Throuple In Paradise - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,46
new things. Something different from my normal and obvious choice is very exciting to me. It makes life even more of an adventure.
“Jack, remember when you and Dad would smoke cigars when my parents threw cocktail parties?”
His tone loses its laziness. “I don’t want to talk about your father, Marion.”
“Oh, don’t be dumb. Haven’t you put that behind you yet?”
“That I’m sleeping with his daughter? That he won’t talk to me? That he disowned you?”
Turning my head I ask, “We sleep?”
His frown disappears into a laugh. “You’re a sick and twisted woman, you know that?”
“I just think guilt is a wasted emotion when it comes to love.”
“That’s debatable.”
Sighing, “No, it isn’t,” I return to the view and explain, “I’m talking about the useless kind of guilt you feel only because of what someone else thinks.”
Troy scoffs with his glass to his sexy lips, “Who cares what anyone thinks?”
“Not me.”
“Clearly.”
I lightly kick him with my leg, dress opening in the process and revealing matching red panties. He traces the inside of my thigh and stops there, pulling the fabric back into place, one exposed leg still bent at the knee.
“Answer the question, Jack.”
“Yes, I remember smoking cigars with him.”
“I wanted to smoke those.”
He drinks his whiskey down, voice deeper. “I’d like you to smoke my cigar, too.”
My mouth opens with a shocked grin, making his chuckle expand to another full-on laugh.
Troy points out something I hadn’t noticed yet, “You’ve been laughing a lot since we got here, you know that?”
Jack pours a fresh glass for himself this time, muttering, “Have I?” not one for introspection.
“Four days so far and I think you’ve laughed every one of them.”
“But who’s counting?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I noticed.”
“Well stop.”
I interrupt with the toast, “To laughing!”
Troy clinks my glass but our grumpy boyfriend doesn’t join in, arguing under his breath with eyes hooded, “I laugh all the time.”
“You grunt, and if we’re lucky, you chuckle. I’m talking about out-and-out laughter here. And you just did it twice in under four minutes.”
“I’m glad you’re obsessed with me, Troy. Makes me feel loved.”
Our Viking lies back, resting his half-full glass on his ribcage. “I’m right.” The three of us watch the sky’s silence together, ice from Jack’s glass our only interruption now and again.
We’re not supposed to be out here this late. Everyone’s in their rooms, the restaurant, Kiku, dark.
But so what?
Rules aren’t made for people like us. They’re for people who follow them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MARION
Waking up in bed, half of my body is wrapped over Jack’s with Troy spooning me, his rhythmic breath bear-like as always on the back of my neck. After our day at the beach yesterday we were wiped out from sun and salt water.
My fingers trace their way over Jack’s chiseled pecs, outlining a small section of his tattoo before I glide down perfectly sculpted abs and under the sheet draped over his middle.
A quick glance to our private terrace and my breath hitches at the wide splash of golds over blue in this morning’s sunrise. Nine beautiful days we’ve been here. I never want to leave.
We’ve been snorkeling, parasailing, boating, lounging around and having lots of sex. Jack and Troy left yesterday with a guide for scuba diving. I was too afraid of sharks so I took advantage of the spa with a eucalyptus facial and massage. I ate lunch on my own, which was a nice change, unexpectedly.
Guess I needed some me-time.
And I met a friend, an older woman named Lynn, here for a five year anniversary. She reminded me of my mother, stylish and confident. When I asked where her husband was she pointed to a man much younger than her. I told her, “You go. He’s hot!”
Mmmmmmm…
Jack’s cock is awake.
He isn’t.
The feel of this skin, so warm, smooth and silky over a pulsing erection, wakes my body up, too. His head is taut, the rounded edges fun to trace with the pads of my fingertips until he moans in his sleep.
I pause to look at his closed eyelashes, relaxed facial muscles, high cheekbones, the soft beard that tickles me when we kiss. And when he goes down on me. A slow smile spreads on my lips as I gently take hold of the base of his shaft, length risen well past where my hand ends.
Don’t want to wake him just yet.
I’m enjoying the feel of him. The texture. Caressing what gives me so much physical pleasure.
I can’t believe he’s mine.
Troy moves closer, soft sheets rustling under his weight. His erection is demanding,