34. Honeymoon
Chapter thirty-four
Honeymoon
(Danica)
Paradise tastes like fresh mango and expensive rum, served in a coconut shell adorned with flowers I can't name.
As the sun melts into the horizon, decorating the sky in watercolor strokes of purple and amber, I stretch languidly on my pool lounger, feeling more peaceful than I have in months.
The private villa sprawls behind us, all glass and teak and luxury, but it's the infinity pool that steals the show—the way it seems to pour straight into the Indian Ocean, blues merging until you can't tell where pool ends and ocean begins.
Frangipani blossoms float on the surface, their sweet scent mingling with the salty air.
This is our reward. For finally solving the puzzle.
Well, there is a lot to do but that all can wait. Paperwork takes time. And we deserve a break. Dealing with the ports is clearly more of a marathon than a sprint. But none of that matters, not here.
What matters is that I finally get to experience Bali!
And not cheap, backpacker holiday-style Bali, but lux AF Bali—the kind that comes with private chefs and towels folded like swans.
Beside me, Dante sleeps deeply for the first time in ages. His face is softer in slumber, years younger, the constant weight of being Don Fera temporarily lifted from his shoulders. A light snore escapes him, and my heart swells with tenderness.
This morning, I woke to sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains and the soothing sound of waves breaking outside.
For a moment, I thought I was dreaming—surely this level of luxury only existed in travel magazines and influencer posts.
But no—the marble floors cool under my feet, the private chef preparing breakfast on our terrace, the infinity pool stretching toward forever—it's all ours.
The villa itself is a masterpiece of modern design merged with Balinese tradition. Carved wooden doors tall as giants, floor-to-ceiling windows that disappear into walls, letting the outside in.
Every room opens to either ocean or garden views, though "garden" seems an inadequate word for the lush paradise of orchids and palm trees and flowers I've only seen in pictures.
We have our own stretch of private beach, accessed by stone steps that wind through tropical forest. The local staff appear like magic to attend to our needs, then vanish just as quietly, leaving us in our bubble of perfect solitude.
This is more than a honeymoon. It's a reset. A chance to breathe after months of violence and tension. A moment to just be Danica and Dante, not Donna Fera and her Don. Although...
My eyes drift to the marks on Dante's neck, just visible above his collar—reminders of last night's pleasure. Even in paradise, some dynamics don't change. Some needs don't fade. It was only the appetizer…
But for now, I let him sleep. Let him dream. Let the peace of this place work its magic on us both.
Who would have thought that I would end up here one day? That a damaged suburban nobody would become not just a Queen, but a truly happy one?
The only thing missing was Biscotti, but at least I know he’s in good hands. I saw how attached he’s gotten to his babysitter, aka Dario. Secretly, I think the guard enjoys protecting the dog more than he does protecting the family—it sure is less dangerous.
Dante stirs, and I switch my attention from the departing sun to my husband, taking his hand and kissing each finger individually.
He opens one eye, a sleepy smile on his face. “Hey, you.”
“Hey…” I trail my fingers over his swim shorts, tracing the outline of his resting cock teasingly.
He groans, stretching out. “Are you trying to wake me?”
“Sonja will be up soon, don’t you worry.” I grin as the live animal beneath my fingers slowly squirms itself to life as predicted.
“No doubt. You know Sonja is a slut for you.” He’s fully awake now. Sleepy is not a state Dante can maintain for long, unlike me. Some days, I stay sleepy all day. But I’m just gonna keep blaming my stupid hormones for that.
“Sonja is a slut for everyone,” I reply with a wink as I pull his waistband down to expose his cock in the fading dusk for nobody to see.
The staff have already left and Alessio is only arriving in a few days. For the time being, Dante is all mine.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He shivers as I palm his erection to full hardness in the warm evening air, cocktail in one hand, cock in the other.
There is air-conditioning throughout the entire villa, in every room, but outside here, the humid air is free to stick to my skin.
Since our arrival last night, I’ve been unable to keep actual clothes on my body because of the heat, resolving to live in this yellow bikini for the remainder of our stay.
“You know,” I grin as I put my cocktail down to give my husband my full attention, “I’ve always wanted to give you a blowjob outside.”
Dante swallows loudly, muttering a dramatic “Dio mio,” much to my amusement.
“I take that as a yes?”
Climbing onto his lounger, I part Dante’s thighs to make space for me between them. His whole body stiffens in anticipation.
“Please,” he moans as my lips close over his cock. “Oh god.” His eyes fall shut as I take all of him, swallowing him whole.
“Are you sensitive, my love?” I tease, licking him from tip to base like he’s one of those big red-and-white spiral lollipops.
“So sensitive…” Dante clutches the edge of his seat firmly, trying to steady himself as I wrap my fingers around his erection to add more friction.
“I wonder why, hmm…” I remark as if I am not the one who has edged him senseless for the past few days, denying him any release. He hasn’t been allowed to come since last Tuesday.
“You’re driving me mad. Please let me finish, please.” His voice ventures on whining as my desperate husband shakes and shudders between my lips, dangerously close to the edge within minutes.
“No, baby. Not yet. I want you nice and feral for our guest.”
Before Dante can reach his climax, I pull away, giving his cock a little smack before lying down on top of him, resting my head against his broad chest while his desperate erection squirms between our bodies like an unearthed worm.
Dante lets out an exasperated huff, looking down at his painfully hard cock. “But Alessio is only arriving in four days!”
Reaching down, I trace a long, red nail up his shaft, flicking my forefinger at this tip when I reach the top. Dante gasps. Flinches.
“Oh, I know.” I laugh, knowing it only fuels his need, his despair.
“Such a cruel Mistress. Please!” Dante begs as I lick my lips, smacking them together loudly.
“Wife,” I correct him as my lips find his, kissing him messily, leaving his taste all over his face.
“Such a cruel wife.”
“You don’t want to see cruel.” I grab his balls and tug, only lightly but enough for Dante’s breath to catch in his throat.
“Danica…” he whines like a child denied a turn on the swing. “I beg you.” Anguish clouds Dante’s face as he arches his hips, trying to find some sort of friction for his needy cock, but there is none to be found; there is no space to move.
“You whine like a boy who thinks I change my mind easily.”
Dante sighs heavily. “I get you this whole honeymoon, and you still won’t let me come.”
“Careful darling, you’re close to pouting.” I place a finger on his scowling lips.
“I don’t pout.”
“You also don’t come. Not today. What do you always tell me about being patient?”
“You’re the least patient person I know,” his voice is accusatory as I get up, leaving him a puddle of need on the lounger, his orgasm successfully ruined.
I take a large sip of my water bottle before turning to the pool, diving in, purposefully ignoring Dante’s flushed cheeks, his frustrated huffing and puffing. Let him stew. Torment is a good look on that handsome Italian face.
"Care to join me?” I ask when I surface again.
Dante crosses his arms, but his eyes sparkle. "You know swimming is not my thing."
"Not yet." I slip back into the embrace of the water, letting it wash away old hurts. Here, in this infinity pool at the edge of the world, with a man who loves every inch of me, my blemishes no longer bother me; I no longer want to hide them.
I surface to find Dante watching me with that look that still makes my heart skip—like I'm something rare, valuable, like every curve and scar is exactly as it should be.
"You're beautiful," he says simply, and for the first time in my life, I believe it completely.