Chapter 11
SUMMER
“We should go for a swim,” he says, standing up and placing his glass on the ground.
He peels off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing all that tanned skin, scars, and ink I’m still trying to memorize.
The sight does unfair things to my pulse.
He catches me staring and smirks. “You coming, or are you just going to keep looking?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I stand. “You wish I’d stare at you all day.”
“Every day,” he replies, voice low and teasing. He kicks off his pants and steps naked into the pool, the water reaching his waist. Then he turns back to me, holding out his hand. “Come on, wife. Don’t make me come get you.”
The word wife shouldn’t sound so good when he says it, but it does.
I slip off my sandals, then my sundress and underwear, and walk to the edge. The water is cool and inviting as I step into it. I take his hand and let him guide me in. The second the water hits my thighs, I shiver, and he laughs softly, pulling me closer until I’m chest-deep with him.
The waterfall’s mist sprays lightly over us as he slides his hands to my waist under the water, thumbs brushing my skin in slow circles.
“Better?” he asks, voice quieter now.
“Much better,” I admit, looking up at him.
The sunlight catches in his eyes, turning them a warm amber gold.
For a moment, we just float there, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body cutting through the cool water.
He leans in and kisses me, soft at first, then deeper, slower, like he’s tasting the champagne on my tongue.
One of his hands slides up my back, pulling me flush against him.
I wrap my arms around his neck without thinking, melting into the kiss as the water laps gently around us.
When we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, water dripping from his hair onto my cheeks.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmurs.
I smile against his lips. “Says the man with scars on his body.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and low. “Fair point.”
We stay like that for a while, floating, kissing, teasing each other with light touches under the water. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like a power game, it just feels … nice.
Dangerously nice.
He pulls me toward the waterfall, the roar growing louder with every step.
The mist turns into heavy spray, then a full deluge as he guides me directly under the strongest part of the cascade.
The cold water slams down on my shoulders and chest like a thousand tiny fists.
I gasp at the shock of it. Kairo turns me so my back is against his front.
Strong arms reach out and open my legs, where he lets the full force of the waterfall crash down directly between my legs.
“Oh, my god …” I choke out.
The pressure is brutal and perfect. The heavy stream beats relentlessly against my clit, cold and unforgiving, while his body heat presses against my back. He shifts me slightly, angling my hips, and the water hits me even more directly.
“Holy fuck, Kairo …”
“Hold onto me,” he murmurs against my ear, voice low and rough.
I grip his forearm with both hands, nails digging in.
His free hand slides between my thighs, and two thick fingers push inside me without warning.
The combination is devastating, the pounding water on my clit and his fingers curling deep inside me, stroking that spot with ruthless precision.
He controls everything. Every tiny shift of my hips changes the angle of the water, and he uses it like a weapon.
He moves me forward an inch, and the pressure on my clit becomes almost too intense.
He pulls me back, and it eases just enough to keep me on the edge, trembling and desperate.
“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing my ear. “The water is fucking you while I’m inside you. I want you to come like this with my fingers buried in your cunt.”
I moan loudly, the sound swallowed by the roar of the water. My legs are shaking so badly I can barely stand. He holds me tighter, fingers thrusting deeper, curling, stroking, while the waterfall never stops its merciless assault on my swollen clit.
“Kairo … I’m gonna …”
“Come,” he commands, voice dark. “Right here, let the water make you fall apart for me.”
The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. I cry out, my body convulsing as pleasure rips through me so hard my vision whites out.
My pussy clamps down around his fingers while the waterfall continues beating against my clit, dragging the orgasm out longer and harder until I’m shaking uncontrollably in his arms. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until I’m a whimpering, oversensitive mess, twitching with aftershocks.
Only then does he pull them out, turn me around, and crush his mouth to mine under the pounding water, kissing me like he wants to devour every sound I just made.
He doesn’t let me recover. Still shaking from my orgasm, he drags me back toward the smooth, sun-warmed rocks at the edge of the pool.
He lays me out like a feast, my back arching against the warm stone while the waterfall continues to mist over us.
Without a word, he reaches for the champagne bottle, the glass icy and dripping condensation.
He tilts it slowly.
The freezing liquid pours directly over my chest in a sparkling cascade.
I gasp sharply at the shock as the icy champagne falls over my overheated skin.
My nipples harden instantly into tight, aching peaks as the cold bubbles run in rivulets between my breasts and down my stomach, pooling in my navel before spilling lower, mixing with my own wetness.
Kairo’s mouth follows the trail like a man possessed.
His tongue drags slowly through the fizz on my collarbone, then lower, licking a hot, wet path between my breasts.
He circles one nipple with the flat of his tongue, sucking the cold champagne and my sensitive peak into his mouth with a deep, hungry groan.
He does the same to the other, sucking harder, teeth grazing just enough to make me moan and arch into him.
He keeps going, licking every drop from my skin, slow, indulgent strokes down my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel to chase the sweet pool there.
Then lower … he drops to his knees in the shallow water between my spread thighs.
The waterfall sprays across his back as he buries his face between my legs.
His tongue is filthy and perfect, lapping at the mix of cold champagne and my slick arousal, sucking gently on my swollen clit before thrusting deep inside me.
“Fuck, Summer.” He groans against my pussy, voice thick and rough. “You taste so fucking good like this … champagne and sweet, wet cunt. Nothing better in the world.”
He devours me slowly, sensually, long, decadent licks mixed with the cold fizz still dripping down my body, the warm waterfall misting over us both.
Every stroke of his tongue is deliberate, savoring, like he’s drinking me down.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, humming with pleasure, the vibration making my thighs tremble around his head.
I thread my fingers through his wet hair, hips rolling shamelessly against his mouth as another orgasm starts building fast and deep.
He looks up at me through the spray, eyes dark and burning with lust, lips glistening.
“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “I want to taste you coming all over my tongue while the champagne is still on your skin.”
His mouth returns to me with renewed hunger.
He sucks my clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and relentlessly while two fingers push deep inside me, curling against that spot that makes my vision blur.
The cold champagne still drips down my body, mixing with the warm mist of the waterfall, creating the most obscene, slippery mess between my thighs.
I can’t hold back.
My orgasm crashes into me hard and sudden.
I cry out, thighs clamping around his head as I come on his tongue, hips grinding shamelessly against his face.
He groans loudly into my pussy, licking and sucking every drop like he’s starving for me, drawing out the pleasure until I’m shaking and whimpering, oversensitive and breathless.
Only when I’m a trembling mess does he finally pull back.
His lips and chin are glistening with champagne and my arousal.
He looks up at me like a man half-drunk on the taste of us.
He rises slowly, water streaming down his powerful body, cock hard and heavy between his legs.
Without a word, he pulls me up and turns me around, bending me over the smooth, sun-warmed rock at the edge of the pool.
He kicks my legs wider apart and pushes inside me in one deep, possessive thrust.
I moan loudly, the sound echoing with the roar of the waterfall.
He fucks me like that, slow and deep at first, then harder, one hand fisted in my wet hair, the other gripping my hip as he drives into me.
The angle is perfect, every thrust hitting deep, the cool water still spraying across my back while his body burns against me.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans, voice rough. “So wet and tight … still dripping with champagne.”
He reaches around and circles my clit again, pushing me toward another peak while he fucks me harder, the slap of wet skin mixing with the roar of the waterfall.
“Come for me again,” he demands, teeth grazing my shoulder. “Let me feel this pussy milk my cock while I fill you up.”
I shatter again, crying out as my orgasm rips through me. He follows right after with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me with thick, hot pulses of cum.
He stays inside me for a long time afterward, arms wrapped around my waist, lips pressing soft, lazy kisses along my shoulder and neck while the waterfall continues to rain down on us.
“Mine,” he whispers against my damp skin, almost too quiet to hear.
And this time … I don’t argue.
We lie on the blanket afterward, still damp from the waterfall, the sun warming our skin as it filters through the trees.
Kairo’s head rests on my stomach, one of his arms draped lazily across my waist. I’m playing with his damp hair, twisting the dark strands between my fingers.
It feels strangely normal, dangerously comfortable. After a long, quiet moment, I speak.
“Did you ever want this?” I ask softly.
“Want what?” he asks.
“Marriage. A wife. All of it.”
He’s quiet for a beat, his fingers tracing slow circles on my hip.
“I never wanted the version most people have,” he says eventually. “Big wedding, fake smiles, a woman who’d smile at me in public and hate me in private. I saw enough of that growing up.” He tilts his head slightly to look up at me. “But you … I wanted you. Not just as a wife but as mine.”
I swallow, my fingers stilling in his hair.
“That’s a very Kairo answer,” I murmur.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm against my skin. “What about you? Did you ever picture yourself married?”
I stare up at the canopy above us. “I used to when I was younger. A normal wedding with someone who actually chose me. Not … this.”
He’s quiet again. Then, asks softly, “Do you really hate being married to me?”
Wasn’t expecting that question. I think about it, really think, and I give him an honest answer.
“I hate parts of it,” I admit. “The way it started. The way you … took me. But right now? Lying here with you? I don’t hate this moment.”
He turns his head and presses a slow kiss just below my navel.
“Good,” he whispers. “Because I’m not letting you go, not ever.”
I huff a small laugh. “Possessive much?”
“Extremely.” He smiles against my skin. “What’s your favorite color?”
I blink at the sudden change. “What?”
“Favorite color,” he repeats, lazy and curious.
“I thought from all your stalking, you would have known that,” I tease.
He smirks. “I know a lot about you, but not that.”
I smile despite myself. “Deep green, like the forest after it rains. Yours?”
“Red,” he says without hesitation. “The color your cheeks turn when you’re trying not to moan my name.”
I laugh and lightly smack his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
He catches my hand and kisses my palm. “What about kids?” he asks, quieter now. “Do you want them?”
I go still. The question feels heavier than the others, especially with the fact that he feels determined to knock me up.
“I … used to think I did,” I say honestly. “But after everything with my father, after being sold like I was just an asset … I don’t know anymore.”
He’s silent for a long moment, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
“I never wanted them before,” he admits. “Never saw the point. But with you …” He exhales slowly. “The idea of you carrying my child doesn’t scare me. It feels … right. Like the only thing in this world that would make sense.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “That’s a terrifying answer,” I whisper.
“I know.” He lifts his head to look at me, eyes soft but intense. “But I’m not going to lie to you, Summer. Not about this.”
I run my fingers through his hair again, quieter now.
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I murmur. “Being married, for real.”
He turns his head and kisses the inside of my wrist.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “We are.”
We fall quiet again, the sound of the waterfall in the distance mixing with the gentle rustle of the jungle. His head stays on my stomach, my fingers in his hair, and for once it doesn’t feel like a battle.
It feels like the beginning of something else.
Something neither of us fully understands yet.