A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely thoughts. It's cold here in the northeast, but how about we warm up by sailing through some warm Caribbean waters?

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.

Part 4 – How Deep Do You Want Me to Take You?

BPOV

We spend those first few days in the middle of the ocean, wandering around the boat barely clothed, making love as the instinct overtakes us - above ship or below ship. We stand at the boat's helm with a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the blue, blue ocean around us, and he presses his chest to my back and takes me from behind. He bends me over the port side. I ride him on the aft side.

It's like a sweet yet erotic dream I could've never even conjured in my wildest imaginations. Other than for daily radio communications with the guys on Key West to let them know our position, we have no other social interactions - no Facebook or Twitter or Instagram to distract us. We eat, sleep and make love. It's primal.

And it's perfect.

Edward has set us on a speed of 12 to 15 knots so that we arrive at Cozumel, an island off the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico, five days after leaving Key West. After tying and securing the Eclipse, we head out for Playa San Martin on the Mexican Island's eastern coast where we dive off cliffs and deep dive for a while before resting on white sand beaches, trying to find our land legs once again. I've done a wonderful job of evening out my tan after days of walking around naked, but now we're back to wearing swim and dive clothes. Despite all the topless beaches in Key West and despite how fresh my Deep Diver is, he's never liked the idea of my sunning myself topless in public, so the time on the boat in the middle of the ocean was a nice chance to work on that tan.

Meanwhile, all the tourist girls from the U.S. and beyond are having the time of their lives ogling my husband with his golden abs and red board shorts. They whistle at him shamelessly as he takes a dip in the warm waters and then jumps up, pushing back his thick, wet hair. Their eyes follow him as he carries me in deep, dunking and playing with me in the soft waves.

"I see that ring on your finger isn't doing a thing to scare away the Mango Girls of the world," I tease him as we sit under a palapa-roofed bar on the beach, he with a local Negra Modelo and me with a Coconut Margarita.

Edward shrugs and holds up his ring finger before him, grinning. "The ring's not there for their benefit. It's there to remind me that the most perfect girl in the world owns me heart, body, and soul." He takes a smug drink of his beer.

"How do you always know just what to say?" I grin.

"It comes naturally – just like everything else comes naturally when I'm with you."

He salaciously wiggles his wonderfully thick eyebrows, and I giggle-snort bubbles into my cocktail.

"Always so fresh."

That evening, we do some beach bar hopping and dance on the sand in bare feet while watching the setting sun. Then, we return to our boat for the night and make love by the light of the Mexican moon.

Early the next morning, we meet up with one of Edward's old college friends at The Money Bar on Dzul-Ha Beach. Like Edward, Felix left the West Coast for even sunnier and warmer waters and is now an ex-pat in Cozumel serving as a guide for tourists from around the world.

Like every other friend of Edward's I've ever met, the guy is ridiculously good-looking: tall with skin as black as midnight and a tight set of short corn rows. A brilliantly white smile and an awesomely hard body finish off the package. When Edward introduces us, Felix pulls me into a friendly hug.

"Shit, man," he grins appreciatively, "you hit the jackpot, Ed."

"I sure as hell did," Edward agrees smugly, wrapping his arm around my hip while I drop my eyes for a few seconds and chuckle.

We start the morning with local tamales, another Margarita for me, and a couple of Negra Modelos for the guys.

Hey, we're on our honeymoon vacation.

The guys do some catching up, talking about old acquaintances and telling stories yet they make sure to include me in the conversation. We pass an enjoyable hour together, and by the time the three of us set out for the Tulum Ruins that we'll be exploring today, I feel quite comfortable with Edward's old buddy.

The ruins of the walled city of Tulum are perched on a lookout atop a 40 foot sheer cliff, creating a dramatic and awesome view of the Caribbean Sea from its grounds. Felix will be taking us diving around the cliff as well, and he's gotten us all the necessary permits.

We spend a couple of hours exploring the ancient fort while Felix acts as our guide, imparting a lot of interesting information on the Mayan culture and its demise at the hands of Spanish settlers, who brought unknown diseases to the natives.

Then, we stand atop the bluff facing east out towards the Caribbean where Tulum was meant to be a fort defense against invasions from the sea. Edward wraps his arm around my shoulder. I rest my head on his shoulder as we gaze out at the view, and I do know how good I've got it right now.

That night, we host Felix on our boat and dine on fresh Conch Ceviche I've prepared from our dive finds earlier in the day. Afterwards, we take some tequila shots and have our own little fiesta going aboard the Eclipse, blasting Bob Marley over the stereo. Before we know it, we've been joined by a few party crashers, but we're feeling pretty mellow, so it's all good.

"It's the Masen Caribbean Honeymoon Tour! Yeah!" Felix yells, and we're laughing hard and doing celebratory shots with a bunch of people we don't even know.

A couple of hours later, while Edward presses his groin into my ass and grinds into me singing "Is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling?" into my ear, some guy steps up and tries to grind into me from the front. When Edward shoves him away, nostrils flaring, I know it's time to shut this party down. We throw all the party crashers off and put Felix in a cab. Then Edward and I head below ship, stripping off our meager pieces of clothing as we go.

He pushes me onto the bed and tumbles on top of me, Patron on his warm breath.

"You're so drunk," I laugh.

"Not too drunk to fuck you good," he says huskily, and I groan because when Edward talks to me that way, I know it's going to be crazy and wild and yeah, so fucking good.

He pushes inside me fast and urgent, the shots we've both had working to loosen us up more than usual. He pounds into me relentlessly while I reach up and grab onto the headboard, cradling his lean hips between my thighs.

"God yes! Take me deep, Deep Diver!"

"You want me to take you deep, baby? How deep do you want me to take you?" He grinds his hips, circling them flat against my pelvis.

"Uhh! Yes, yes! That deep! That! Fucking! Deep!"

Fifteen minutes later, Edward has one hand under my back while the other grips tightly to the top of the headboard, and he uses it as leverage so he can slam into me over and over. His hair falls in damp strands over his forehead, his eyes dark and hooded. Perspiration makes our bodies hot and wonderfully slippery against one another. Jesus, he's a man on a serious mission, and in the privacy of our boat, surrounded by a dark blue Mexican sky, we both yell and groan and curse and moan louder than ever. To finish off, he flips me over and has me get on my knees, holding on to the headboard with him as he slams his hips against my ass, his hard, sweaty chest against my back. When he pulses and releases inside me, I come undone.

I sleep like a baby that night.

A/N: Thoughts?

Twitter: PattyRose817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

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