Because this is the last chapter, I made it extra long and extra dirty... I hope that's alright with everyone.

Enjoy!

Music: its here I'll rest my chin and breathe her deep and smile… just south of her shoulder and west of her spine

My eyes open eventually, slowly, blinking against the sun as it filters through the window pane. The sky outside is unnaturally blue, clouds a perfect white. It's like everything's overdone, drawn with perfect lines and immaculate clarity.

I've never had a religious moment; I'm not one for religion in general. But if I had to define this – this morning, this feeling, this absolute sense of calm – religious may come close. It's not exact, it's not precise, but it's as close as I'll come with this flawed language of ours.

I turn my head to the side – the least amount of movement needed. I turn, just far enough to catch the sight of her, lying next to me on her stomach, head turned to the side, facing away from me, hair tumbling over her shoulders, her face, the pillow. It catches my breath in my throat – the light reflecting off the hidden gold in her hair, the pale expanse of her skin, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall as she breathes slowly, still asleep.

I shouldn't.

I shouldn't touch her – it'll ruin her. If I touch her, she'll break – how can she not? She's so fragile.

But I can't help it, and I twist to lay on my side, my hand reaching out, moving toward her, time freezing as my fingers brush her skin and it takes me by surprise – that she's warm. She's warm and alive; the porcelain look had been deceiving.

Maybe she won't break, maybe she won't shatter – so I let my hand flatten, palm down on her back, smoothing over the skin there, fingers tracing her spine, down until the sheets cut her off.

Forcing air into my lungs is hard – not impossible, but hard – especially trying not to make a noise. I don't want to wake her. My lips are dry as I lean forward to press them to the freckle right under her shoulder blade. It's enough – for now – so I lean back, content again with the hand on her spine, the sight of her sleeping.

It's hard to believe I have a wife. Wives are for people who deserve them – good people. People who deserve to be loved.

"Are you watching me?"

"Can't help it."

She twists to look at me over her shoulder with a smile before turning to lie on her back, unashamedly naked against the white sheets. "Good morning, husband," she whispers, still smiling, still perfect.

"Wife," I breathe back at her, the word almost sticking in my throat.

Outside the sky is bright blue, the clouds imperfectly perfect, just like her.

"I'm gonna take a shower," I tell him, getting up out of bed and making my way to the bathroom. He turns to watch me go, but when he doesn't make any move to follow me – when he doesn't make some monotone comment – I start to get worried. So I pause at the door, looking over my shoulder to where he's staring at me, the expression on his face dazed. "Are you coming?"

He nods, throwing the covers off, moving uncertainly, looking for the world like it had taken my permission to let him know its ok to move. I shake off the feeling and start the shower, making the temperature mild – I'm hoping we'll provide our own heat. I step under the warm spray, only to find him stopped at the door.

"Ryan?"

He looks up, like he's remembering why he came here in the first place and moves to me, stepping into the shower. I smile, almost hesitantly when he doesn't do anything. I'm used to him not saying anything, but usually me, naked, in the shower gets a bigger reaction out of him. And I know he sometimes likes to take his time, look me over before he has his way with me. This is different, though. It's almost like he's… in awe of me.

I've seen Ryan in lust with me. I've seen Ryan in love with me. I've never seen Ryan in awe of me.

"You're freaking me out," I whisper, wishing I could've said something better, something more eloquent, something to deserve awe.

"Sorry." It's an automatic response – I doubt he's aware he even said it. His breath comes in shallow drags, eyes moving over me, taking me in, wide with… surprise? I feel my heart speed up under the scrutiny, hands starting to shake a bit with nerves.

I take my shower and he doesn't touch me once. No offers to help me wash, no move to take me up against the tiled wall. He just stands under the spray and watches me; doesn't react when I soap him down, just watches my hands move over his skin.

And when we're rinsed and dried off, he trails me back into the bedroom like a puppy – stays two feet behind me all the way. When I stop, he stops.

"Ryan." He meets my eyes – still shocked, still in disbelief – and I lean forward to kiss him, trailing my hand down his chest to brush my fingers over him. His breath hitches in his throat, he hardens in my hand, but he doesn't snap out of it. I'd hoped the familiarity of the act would jolt him into awareness, but he doesn't even kiss me back.

What happened to him? Where's the Ryan from last night that was planning to do all sorts of dirty things to me the minute we got married? Where's the Ryan that was calm – at ease? Hell, where's the Ryan that's broody and morose, ducking his head and shrugging all the time?

I bring my hands up to his shoulders and turn us around, pushing at him so he sits, then lays back on the bed. And he does nothing when I straddle his hips. It's not until I move to line us up that he reacts, hands moving at lightspeed to grab my hips, holding me above him – hovering, waiting. He shakes his head no and licks his lips.

"Ryan?" I try to shift out of his grip, try to get him inside me, but he won't let me.

He shakes his head again. "I'll hurt you," he breathes out and it's like he's stuck in limbo – holding me, not letting me sink down on him but not letting me move away, either.

"You won't hurt me," I try to soothe him, but my voice comes out a bit more incredulous than I wanted it to, because really? He's never – ever – hurt me. Well, not physically, at least. He's fucked me every way imaginable, sometimes so hard I could barely walk the next day, and now he's afraid he'll hurt me?

"I'll hurt you," he repeats, voice low and sure. Like it's a fact – an inevitability. "Don't wanna break you."

Seriously?

"Ryan," I make my voice calm, soothing, so I don't… I don't know, scare him or something. "Ryan, honey, if you don't fuck me soon, I'll hurt you." He blinks, recognition sparking and maybe it's the language I used? His hands loosen around my waist, enough so I can sink down on him and he lets out an audible gasp while I make no sound at all. I think it's the first time in our entire relationship where I was the silent one.

His body reacts – he can't help it, he's only male – hands resting on my waist, hips rising to meet mine, creating that delicious friction I've been craving ever since I woke up.

I think I've been craving this my entire life.

Even when I didn't know him, even when I was too young to know what sex was, I was craving this – him – the comfort he brings, the security, the unconditional love.

"Oh God," I sigh shakily, hoping that I can give him a reality check if I keep talking. "Oh God, Ryan." I make it a point to run my hands over his chest, dragging my nails just hard enough to create little red lines, just hard enough to make his jaw clench and his eyes darken.

"Taylor," he finally says my name, trance shattered, the desperation taking over. "Jesus, Taylor," he rasps brokenly, shaking his head slightly like he doesn't believe this is happening. Except it so is, and I start to ride him harder, keeping my hands planted on his shoulders for leverage. "Oh fuck," he mutters, "oh fuck, oh man, oh fuck," it turns into a chant, low and frantic as he stares down to where we're connected.

"God," I hiss, slamming down on him but not rising up again. Instead I start to roll my hips, grinding against him, closing my eyes to concentrate on the feel of him in me, his hands gripping my hips.

"Oh fuck," he breathes. "Taylor." I open my eyes at his tone, "Taylor… I have to… oh fuck, I'm gonna… fuck…" I still my hips as the realization dawns on me, and he moans desperately, fingers digging into my skin harshly. "Taylor…"

"Yes, Ryan?" I whisper, the look of him making chills go down my spine. He makes a whining noise from the back of his throat. I watch as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes and he's so hot, I decide to take pity on him. He moans loudly when I lift up and sink back down again but he doesn't open his eyes.

He starts to shake, fingers bruising my hips as his muscles spasm, chanting again, "oh fuck, oh God, oh fuck," as he tenses below me, and then he comes and I feel the liquid heat in me and just knowing I made him come makes my own orgasm rip through me.

I fall forward onto him, resting my head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily, feeling his chest rise and fall below me. That was intense. I know we play our little games and I've been 'in control' a lot, but nothing like that. I've never had that surge of absolute power and maybe it's because I know that it'll be me making him orgasm for the rest of his life, or maybe it's because he'd seemed so helpless before me, but either way it was thrilling.

His arms wrap around me – one around my waist, the other behind my head – and he rolls us over, so he's on top and he starts to whisper in my ear, "I love you… God I love you so much… I'm not good with words… I can't… I want to tell you… stupid language…" and then he trails off and starts kissing his way down my body.

We make a stop at the Cohens – the cab waiting patiently outside for us, loaded up with all our bags. Somewhere in the trunk is Taylor's luggage but it doesn't freak me out anymore, because she's not leaving me – she's leaving with me. She can't ever leave me again, not with that ring on her finger.

I'll track her across the world if she tries.

"Hey man," Seth greets, pulling me into a hug and it feels weird because I've had Taylor's body pressed up against me all morning. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sandy pull Taylor into a hug and I resist the urge to rip his throat out for touching my wife.

Shit.

"Can I talk to you?" I whisper in my brother's ear before he pulls away and he shoots me a curious look but nods. We head outside onto the porch and I lean against the little wall and stare out into the street.

"What's up?" he rests his elbows on the wall next to mine, mirroring my pose. He's always doing that – it reminds me of how I used to do everything Trey did. I wonder if he went home, or if he's gonna stay and catch up with mom and dad while I'm gone.

"How long does this last?" I ask and he shoots me another odd look. "How long until it actually hits me I'm married?"

He laughs lightly and for the first time since I've met him, he doesn't make some snarky comment. "Remember our conversation two days ago?" he asks, "when I told you I still didn't believe Summer and I were married sometimes?" He runs one hand through his hair with a grimace. "Maybe it doesn't go away. Not completely, at least. You know, maybe we'll always have moments where we forget we're married. Maybe that's why they make people wear rings."

I nod. "And how about the…" I don't want to say it, cause it's embarrassing, but I have to know, "how about the awe?"

He laughs again, a little louder this time, but it still doesn't come off as sarcastic like usual. "Ryan, my brother, if you haven't noticed, I've been in awe of Summer since the fourth grade."

"But," I protest, because I don't think he gets it, "why would she marry me?" That just gets another laugh.

"Why would Summer marry me?" he shoots back. "We're idiots, but somehow, they still decided to take pity on us."

"But she married me," I continue, not really processing anything he's saying. "That's like, permanent. Is she stupid?"

"She's in love," he explains, "and it's with you, so I'd stop questioning it. Now go, enjoy your honeymoon. That cab bill's gonna be a bitch if you waste anymore time trying to get advice from me."

"How long does this last?" I ask Summer and Kirsten as we stand in the kitchen. Ryan's disappeared somewhere with Seth and they've been gone for a while. Sandy's in the living room playing with Sophie.

"What?" Summer asks, opening the refrigerator door and trying to see if they have anything good.

"This whole thing where he's… I don't know, not himself?"

Because he's not. The Ryan I know doesn't let himself be bossed around and given orders. He's not docile, he's not whipped – well, maybe a little, but that's beside the point. What I mean is, Ryan's not normally ultra-romantic and though it's all well and good that he spent most of the morning making me orgasm, it was all so… well, I guess I'll have to use the word romantic again. Romantic is fine, I definitely don't mind when he focuses on me, but sometimes all a girl needs is a good hard fucking, and if he keeps up his whole wide-eyed disbelief thing, I'm not sure I'll get that.

"You mean where he gives you looks, like he can't believe you let him touch you?" Summer turns around, jar of pickles in hand.

"Yes!" I let out a relieved sigh.

"He did have that whipped look," Kirsten comments with a lazy smile.

"Please," Summer gripes, "Seth gives me that look all the time."

"Sandy still looks at me like that sometimes," Kirsten adds, eyes flicking out to the living room where he is.

"But he will get better, right?" I ask insistently. "Not that I mind the… attention, but I fell in love with broody, monosyllabic Ryan." Kirsten laughs softly but doesn't say anything.

"Hey," his voice is low and hesitant at the entrance to the kitchen and he looks nervous to actually be in the same room as me. "We should probably head out…" I hear his question in there, the silent addition of only if you want to.

"That's a great idea, Ryan," I tell him encouragingly, which earns a snort from Summer. She must realize I'm trying positive reinforcement – so he'll start to think on his own again. I watch Seth roll his eyes – apparently even he gets it. Ryan takes no notice, nodding slowly.

"Have fun, honey," Kirsten moves from the counter to hug her son and I see a flash of the old Ryan as he hugs her back. Thank God, at least he's still in there somewhere.

"Try to get fresh air at some point," Sandy adds from the living room with a quirked eyebrow, sending stern looks at Ryan and me.

"Some point," I grin back, linking my arm in Ryan's as I walk us outside.

"So Cody's staying with Bullit?" she turns her head to me, hand still in mine on the armrest between us. I nod, ignoring the voices in my head.

When did I start getting voices in my head?

One's yelling at me, a constant holy shit, we're so high up! The other's whispering at me, a snarky why are you touching her?

"Ryan?"

I look up at her – which has the unfortunate bonus of looking out the window – and she looks… annoyed. "What?"

"I asked you a question," she sighs, sitting back in her seat and staring forward.

"Yeah," I swallow hard and follow her lead – facing forward. Ok, I think I'd rather look out the window than watch The Family Stone. "He seems to really like Bullit."

"Bullit really likes him," she tells me, thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "He wants to send Cody to private school," she continues on.

"What?" That tears my eyes away from the horror that is a Sarah Jessica Parker movie to focus on her – not the window – again.

"Yeah," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "He's all but demanding we let him pay for tuition."

"Like hell he is," I grumble, feeling the embarrassment rise. I hate charity.

She pauses for a second. "I think it's too late for that."

"What?"

She sighs again. "Didn't you see what his wedding present to us was?" I shake my head no, because – to be honest – I was too focused on getting to the wedding night part of yesterday. "It was a check. He wouldn't take it back, either," she whispers, finally looking at me. "It's… it's a lot, Ryan."

"How much is 'a lot'?" I feel the fear rise up in my throat. I can't take money from him. It doesn't matter that he has too much of it already. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps on a mattress of money and uses money toilet paper.

"Enough to get us started on saving up for his college, enough to help him through school." She bites her lips and finally meets my eyes. "I think we should take it."

"Why?" I grind out, and suddenly the world's not as bright as it was a couple seconds ago. "We make enough money, we're happy…"

"I know we're happy," she reassures me. "And if we had a baby, we'd have years to save up. But Cody's thirteen. He'll be going to college in five years, and there's no way we could afford a private school and still save up for college. I know you hate charity, but if it's what's best for Cody…"

This must be how Sandy felt, I think as I turn to face forward again. At least Bullit won't lord it over me like Caleb did to him.

"Fine," I manage to get out after a while. "But he's not allowed to get us presents for Chrismukkah or birthdays anymore," I warn. She laughs lightly and leans over to kiss my cheek.

"So are you back to normal now?"

Alright, fourth time in ten minutes: "What?"

"You fought back," she gives me a blinding smile. "You're brooding again." I turn slightly to glare at her, but it only serves to make her smile wider. "I'll take that as a 'yes, Taylor, I am back to normal'."

There's a pause as she smiles at me and I fight with anger and annoyance and embarrassment. "You're never gonna let this morning go, are you?"

"Nope," she grins happily. "I can't wait to tell everyone in Greece you're my bitch."

"Taylor," I whine. She giggles again.

"And when we get back, I'll go into your work, and tell everyone how pathetic you were…" she continues, taking way too much delight in torturing me.

"Leave me alone," I mutter sullenly. "I wasn't that pathetic…"

"You kept giving me puppy eyes," she insists. "But I won't tell anyone. I'm not that mean."

Yes, she is, but I trust that she won't tell anyone. Except Summer. I have no doubt Summer will know about it. How… God, pathetic I was this morning.

I was Seth.

"But you're really back to normal now?" her voice cuts in quietly, and this time, there's no hint of amusement in there.

"Yeah," I tell her. "I was just a little… overwhelmed this morning."

"Good," she nods resolutely. "Cause if I wanted someone that drippy and romantic and whipped, I'd still be married to Henri-Michel." Her eyes widen in horror as she turns to me.

Looks like she realizes that probably wasn't the best way to get me to relax.

"Ryan," I trail after him, making my voice whiny and high-pitched. He marches through the hall, shoulders tense. Well, this was a fantastic start to our honeymoon. First he's so in awe that a rich girl from Newport would lower herself to marry some Chino scum – which is bull, cause he's a better person than I'll ever be – and now he's angry and brooding and… being such a baby.

He completely shut down after the Henri-Michel comment. It's been seven years since I last saw the French bastard – ok, that's a lie, he stopped by about two years ago to try and win me back, but still. It's been seven years since Henri-Michel has even been a vague threat, and Ryan can't just let it go.

I mean, it probably doesn't help that I had to bring up the Bullit/Cody/money thing and damage his fragile male ego right before that. But still. We're in Greece, we're on our honeymoon. What couple starts their honeymoon like this?

Us, apparently.

"Ryan," I try again when we get to the door to our suite. He ignores me and goes inside when the bellhop opens the door for us. The boy shoots me a look – confused. I don't know how much English he speaks, but it's not like he really needs it. Broody silences cross all language barriers. I shrug back, try to smile and thank the man. He piles our luggage in the room then leaves.

And Ryan continues brooding.

Looks like I'll be seeing a lot more sun than I thought.

She starts unpacking, making sure to sigh a lot as she does.

To be honest, I'm not sure why I'm acting like a dick. It's not really the Henri-Michel thing that's bothering me, cause really? He's not that big of a threat. At least, not since I broke his nose the last time he showed up.

Good times.

Anyway, I think it's more of a wounded pride thing than jealousy.

I want what's best for Cody, but I've spent most of my life dirt poor and people with money still creep me out sometimes. Especially people with so much money that they just hand it out like party favors. It's weird and I can't help but feel like there's some hidden agenda. I know Bullit's a good guy and behind his… eccentricity is a really generous person who cares more about humans and cattle than money. But still. I hate being a charity case.

"I'm going out to the pool," she announces suddenly and I turn to find her in her bathing suit, sunglasses on, giant bag slung over her arm. How long have I been out?

When I don't answer, she frowns, but leaves the room anyway.

Fine, whatever.

I need to make a call.

Wonderful.

I can just imagine the way my mom will gloat when we get divorced. She'll just give me that smile and she'll tell me how she told me so and how I should've never married a felon in the first place.

Maybe I should call Summer or something. She's always good with advice – even if I rarely take it.

"Excuse me."

I turn and lift my sunglasses to see whoever's talking to me. Some guy with an eager smile on his face.

"I couldn't help but notice," he continues when I don't say anything, "the book you're reading?"

What? Oh, my book. Just some random French poetry I shoved into my bag – just in case. It's not like I thought I'd have time to read. I thought I'd be spending all of my time in bed with Ryan. Or in the shower. Or maybe up against a wall. I didn't think that I'd be spending the first few hours of my honeymoon reading by the pool and listening to some random guy talk.

Oh, crap, he's still talking. How long has he been talking?

"I'm sorry," I interrupt, swinging my legs over the side of the lounge. "But I have to go."

He looks confused, but I ignore that. I did not come to Greece to spend my time talking to another guy.

Back in our suite, he's on the phone – probably with Seth, lamenting about how he made a giant mistake in marrying me. I don't want to hear the conversation, so I head out to the balcony and look out at the ocean.

We're really high up – I forget which floor – so I don't have to worry about Ryan coming out to talk to me. To tell me he wants an annulment or something. He hates heights.

Apparently not enough to stop him, though, because I hear the doors open and his footsteps behind me.

Stupid courage.

With a heavy sigh, he slides his hands around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. We stand there for a while, in silence, because I will not be the first one to talk.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, finally, pressing a kiss into my neck. "I overreacted a little…"

"A little?"

He ignores that. "It's just… everything's happening so fast. Taking Cody in, getting married, Bullit giving us all this money. You know change makes me jumpy."

It's true. He does tend to shut down when things happen.

My heart stops beating wildly when she relaxes in my arms. I thought she was gonna tell me to fuck off or something. I don't think I'd blame her. I've been having mood swings like crazy today.

I called Sandy to ask him how he dealt with the whole Caleb/money situation. He asked me why the hell I was calling him when I should be spending time with my new wife.

Then he called me an idiot and hung up.

"Ok, new rule," she tells me, still looking out at the view – which I'm trying to ignore, by the way. "You're not allowed to think about the Cody/Bullit situation for the next two weeks."

"Deal," I agree. It shouldn't be too hard to find something else to focus on.

Like Taylor.

Taylor and her fantastic ass, which is, by the way, looking particularly fine in her white bikini.

I drop a kiss on her shoulder and press my hips forward. She moans happily, tilting her head back to rest on my shoulder and giving me unlimited access to her neck. I suck on the spot below her ear – right next to the bite mark from last night – as she starts to grind her ass into me.

I think we should start a list, of all the things we want to do on our honeymoon. I mean, we've been here for an hour and we're already engaging in public sex. Technically this is public, I think as I take my hand off her waist and slide it between us to unzip my pants. If I can see the people on the ground, then they can see us, even if we're really high up.

I back away from her a little to give myself some room as I stroke myself to full hardness and she bends over further, spreading her legs a bit. Then I push aside the white fabric of her bikini bottom and slide into her.

She sighs, readjusting her grip on the railing as we start to move. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she has absolutely no problem fucking me while people can see us. Actually, judging from how wet she is, I think she gets off on it. The thought makes me grin.

"Taylor," I pull her back against my chest and whisper in her ear. "You wanna put on a show?"

She moans and nods, making me grin wider. We could be discreet if we wanted to – we could act like we're just standing here, I could keep the movement of our hips slow and subtle, keep my hands looped around her waist like we're not doing anything.

I could, but I'm not going to.

I slide my hands up from her hips to cup her breasts as she arches her back and moans. And I resist the urge to take her top off so I can really touch her, but no. I'm ok with people being able to see us fucking, but no one's allowed to see her naked except me.

She twists to kiss me as I run my hands over her body, from her breasts down, going to the apex of her legs to rub her through her bathing suit. She groans into my mouth and her hips start pushing back harder, more insistently.

Fuck this going slow shit. I move my hands to her waist and break away from kissing her as I start to fuck her in earnest. She leans on the railing for support, dropping her head as I let her have it.

"Shit, Ryan," she hisses, hands tightening on the rail as she comes.

I lean forward as I push in deep and bring my mouth close to her ear. "Love you, baby," I whisper roughly as I follow her over the edge.

The phone rings and he groans in annoyance.

"Ignore it," he mumbles, hand tightening on my waist.

"But what if it's important?" I argue, looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes are dark with lust, hooded and intense. He shakes his head no and never stops the movement of his hips.

We rarely have sex like this – lying on our sides, him taking me from behind, my leg pulled back over his. We only do this when we're too worn out to do any other position. But maybe we should do this more, because I'm really enjoying it. It's lazy and unhurried and I'm pretty sure this is the longest round of sex we've ever had.

I'm not sure how long he's been inside me, rocking his hips into me slowly, arm draped around my waist and lips pressed against the back of my neck. I'm staring at the window and the amazing view of the ocean. It's perfect – except for the stupid ringing.

I lean forward to grab his phone off the nightstand and he growls in protest, but he doesn't stop fucking me. I settle back against his chest and flip the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Taylor," Kirsten sounds confused – she was probably expecting Ryan, considering it's his phone. "Is Ryan there?"

"Ryan's busy right now," I sigh, feeling him laugh and bite my shoulder playfully. "Can I take a message?"

"Well, he called Sandy and I just wanted to make sure everything was ok…" Kirsten explains. I smile.

"Everything's fine," I tell her.

"Good."

She doesn't sound convinced. Maybe I should tell her what we're doing now? Maybe that would convince her. The thought makes me giggle – don't worry Kirsten, Ryan was freaking out, but he's ok now. Actually, he's currently fucking me from behind – has been for… well I don't know how long, but I've orgasmed twice so far and I think I feel a third one coming.

I'm sure that would go over splendidly.

"I'll have him give you a call when he's done," I tell her, grinning. She probably thinks he's in the shower or something. Au contraire – he's being very dirty.

"Alright," she agrees and I hang up.

"Call Kirsten after you come," I tell him, tossing the phone off somewhere. He groans in protest – whether at me throwing his phone or mentioning Kirsten while he's fucking me, I don't know. I just smile and settle back down, resting my head on the pillow.

The hand draped over my side slides down a little, and he circles my clit with his finger. I take a deep breath, feeling my orgasm build. It's slow – just like this whole session in general – and it builds steadily as his fingers move faster and his hips pump a little harder. He knows I'm ready again.

I bite my lip and cry out, arching out as I come again.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispers, stilling his hips and letting me ride my orgasm.

"You are, too," I tell him as I come down. "Are you ready to come yet?"

"Yeah, I think so," he kisses my shoulder again. I nod as he wraps his arms around my waist and rolls onto his back. Time to go a little faster.

I sit up, bracing myself a little as I sway – I guess three orgasms will do that to you. "Ready?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at him. He nods and licks his lips. I lean back a bit and start to ride him, going as fast as I can in my – very – relaxed state.

He groans loudly at the change of pace and position – he always did like reverse cowgirl. It doesn't surprise me that he climaxes soon after – hell, I'm surprised he didn't do it sooner.

What can I say, the boy has stamina.

She makes me call Kirsten right after, because she promised.

I think it's the most awkward phone call I've ever had – not only because I'd been fucking my wife when she first called, but also because Taylor's walking around our suite completely naked. Every time she passes the doorway, I can't help but stare at her, which makes me lose track of my conversation with Kirsten.

"…started camp today," she says as I snap back to reality. What? "Bullit says he really likes it. Apparently he's already made a friend."

"Good," I manage to get the gist of the conversation. She's talking about Cody. Right before the wedding we signed him up for soccer camp. And in the fall, we're sending him to this nice private school outside of the city, even if that means taking some money from Bullit. Because it's what's best for him.

"So how's married life?" she asks and I can hear her smile through the phone.

"It's… well, I have no complaints so far," I tell her, as diplomatically as I can. To be honest, I don't know what to think of married life, because this isn't life. Constant sex in a hotel room isn't life – it's fantasy. "But I'll let you know when we get back."

"Good," she agrees, apparently proud that I can tell the difference between honeymoon and reality.

A shadow in the doorway draws my attention and I look up to find Taylor leaning against the frame, one eyebrow quirked.

"Kirsten, I gotta go."

I don't wait for her to answer before hanging up.

"We haven't used the couch yet," she tells me simply, before turning and heading out into the lounge area. I get up and follow her out.

Yeah, so far, married life is cool.

I'd love to thank everyone who's read, especially those of you who've stuck with me through both this and the original. Thanks so much for all of your reviews and support! I heart you all (even the lurkers).

review, while I go curl up in a corner and cry. Oh Vegas-verse...