Page 64 of Unbound

“Things are gonna be kinda 1950s vanilla in our suite in case they’re watching and because others are listening. Under the blankets, lights off. No one sees your beautiful body but me and you can’t talk your sweet, sexy, dirty talk, babe. But we have to keep fucking or if Kruna’s watching, they’ll get suspicious. This, here, this is a bit of a show, too, in case there are eyes on us. You okay with that?”

“I’m always okay when I’m with you, Master,” I replied, arching my back and tightening my legs, “You could fuck me right in front of them if you wanted to and I’d only see you.”

He slipped his hand underneath me and freed his cock from his trunks and then yanked the gusset of my bikini bottoms sideways so that he could get to me.

“Likeminded. That’s what I have to look like,” he whispered, “So, if I have to do anything or say anything, you know. You know who I really am. Only you, Angel. You and me against them.”

“I know.” I kissed his soft lips and had handfuls of his hair.

“Baby,” he moaned as he moved inside me.

“Oh yeah, baby,” I breathed.

“This make you feel better about bein’ in the water?”

“I could live in the water if I’m here with you,” I whispered. “I wanted this so badly last time we were here.”

“So did I,” he admitted. “I fought those feelings, but it didn’t take long before my resolve melted. I was powerless against you.”

“Thank God for that bottle of vodka and zero self-control,” I whispered against his earlobe, smiled and gripped him tighter with my arms and with my inner walls.

“Thank God,” he agreed and his grip on my hips tightened.

He’d credited the vodka and no control the day after we’d had sex that first time.

That was also his toast when we got married, in front of everyone. He thanked God for the gift of me and said he had to give a bit of credit to a big bottle of vodka and zero self-control.

He finished inside me and I immediately wondered if he’d gotten me pregnant. I might actually be ovulating today. The idea of conceiving a baby here at Kruna had screwed with my head and so I hadn’t said anything to him about it because I didn’t want to think about the possibility we could make a baby here at Kruna.

If I did get pregnant, it wouldn’t matter where but it might be kind of nice if it was here in the water instead of in that building. If I got pregnant this cycle, I’d think of this very moment as the moment of conception. Here, at our beach.

We hung out for a while and then walked back along the beach to our room and got some smirks from Mr. Lucas from the patio. He’d definitely seen what we’d been up to.

We were dressed for dinner and we were meeting in the small partner dining room, the same room we’d sat in the last time we were here for that formal dinner. At the table were Mr. Lucas and Mr. Delgado and there were slaves at their feet.

Neither of the two men owned the slave that was at their feet, but Delgado practically lived here and Mr. Lucas had Kruna assets at home.

It was beyond strange to sit at the table, at eye-level with them. I’d knelt through dozens of meals in this room on my sapphire blue pillow.

“Serve Mrs. Ferrano as well, Mr. Ferrano?” the server asked.

“Yes,” Dare had said. “Always. Please pass that along so I won’t have to keep repeating myself. She’s to be treated by everyone here with the same respect as I am treated.”

“Absolutely.”

No one batted an eye at that, or the impatient way he delivered it.

When the server left, Mr. Delgado muttered, “Only one to treat your wife differently is you, am I right?”

“You know it,” Dare said, putting my napkin across my lap without revealing anything, but his eyes did meet mine for a beat and they flashed with what anyone would’ve thought was lust and promise. I gave him a small coy smile and batted my eyelashes.

Mr. Lucas cleared his throat and snickered, “Getting hot in here or is it just me?” He petted the head of his assigned slave and she obediently stayed in position.

“It’s quite hot in here,” Mr. Chen said, arriving at that moment, taking in the room and the people in it with a sly grin on his face.

We’d gotten through soup, salad, and halfway through our main course of surf and turf (which wasn’t being adequately shared with the slaves, of course). Mr. Chen was talking to Dare like he was an old friend. Dare would seem, to most observers, that he was behaving the same way, but even though we had only been together a few months, I could see that he was pretending. It was all on the surface.

His eyes were stone cold even when he was smiling or laughing at a joke. I’d seen him really smile, really laugh. Thissmiling was very different from that. These people would never get to see that side, the real side, of Dario Ferrano. My Dario.

---