My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,67

out of the bag like a magician. “What all do you have in there?” she asks.

“Strawberries and champagne. Cheese and bread. What would you like?” I prepared the platter of food this evening, packaging it up carefully to make the trip. The plastic glasses took less prep and seem cheap, but glass is forbidden on the beach and I didn’t want to risk one breaking. However, with the sweet bubbly in them, they seem perfectly adequate.

Holding one up, Abigail toasts, “To moonlit romantic picnics in paradise.”

“Si. And to beauty personified before me. It is a sight I am fortunate to behold.” We click our cups together and I see the shy smile on Abigail’s lips. She’s not bashful in the slightest, but sometimes, her worries float to the surface and make her seem so. “You are beautiful,” I repeat. I do not want her to ever doubt or question her loveliness for even a moment.

We sip at our champagne, talking of food and flowers, of the past and home, carefully avoiding any discussion of the future. We talk philosophy and point out constellations in the stars that we can’t see at home in the city.

Lying back, our hands connected between us as we stare into the dark abyss above us, I can’t wait any longer. I can barely believe I’ve waited this long to taste her, touch her, feel her beneath me.

“Abigail.” A statement, a question, and a plea in three syllables that she has heard her entire life, but she knows this time is different.

“I’m ready too. Please, Lorenzo. Make love to me.”

Bold and direct, that’s my Abigail. It’s sexy as fuck to think she could be feeling even a portion of what I am for her.

I want Abigail.

For now. For more. Forever.

Forever?

I don’t know what makes me think of a future where we could live this charade out in truth, but it teases along the edges of my mind like the promise of a hazy fog, blurring out other possibilities until there is only Abigail.

I focus on her in the here and now, hair fanned out on the blanket like a dark halo and eyes gleaming in the full moon’s light.

“You look . . . take off your dress,” I tell her gruffly, knowing that right now all my sweet words won’t help. Instead, I take charge, getting to my knees and helping her pull the excess of fabric down once she finds the clasp behind her neck and releases her breasts.

She’s a goddess. I grew up on tales of the old gods, of Jupiter and Apollo, of Diana the Huntress and Minerva the Wise. But of all of them, I have the living embodiment of Venus herself before me, her creamy skin bathed in moonlight.

I unbutton my shorts but don’t push them down just yet, so overwhelmed with desire that I have to kiss her, tender at first, holding myself over her body much the way she did to me today. Our kiss deepens with every second until she reaches up, pulling me on top of her warm body.

The feeling of her nipples brushing against my chest is like little sparks between us, igniting the fire that threatens from the heat of our lips. I kiss down her throat, licking and tasting the salty tang from where the sea’s breeze has claimed her skin.

“Mmm . . . Lorenzo,” Abigail whispers, her words disappearing in a gasping moan when I find a nipple and suck it into my mouth. I flick and wrap my tongue around them with teasing licks, one then the other, as my hands roam her skin, my fingertips exploring every inch.

This isn’t before, when we were faking it for Emily against the door even as our bodies took us to the limit or when we knew we’d have to stop or put on an intimate show the way some of the other yoga couples did.

This is real, the true Abigail and Lorenzo choosing to make love under the moonlight.

Her ass dimples under the grip of my squeezing hands as I kiss my way lower, knowing what I really want.

I pause just below her bellybutton, looking up at her face as she gives me a slight nod, knowing what I want. She’s surrendered to me, and that fuels me even more as I lower my lips to her.

She’s smooth, supple, and wet, ready for my probing tongue. She’s tangy, sweet, and deliciously intoxicating as I swipe a long lick between her lips, lapping voraciously at