Chapter 39

Sammi

7:01 PM SATURDAY

“Christ, Sammi,” Lock moans as I grind my cunt against the tip of his dick. “You’re the fucking moon, you know that?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Am I, now?”

“Mmm. You are, darl.” Lock shifts his hips beneath me, trying to sink his cock where we both want it to go…but he teased me just a moment too long with that orgasm. And I don’t intend to let him get off that easy…

Even though I know we’ll both get off in the end.

We always do.

“Tell me then, babe.” I roll my hips round and round, swirling his tip around my burning hot entrance and coating him in my cum. “How am I the moon?”

“Well,” Lock says, setting his jaw and trying to work it out for himself. “I’m the ocean, see, and you—something about controlling my waves?”

I grab a fistful of his hair and arch my eyebrow again. Lock only laughs.

“It’s damn hard to be all poetic and shit with you, darl, when you’re teasing my cock like this.”

“Mm,” I moan, sliding his cock between my pussy lips and rubbing my clit up against it. “Best shut up then.”

“Maybe you’d better make me,” he challenges.

And so I do, pressing my lips against his as I take the full length of him. Just like that—all at once.

Then, there aren’t any more words to be spoken between us.

Just sighs.

And animalistic growls.

And so many fucking moans.

If you would have told me twenty-four hours ago that I’d be riding Lachlan Williams’ cock right now while his luxury yacht rocks beneath us, I would have laughed in your fucking face.

But that’s life for you, I guess.

Laughable at worst, and at best…

“Aaah!” I cry out, driving my hips against his a little faster.

The orgasm tears through my body, even harder than the one before. That’s the thing about fucking Lock Williams, I’ve discovered.

Once I get started, I only want more and more and more.

Whether I remember it or not…at the end of the day, I think I was always destined to end up back in his bed—or his boat—or wherever it is that we’re going to end up next.

I’m thinking the high seas, if I’m being perfectly honest.

We’re already out on the water…and in a world full of oceans, I feel like we could do big, glorious things.

Together. Always together.

I keep that in mind for when I finally decide to let Lock cum.

For the time being, though…

“Sammi,” Lock gasps. He slides his hands up my body as my hips force him to say my name.

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you ever—oh, fucking Christ—did you ever get that box I sent?”

I smile. Of course, I smile.

In the heat of everything, I nearly forgot about his little blue box.

“And something like three dozen flowers, besides,” I add, fishing it out of the pocket of my skirt.

“Have you—oh God—have you opened it yet?”

“Mmm. No,” I admit. “Should I?”

I run my thumb across the top of it, weighing it in the palm of my hand as I milk Lock with my cunt. There’s something fucking glorious about teasing him—using his hot, muscled body for my pleasure and with every twitch of my hips, making him want me more and more.

But all my teasing has a price.

Luckily, when it comes to Lock, it’s a price I’m always willing to pay.

He finally thrashes his hips upward, and I lose my balance. There’s a dark grin on his handsome, perfect lips as he wraps his arms around me, lifting me up and pinning me to the side of his bunk with his own hips.

“Open it,” he growls through his teeth.

He thrusts deep into me, finally able to take what he wants. It sends such an intense wave of pleasure through my body that I nearly scream and drop the box entirely.

Instead, I wrap my legs around his waist and take his shoulder between my teeth. My arms encircle his neck, holding on for dear life…

And then finally, I pop the little blue box open and take my first look at the treasure contained within.

It’s a ring.

I always knew it would be a ring. Men don’t send women that they’ve drunkenly married during a wild night in Bangkok a little blue box unless it has a ring inside it—so of course it’s a fucking ring. I was prepared for that.

What I wasn’t prepared for was to fall in love with it so quickly. Literally on sight. It sparkles up at me as Lock drives his hard, thick cock as deep inside me as it will go.

I orgasm again, staring into the glimmering shine of a white opal, book-ended by twin sapphires. My eyes roll back, and my whole body tenses up and—oh god.

I’m in love with this man.

Really, truly in love with him.

And now I’m really, truly his wife.

Eggs never gave me an engagement ring. It never bothered me at the time—I’m not that kind of woman. Knowing me, I would have lost it anyway.

My engagement to Eggs was calculated and rational and reasonable—all the things that the old Sammi Brighton liked about not really being in love.

But it had always lacked heart. Maybe because his heart was always more interested in what was between a Thai ladyboy’s thighs…

And mine was always with Lock. Whether I remembered it or not.

And now, here Lock is, squeezed tight between my thighs.

I slip the ring onto my finger and toss the box aside—then I kiss him.

I kiss him hard.

My husband.

I can hardly believe that this is really my life.

“Beg me for it, wife,” Lock says, moving his lips over to kiss the ring on my finger. “Beg me for my cum now that I’ve made you my bride.”

And I’m not a begging woman…

But for my husband, exceptions can be made.

“Please,” I gasp. I’m amazed at how ragged my voice sounds. Like I’m not just indulging him…

God. I think I actually might mean it.

I might mean it so much, I even go so far as to say it again: “Please, Lock. Give—give me your cum. Fucking—I need it, babe. Please! Cum for me, Lock! Fucking cum for—aaaaaah!”

I can feel him fill me up. Really, truly feel him. Every inch of my body explodes with pleasure. I’m pretty sure we’re literally making the boat rock back and forth with the power of his every thrust.

And his cum—my husband’s cum—it pours into my pussy, load after load, until it’s pouring out of me, between my thighs and onto the floor beneath us.

“I’m going to make you clean that up later,” Lock growls, laughing against my ear.

“Mm. You spent all day cleaning up my messes,” I admit. “Maybe it’s time I clean up one of yours.”

But if we’re a mess together, we’re a glorious fucking mess.

The best kind.

We’re a mess to remember.

And when he kisses me…

I know that this time, I’m never going to forget it.