“Just don’t spill it,” I warned Alex. “I don’t want to have to call room service for new sheets.”
“If you stop moving then I won’t spill it.”
He held a champagne bottle in his hand, tilting it dangerously about a foot above my waiting mouth. I held still, slightly sticking out my tongue as he poured some for me. The tangy fizz met my tongue and I swallowed it quickly as he poured more, he stopped and I rolled away, covering my mouth and trying to stop coughing while I laughed.
Alex snickered and took a swig from the bottle as I was regaining my ability to breathe. “I told you, you can’t do it when you’re laying down,” he said, patting my back. “You have to be sitting up, besides, it looks even better when you’re kneeling.”
I pushed myself up onto my knees, wobbling as I moved to straddle him. “See! That’s all you do; criticize me!” I accused with a pouty frown.
He sat up and smirked, his eyes glittering as he leaned in close to me. “That’s all I do?”
I nodded forcefully, making my hair fly back and forth. Okay, maybe I was a little drunk, and maybe this was our third or fourth bottle together, there was nothing wrong with that on a honeymoon. The days and nights melted together into this string of events that I couldn’t separate anymore. We got married, but I don’t remember if we went on the roller coaster on the same night or not, or the Shark Reef Aquarium – I remembered going but I couldn’t tell you when or for how long. The time we spent in the hotel room was just as bad; every minute we were together we were naked and finding new areas to fuck. The window, jacuzzi tub, every inch of the bed, the dining table, pool table, the balcony – I was certain that by the time we left here, I was going to know what full-body rug burn felt like.
He sat up and as I went to wrap my arms around him, he pressed the ice-cold champagne bottle to my stomach, lifting my shirt in the process so there was no barrier. I cried out at the sudden jolt and tried to move away but he held firm and rooted me to him, keeping the bottle trapped between us while rolling me onto my back.
“Alex!” I screamed through laughter.
“Oh, did I spill?” he asked, grinning as he pushed himself up. “I guess you’ll have to take this off.” He sat the bottle on my stomach and worked my now damp shirt off.
“Ohmigod.” I covered my face, trying to stop laughing while he tossed the garment across the room and leaned back down to drag his tongue over my breasts. Alex took his time, focusing on my nipples and capturing them between his teeth as he sucked on them, making me gasp and writhe under him. After a moment, he poured a little bit more over my chest, there was a loud clanging sound when he finally set the bottle aside and continued “cleaning” me up. “I’m going to be all sticky now…”
He hummed in agreement but didn’t even look up, I ran my fingers through his hair; scratching his scalp and watching as he moved lower down the length of me. I gave his locks a hard tug, dragging him back up despite his protests.
“I’m too sore still,” I explained, trying to get out from under him. “Cuddle with me and maybe I’ll suck you off later.”
He chuckled and laid his head between my breasts, wrapping his arms around my waist and completely refusing to move. “I like the sound of that maybe.”
I had to pinch him for that, but only lightly.
“I went to the Garden of Love, and saw what I never had seen: a Chapel was built in the midst, where I used to play on the green,” he quoted, his lips moving so softly across my skin that it almost wasn’t noticeable.
“You remembered my favourite poet,” I replied giddily. “And I love William Blake, but that’s a very sad poem to quote right now.”
“It was the only half romantic one I could remember,” he admitted. “If I had that book you gave me on hand, I would pull it out, but it’s at home.”
He still has my book! “I knew you still had that! I want it back.”
He rolled his eyes and flopped onto his side, pulling me against him and running the tips of his fingers over my stomach in a swirling pattern. “You had one that you used to quote all the time, one about flowers…”
The Lilly, my favourite poem from his series about innocence and experience. “The modest Rose puts forth a thorn: the humble Sheep, a threatening horn: while the Lilly white, shall in Love delight, nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.”
“And are you the Lilly or the Rose?” he asked, brushing my hair away from my face as I turned to look at him.
The Rose. I wished I was the pure, unthreatening Lilly, or maybe the Sheep, because then my sometimes rude behaviour wouldn’t be intentional, I could be one of those strong women people always seemed to talk about. The Rose couldn’t help their thorn, though I could certainly try to prune it.
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I told him quietly.
“The Lilly?”
I snorted. “The Rose.”
“Why wouldn’t you be the Lilly?”
“I think my thorns have pricked a few people. Maybe I could’ve called myself the Lilly a few years ago, but I think I’m a little jaded now.”
Alex didn’t say anything to that, just continued running his fingers through my hair; gently detangling it from the mess he created earlier.
“I think you have a lot less thorns than you think you do,” he said suddenly. “In fact, I don’t think you have any thorns at all.”
“Peter does,” I mumbled.
“He doesn’t count.”
I stayed quiet. He counted, he counted more than anyone else because Peter used the truth like a weapon. Fuck, one conversation and I was killing my buzz.
“Pass me the bottle,” I said, trying to reach past him and just falling short. “I want some more champagne.”
He grabbed the bottle but held it above me again, I cried out and covered my face. “You wanted more, but we don’t have any glasses left,” Alex teased. “Guess you have to take what I give you.”
“No!” I cried out, trying to get out of his grip. “Alex, don’t get it in my hair!”
He laughed and tried to keep me in my spot, we wrestled back and forth until we tumbled head first off the bed and onto the floor. The bottle rolled out of his hands, we barely noticed, or at least, he didn’t since he immediately launched into attacking my neck; set out to decorate it with more hickeys after the first batch had faded. It was like something had awakened in him; a younger, jovial attitude where he didn’t give a shit about anything other than what he could do to make us feel good. Propriety be damned.
“My Lilly,” he whispered fiercely. “Perfect, flawless, and beautiful, and nothing like a Rose.”
I giggled, he hid his face between my tits as he spoke and I just couldn’t take him seriously anymore. There was a dampness against my back and I became vaguely aware that the champagne was soaking into the carpet, but I didn’t care, I could feel Daddy getting hard against my thigh and that was the only thing I could focus on now. Who cared if I was a little sore, we weren’t going to get a chance at this sort of privacy again for a long while.
“Shower,” I mumbled as he kissed me. “Let’s take this to the shower before I’m covered in shag-carpet.”
He was up in an instant, pulling me to my feet and dragging us into the bathroom. The shower stall had one of those touchscreen panels to control everything before you even got inside, Alex had me test the temperature, adjusting it until I was happy and even turning on the lavender and eucalyptus aromatherapy mist.
I sighed and tipped my head back with a suppressed moan, just letting the water rain down over me, relaxing my stiff muscles. There was a flicker, I opened my eyes and realized he’d hit the lights as well, instead turning on the small multicoloured lights in the shower stall. Laughing, I tried to find him in the dim room, only to jump out of my skin the second he touched me. I think my heart stopped for a minute and I gasped, turning on my heel to find him behind me, grinning devilishly.
“Remember how I told you that your bathroom was the best because of the tub being in front of that amazing window?” I asked, running my hands up his chest. “Well, I lied; this bathroom is the best and I want to take it with us.”
He smirked and pulled me closer, sliding his hands along my waist to the small of my back. I knew I was short, barely clocking in at five-three on a good day, but I never really thought of myself as small, not by a long shot. Alex’s touch made me feel that way though; the palm of his hand and how slowly, almost even carefully, he worked to feel my body made me lean into him, wishing we could stay here forever and never have to face the waiting storm.
“I designed the bathroom back home, but I think it could stand a remodel if I got to enjoy this every day.”
Somethings never changed; he offered almost instantly to renovate the bathroom even though I wasn’t serious – a job that would probably cost as much as a car – but I knew if I told him I wanted to order in instead of eat out tonight that he would argue with me just because he felt like it.
“Enjoy what exactly?” I asked coyly. My hands slipped over his shoulders and came to rest behind his neck, lacing together my fingers and pressing my breasts harder against his chest.
“You,” he answered. “My wet and naked wife, and her cute laugh.”
I hid my face and giggled, rubbing my cheek against his collarbone. Wife. When I woke up every morning there was an amazing but too brief moment where it was just Alex and I in bed together, but it quickly come crashing back down on me how we ended up there. Him calling me his wife, his bride, glykia mou – my sweet – or anything else would bring me back to that place of it just being us again. I didn’t want to go back and face the music, I wanted us to keep running.
Alex whispered away to me in Greek, words I still barely understood but I could catch the odd one; he was happy, I think was the gist, but I knew he was nervous too, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
I finally opened my eyes again, trying to adjust to the darkened shower and hypnotic pattern of the tiny changing lights above us. “And is this all you would do with me?” I asked him softly. “You wouldn’t even try to touch me?”
I had to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him, with one hand going up to grasp his hair, bringing him closer, while the other snaked between us, grasping for his cock. Alex moaned against my mouth and tightened his grip on my waist. I felt like I was going to permanently have a mark there from him, like a tattoo of his hand so that anyone could see where he had been.
He was hard against my palm already; thick, and firm, and hotter than the water than ran over us in a constant stream. I delicately wrapped my fingers around his cock, stroking him until he was kissing me like he wanted me to only remember what his mouth felt like. I had to push him away, nearly forgetting what I had wanted to do for him.
Keeping our eyes locked, I sunk to my knees, running my hands down his body as I went, gently raking my nails against his soft skin. He shivered under my touch and reached for my hair while I gazed up at him, continuing to jerk him off. Leaning forward, I placed a soft kiss at the base of his cock and began working my way upward toward the head.
Alex was breathing heavily, my hair was knotted in between his fingers, and his eyes dark as he stared me down. I wanted him to feel like he was being worshipped; I let myself stroke up and down his stomach and over his hips while my tongue traced the defined ridges on his cock, enjoying the silky texture of his skin. I could still remember how nervous I was the first time I did this for him, I wondered if he liked my confidence now.
As if to answer my question; he moaned and gave my hair a good tug, pressing himself insistently against my lips. With a breathless laugh, I took his cock into my mouth and reached out to start jerking him off again. I focused on the tip, sucking and swirling my tongue around him mindlessly while my hand pumped up and down his length, twisting and tightening my grip as I went. Daddy was leaking precum in a steady flow, the bittersweet taste coated my mouth and made me close my eyes, practically moaning in ecstasy at the feeling of it.
“You’re always so good at that,” he said huskily. “Show me how far you can take it, baby girl.”
My eyes opened in surprise when he suddenly forced more of his length into my mouth. I looked up to him pleadingly, feeling my eyes burn and start to water unintentionally. The wicked grin on his face while he fucked my mouth, dragging back and forth on his cock made the muscles in my abdomen tighten. I was still sore, but I wanted him so badly again.
“Do you like the taste of my cock?” he growled suddenly.
Without warning, Daddy forced himself into me completely. I gagged in surprise and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm my erratic heart rate. His hands came down to cradle my head, letting go of my hair and letting the sopping tendrils fall around my shoulders. I hummed around him, pressing my tongue to the underside of his shaft so he could really feel it and get my answer.
He moaned again, more guttural this time and fucked my mouth in short, shallow thrusts. The tile of the shower floor was beginning to make my knees sore and trying to breathe around him made me dizzy – I couldn’t think of anywhere else I would have rather been right then. I let my hand drift down from his abs, feeling the base of his cock and massaging him in my palm, suddenly he sucked in a ragged breath.
“Chloe,” he groaned out. “Fuck, swallow for me, baby.”
His cum was hot against my tongue and I shivered, swallowing as I gazed up at him. He looked perfect from down here; my own Greek god. Not that I’d tell him that, I didn’t need him laughing about it for the rest of the trip. A few moments later, he forcibly pulled his cock out of my mouth and I smirked, dramatically wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
“I did good?” I asked, pushing myself up.
“So much better than good,” he whispered, throwing me against the wall. “Still sore?”
“Very.” Though, with his lips on my throat and his leg pressing between mine, I could be persuaded to forget that I was sore.
“Should I kiss it better?”
Oh, well that would certainly work too.