Page 108 of Betrothed To Love

“Away. We never took a honeymoon and you deserve one. This is only for the weekend; we can plan another one later, but I have plans. We leave at five.”

“Five? That’s in an hour and I need to pack and change,” she says in a panic.

“I already packed and you can change on the plane.”

“I can only imagine what you packed for me. I’m going to be ass out wherever we go.”

“Nah. Not ass out, just fine and gorgeous. Trust your husband; I got you. Now, let’s go. We have a plane to catch.”

With a smile etched on her pretty face, she places her hand on my chest and asks, “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nah, I’m not. Not until I have you on the plane. Let’s go, Your Honor.”

“Don’t call me that, baby. With you, I’m just kyau.”

We leave the courtroom and head to CFA, the airport. Because I truly want to give her the honeymoon she deserves, I chartered a private flight and BillionAir will be taking us to our final destination. When I pull into the parking for the private hangars, there’s a golf cart with a driver waiting to take us to the plane.

We exit and I grab our bags from my trunk. After she slides into the golf cart, I join her and she grabs my hand. Excitedly, she squeezes my hand for the entire short ride to the plane. As soon as we are on the luxury plane, my kyau straddles me and rests her elbows on my shoulder. While rubbing her hands over my head, she kisses me passionately.

“You want to know where we’re going now?” she asks once our lips part.

“No. At this point, I don’t even care. I just need to know how long the flight is because I want to shower and make love to my husband in that bed the flight attendant just mentioned.”

“That sounds like the perfect flight. We have six hours.”

THIRTY-ONE

By the time we land in Jamaica, my body is thoroughly relaxed and sexed. Our large chartered jet actually had a private, soundproof bedroom with a queen-size bed, vanity area, personal storage, and dedicated climate control. We had complete privacy for the entire flight.

We landed in Montego Bay around ten island time and had an hour and a half ride to Negril. The staff at the Island Key Resort was waiting on our late arrival when our sedan pulled up. We were greeted with warm towels and glasses of rum punch with pineapple slices on the rims before being placed in a buggy to the villa.

My husband arranged all of this behind my back and I have no complaints, not one. For our stay, we are occupying one of the diamond villas, the one-bedroom, ocean view, pool villa. It’s practically a small house. It has a spacious living room, an ample office, a full bedroom with a king size bed and ensuite bathroom, as well as an executive dining room and bath in the common area. Our villa includes a personalized spa experience, personal butler and concierge, and dedicated kitchen and staff for room service.

Because we didn’t have dinner on the plane, my growling stomach wakes me up. While my sexy husband sleeps in, I crawl out of bed and amble into the ensuite bath. It’s a Caribbean dream. An enormous marble bathroom with double vanity sinks, indoor and outdoor showers, a separate toilet and a large bathtub with a flower petal bath as our welcome.

After completing my usual morning hygiene, I explore the villa. We have a beautiful garden terrace and private plunge pool with sunbeds and a Balinese bed, with access to a lovely garden through the bedroom or living room. I use the living room. We left thirty degree weather in Crescent Falls and it’s a perfect eighty-two degrees here ,according to the screen saver on the living room television. The sun on my skin as I stand on the deck of our plunge pool confirms it.

When I ease back into the living room, I find the resort iPad and look up breakfast. To my delight, they offer floating breakfast. Preparation of the basket requires an hour’s notice and includes eggs made to order, fresh pastries, a seasonal fruit platter, bacon and sausage, beef or pork, fried plantain, and mimosas. Since he’s still sleeping and I want to wake him up properly, I schedule ours for eleven.

I walk back into the bedroom and see he’s not in bed. I journey into the bathroom and he’s not there either. So I step to the glass door and see him standing in front of the garden. My morning plans haven’t changed, just the location. I step outside and walk right past him to the Balinese bed. The luxurious, oversized daybed has a four-post frame with an overhead canopy, curtains for privacy, and a plush mattress. I step to it, remove my satin and lace pajama short set, and lean over the bed, poking my ass out.

I hear his low, sexy laugh, then seconds later, he’s behind me. “Kyau, what are you doing?” he asks, still laughing.

“Getting ready,” I coo.

“Ready for what?” he questions, amusement still in his baritone.

“If you step closer, you’ll find out just what I’m ready for.”

I rest my head on my folded hands, turn it to the side, then smile over my shoulder. I also deepen the arch in my back and toot my ass up more. I’m being as clear as I can without words. I want my husband to bless me with his beautiful dick. Thankfully, he reads my body language and steps closer. His warm hands grip my hips and he presses his dick into me.

“I think I figured it out,” he says.

I want him, bad. So I rub my ass across his dick. I can feel it through his pajama pants; he wants me too. Seconds later, my panties are down. I feel him shift and he plants one leg between mine, widening my stance. After rubbing his hands up my stomach to my breasts and cupping them, he grips my hips again then plants a kiss on each of my ass cheeks. Then he raises my right leg onto the bed. His hand moves to my inner thigh before he swipes it over my pussy.

“Shit. You wet as fuck already,” he mumbles. Before I can tell him my wetness is all him and the anticipation of him, he fills me.

“Baaabby. Damn,” I moan in pure pleasure. Every time he enters me, I feel comforted, connected, and desired. The sensation is so incredible I damn near cry. Every inch of him is inside me, stretching and filling me. As he holds my hips, he bottoms out, going deeper, reaching another undiscovered spot. “Shit!” I trill.