| BOOK ONE OF THE VENANDI SAGA | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE |
Teeth scrape over skin as he nips at my earlobe, "I told you..." Threading his fingers through the strands at my nape, he rolls my head to the side and his lips continue their exploration, "...
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Shrouded in a dense fog of cherry steam, high-end terry cloth blankets us in refined comfort. Plush toweling shields our naked bodies from the arctic breeze manufactured by central air conditioning. Damp porcelain steeped in vanilla shampoo shivers in my arms, compelling me to cuddle Eden close as a secondary burst of soapy cleanliness scrambles the eighties wiring in my brain. Fruity pellets canter down her flushed neckline, tempting my tongue to lick away the tangy rivulets... Which, it does, earning another sweet-scented shiver and another grateful gulp of saccharine vapor.
Gradually, we traverse heated tile, sloshing puddles of suds left and right - casualties of our Jacuzzi sexcapades. Rosy curves brush against me with each unhurried shamble. Goddamn, if I'm not swelling, again, but this insatiable need to fill her - to be a part of her - has embroidered itself into the fibers of my being, bonded to the platelets in my blood. Its persistent current is further amplified by repeated bouts of euphoria whenever she refers to me as her 'king', 'fiancee', or some combination of the pair.
...and soon, 'Husband.'
Admittedly, the whole king situation hasn't totally sunk in, though, I suspect it'll eventually lose its luster; the newness will wear off and I'll become accustomed to the title and the dog and pony show that goes with it. 'Just a day in the life' as they say, but I'll never tire of hearing that dulcet inflection murmur, "I love you."
...as if anything else were unfathomable.
"Mmmm..." More tangy droplets. "Love you, too." More enticing shivers and finally we emerge from the billowing cocoon to our palatial suite. "Ready for more?" I tease, "...or is my queen too tired?"
"I dunno, old man." Burbling with one of her infectious melodies, she whirls to face me,"You sure you can keep up?"
"Wouldn't matter either way," I remind, "You signed a contract, my love. S'too late to trade me in for a younger model." Backing her to the mattress, I warble in a sharp, sing-song treble, "Not that I'd let you."
"A blank contract," she counters, "One my father would torch should I require it," and clambers onto the cushy king-sized platform.
"Not so blank. There's that bit about spanking you."
'Mmm." Chocolate tresses teeter in deliberation. Their dwindling run-off travels the contour of her architecture like a liquid blueprint to my own private temple. Reclining so her blushed planes are sprawled on display, she flippantly apprises, "Which is why I've decided to keep you. Well, that... and it'd be too much work to find someone else."
"Doubtful," I grouse, "As much as I detest the notion, you could have anyone you want."
"Perhaps, but I've already broken you in. It'd be a waste of time to start over when you're such a good boy."
