He slips his hands down my bare belly, fingers moving under the edge of my bikini bottom. They’re questing but not too urgent—just making their way slowly toward where we both want them to be. Moving a little in the sand, he shifts so he’s under me and I’m straddling him. I can feel his erection through the cloth of his swim trunks, and he starts to thrust his hips under me. I wonder if either of us thought to bring a condom with us, then decide it probably won’t matter much either way, not after what we did at the county clerk’s office.
He answers the question, though, drawing one out of his pocket and holding it up. I give him a twisted sort of smile and take it from his hand.
“I know,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“No. Probably not.” I don’t bother to point out that I made no effort to protest at the time. To be honest, it had been a surprise, but in the long run I don’t mind. I kind of like the idea of having his baby.
But what does he think about that? He’d been the one who’d decided to bareback it, so I have to assume he’s okay with the idea, too.
That’s a thought for later. Or never, since most likely nothing will come of it. I lean over him and kiss him—his mouth, his face, his neck—moving my hips so his cock rubs up and down between my legs. It feels good—not just the sensation but the lack of urgency. It’s languid and easy, and he goes with the flow.
I can hear the waves lapping against the sand, and I match their slow rhythm. It’s a little too slow, to be honest, but I stay at that pace for a long time, just reveling in the way his body feels against mine. In the moonlight I can barely see the outlines of his tattoos against his skin. Stroking his chest, his arms, I can barely feel them here and there, vague lines just under the skin.
Finally I can’t stand it anymore. He seems to have reached the end of his endurance as well, his hands closing tighter on my arms, the movement of his hips more urgent, low, anxious sounds coming from him.
I reach down between us and find him, then push down his trunks. My bikini bottom is so scant it’s no effort at all to move it out of the way. I ease the condom over him, letting my fingers trace the heavy veins in his cock as I roll it into place. He gasps and says my name in a harsh whisper.
“Cain,” I answer, and kiss him as I slide him inside me.
I can feel the water on my toes now, as the tide comes farther in. It caresses my feet as I move on him, bringing him deeper and deeper, until finally we both break apart with a low, shared cry that echoes the sound of the waves.
We lie there for a while, just quiet in each other’s arms. It’s so different from anything else we’ve ever shared, and in those moments I feel as quiet and at peace as I ever have in my life.
I can’t help but hope it’s a sign of a new beginning. For both of us.
#
In the morning we dress quietly, moving around each other like it’s some kind of choreographed dance we’ve done every morning for years. Cain catches me at one point and kisses me, caresses my breasts, but he doesn’t push it. I wonder why, since he always seems to want sex, but then he says, “We’re going out for breakfast.”
We do that, eating crepes and fruit on a patio where we can watch the ocean. The strawberries are sweet and unbelievably juicy, the crepes so light they’re like eating air. After, Cain talks to the concierge, and within an hour there’s a car outside.
“Where are we going?” I ask him. Sightseeing is fine with me, but I can tell he’s got something specific on his mind. He just smirks at me, though, and doesn’t tell me a thing. Typical. I’ll let him get away with it for now.
Eventually we’re in the main part of town, and the car pulls up in front of a jewelry store. I catch my breath, realizing what he’s up to. Hearing it, he gives me a grin.
“Didn’t think I was going to forget, did you?”
“I didn’t think it was important. I mean, we signed the papers.”
“No way is my wife walking around without a wedding ring.”
Well, okay, then. I follow him inside.
We squabble over the rings for a bit. He wants me to wear a big diamond; I want no such thing. A plain gold band is more than enough for me. Finally he tells me to wait in the car.
“Fine,” I tell him. I normally don’t like being ordered around, but when Cain does it I don’t mind nearly as much. “You come out with a big diamond, though, and you’re sleeping in the bathtub tonight.”
He kisses me soundly. “I’d like to see you try to make me.”
It’s a while before he finally comes back out of the store. I sit in the car, enjoying the warmth and the breeze and listening to the radio. When he emerges from the shop’s door, he’s whistling like he’s proud of himself.