on my cheek, his lips against my ear. “Stay with me, Sarah,” he breathes. “Please.”
A breeze rifles through my hair. I smell salt in the air. I look around.
I’m standing on a white-sand beach. The ocean is the most spectacular shade of turquoise I’ve ever seen. Jonas is bent down on his knee, holding up a ring box.
“There’s never been a love like ours and there never will be again,” he says, his face beaming up at me. “We’re the greatest love story ever told. Our love is so pure and true, it’s the amazement of the gods.” He bites his luscious lower lip and smiles. “Baby, our love is the envy of the gods.”
I kneel down and throw my arms around his neck. “Yes!”
“Yes?”
“Yes, baby, yes!” Tears squirt out my eyes. “Always and forever, yes. No matter whether I’m flesh and bones or ether or ash, I’ll always be yours, Jonas. I’m a member of the Jonas Faraday Club forever and ever.”
He leans back from me, his eyes panicked. “That’s not what you say, Sarah. Goddammit. You don’t say that thing about ether and ash.” His lip trembles. “You just say yes.” He’s obviously holding back tears. “You don’t get to say anything but yes.”
I nod. “I’m sorry, Jonas.” I touch his chest. “Yes.”
He slides the diamond onto my finger and takes my face in his hands. “Never leave me, Sarah.”
“I’m trying.”
I look down. I’m holding a huge plastic cup filled with liquid that looks like lemonade. My wedding band is on my finger, thank God. It freaked me out not seeing it there a minute ago. And my engraved platinum bracelet is on my wrist, too. Phew. All’s right with the world.
Samba music is blaring in my ears. I look to my left and there’s Jonas, swigging from a big cup and shaking his gorgeous ass to the infectious beat of the music, his engraved platinum bracelet on his wrist, as usual. Okay. We’re good.
I look around. Beautiful Brazilian people. Palm trees. Warm, luscious air.
Ah, yes. I remember this place—Rio de Janeiro. Jonas and I are here for Carnivale during my second year of law school and we’re drinking caipirinhas ’til we can’t feel our faces or toes. Hellz yeah, we are. Woot woot! Yay for numb faces and toes!
Jonas wraps me into his arms and gropes my backside with zeal. “Your ass should be very scared,” he whispers into my ear, grinding his hard-on into me. And then he throws his head back and howls like a wolf at the top of his lungs.
I burst out laughing. God, I love Drunk Jonas.
Before coming on this trip, I would have bet the farm no version of Jonas could love my ass more than Drunk Jonas. But here in Brazil, I’ve discovered a whole new iteration of Jonas that gets off on my backside more than I ever thought possible: Carnivale Drunk Jonas. Oh, holy crappola, how Carnivale Drunk Jonas adores my moneymaker. And it’s no wonder—the Carnivale parade Jonas and I witnessed just now was a frickin’ booty-lover’s paradise. Ass porn, you might even say. Holy Butt Cheeks, Batman, that sucker was the holy grail of beautiful bottoms.
Of course, the parade included a helluva lot more than Brazilian ass cheeks—there were spectacular floats, musicians, feathers, sequins, and dancers with plenty of spectacular body parts having absolutely nothing to do with spanking or sitting down. But as exciting and stimulating as all that other stuff was, nothing came even close to giving me a lady-boner like those jaw-dropping Brazilian backsides. And if those gyrating female asses turned me on, holy shitballs, I can only imagine the hard-on they must have induced in my ass-loving husband.
A taxi pulls up right in front of us to let some (extremely attractive) people out and Jonas grabs my arm and yanks me roughly through the wide open door. “Come on, baby,” he says, squeezing my bottom as he guides me into the backseat. “Prelude fucking over.”
The minute we stumble through the door of our rented beachfront bungalow, Carnivale Drunk Jonas literally drags me onto our moonlit deck overlooking the sand, bends me over the railing, yanks my skirt up and my panties down, and bites my ass so hard, I’m rendered momentarily mute from the delicious pain. A second later, his erection plows into my wetness with astonishing force—so hard my knees give way—and I yelp at the sensation. This is not the way Jonas normally does things—this is pure animal force—sloppy, even—and,