Break

I remember watching videos of dance performances at their age and wishing I could join in the fun, but things were so rough at home, there was no room for dancing in my life at that time.

I look over at my mom, who’s got one hand over her heart, tears streaming down her face. She’s clutching Taye’s other hand. Natayla is teary-eyed, too, but pride radiates from her face. It’s been so healing for her to be a mother, to give our children the unconditional love she so desperately needed as a child. It’s as if, through mothering our girls, she’s closed her own wound.

Natayla talks to her dad from time to time and calls Shareen every other Sunday, but we’ve kept Katerina from the girls—she’s never met them—she’s too toxic.

Our son will be here in less than a month. If he wants to dance, fine. If he plays football, more power to him. I just hope he likes pizza and dim sum and that he follows his heart until he’s happy—just like I did.

Bonus Anniversary Epilogue

Dashiell

Our tropical island getaway was made possible by Shareen and Lizzy agreeing to watch the kids. Our schedules have been so busy that we haven’t had much time away, just the two of us together.

I booked a hotel with cabanas on the water, where you can watch the fish frolic in the turquoise blue water under your feet through the glass floor. Or, if it strikes your fancy, dive off of the dock right outside the glass sliding doors of the breakfast nook.

Watching Natayla swim, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her, is like seeing a mermaid. She’s at home in the warm, quiet water, and when she surfaces for air, she smiles at me. I wear nothing but boxers and an open robe and my cock is already at attention from watching her swim. She wears a white one-piece that goes transparent when wet, and I’m glad for the expensive privacy because the suit would not do in a public pool.

“Are you coming in?” she asks me before diving under again.

“I’ll swim after we eat,” I tell her when she surfaces.

Then she’s gone again, a subtle ripple in the expansive aquamarine as she glides through the shallow water. A few seconds later, she climbs the short ladder onto the dock. Her blonde hair is slicked back, her eyes a stunning azure, her ruby lips wet as she licks them. Her smile is pure sunshine.

“What’s on the menu?” she asks me.

“You,” I tell her. I admire her lithe and strong body as she gracefully steps onto our dock.

Water streaks down her form in rivulets that sparkle in the morning sunlight. She grabs a fluffy towel and dries no more than her face. Instead of taking the reclined chaise next to me, she plops herself in my lap, cool and salty from her dip in the ocean.

“I also ordered sticky mango rice, a ton of native fruits, and coffee,” I tell her. I run my hand down her thigh and push the water droplets down her sculpted leg. I can’t even think about food because I can’t keep my mind or my hands off this woman. This woman who happens to be my wife, a world-renowned ballerina, and the sexiest human alive.

“On a scale of one to ten, how sore are you from last night?” I ask her. As dancers, we talk a lot about soreness, but I’m referring to a slightly different kind.

“A ten,” Natayla says. Then she sits up, swivels in the seat, drawing her legs to both sides of me, and straddles my waist. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go again,” she says matter-of-factly.

I cock an eyebrow and gently lower the strap of her suit until the bud of her nipple and the swell of her perfect small breast is exposed. I soon follow with the other. Taye leans forward and feeds her breasts to me, cupping them into my mouth as I tongue, teethe, and suck until she’s tipping her head back and rubbing herself into my cock.

Reaching over to the table, I grab a banana leaf and slowly unwrap the delicacy inside. I feed a handful of mango and sticky rice to Taye with my fingers and she closes her eyes to savor the flavor. It’s almost too much for me to watch her eat, to worship her food, and I need to be inside her. In her mouth, her pussy, her tight little ass. The way she enjoys nourishment will always be my greatest turn-on.

“Natayla, come inside. I brought something I want you to wear,” I tell her.

She’s likely expecting jewelry or a tropical dress, and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees the silver butt-plug with the diamond adornment. She blushes the tiniest bit and it makes me want to eat her alive.