“Where’s that?”
“An island near Tahiti.”
So far away? How would anyone pick up the ring? They needed it in three days! “Um, I thought we’d be honeymooning here.”
He shook his head. “The weather’s supposed to turn, but it will be nice in French Polynesia. I plan to buy you everything—even sunny days.”
“Maybe we could leave in a week or two?” Work the con, I told myself.
Oh, who was I kidding? I kept using the con as an excuse to get right where I wanted to be—with Dmitri.
Married. Falling ever deeper under his spell.
He sat on the bed beside me. “Why the delay?”
“I’m having too much fun here.” Not a lie.
Yesterday I’d modeled the clothes and jewels that kept arriving (I called my dressing room “the never-ending story”). He’d rated the looks—until I’d emerged stark naked, with nothing but jewelry all over me, just asking for it.
As he’d fucked me, strands of pearls had bounced over my tits, delighting him.
We’d been having a lot of sex. Kink and non-kink. In the shower. In the pool. In the hot tub. Down by the ocean.
In the six-car garage, on the hood of a Bentley.
Each night we watched our sex tapes from the day before. Yesterday, he’d played the recording of the first time he used a plug on me—while he’d worked a larger one inside me. “You’re going to ride me, facing away, so I can whip your beautiful ass and control the pace.”
Reverse cowgirl? Once he’d stretched out on the bed, naked and hard and glorious, I’d mounted him. Between the video and his husky commands and the fullness, I’d gone into a frenzy, gripping his muscular thighs for leverage and flaunting my jeweled ass as he’d slapped my cheeks. . . .
Dragging myself from the memory, I delicately cleared my throat. “I feel like we’re just discovering this place.” He and I had gone kayaking a few more times—with me paddling like a boss. We’d explored the grounds, hiking the property’s many trails through the hills and the vast forest. “We haven’t even gone riding yet.”
Yesterday he’d taken me to the stables, tucked away on the other side of a hill, to introduce me to our horses that had arrived—so many I couldn’t remember all their names. I was lost for one particular mare with mischievous eyes and a glossy black coat. I’d teasingly asked Dmitri, “Can I take her back to the house?”
“Of course.” My eccentric husband hadn’t been kidding.
“Oh. Um, maybe another time.”
On the way back from the stables, Dmitri and I had taken a different route, a winding coastline path. He’d held my hand. Walking with him like that had felt so natural, as if my hand had only been waiting for his. . . .
Now he leaned over to chuck my chin. “Our home isn’t going anywhere. Perhaps you don’t like the prospect of being so far from your family.”
I didn’t want him to think I was an overly attached wuss, but I didn’t have a better excuse to give him. “Perhaps.” In truth, the idea of heading to another part of the world intimidated me. And what if Dmitri found out I was a con artist while we were there? What if I got abandoned in French-freaking-Polynesia, with no money to get home?
He said, “If you prefer, we could visit them before we leave.”
They would be paranoid and quiet around a gull, and he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sociable. Though a visit would present an opportunity to hand off the ring, I’d risk his uncovering more about us—and someone might get blamed for theft. “Maybe not so soon.” He frowned, so I added, “And I want to see your family again first.”
Dmitri didn’t seem to like that idea. He’d talked about matters that needed resolving with them. Maybe resolution would take some time.
Honestly though, I did want to see them. I’d love to get Natalie and Lucía’s take on BDSM. And find out more about my husband.
Wait . . . What if I was a matter that needed resolving? What if his family thought I wasn’t good enough for him? Or worse, a gold-digger?
He relented. “Then we’ll remain for now.”
“Great!” I managed a believable smile.
He pressed a kiss to my lips. “I’m going to get my work done early.” He religiously spent his hour a day on the computer. “Will you join me?”
I had all week. I would stretch out on the study couch, paying more attention to him than to the new laptop he’d given me. The first day, his heart-melting little frown of concentration had been irresistible to me. I’d crawled under his desk.
He’d hissed in a breath when I’d gone for his fly. “Prosto rai,” he’d groaned as he’d let his legs fall wide. . . .
I longed for a repeat now, but I was too unsettled. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
Once he’d settled into the study, I got dressed, then headed toward the stables. Strolling along the manicured path, I barely saw the surrounding hills, caught up in debating my future.
The more I bonded with Dmitri, the more disloyal I felt to my family and my upbringing. On the other hand, if I assured myself I’d be back among them, returning to my old life, guilt over Dmitri gutted me.
My determination to save my loved ones meant I had to be ready to betray his trust.
I felt like a snare was closing around me.
Grifters loathed snares, unless sprung on a mark.
My trail crested a rise, revealing a plateau of wildflowers and the bright white stable. Most of the horses were out in the four paddocks, whickering at each other and tossing their heads in the sunshine.
“An island near Tahiti.”
So far away? How would anyone pick up the ring? They needed it in three days! “Um, I thought we’d be honeymooning here.”
He shook his head. “The weather’s supposed to turn, but it will be nice in French Polynesia. I plan to buy you everything—even sunny days.”
“Maybe we could leave in a week or two?” Work the con, I told myself.
Oh, who was I kidding? I kept using the con as an excuse to get right where I wanted to be—with Dmitri.
Married. Falling ever deeper under his spell.
He sat on the bed beside me. “Why the delay?”
“I’m having too much fun here.” Not a lie.
Yesterday I’d modeled the clothes and jewels that kept arriving (I called my dressing room “the never-ending story”). He’d rated the looks—until I’d emerged stark naked, with nothing but jewelry all over me, just asking for it.
As he’d fucked me, strands of pearls had bounced over my tits, delighting him.
We’d been having a lot of sex. Kink and non-kink. In the shower. In the pool. In the hot tub. Down by the ocean.
In the six-car garage, on the hood of a Bentley.
Each night we watched our sex tapes from the day before. Yesterday, he’d played the recording of the first time he used a plug on me—while he’d worked a larger one inside me. “You’re going to ride me, facing away, so I can whip your beautiful ass and control the pace.”
Reverse cowgirl? Once he’d stretched out on the bed, naked and hard and glorious, I’d mounted him. Between the video and his husky commands and the fullness, I’d gone into a frenzy, gripping his muscular thighs for leverage and flaunting my jeweled ass as he’d slapped my cheeks. . . .
Dragging myself from the memory, I delicately cleared my throat. “I feel like we’re just discovering this place.” He and I had gone kayaking a few more times—with me paddling like a boss. We’d explored the grounds, hiking the property’s many trails through the hills and the vast forest. “We haven’t even gone riding yet.”
Yesterday he’d taken me to the stables, tucked away on the other side of a hill, to introduce me to our horses that had arrived—so many I couldn’t remember all their names. I was lost for one particular mare with mischievous eyes and a glossy black coat. I’d teasingly asked Dmitri, “Can I take her back to the house?”
“Of course.” My eccentric husband hadn’t been kidding.
“Oh. Um, maybe another time.”
On the way back from the stables, Dmitri and I had taken a different route, a winding coastline path. He’d held my hand. Walking with him like that had felt so natural, as if my hand had only been waiting for his. . . .
Now he leaned over to chuck my chin. “Our home isn’t going anywhere. Perhaps you don’t like the prospect of being so far from your family.”
I didn’t want him to think I was an overly attached wuss, but I didn’t have a better excuse to give him. “Perhaps.” In truth, the idea of heading to another part of the world intimidated me. And what if Dmitri found out I was a con artist while we were there? What if I got abandoned in French-freaking-Polynesia, with no money to get home?
He said, “If you prefer, we could visit them before we leave.”
They would be paranoid and quiet around a gull, and he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sociable. Though a visit would present an opportunity to hand off the ring, I’d risk his uncovering more about us—and someone might get blamed for theft. “Maybe not so soon.” He frowned, so I added, “And I want to see your family again first.”
Dmitri didn’t seem to like that idea. He’d talked about matters that needed resolving with them. Maybe resolution would take some time.
Honestly though, I did want to see them. I’d love to get Natalie and Lucía’s take on BDSM. And find out more about my husband.
Wait . . . What if I was a matter that needed resolving? What if his family thought I wasn’t good enough for him? Or worse, a gold-digger?
He relented. “Then we’ll remain for now.”
“Great!” I managed a believable smile.
He pressed a kiss to my lips. “I’m going to get my work done early.” He religiously spent his hour a day on the computer. “Will you join me?”
I had all week. I would stretch out on the study couch, paying more attention to him than to the new laptop he’d given me. The first day, his heart-melting little frown of concentration had been irresistible to me. I’d crawled under his desk.
He’d hissed in a breath when I’d gone for his fly. “Prosto rai,” he’d groaned as he’d let his legs fall wide. . . .
I longed for a repeat now, but I was too unsettled. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
Once he’d settled into the study, I got dressed, then headed toward the stables. Strolling along the manicured path, I barely saw the surrounding hills, caught up in debating my future.
The more I bonded with Dmitri, the more disloyal I felt to my family and my upbringing. On the other hand, if I assured myself I’d be back among them, returning to my old life, guilt over Dmitri gutted me.
My determination to save my loved ones meant I had to be ready to betray his trust.
I felt like a snare was closing around me.
Grifters loathed snares, unless sprung on a mark.
My trail crested a rise, revealing a plateau of wildflowers and the bright white stable. Most of the horses were out in the four paddocks, whickering at each other and tossing their heads in the sunshine.
