When I was little, I would peek into the garden early in the morning and watch my parents act “gooey” because I liked the way it made my mama smile. She hated when I called them gooey, but there was no other word that really suited how they acted; mushy wasn’t quite right, and lovey-dovey was too conservative. And as silly as it was, I was thrilled that Alex acted just as gooey with me.
“Don’t burn my bacon, I can’t stand it like that,” he informed me none too politely.
“I’m not giving you raw bacon—”
“It’s not raw, but if you cook the shit out of it—”
“You mean if I cook the salmonella poisoning out of it?”
“I’ve been eating it like this for longer than you’ve been alive, smart-mouth,” he retorted. “And I haven’t gotten myself sick yet, but I will if you give it to me burnt.”
I rolled my eyes and he just squeezed me tighter. We stood in front of the stove, the skillet sizzling while he held me, raining kisses into my hair and over my shoulders. I reached back and played with his hair; he turned my head toward him for a proper kiss. Moaning against his mouth, I tried to pull away only for him to grab me more forcefully, holding me too him where I was very happy to be.
“If you keep doing that then I will burn it,” I warned half-heartedly.
“Oh, am I distracting you?” he whispered, drawing out the words and pressing his mouth to my ear.
I giggled as goosebumps rose on my skin and twisted fruitlessly against him. We were never going to get anything done if we were always horny newlyweds.
“Are you going to cook breakfast every morning for me?”
I scoffed. “Are you going to harass me about it every morning?”
“Only if you answer all my questions with your own questions.”
“Why are you so difficult?” I demanded, tugging at his hair. “Is this all you want to do – harass your wife?”
I could feel the smile he had when he mumbled against my shoulder, “Am I fraying your poor nerves, Mrs. Bennet?”
“Yes, my poor, poor nerves.”
Alex hummed thoughtfully and pushed my shirt up, slowly running fingers along my stomach – my skin prickled under his touch. I married a horny teenage boy. I sighed and turned in his arms, pushing his hands away.
“Ooh, I’m about to be scolded,” he said quietly, eyes flashing.
I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek before shoving him, he took a step back and surrendered. “Go set the table, maybe I’ll let you bend me over it after,” I instructed.
His mouth twitched at the corner and he bowed his head. I watched him grab the plates off the counter and I went back to the stove, trying not to cringe when I flipped the bacon and moved it to a small serving dish – it was still floppy, chewy.Gross. I was never going to get on board with underdone meats, prosciutto was the other ‘delicacy’ that I turned my nose at while Alex couldn’t get enough.
I stepped back and checked the oven for my ladenia; a flatbread with onions and tomatoes – I wanted to save some of it for after breakfast just to see if I could impress mama with it. Grabbing the oven mitts off the counter, I pulled the pan out and knocked the oven door shut with my hip before heading to the back deck.
Alex was already waiting for me; the glass table set with our plates, flatware, and a pitcher of mimosas. I set the still hot pan on the metal rack and went back in to grab the bacon and fruit to complete our breakfast. When I came back, Alex had our breakfasts served and was finishing pouring drinks. I took my seat beside him, propping my feet up on the edge of the chair and balancing a small plate on my armrest as I looked out over the island.
Lush patches of greenery softened the bare, white stone and the rolling hills. The left side of the island down to the southern tip had relatively sheer cliffsides, while the right tapered down to the beach and into the Aegean Sea. Small trees dotted the landscape, curving wildly in different directions. The colours here were so vibrant and natural; dozens of varying shades of blues, greens, oranges, and tiny pops from the flowers. I can’t believe I live here. I can’t believe I ownthis. I could still feel the heavy black fountain pen in my hand as I signed the ownership to our little slice of paradise.
“You were right,” I told him, pausing to eat a grape. “Greece is more beautiful than the Bahamas.”
He chuckled and dug into a piece of grapefruit. “I have been to many beautiful places all over the world, but I don’t think I have loved anywhere as much as I love my island.”
“How did you get the island? Did you buy it after you got into real estate or was it passed down?”
“Passed down; my father owned this spot and shared it with his brother. When my uncle died, my parents tore down his old house and built the greenhouse in his memory, when my father died, I tore down our house and built this one.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Can I ask what happened with your mom?”
“She lives with Daphne, she didn’t get along with Marie and decided to move in with my sister instead of living here with me.”
There was a hollowness in his voice that made me turn to him, watching while he picked more at his meal. “I’m sorry,” I told him again, softer this time.
He shrugged and forced a not too believable smile. “It’s alright, she’s with family at least.”
Alex’s family was complicated with a capital C, but I was ecstatic to be apart of it either way. I craned my neck to look back at the house in awe; I knew he had wanted to be an architect and worked extensively as a contractor, but the fact that he built this house was amazing.
Turning back in my seat, I finish off my slice of the flatbread. Mama would be impressed, I reason to myself, she’ll love seeing how much I still remember.
“How did you do all this?” Alex asked suddenly, gesturing to the food as he chewed.
“Cook?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, manufacture tables,” he replied dryly. “Yes, cook. You did it a few times for me before, in the Bahamas I remember, to me it’s unexpected.”
I shrugged and sipped my drink. “I have a very traditional mother who refused to order in. I don’t think we ever ate at any restaurants.”
“Never? Not even for special occasions?”
“No, special occasions meant more cooking because then she’d want to teach me how to make something new.” I had friends that weren’t even allowed to touch the oven at sixteen, but my mama trusted me to be able to have dinner started for me and Dimitris before she and dad got home.
Alex cocked his head to the side and watched me for a moment, my face heated but I didn’t look away. “That didn’t bother you?”
I frowned in confusion. Why would it bother me? “No, why?”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, still watching me intently. “You have always been so… liberated, I think that’s the word. Like free, maybe.”
“Feminist?” I offered with a smirk.
His eyes widened slightly with understanding. “Yes!”
“I can be both, a feminist and good at cooking.” I scooted my chair closer to his and tapped my cheek expectantly, Alex laughed and kissed me before running his nose up my cheek. “I’m allowed to be more than one thing,” I murmured.
“I never said you weren’t,” he whispered. Without another word he turned me to kiss him properly.
His lips were soft but his kiss was demanding, my fingers quickly knotted in his hair and my empty plate clattered to the floor. I could feel his hand skimming down my side until he found the hem of my shirt and pushed it up, sliding back up my torso towards my breasts. I pulled back from him, only for his other hand to twist in my hair, holding me in place.
Pushing myself out of the chair, I climbed onto his; propping my legs up over the armrests so that I can sit directly on his lap. I got out of bed quickly this morning, ladenia takes two hours to prepare and so we hadn’t had our morning escapades. But parts of me were nervous that once Mama got here she would purposely try and keep us apart or drive a wedge between us.
“You’re hard,” I purred against his throat.
“You left me alone this morning, I couldn’t take care of that in the shower with you like I planned,” he replied, his voice thick and husky.
I giggled and started to grind against him while his mouth found mine. Was I ever going to get tired of this? No, not in a million years. Peter was never affectionate, his sex drive was never that high, and I always longed for that little extra bit of attention that never seemed to concern him. I adored the touching, the hand holding, the gooeyness of it, and I loved that Alex either instinctively knew how to give that to me or he wanted it just as badly.
“I don’t want our food to get cold,” he said after a minute, pulling away from me and completely ignoring my pout. “You are incredibly cute, but I had to watch you make this amazing banquet, and now I want to eat it before dessert.”
“Tomorrow when you want to know where breakfast is I’ll just spread my legs,” I complained with a huff. “Or sit on your face, we’ll see how I’m feeling.”
“Now that sounds like heaven.” He leaned back and rocked my hips against his, rubbing my sex against his cock.
He reached past me and grabbed two small bowls from the table; one filled with sliced fruit and the other with honey. Carefully, he took a slice of clementine and dipped it before bringing it to my mouth.
“Open,” he instructed.
As if I needed to be told. I rolled my eyes but took the fruit from him gladly. The flavours were rich and almost too sweet, but I quickly discovered what fruits it tasted lovely on; the raspberries and the strawberries. He dipped another slice of strawberry and brought it to my lips, I opened and happily took the fruit from him, as I did noticing the bead of honey that rolled down his finger.
I grabbed his hand before he could get another piece and licked up the length of his finger slowly, savouring it. Closing my lips around his digit, I sucked him into my mouth and held his gaze. Alex’s eyes heated and he pushed deeper into my mouth before adding a second finger. I moaned softly around him, wishing he would just push me to my knees instead.
“You like sucking on my fingers?” he asked, twisting his fist in my hair.
I opened my mouth and let him pull out, watching a thin string of my saliva join my lip to his fingers. “I like sucking your cock too,” I answered, meeting his gaze confidently.
He smirked and reached between us, pulling the waist band of my shorts enough that he could get his wet fingers pressed against my slit. Oh. I lift my hips as much as I can in this awkward position, giving him better access to me. Sitting up a bit, I wrapped my arms around his neck and ride his hand, his digits pressing wonderfully against my g-spot and his thumb on my clit.
“You like it out here where we can get caught,” he teased, grabbing my ass. “I remember you screaming on the beach for me to fuck you harder.”
I close my eyes and shudder, a small orgasm washing through me. With the sun beating down on us, the feeling of his cock against my inner thigh, his stumble on my throat, and his other hand grabbing my ass – I felt overwhelmed. I clung to him and focused on the sparks dancing across my skin where our bare skin touched.
“Daddy,” I whispered, suddenly feeling like I needed more – all of him. “I need you, not your fingers – I need your cock.”
He groaned and slipped his hand out from under me. It took some adjusting to get situated but the wide leg on my shorts was enough for him to slip past. We couldn’t fuck so much as rut against each other and I was more than happy with that; mewling and gasping at the way he filled me so completely and couldn’t pull out. Grinding against him meant that my clit was constantly being rubbed soon my eyes were rolling back and my nails digging into his back.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned out. “Your pussy grips my cock so well, baby girl.”
I raked my fingers through his hair and arched my back, rubbing my hard nipples against him through my shirt. “I’m gonna come,” I gasped. “Fuck me, Daddy!”
His hands dug into my hips and he rocked us together faster, I could hear his breathing quicken and the sudden way he cursed under his breath before thrusting up into me as hard as he could. I moaned and my toes curled as I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my orgasm overtake me with a shudder.
Alex panted and I sagged against his chest, feeling under his shirt at his abs just to touch him, to feel him. I liked these types of mornings; ones where we just fucked and relaxed. Like every other day together. I smirked to myself and rubbed my cheek against his soft t-shirt, I didn’t care if this was all we were doing together, I wanted to do this for as long as we could.
“I think I’ll write a book one day,” he told me suddenly. “I’ll title it ‘How to Turn a Virgin into a Slut’.”
I laughed and glanced up at him sleepily. “Admit it; you like knowing you were my first.”
“I do,” he answered, petting my hair. “I love knowing that you trusted me that much, but there’s also something special about knowing that I was your first and hopefully last.”
“Until we get bored of each other in ten years and become swingers.”
“Never,” he declared. “I don’t do sharing, I like people being jealous, but they can’t touch. When I’m really old then I’ll let you start sleeping around, but only with other women.”
I laughed again and shook my head. A few minutes later, while we were picking more at the food, Alex’s phone started buzzing. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket and narrowed his eyes at the screen, holding the phone at arm’s length.
He answered the phone with a curt ya, I watched him with growing fascination as he went back and forth with someone and looking more confused with every word. He pulled away and hit the end call button.
“Your mama is on the ferry and they’re about here now,” he informed me chipperly.
“What?” I jumped up from the seat, stumbling when I caught my foot on the armrest. “Who called?”
“The ferryman, he calls me whenever someone new comes over.”
Weird. “He doesn’t just stop them until you give the okay?”
“No, it doesn’t happen that often and the grounds are open if people want to sight-see.”
“Kind of creepy, but I’m not going to dwell on that right now,” I said distractedly. “I’m gonna go meet her.”
“Wait,” he called, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down. I yelped in surprised and giggled when he gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Go, I’ll clean up.”
I patted his shoulder and ran back into the house, bolting for the front door and only pausing to pull on my sandals. I couldn’t believe she was early. As I jogged down to the pier, I could see the boat off in the distance. Please let this go better, please just let her like him even just a little.