Epilogue
Dimos
THREE MONTHS LATER
The sun streams down from the bright blue sky, bathing us in its golden beauty as I move within Carley. Three months ago, I thought my chances of making love to her again were over.
I should have known better.
Nothing can keep me from her. Not a vengeful ex-wife. Not a certifiable nutcase. Not even a severe, life-threatening stab wound that punctured my lung and caused me to bleed out until I was moments from death.
There isn’t anything the universe can throw at us that could keep us apart.
“Théa.” As passion contorts her face, I cup her cheek in the palm of my hand. “I ómorfi gynaíka mou.” My beautiful wife.
Carley and I set out on our private adventure as soon as the doctor cleared me to travel. We only had one destination in mind.
Mykonos.
The two of us were wed at the end of the pier where we shared our first meal together, in a ceremony where the only witness was Stavros, from the registration desk.
Captain Percival officiated. When it was over, we spent two equally mind-blowing and breathtaking nights in the same bed we shared together five months ago.
We plan to have a reception when we return to New York—if we return—but we didn’t want to have to focus on anyone but us for right now. I’ll never forget the night we decided we were going to get married. It was the best moment of my life right up until the second we said, “I do.”
I stare down at Carley, who is resting her chin on my chest, tracing my tattoo with her finger.
“What does this say? I’ve never asked, but I’ve always been curious.”
I put my hand over my heart and point to each word, slowly, as I translate it for her.
“Agapi means love. Písti means faith. Oikogéneia means family. And the compass is not just because I love to sail, but because these are the three things in my life that guide me. The only three things I trust.”
She smiles up at me.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Eisai omorfos, théa. You are beautiful.”
“I don’t ever want to leave this spot, D. Your arms. Your bed. Your life.”
“So don’t,” I tell her.
As my eyes burrow into hers, I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it.
“Theleis na gineis diki mu gia pada? Will you be mine, forever Carley?”
I’ve seen her smile big before, but none could compete with the one on her face at this moment. As tears shine in her eyes, she speaks.
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“I can get down on one knee, but you just told me you never want to leave my arms. And besides, I can’t officially ask without a ring anyway.”
She hops up into a kneeling position and throws her arms around my neck. It hurts near my incision, but nothing could keep me from letting her hold me tight right now.
“Yes! Yes, of course, I will marry you and be yours forever. S’ agapo, Dimos.”
And I love her. With every fiber of my being.
“O ómorfos syzygos mou.” My handsome husband, she responds.
I’ve been teaching her a little Greek along the way.
I push and pull, in and out of her, leading both of us closer to the pleasure we seek. With a final thrust, we dive off the cliff together, and I swallow her delicious moan as I come inside of her.
We’re in the middle of the Indian Ocean, headed toward the private villa I rented in the Maldives for a week.
We have to stay mostly clothed while we’re on board The Cerulean because of the captain and crew members.
Although, with just one word from me, they’ll busy themselves on the opposite side of the yacht whenever the desire to devour my wife hits.
Which is quite often.
But we’re not planning on taking very many articles of clothing with us to the villa. I told her I’m reinstating the naked weekend rules that I created what feels like 5 years ago, but it will extend for the entire week-long duration we’re on the island.
She doesn’t mind, though. I saw her eyes as I told her I wanted her primed and accessible to me whenever and wherever the mood should strike.
To which she dropped to her knees and wrapped her pouty lips around my cock.
When she was finished, she told me the mood had struck her, and she couldn’t help herself.
I promised her once I would fuck her on every continent, and I wasn’t joking.
The Maldives is the home to continent number three, which is far too close to seven.
I don’t care that it will take months for us to sail between the other four.
I already know the day I fulfil my promise to her will come too soon.
Not to mention the fact that we’ll probably have to make our Antarctica encounter a quickie.
When I’m done, we’ll have to sail back to New York City and face real life once again.
Start another leg of our adventure together.
But no matter where in the world we are—feet firmly planted on solid ground or dancing in the waves of the unpredictable ocean—I’ll be content as long as théa mou is by my side.
Carley.
My goddess. My everything.