The First Vacation
“Are you serious? Charlie, think about what you’re asking here.”
Well, it’s happened. Rowan found the bank statements I’d been desperately trying to hide from him. Not out of fear he’d be upset that I spent our savings but how I spent it.
“Think? I’m done thinking. I want less of that and more of doing. Dammit, Rowan, let’s just … be.”
I promise, while it was selfish, it’s needed, more than I can even express. The last few months have been nothing but doctors’ offices, needles and scans, and trying to figure out what the hell’s going on and where to go from here. We just need a few days—just us—to not.
We’ve done our due diligence. We’ve seen everyone we can see, and then some more on top of that. We can see five more if he wants, but it’s not going to change a fucking thing.
Except what we can change, that is. It’s time to put some pep in our step and live life … while we can.
“I’ll do whatever you want, and you know that. Never been a question. I just want you to really understand.”
“Babe. I’m saying … two weeks. Caribbean. Your wife in a bikini. Sex. Lots of sex. Sexy sex. I understand, I really do. But the question is, do you?”
“Alright. Caribbean it is.”
“Wahoo!” I holler, jumping up and down in place for a few beats. It shouldn’t be this hard to convince your husband to take a vacation with you, but his head’s on straight now. At least, he’s thinking with the right head. Thank the Lord.
Now, the hard part. The part I’ve been dreading, and I can already see the questions burning in his eyes.
“I’m glad you said that.” I walk into the bedroom to pull my suitcase out of the closet. “Since I already bought the tickets, as you know. We gotta pack,” I mumble under my breath.
“You think you’re so smart, huh?” Rowan comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my middle, and kisses the top of my head. “We share the same bank accounts … with the same app on our phones. I knew the moment you placed the ticket order. Who do you think they called to verify the purchase? You can’t start unloading our life savings and expect me not to notice.”
“Oh,” I sigh. Maybe they told him everything? “I guess there’s that.”
I didn’t account for him being three steps ahead, but now that he is, we can get some real planning. Though, he should have told me he knew. I didn’t like lying to him for almost a week. Made me feel terrible. Is he testing me now?
“So … Caribbean? Anywhere specific?”
Okay, the deets are safe. Unless this is another test?
“Honestly, babe, I’m not sure if it’s the Caribbean … I just want to see St. Thomas.”
“Sounds good. When do we leave? Next week?” he asks, pulling out his own luggage, thinking he’s getting a jumpstart … but obviously, I’m gonna have to let the cat out of the bag.
“Tomorrow?”
“Haha, very funny.”
Little does he know I’m dead serious.
“For real. Flight takes off at ten A.M. tomorrow. My mom’s taking care of Pig. All we gotta do is show up and board.”
“Charlie! We have jobs. How do we leave and expect to come back home and still have those jobs?” Rowan’s upset. I figured some frustration at my lack of letting him truly plan, but anger? Raised voices? This isn’t my husband. This wasn’t part of the plan. I was hoping he’d be so consumed with us, alone, sex and beach … but he’s not. He’s worried about real life shit—exactly what I’m dreaming of escaping.
“Baby,” I sigh, walk over to where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his head buried in his hands, and kneel down, urging him to look at me.
“If what the doctors say is true, there won’t be a whole lot of time for things like this. Trust me, I know how hard we’ve worked to live on a budget to save money and have a nest-egg, but baby, that’s not very practical now. I just want to have the time of my life and have it quickly. I wanna do this—a real honeymoon—one we couldn’t afford before while I’m still healthy enough to enjoy it. At work, play the cancer wife card … or let me call and talk to your boss … or just find a new damn job when we get home. But I want this. Need this.”
“And what about your job?”
I stifle a laugh … he’s not getting it. “What are they gonna do, Rowan? Fire me? I’ll give them my job if they can find someone who can make prescription warning labels sound as enticing as I can. Or even better, forget that I gotta hire and train someone before ...”
A bachelor’s in English … and I write about anal leakage. Not the next great American love story or novel of the century my novice, young-adult brain dreamed about, but I get paid to write … so there’s that.
“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” he asks, his eyes softening and melting my heart.
“You sure did, Mr. Thorne,” I say through a smile. Rowan’s a creature of habit, always sticking true to his word, especially the words we spoke to each other on our wedding day.
Since the moment he’s said them, there hasn’t been a single time he’s let me down. And with this—the cancer—he can’t control anything other than my happiness.
If I didn’t have my arms wrapped tightly around his middle, ear pressed against his chest, his heartbeat playing our song, and his scent surrounding me, I’d swear he was fictional because men like this only exist in those romance novels I desperately wanted to write.
When I was little, I prayed for a man like this—much like my own father—who would put the needs of his family above his own, but I’d never let him sacrifice his own dreams. Kinda like that movie Practical Magic, I dreamed up my own perfect man … and he’s all mine, ladies, eat your hearts out.
*****
“How amazing his this?” I ask, completely in awe as we stand together on the balcony watching the waves slowly crash on the beach and the sun starting to creep beneath the horizon. There has never been anything more beautiful than this sight, I’d bet all my money on it.
Then again … I have no money. Blew it all on this vacation!
“Gotta admit, babe. You were right. Even pictures and movies don’t do the Virgin Islands justice. How is the water so blue and even though it’s hot as hell out here, the breeze makes it bearable? I’d probably move here.”
Turning to Rowan, he looks at me, our eyes locked. I slowly slip the thin straps of my sundress down my shoulders, one after the other, until I’m able to let the soft cotton fall and pool at my feet, leaving me only in my bra and underwear.
“Wanna make these islands less virgin?” I cheekily joke.
“Super cheesy. Super sexy. Hell. Fucking. Yes. Get that ass up here.” Rowan opens his arms, and I leap into them and wrap my legs around his middle.
“Whatcha gonna do with me now?” I tease, grinding myself on his growing, impressive erection.
“Thinkin’ if I’m gonna fuck you right here for everyone to see or if I’m taking you to bed and making love to my wife.”
“Seems kinda obvious, handsome.” I pull myself up high enough to whisper in his ear, “Both.”
“God, you’re perfect.” Rowan swiftly unbuttons his shorts, pulls his dick free, and shoves my panties to the side. In one animalistic thrust, he slams into me with brutal force. Thank God the man has my legs because that one action would have put me on my knees.
“Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Releasing Rowan’s shoulders, I yank my bra out of the way and give him full access to my body.
“Made just for me,” he groans, thrust by thrust, claiming me right here on the balcony. At any time, someone could look up to the fourth floor and get a full show, and that’s the last thing I care about.
“Harder,” I beg, doing everything I can to bounce myself on his cock. And like any true gentleman, my wish is his command.
He backs me up to the wall for leverage—the rough surface grating my back, the pain mixing with the pleasure giving me a euphoric release. Everything other than this feeling’s irrelevant. I’ll deal with the scratches and bruises. Right now, I’m staying lost in the moment with my perfect husband.
“You feel so fucking good, Charlie. Your pussy can’t get enough. So damn wet.” Of course, his mouth only makes me more wet. Such a conservative, gentle man everywhere except when he’s inside me, then only the Rowan I see comes through. And I think I like this one so much more.
With Rowan’s palms gripping my legs, fingers digging into my flesh, he carries me into the suite, his hips never ceasing movement, and only do when he drops me on the bed, flips me over and pulls my ass to his crotch only to slam into me with the same intensity as before. I raise up, arching my back, my body hungrily accepting each delicious inch.
“Keep going, baby,” I cry out as the familiar feeling of another orgasm starts to build.
“Didn’t plan on stopping. Now, raise that ass a little more.”
Rowan’s deep, sultry timbre and filthy mouth only push me closer. I do exactly as he asks, my knees aching, but I fight through the discomfort and increase the arch in my back. I wish someone could take a picture because I know my body’s tilted and bent at impossible angles, but nothing’s ever felt better.
Rowan waits until my thrashing from orgasm number three subsides before flipping me yet again. This time, instead of the brutal, forceful fucking, when he crawls between my thighs, his movements are slow and methodical; there’s only one thing on his mind—making love to his wife.
And painstakingly slow, he does. Our bodies tightly pressed together, Rowan’s eyes lock onto mine as he gently strokes my hair, placing soft kisses on my forehead, and at the same time, stroking my spot. A whole other brand of orgasm is increasing intensity at a gradual pace, and I know this’ll be the one to rock me to my core.
“Got one more for me?” Rowan asks, never moving faster or looking away.
“Yeah,” I breathe before I lose the capability. This one’s gonna be a Category 10 Orgasm … I just know it.
“Good.” Rowan’s mouth comes down over my lips, swallowing the moan of the powerful pleasure happening inside my body—nothing like I’ve ever experienced. The feeling explodes everywhere, each nerve ending alive and getting their chance to play in the game. My toes curl to the point of cramps, my legs shake with the intensity of an earthquake, and my ability to breathe is gone. All I can do is ride the waves, and if this is the way I go out, it’s the best way possible.
*****
Lying in bed with the open patio doors letting not only the moonlight spill through but the wind and the sweet, salty scent of the sea. I tried to shower a little earlier, but since my last orgasm used every single muscle in my body, standing wasn’t an option. Rowan drew me a bath to soothe my overused self. And then he joined me. Needless to say, there wasn’t a whole lot of relaxing done then, either.
But now, here, in this oversized bed, wrapped tightly in the arms of the most perfect man in the world, I’m relaxed. Happy. I can’t imagine anything ever feeling so right.
“I’m glad you strong-armed me into this vacation,” Rowan laughs.
“Figured if my days are numbered, I’m gonna spend them as happy as I can,” I respond, and Rowan pulls away from me. “What?”
“No,” he firmly and absolutely states.
“No to what? Me being happy?”
“No. You wanted a perfect honeymoon. Just us and sexy sex. Not dead-soon-wife talk. That’s not allowed here.”
“Rowan, seriously, we have to talk about it sometime. Really talk. And not the kind where you try to WebMD the doctors out of what every scan and test result says. We have to make a plan.”
“Right, Charlie. Sometime. And that’s not tonight. Or anytime we’re here. I’m giving you everything you want, and not talking about that until we’re home is all I want. So can we just enjoy?”
“Okay. No more,” I promise and outstretch my arms, urging him to come to me.
“I swear it, Charlie. I need this vacation and these memories as much as you do.”
“Scout’s Honor. Now, get back over here and show your wife how much you love her.”
“There we go. But roll on your side, my arms are killing me,” he chuckles, drawn back to the here and now. This man’s my perfect.
“Thank God,” I sigh. “If I tried to hold my legs up, even for a second, I bet they’d pop out of socket.”
So we laid my back to his front and made slow, just-as-passionate love. Then fell asleep without cleaning up—fully enjoying our sex-coma.