“Leave it. I’m not done looking at your tits.”
I bolt up, of course grabbing the sheet and covering my tits. Trick smirks, handing me a glass of juice, then yanks the sheet away. My eyes rove across his body, stumbling over a bump of aggravation when they hit his exercise shorts.
“It’s our honeymoon. Why are you up and dressed?” I take a sip of juice.
He bends down, sucking the skin along my neck. “We’re going to yoga, then we’ll come back and I’ll work on getting my wife broken in good.”
I cough on my juice, half of it landing on his chest. He shakes his head while wiping it away with the sheet. Everything that comes out of his mouth is either words of romantic poetry or a dirty sailor beckoning his wench—rarely anything in between.
“Break me in?”
“Yes. But first we should get you limbered up. Come.” He waltzes out of the room like we just finished discussing our grocery list.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Maybe I do need to limber up. Trick woke me in the middle of the night with his head buried between my legs. I was convulsing in under sixty seconds. Then he plunged his steel cock in me and made a relentless sprint to his finish as well. Afterward he pressed a soft kiss to my lips and said one word, “wife,” before spooning me into his body and drifting off to sleep. I question if he was even awake. It felt like he was acting out a dream. Some people sleep walk or raid the refrigerator in their sleep; maybe Trick’s thing is going to be sleep sex—spontaneously waking in the night and pounding his wife. Hmm …
*
Trick waits for me with an extra towel and yoga mat. I fill my water bottle and step out into the cool morning breeze.
“Wife,” he says with his back to me.
“Husband.” I snuggle into his bare back, wrapping my arms around him.
He grabs my water and takes a swig. “Ready?”
I slide around to his front, lifting on my toes to kiss him. He denies me nothing, cupping the back of my head and holding me to his lips for a long kiss. “I’m going to embarrass you.”
He laughs. “Come.”
I follow him down the stairs to the beach where we head north.
“Yoga is not a competitive sport. You do it for yourself without worrying about what other people around you are doing.”
“This coming from the guy who decided to marry me yesterday to make his claim in front of our neighbor. I’m not sure if I should feel wed or marked.”
He glances back at me. “I’m spontaneous.”
“You’re incorrigible. So is there an instructor or does everyone just do their own thing?” I jog to keep up with his long strides. Damn! Why is he always in such a hurry?
“Bridget and Courtney take turns leading the group. Courtney led yesterday so I assume Bridget will lead today.”
“Are you the only guy?”
“Nope. Stuart was there yesterday.”
We make our way around a small inlet and there are about ten people stretching out on their mats in the sand with the rising sun to their backs and the breathtaking expanse of the Pacific in front of them.
“Trick and Darby!” Mallory waves jumping up and down. She’s in danger of a black eye if she doesn’t take it down a notch with her silicon punching bags bouncing all over the place. “Hey, everyone, Trick and Darby got married yesterday.”
We’re greeted with smiles and congratulations as Mallory introduces me to everyone else. The group is basically all perfect bodied twenty-somethings with shameless eyes all over my husband. Then, yes, there is Stuart and his wife Leona, both probably in their fifties. We spread out our mats as Bridget has everyone face east for several Sun Salutations. As we progress through more poses, I watch Trick to make sure I’m doing them right, but I’m not the only one watching him. Everyone else watches him too, with the exception of Stuart. Even his wife sneaks a peek every chance she gets.
Trick seems oblivious to the wandering eyes or maybe he’s in his “go with the flow” mode that Grady taught him. Massive muffins Mallory is going to pull something in her neck if she doesn’t keep her head down during Down Dog. Trick has got to see her staring at his ass. Bridget keeps reminding everyone to breathe with each stroke. Well, I’m seething and everyone else is panting, maybe even drooling a little. Trick and Stuart are the only ones controlling their breath to sync it with their movements.
“Everyone look at Trick.”
I whip my head around, nearly toppling over in the sand, to see Bridget has walked over to Trick.
“See how his shoulders are strong but relaxed, pulled away from his ears.” She rests her hands on his shoulders. “His abs are pulled in…” she slides her fingers down to his abs “… and he’s low in his stance, front knee open and he’s firming his butt.” Her hand starts to move toward his butt. Bitch thinks she’s going to touch my man’s ass!