Chapter 1: The Honeymoon Suite
The suite was too quiet. Only the distant sigh of the sea beyond the glass wall, a dark expanse pricked with the lights of other ships. Audrey stood at the balcony door, her reflection a ghost in the black glass. She could see Eric behind her, sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt with methodical slowness. He was always so calm. It drove her mad tonight.
She turned, the silk robe she wore loosening with the movement. The candlelight caught the auburn fire in her curls, the determined set of her jaw. “You’re taking forever,” she said, her voice lower than she intended.
He looked up, a soft smile on his lips. “We have all night, Aud. Two weeks of nights.”
“No,” she said, walking toward him. The robe whispered against her thighs. “We have now. Right now.” She stopped in front of him, between his knees. The scent of him—soap, salt air, just Eric—wrapped around her. “I don’t want to wait.”
His hands settled on her hips, warm and broad through the silk. “I know what you want.”
“Do you?” She let the robe fall open, not dropping it, just letting him see. The curve of her breasts, the flat of her stomach, the thatch of dark curls below. She watched his eyes darken, felt his fingers tighten. “I want you to fuck me so deep I feel it tomorrow. I want you to come inside me until it takes. I want your babies, Eric. Starting tonight.”
He sucked in a breath. “Honey, it doesn’t always–”
“It will if we try hard enough.” She pushed him back onto the satin duvet, climbing over him before he could argue. Her knees pinned his hips, her hands framing his face. She could feel the hard line of his cock already straining against his trousers. “You want me. I can feel it. So have me.”
She crushed her mouth to his, not a kiss but a claim. Her tongue pushed past his lips, tasting the champagne they’d had downstairs. He groaned, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair, finally meeting her fever. Good. He was in there, under all that control. She needed him unleashed.
She broke the kiss, trailing her lips down his neck, biting the cord of muscle there. “I’m so empty,” she whispered hotly against his skin. “I need you to fill me up. I need you to pump your fucking seed so deep into my cunt it has no choice but to catch.”
“Audrey…” His voice was a ragged thing.
“Say it,” she demanded, her fingers making quick work of his belt, his zipper. She shoved fabric aside and wrapped her hand around him. He was thick and hard, velvet over steel, a bead of moisture already glistening at the tip. She stroked him once, firmly, and he arched off the bed. “Tell me you’ll give me what I want.”
“I’ll always give you what you want,” he gritted out, his eyes blazing up at her.
“Not just me.” She leaned close, her breasts brushing his chest, her lips at his ear. “I know what you want, too. What you’ve always looked at. What you’ve never asked for.” She felt him go still beneath her. She took the silence as confirmation. “You can have it. Tonight. You can have my ass, Eric. You can take me there, rough and dirty, any way you want. But only after you’ve come inside my pussy first. Deal?”
The sound he made was half growl, half surrender. He flipped her over with a suddenness that stole her breath, reversing their positions. The ocean yawned behind him through the glass. His weight pressed her into the satin, solid and real.
“No deals,” he said, his voice rough. “No bargaining. You’re my wife. This is our wedding night.” He kissed her, deep and consuming. “But yes,” he breathed against her mouth. “Yes to all of it.”
He moved down her body, his mouth leaving a hot trail. He took her breast into his mouth, sucking hard until she cried out, her back bowing. His hand slid between her thighs, finding her wet and open for him. He didn’t tease. Two fingers pushed inside her, curling, stroking a spot that made her vision blur.
“You’re so ready,” he muttered, watching his hand work her.
“For you. Only for you. For your cock, Eric, please…”
He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of him nudging against her slickness. He held her gaze, his own fierce with a tenderness that almost shattered her. “This first time,” he said, slowly pushing into her, stretching her, filling her utterly, “is because I love you.”
She gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He began to move, a slow, devastating rhythm that built a coiling heat in her core. Each thrust was a promise. Each grunt from his throat was a prayer. She met him stroke for stroke, her nails scoring his back, her pleas a filthy litany against his shoulder.
“Don’t hold back, don’t you dare hold back, give it all to me, fill me up, breed me, Eric, please, God, I need it…”
His control snapped. His thrusts became faster, harder, a frantic pounding that shook the bed frame. The world narrowed to the slap of skin, their mingled sweat, the raw, open sound of their coupling. She climaxed with a sharp cry, her inner muscles clamping around him in pulsating waves. It tipped him over the edge.
He drove into her one final, searing time and held there, buried to the hilt. A long, broken groan was torn from his chest as he came, and she felt the hot, liquid pulse of him deep inside her. She clutched him close, a fierce triumph roaring through her veins.
He collapsed beside her, both of them breathing in ragged gulps. The sea air cooled their heated skin. After a moment, his hand found her belly, splaying possessively over the place where he’d just spilled himself.
She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed, his face etched with spent passion. She traced his lips. “You promised,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
His eyes opened. The desire in them was not sated, only shifted, darkened. He understood. He nodded.
He moved her with a gentle firmness, turning her onto her stomach, propping her hips with a pillow. He kissed the base of her spine, his hands spreading her cheeks. She heard the tear of the foil packet from the nightstand, the slick sound of lotion. Then the blunt, insistent pressure of him, not where he’d just been, but at her other, tighter entrance.
“Relax,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Just for me.”
She pushed back against him, a wordless demand. He entered her slowly, an exquisite, burning stretch that made her whimper into the duvet. It was overwhelming, a violation she had gifted him, and it felt more intimate than anything before. He rocked into her, setting a deliberate, deep rhythm. This was different. This was claiming. His grip on her hips was bruising, his breaths harsh in the quiet room.
“Is this what you wanted?” he ground out, sinking deeper.
“Yes,” she sobbed, the feeling a dizzying mix of pain and profound pleasure. “This is for the babies. Everything is for them.”
He fucked her like that, with a focused intensity, until the tension coiled again, impossibly tight, and broke. She came silently, her body clenching around him in helpless waves. He followed seconds later, his release a hot flood inside the condom, his body slumped over hers.
A long time later, he pulled her against him, her back to his chest. His arm was a heavy weight across her middle. The candles had burned low.
She lay awake, feeling the faint, hopeful ache inside her, listening to his breathing even out into sleep. The vast, dark ocean watched them through the glass.
A soft smile touched her lips. It was only the first night.