TRUST BILLIONAIRES to make a simple bonfire on the beach look like a Royal Gala.
Instead of fallen branches surrounding the fire and marshmallows on sticks, there’s a triangular canopy stretched out over the sand. Fairy lights twinkle around the perimeter, illuminating the low tables and luxury loungers below. The bonfire burns in a perfect circle, a safe distance from the wooden, fully equipped pop-up bar and tall stools.
Almost everyone is here already, some chatting by the sea where lazy waves foam at the shore, some relaxing on the loungers, some standing by the bar, drinks in hands, not one paying attention to the bonfire.
Seems it’s only here for decoration.
“Is this how your family always do bonfires?” I ask, glancing down at Addie who’s walking side by side with me across the beach, her bare feet sinking into the sand.
We’re holding hands. Not for the first time, but now we’ve added benefits to our make-believe relationship, holding her hand feels different. It’s nothing exciting for most people, but it sure is for me.
Exciting. Intimate. Fucking amazing.
“More or less,” Addie admits. “Not fun, right?”
“Not really. What’s the point if no one’s toasting marshmallows or drinking beer by the fire?”
The low coffee tables under the canopy bend under the weight of gourmet snacks, fruit, and… damn. There’s even a chocolate fountain.
Addie steps out of our two-person line, dragging me toward the pop-up bar. “I made some arrangements.” She grins, her pace quickening.
Her elbows touch the bar a moment later, and she beams at the waiter, leaning closer like she’s divulging national secrets. “Do you have my order ready?”
“Of course, miss,” the bartender says, fetching a bucket of Coronas on ice, a few long sticks and a pack of giant marshmallows. “Enjoy.”
Addie pulls a few bills from her purse, since the bar’s not part of the yacht, but the bartender shakes his head and points at a laminated card by the till.
Open bar, courtesy of Grant.
Of course. Mr. Show-off had to leave his mark. Whenever I open a tab for family or friends, I don’t shout it from the rooftops so everyone knows who’s paying. I don’t do it to get a thank you. Grant, on the other hand, loves to boast.
“He can’t help himself, can he?” I say, grabbing the beers.
Addie shrugs, hugging the marshmallows. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Be glad he didn’t put his picture up there this time to make sure anybody who doesn’t already know him has no doubt who’s buying their drinks.”
Talk about ostentatious.
Nodding polite hellos in everyone’s direction, we walk past the seating area, heading straight for the bonfire.
“You want one?” Addie asks with a stick in hand, skewering a marshmallow as soon as we sit down.
My first instinct is to take the sharp stick out of her hand, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that, no matter how pure my intentions.
Thankfully, she’s extremely focused on what she’s doing as the flames dance around, mirroring in her pupils.
“Yeah, I’ll have one, too,” I say instead of give me that, baby, I’ll do it.
It takes less than a minute before I hear footsteps from behind. “Ah, marshmallows and beer,” Addie’s father says, plopping down on the sand beside us. “Brings back memories. Mind if I join you?”
Addie passes him a stick. “Do you even know how to toast a marshmallow?”
“Your father knows everything,” Grant says, joining us with more sticks. “I, on the other hand, might need some pointers. I’ve never done this before.” He rubs his chin, sitting carefully down beside Addie. “What do I do?”
Addie rolls her eyes so subtly only I notice. She grabs a marshmallow, handing it over to Grant.
“Watch and learn,” she says, pointing at her father. “It’s not rocket science.”
“He’ll poke his eye out with that,” Benjamin chuckles, coming over with Amara.
Well look at that. Simple marshmallow-toasting is gaining a following.
“I think I’ve got it,” Grant mutters. “So, how about we get to know each other a little better, Colt? I’ve not heard your story yet.” He looks between me and Addie. “Where did you two meet?”
“At a bar I own,” I say, thinking back to the meet-cute story we rehearsed and haven’t needed.
“And how long have you been together?”
“Almost three months.” Addie smiles, leaning closer to me, her head landing on my shoulder. “Feels like three years.”
“Three months?” Grant’s eyes narrow as if he’s piecing together a puzzle. “We were in Europe three months ago, and you never mentioned meeting anyone.”
“Why were you in Europe together?” I cut in, unable to prevent another sharp pang of jealousy.
“We weren’t there together, just in the same place at the same time. It was our mutual friend’s wedding, and…” She moves her eyes to Grant, “…I met Colt the day after I came home.” She takes a small bite of her perfectly toasted marshmallow.
It takes less than ten minutes to empty the bucketful of Coronas. Almost everyone’s come to the bonfire, chugging from bottles and toasting marshmallows, so I get up, heading toward the bar for another round.
I have half a mind to order everyone a bottle of the most expensive drink they have, but no matter how much it costs, it won’t put a dent in Grant’s wallet.
With two buckets of beer, I go back to the happy gathering, stopping a few yards short when I spot Addie and Grant away from the crowd.
His fingers are wrapped around her upper arm, and his body language tells me he’s not happy about something.
“Stop pouting, pumpkin. I said I’m sorry a million times already!” Grant says, his voice growing louder. “He’s a nobody. I know you’re teaching me a lesson or some shit, but enough is enough. Send him home.”
I’m there in seconds, dropping both buckets on the sand. “I recall telling you to keep your hands off her,” I say, my hands balled into fists and itching to go. “You don’t know me very well, but I assure you I won’t have the slightest issue with knocking you out. Let. Her. Go.”
With visible annoyance, he loosens his hold on Addie and then drops his hand completely, spinning to face me. “You obviously don’t deal with many people of quality. Lay one finger on me and I’ll sue you for all you’re worth.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. He’s such a fucking cliché. “Of course you will. Since you can’t throw a decent punch to save your life, it’s your only line of defense.”
If he had some common sense, he’d realize what I’m doing. But he must’ve left his common sense back in England because his holier-than-thou attitude switches on the flip of a dime, the provocation working a treat. He winds his elbow back, then—like a coward—rams his fist into my stomach.
It wasn’t easy letting him land that punch. My instincts wanted me to grab his fist, twist his arm back and make him bite the sand, but that’d defeat the purpose.
Addie gasps, covering her mouth as her father jumps in to pull her away from us. It’s been years since I was in a fight. I used to walk around with black eyes or split lips every weekend back in high school, but fighting gets less and less entertaining as the years go by.
Not tonight, though. Tonight it’s mighty entertaining.
Rolling my sleeves up, I smile at Grant, knowing damn well it’ll work like a red rag to a bull.
“Now it’s self-defense,” I say, and the blow I send his way hits like a lightning bolt.
One.
I don’t spend fifteen hours a week at the gym for nothing.
“Stop!” Addie yells, not at me, but at Grant who’s spitting blood, gearing up to fight back.
Good fucking luck.
He’s a big guy but he lacks experience. It’s clear in the way he holds himself and throws his elbow back that he hasn’t fought much. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s popping his cherry right now.
He ignores Addie, and fully aware of twenty pairs of eyes watching, he sends his fist flying. No technique, so dodging the half-assed punch is child’s play. I step aside, then hammer the side of his face.
Two.
That’s when Addie breaks into a sprint toward the yacht. My first instinct is to follow, but Grant’s getting ready to retaliate again. Stupid prick.
I’m done taking it easy on him. He’s been grating my nerves since he arrived. He should’ve thought twice about laying one finger on Addie.
“Next time I hit you, either your bones will break or your teeth will fall out,” I warn him. “Do not throw another punch.”
He doesn’t listen. The prospect of the humiliation he’ll face from losing spurs him on. He spits blood onto the sand, righting his stance.
When he’s about to jump into action, Henry steps in.
“That’s enough for one day,” he says with his back to me. “Go get yourself sorted, Grant. You’re making a mess.”
He’s not appeased, but Henry’s the only person Grant wants to keep happy.
“Of course. I’m sorry, sir, that was… uncalled for. Beer obviously doesn’t serve me well.”
The only thing missing is him bowing so low his forehead brushes his bloodied shoes.
“And you,” Henry says, turning to me, voice stern but eyes amused. “That’s some lethal weapons you’ve got there.” He smacks my bicep. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“I have six brothers, four older than me. We fought all the time when we were growing up.”
I don’t mention we still sometimes throw the odd punch. It’s been a while, but it happens. The last one was probably Logan clocking Nico when Melody was born.
To be perfectly honest, if he hadn’t, I would’ve. Nico was out of control. He refused to let anyone other than Mia hold the kid, which didn’t sit well with us. We got into a heated argument, but Nico was deaf to all arguments and Logan lost his cool.
It worked. Nico toned down afterward, though he’s still way too overprotective. Melody’s feet barely touched the ground during her first year of life.
“Right,” Henry muses, looking around the silent onlookers. “I think the show’s over.” He motions at everyone to get going before he turns to me. “You should probably check on Addie.”
With a nod, I grab two beers, certain Addie could use one right about now. I expect she’s shaken up, maybe scared, but when I enter our suite, ready to hug her and explain myself, she’s throwing her clothes into a suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
“What does it look like?!” she snaps, tearing dresses off hangers. “We’re leaving. Right now. I’ve had enough!”
My eyebrows knot in the middle. “You need to calm down. You’re not thinking straight.”
Her head whips to me fast and she stops pacing. “Calm down? CALM DOWN?! How the hell am I supposed to do that? You just got in a fight!” She throws her hands up, then slaps them hard against her thighs.
It shouldn’t. I know it fucking shouldn’t, given the circumstances, but the sound of her palms connecting with her bare flesh makes my cock twitch.
“This is not how this trip was supposed to go!” she continues, working herself up more with every word. “I wanted a drama-free week. Is that so much to ask for?!”
I flex my fingers and crack my neck, her attitude rubbing me the wrong way. “Take a deep breath, Audrey.”
She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.
Not even her full name rolling off my tongue grabs her attention. It should. It’s a sign she shouldn’t ignore, but she looks like she didn’t notice I called her Audrey.
Instead of recanting, she fucking scoffs at me, arms akimbo.
That’ll cost her dearly.
“Deep breaths won’t help. God! I’m so angry! I thought if I brought you here, Grant would stay away!”
I try to cut in, but before I get a word out, she’s ranting again, working herself up even more. And over what?
Grant?
He doesn’t deserve a single second of her attention.
“But nooooo,” she wails, pacing again. “He’s here, making our lives miserable! He’s such a bloody knobhead! I… I—” She pauses, running out of steam as she closes her eyes. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”
I hate seeing her like this. Frantic, unstable, and close to tears. She needs a distraction. She needs to calm down and look at the situation with a clear mind.
And I only know one way to clear her mind.
“You trust me?” I ask, rising from the bed.
“Do I trust you?” She spits out the words like they’re something bitter stuck to her tongue.
“Watch your mouth, Audrey. Answer the question.”
She swallows hard, her lips opening and closing like she can’t find the right words. Or maybe she just realized she’s been acting out, and she’s not sure of the consequences.
“Yes, I-I trust you.”
“Good. Down on your knees for me.”
Her eyes go round like silver dollars, a look of utter shock crossing her face. “What?”
Closing the distance between us in two steps, I grab her by the throat. “Did I fucking stutter? On. Your. Knees. Right now.”
Squeezing the column of her throat harder, I limit her air supply and bring her face closer.
I’m not trying to scare or hurt her. That’s the last thing I’d ever do. What I am doing is taking charge.
Her body language is an open book, and right now, the frantic pacing, suitcase-packing, her bitter tone… it all tells me she can’t control her emotions. She doesn’t know how to navigate this torrent of anger.
I do.
Swallowing hard, she obeys, dropping to her knees before me, eye-level with the inseam of my pants.
“Good girl.” I trace the line of her jaw with my knuckles. “Undo my belt.”
She’s silent, submitting without a second thought, but I notice how much she’s shaking as she lifts her hands.
“Eyes here, baby.” I grip her wrists before her fingers brush the buckle, and wait until she looks up “You’re doing okay? Give me a color.”
She swallows hard before lifting her chin higher. “Green.”
“Good. Now get to work. We don’t have all night.”
I don’t have to tell her twice. She unbuckles my belt, slides the zipper down, frees my cock and takes me in her hot, sweet mouth.
The gentle sucking motion sends a pleasant shudder through me. “Fuck,” I grunt, tying her long hair. “You’re so good at this.” So good I don’t have the urge to seize control and fuck her throat at my own pace.
She takes me deeper, her small hand wrapping around the hilt, jerking me off in rhythm with her tongue pirouetting around the head, tasting the precum beading at the tip.
It’s been a long time since a girl got me off using her mouth. Years, to be precise, but three minutes is enough for Addie to have me on edge. She’s eager, and I think she loves that, even though she’s on her knees, she holds the power.
Addie’s effortlessly submissive. She bends to my will, but there’s a spark in her. A need to take the reins sometimes.
Every hastened breath and growl I let out spurs her on. I’m loving every second. I’m dying to spill down her warm throat, but she might not want that.
“That’s enough…” I wrap her locks around my wrist, tugging gently so she’ll let me go before there’s no choice.
She shakes her head, clawing my thighs and sucks me in deeper, her hand working faster.
“Addie,” I coax, nudging her chin, my self-control going to shit. “You want a taste, baby?”
Her eagerness is my only answer, and it’s enough for me to stop fighting the incoming release. My orgasm erupts at the bottom of my spine, sending a rush of heat throughout my body as I fill her sweet mouth.
She doesn’t spit it out like I expect. Not many women enjoy the taste of semen, but Addie swallows, her throat contracting around my cock and milking every drop.
And fuck if that’s not the hottest sight I’ve ever seen.
My thigh muscles cramp, but I ignore the sting as I caress Addie’s cheek, watching her release me with a quiet pop.
“That was beautiful, baby.”
She smiles up at me, then squeals when I lift her off the floor and drop her on the bed, covering her body with mine.
“Feeling better?” I ask, scooting her up until her head lays on the pillows. “I’ll shut you up with my cock every time you yell at me.”
She bites back a smile, playing with the hair at the back of my scalp. “Can I sit on your face every time you yell at me?”
“I’ll never yell at you, but don’t let that stop you. Sit on my face whenever you want.”
My lips are level with her belly, so I leave a kiss there, caressing her ribs with both hands. “We’re not leaving. Not until we dock in Miami.”
“I know,” she sighs, pulling me up until I reach her lips. “I’m sorry I yelled. And I’m sorry Grant hit you.”
“I’m sorry your father interrupted before I knocked that fucker’s teeth out.”
She chuckles, gently whacking my shoulder. “You know… we’ve been here for days but hardly used any of the amenities. Care for an evening swim?”
