Olivia

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    Lunch was a seafood feast, featuring fresh grilled fish, shrimp skewers, and an array of tropical fruits and vegetables. We ate inpanionable silence for a few minutes before Alexander spoke.

    “So, what would you like to do this afternoon? We could explore the ind, go snorkeling, or…” he paused meaningfully, “stay

    in.”

    “Exploring sounds nice,” I said quickly, not trusting myself to be alone in the house with him.

    “Exploring it is.” He didn’t look disappointed. If anything, his smile suggested he was enjoying the chase.

    After lunch, Alexander gave me a tour of the ind, showing me hidden coves and pristine beaches essible only on foot. The property was massive, with trails winding through lush tropical forest and along dramatic cliffs.

    Byte afternoon, we’d made our way back to the main house, where Miguel had prepared dinner to be served at sunset. The meal was spectacr, lobster and filet mignon, paired with expensive wines that Alexander insisted I try.

    “To us,” he said, raising his ss. “And our unconventional marriage.”

    I clinked my ss against his. “Unconventional indeed.”

    As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Alexander suggested we move to the outdoor lounge area where plush couches surrounded a fire pit.

    “This is ridiculous,” I said as we settled onto a couch. “Who needs a fire pit on a tropical ind?”

    “It gets cooler at night than you’d expect,” he replied, pouring us each a ss of aged scotch. “Besides, there’s something primal about fire. It brings people together.”

    I took a sip of the scotch, wincing slightly at the burn. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”

    “Very. Twenty–five–year–old Macan.”

    “Of course it is.” I took another sip, appreciating theplex vors more this time. “So what’s the n after the honeymoon?”

    Alexander leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch behind me. “We get back to our lives as husband and wife. We’ll be staying at the estate as I mentioned before.”

    “Okay,” I said, taking another sip of the scotch. The warmth spread through my chest as I contemted what he’d said. If I could just stay like this for a while, y the perfect wife until he got his controlling stake from his grandfather, then I’d be free to go back to my own life.

    “What are you thinking?” Alexander asked, his fingers brushing against my shoulder where his arm rested behind me.

    “Nothing,” I replied, finishing the rest of my drink in one gulp. The alcohol burned, but it was nothingpared to the fire his touch ignited under my skin.

    Alexander studied my face in the flickering firelight. “Liar. You get this little crease right here when you’re thinking hard.” His finger traced a line between my eyebrows, and I had to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

    “Maybe I’m just enjoying the expensive scotch,” I said, setting down my empty ss.

    “Maybe.” His hand moved from the couch back to cup my cheek. “Or maybe you’re thinking about what happened in the pool today.”

    My breath caught. “I don’t know what you mean.”

    “The way you moaned when I touched your tits. The way your pussy got wet when I kissed you.” His thumb traced my lower lip. The way you wanted me to fuck you right there in the water.”

    “You’re delusional,” I whispered, but my voice came out breathless and unconvincing.

    “Am I?” He leaned closer, his lips just inches from mine. “Then why are your nipples hard right now? Why are you pressing your thighs together?”

    He was right. My body was betraying mepletely, responding to his proximity like I was some horny teenager.

    “The fire’s warm,” I said weakly.

    “Bullshit.” His mouth imed mine before I could protest further.

    This kiss was different from the others. It was slower and more deliberate. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting of expensive scotch and something uniquely him. I melted against him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

    “That’s it,” he murmured against my lips. “Stop fighting it.”

    His hand slid down to cup my breast through the sundress, his thumb brushing over my peaked nipple. I arched into his touch with a soft moan.

    “Fuck, you’re responsive,” he said, squeezing my breast harder. “I love how your tits fit perfectly in my hands.”

    “Alex,” I gasped as he pinched my nipple through the fabric.

    “That’s right. Say my name.” His other hand moved to my thigh, sliding up under my dress. “I want to hear you scream it when I make youe.”

    I should have stopped him. Should have pushed him away and reminded him about our boundaries. But when his fingers brushed against my panties, finding me soaking wet, all rational thought fled.

    “Christ, you’re drenched,” he said, rubbing me through the thin fabric. “Your pussy is practically begging for my cock.”

    “Please,” I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for.

    “What? Use your words.”

    “Touch me,” I breathed.

    Alexander’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Finally admitting what you want.”

    He pushed my panties aside, his fingers finding my slick folds. I cried out at the contact, my hips bucking against his hand.

    “So fucking wet,” he said, circling my clit with his thumb while sliding two fingers inside me. “And tight. God, I can’t wait to feel this pussy wrapped around my cock.”

    I was past caring about propriety or our arrangement. All I could focus on was the pleasure building as he worked my body expertly.

    “You like that?” he asked, curling his fingers to hit that spot that made me see stars. “You like my fingers in your pussyb?/b”

    “Yes, I gasped, my voice barely recognizable. “I love your fingers in my pussy.”

    My hand found his cock through his shorts, rubbing the hard length of him. He was massive, thicker than anything I’d ever felt. Holy shit, would that even fit inside me? The thought sent another wave of wetness between my legs.

    “Fuck, Liv, he groaned as I stroked him. “Your hand feels so good on my cock.”