33. happy ending
happy ending
MARLEY
“You’re adorable when you’re happy,” Othello tells me.
I pop a piece of chocolate into my mouth.
The slight bitterness turns into something so sweet and delicious that my eyes close in pure joy.
Earlier, we’d trailed the grounds of the Golden Coast Farm behind Hugo, the owner of the chocolate farm, and a small group of tourists, weaving through rows of cacao trees.
We learned how cacao is grown, harvested, and transformed into chocolate.
We cracked open colorful cacao pods, sampled the sweet fruit surrounding the beans, and listened as Hugo told us about the farm’s history.
Now we’re back at the lodge, taste testing a variety of handcrafted chocolates made right here on the property.
I’m not going to lie. I have been over the moon since Othello pulled into the property, so I can see why he would think I’m giddy. I’d been looking forward to this tour since before I boarded the plane to Maui.
“Adorable is for babies,” I tell Othello. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Okay, my bad. You’re sexy as fuck when you’re happy.”
I cover my laugh with my hand, accidentally smearing ganache on my chin. Othello reaches over and wipes it away with his thumb. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks the chocolate off.
Something inside me melts.
This man.
I reach for another truffle, one with Hawaiian sea salt sprinkled on top. “Did you try these?” I ask him.
“I did. They were pretty good but not as good as this one.” He plucks a fudge square from the tray and holds it out to me.
I part my lips, waiting for him to place the decadent morsel in my mouth.
His eyes flicker before he places it on my tongue.
I chew it, the smooth chocolate melting into something buttery and sweet. Then there is a crunch.
Macadamia nut.
My eyes flutter closed. “This is so good.”
He pops another piece into his mouth. “I get why you wanted to come here.”
“See!”
“The chocolate is good, the views are nice, and I had no idea how any of this stuff was actually made.”
“All that! Plus, I love chocolate.”
“I love chocolate too.” He says, giving me a lustful stare before kissing my shoulder.
The next hour passes in a blur of laughter, conversation, and Othello feeding me more chocolatey goodness. By the end of the tour, my tote bag is full of purchases I plan to send back to friends and family.
Othello and I are back on the road, top down, 90s R&B blaring from the speakers.
The salty breeze threads itself through my locs while the island unfolds around us.
I don’t even ask questions about where we’re going.
I just melt into the leather seats and enjoy the views.
Trusting that whatever Othello chooses for us next will be a vibe.
I just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at a luxurious spa. And not just any spa. The same spa I’d tried to get an appointment at before arriving in Maui. They’d told me they were booked solid.
“How did you get an appointment here? They told me there weren’t any openings.”
“I have connections,” he smiles.
The moment we step inside, I feel overcome with bliss. The spa is all warm wood, pristine white, and flickering candles. A woman in a cream-colored uniform greets us with chilled towels and cups of herbal tea.
“Welcome, Mr. Kingston. I’m Nalani. We’re delighted you could join us today. Thank you again for your patience, as we finalize the arrangements.”
I look up at Othello, who avoids my gaze and takes a sip of his tea.
“We’ve reserved our ocean-view treatment suites for you this afternoon.”
Another woman appears, greeting us with a warm smile. Nalani beckons me.
“Ms. Jacobs, please follow me. And Mr. Kingston, Pia will take you to your suite.”
I look at Othello, wide-eyed. “We’re not doing couples?”
“I wanted to give you the peace and solo relaxation you came here for.”
Pia smiles, knowingly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Jacobs. Mr. Kingston won’t be too far away.”
I follow Nalani down a hall decorated with candles and tropical foliage. We enter a room that looks nearly identical to everything else. White and wood tones, with pops of green from the plants. A plush massage table dressed in white sheets. There is a white waffle cone robe sitting on the edge.
“You can change into your robe, Ms. Jacobs. Mr. Kingston selected our Maui Restoration package for you.”
My brows lift.
“He picked the treatment?”
“He did.”
Of course he did. The man has apparently planned every detail of this day.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed before we begin,” she tells me. Before I do anything, I stand in the room, gathering my thoughts and considering the fact that this man was able to book a spa package here.
How?
They’d told me they were completely booked.
This spa is known for its privacy as much as its luxury offerings.
The Maui package includes multiple services designed to fill an entire afternoon.
What I originally planned for myself was only $500, which included a deep-tissue massage and their signature facial.
I can only imagine how much Othello spent on this experience.
I finally get undressed, and once I’m down to my Fleur du Mal panties, I slip beneath the crisp sheets and settle onto the treatment table, waiting for Nalani to return.
She starts me off with a hydrafacial treatment that instantly has my skin feeling refreshed.
It’s after the volcanic clay body mask that I sink completely into the experience, surrendering myself to the quiet luxury of it all.
I could have been content with that service alone, but after rinsing off beneath the suite’s waterfall shower, I’m ushered back to the massage table, refreshed with fresh linens.
During my massage, I think about Othello.
Some way, somehow, he’s made himself a fixture in my life.
Taking care of me when I had a headache, making sure I had some normality during my vacation by taking me to the chocolate farm, and spending money on this ridiculously expensive spa.
I suppose I couldn’t forget about the way he’d fucked me into oblivion several times last night.
The memory alone brings a smile to my lips.
“How is the pressure?” Nalani asks, breaking into my thoughts. Her voice is low and soothing. I peek one eye open, catching sight of her through the mirror on the wall, her gentle smile as soothing as her touch.
“The pressure is perfect,” I murmur. She applies more warm oil down the center of my spine, and I feel my body melt into the table.
Her hands glide in long, fluid strokes. With her working her magic, it doesn’t take long before I float into a blissful sleep.
I have no idea how long I’ve been resting until I’m woken up by a much firmer stimulation.
My lashes flutter, heavy from the haze of sleep.
I lift my head to look back into the mirror, but Nalani is nowhere to be found.
Othello.
He stands where Nalani stood moments ago, his chest bare and a towel wrapped around his waist. His strong hands work over my shoulders, every stroke coaxing heat to pool in my stomach. A moan slips past my lips, and my head falls back into the padded face cradle, my eyes closing again.
“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting. Nalani told me I could help with your Island glow finishing oil.”
I giggle softly. “Did she now?”
“She did. I mean, as if you need it. You’re already glowing and look absolutely radiant right now.”
A thrilling feeling creeps in my chest at his words, my pulse stuttering as his hands move smoothly down my spine and then over my hips.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask him.
“After last night, I think I have a pretty good idea of what makes you feel good.”
Now I’m blushing like a smitten little schoolgirl. Othello’s palms skim over my body, slow and sensual. Every sweep of his hands feels like a slow unraveling, pulling me apart one tender stroke at a time. My muscles liquefy beneath his touch.
He motions for me to turn onto my stomach, and I do.
I feel the trickles of coconut-scented oil down my arms, stomach, and thighs, Othello’s hands smoothing it across my skin in slow, deliberate strokes.
The sudden warmth sends goosebumps racing over my body.
Then I feel it. Two of his fingers move slowly inside my pussy.
A low moan tumbles out of me, and I gyrate against his fingers, my breath stuttering in broken whimpers.
Othello’s free hand grips my hip, holding me steady as his pace builds. I buck against his thick digits, heat spiraling higher with every stroke. Othello looks down at me, eyelids low and filled with lust.
“You’re so wet for me,” he says.
“I’m always wet for you…”
I’m trying to keep my moans of pleasure on low. The last thing I want to do is disturb the peace, but I’m sure the staff has already put two and two together. I ride this happy ending out, literally panting and bucking and failing at trying to suppress the cry that is ready to burst out of me.
He holds a finger to his lips as if telling me not to be so loud. I want to look at him like he’s crazy, but my face is twisted into satisfaction.
“Ohhh…”
“Shhhh…”
“I don’t know if I can,” I moan.
He rubs me and fucks me some more with his fingers, two fingers inside of me and one rubbing my moist clit. My eyes roll in the back of my head. The scream I try my hardest to contain belts out of me.
“Ahhhh! My God,” I cry out.
So much for keeping quiet.
“You have to stop,” I beg him. Even though it’s the last thing I want him to do.
Othello talks me through it, not letting up as he continues to finger my G-spot, sending me into complete oblivion. The orgasm hits hard, leaving nothing but shudders and tremors.
“You look so good when you cum for me,” he murmurs, wicked and low.
And he doesn’t. “One more time for me, baby. Yeah, just like that.” I muffle my cries into the balled-up sheet clutched in my fist, riding through my second orgasm until I’m a boneless mess on the table. The aftershock fades, and every breath I take is shaky and uneven.
Othello leans over me, his mouth brushing mine before his tongue traces the curve of my lips, coaxing them open. Then he dives in, kissing me passionately.
This man is dangerous.
His lips hover over mine when he asks, “So, how would you rate your massage today, ma’am?”
I pull him back to me, kissing him desperately before I answer.
“Five stars.”