Page 54 of Mr. Brightside
When I finally open my eyes, I realize Jake’s not next to me in bed. I glance at the clock and am shocked to find that it’s already ten thirty.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, I pull on a pair of drawstring linen shorts, then set out to find my man.
I open the sliding glass door to the balcony and squint. The sun is shining, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Jake’s wearing his signature Ray-Bans and a pair of bright teal swim trunks, which he’s got hoisted up to tan his thighs. I lick my lips involuntarily at the sight.
He’s lying on one of two loungers, with a full room service breakfast spread laid out on the other chair. I could grab a rocking chair and drag it over to join him. But that’s not where I want to be.
He grins the second he sees me. I wordlessly straddle his calves and lean forward, intent on getting as close to him as physically possible. I slither up his oil-slicked body, then cross my arms along his lower abdomen and rest my chin on my hands.
“Hi,” I greet him lazily, nuzzling into his stomach and inhaling the intoxicating scent of coconut, lime, and salt from his sweat. It takes all my restraint not to dart out my tongue and lick him. He’s like my own personalized cocktail—tangy, salty, and sweet.
“Hi,” he croons back with so much tenderness my heart catches in my throat. He reaches down and runs his hands through my hair, playing with my tresses and scratching my scalp.
“You sleep okay?” he asks as he continues his ministrations. I don’t reply right away. I’m too busy drinking him in, memorizing the way he looks and feels and smells right now. We may have only been able to escape for two nights, but I already know these are memories I’ll hang on to forever.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur eventually, peppering each one of his defined, glistening abs with a kiss before resting my cheek directly on his stomach.
He tenses under me, but after a few breaths, he relaxes.
“Are you always this cuddly in the morning?” he teases as he goes back to playing with my hair.
“I guess you’re just going to have to find out when we get home.” I smirk, but my mind also goes to the heart of what I just said. Will things still feel this magical when we’re out of this honeymoon bubble and back in Hampton?
My gut tells me yes. This is it. This is life with Jake. The next two years have the potential to be this joyful, playful, and hot if I let them.
I can’t be sure it’ll always be this magical, but I am sure of one thing: he’s crazy if he thinks he’ll be sleeping on the couch once we get home.
I run my tongue between the grooves of his abs, tracing the literal eight-pack of his stomach and loving his taste on my tongue. I can feel him growing hard beneath me, so I do what any good husband in my position would do: I double down and lick him faster.
“Mm, Cor… you feel so good, baby. You make me feel so good.” He hooks his hands under my biceps and pulls me up, shifting my body until our faces are just a few inches apart.
He kisses me once, then pulls back and murmurs, “Can I fuck you tonight?”
I know exactly what he means.
“Yes,” I reply automatically. I want it so much I ache. I want him. I want to feel him everywhere.
“Are you nervous?” he whispers against my mouth before licking my neck and nipping at my jawline.
Those three words dance up and down my spine until I feel a tingle in my core. I swear this man is the sexual equivalent of nicotine, and I’m already on the cusp of being considered a heavy user. It’s his words, his tongue, the way his voice sounds huskier than usual, like he’s already so hot for me.
“No.” My one-word answer comes out harsh and defensive. He doesn’t know I’m trying my hardest to hold back a moan. “I want you.”
He cups the side of my head and moves his lips to my ear. “I’m going to make love to you so good, baby. You’re gonna be addicted to my dick when I’m done.”
I chuckle at his crudeness, but don’t bother arguing. What’s the point in refuting facts?
“If we need to slow down or you want to stop at any point, just tell me. I want this to be so good for you.”
I scoff at the idea of stopping anything. I want him. I want him in every way possible. There’s no way I’ll be asking him to slow down or hold back tonight.
“I don’t need a safe word from you, Jake Whitely,” I quip as I grind my hips forward. The sharp grunt he gives up when I press my body into his is hard to miss. I smile into his neck, thrilled that he’s clearly affected by me, too.
His fingers flex and knead against the nape of my neck. He’s massaging my scalp with this tenderness that makes my insides feel like mush.
He pulls back a few inches to lock me in his gaze. “Why not?”
I honestly don’t have a response to that. I can’t even remember how to form words in either language I speak as he stares at me intently and massages the crown of my head. He digs in harder until my back is arching in pleasure.