at the beach.
“Yeah, I am.” I admit with a smile.
Cortez looks at me crosswise, trying to figure out why the thought of home would make me so blissfully happy. “Homesick?”
Lips twisting up at the corners, I mutter wryly. “Nah, not at all… I am home.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cort drawls, catching on.
“Yeah, I’m right where I was always meant to be,” is said with so much conviction, tears threaten to leak from my eyes.
“Really, now?” Cort’s resulting smile glows from his tanned face, while tears glisten in his eyes. “Out in the middle of the ocean?”
“Nope– not here in a physical sense. Here with you . You’re my home. I was always meant to be at your side.”
“How can I argue with you if you’re going to be so logical.” Cort relentlessly teases me, and I pray he never stops. “I’m where I’m meant to be too.”
Grinning through the painful emotions, if love and adoration and loyalty can be painful, but in this intensity they truly are. “Oh, yeah, where’s that?
As the mirrors to our souls connect, Cortez breathes, “With you.”
Deep down, I know my life belongs to Cortez and mine with him. I know the day he ceases to breathe, as will I. There is a comfort in knowing he and I will never be alone– forever by each other’s side.
The sorrowful sun sets, signaling the end of a painful era. But just as quickly, the vibrant moon rises, signaling a brighter tomorrow.