June 14, 2022

Mercedes woke up with a smile on her face. As she opened her eyes she brushed her messy hair from her face. It was going to take forever to comb the knots out. The cause of said knots made her smile grow though. Her bare backside was nestled into Sam's equally naked front. His arm was around her, tucked under her breasts and Mercedes could feel him breathing light, rhythmic snores against the back of her head.

As she became more and more conscious, she was noticed that she and Sam were no longer in the yacht's common room. For one, the room they were now in was noticeably cooler. Second, she and Sam had definitely done some reorganizing of the furniture. This room had less furniture, and all of it was upright and in a neat place.

She turned her head to get a better scope of the dimly-lit room and after spotting their luggage stacked near the entrance door, she realized that it was a bedroom. Sam must have brought her down here because she had no recollection of walking herself down.

Part of her grew conflicted between staying right where she was and getting up to tend to her hair. She was so comfortable being so warm and secure in her husband's hold, yet the mess her hair had become was getting to her. So she decided to make a quick trip to the nearby bathroom, fix her hair and then return to the bed. As she slipped out of Sam's hold and to the edge of the bed, she heard him stir. With one glance over her shoulder, she was staring back at a pair of sleepy green eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she quietly told him. Rising to her feet, she felt insanely stiff; various parts of her back and groin were sore, and a small but tender bruise appeared on her right hip. When she stood up, her extensive weave spilled past her shoulders, ending right above her rear. Sighing, she said, "I'm never getting my hair done this long again. It's too much to manage."

"You look like Lady Godiva. Godiva Chocolate," he teased in his hoarse morning voice.

"Yeah, after she fell off her horse and took a roll in the hay."

Sam shrugged, "Sounds pretty hot to me. Wait, so does that make me your horse?"

Mercedes narrowed her eyes at him, but her pursed her lips smiled. As she started toward the bathroom, one hand went to her right thigh and stayed there as she walked.

He grinned smugly but it fell as he watched her walk. Or rather, he noticed a limp in her step. Right away, his face smoothed out to sheer amusement; it was like getting a gold star for a job well-done. "You okay, Benz?" he asked.

The buoyancy in his voice made Mercedes' brows furrow as she entered the bathroom. She took her time responding while pressing a hand hard toward the inner part of her pelvis, as though it might alleviate the soreness. "Never better," she muttered, though her face reflected a mix of the pain and pleasure.

Before she knew it, Sam was standing in the bathroom doorway, just a foot or so behind her. She looked at his reflection in the mirror—his face showing that he obviously didn't buy her answer. His hand replaced the one that was on her thigh and began lightly massaging it while he bent his head to kiss her cheek. Mercedes' eyes rolled shut, and Sam deviously grinned and asked her, "How's that?"

Mercedes bowed her back and gave a responsive groan, "Good. Too good…"

"Come back to bed with me," he crooned—his tender lips nibbling the lobe of her ear.

"But…my hair," she feebly protested, bowing her backside further into his front.

Still gazing on her ear, he purred, "¿Quien cuida?…Te quiero ahora…"

Her head lolled to one side; she bit down on her lip, hard, while trying to concentrate on not letting her knees give out on her. It grew increasingly difficult as he continued murmuring sweet phrases that only became familiar to her because he interchangeably used them when she played hard to get, or when he really wanted her. With Sam's hand still caressing her thigh, she felt herself being tugged back out of the bathroom. She hardly resisted, especially since is near-fluent Spanish coaxed her all the way back to the bed.

"This is gonna end up being our whole honeymoon, huh?" Mercedes asked—her cheek resting against Sam's toned chest.

He shrugged with a half smile, "I didn't plan on that. I figured during the day we'd have the Captain dock the yacht while we played tourist around St. Lucia. Then at night we'd go back out on the sea and have our alone time. But nothing's set in stone and you know I'm flexible. I wouldn't be against this for our honeymoon." As if to indicate his meaning further, he lowered one hand from behind his head to trace light figure-8's along her bare arm.

"Of course you wouldn't be against it. You're not the one who'd be walking funny when we got back home."

Sam's smile spread as he quickly told her, "If the paparazzi ask, just tell them you were out on sea and are getting your land legs back."

She scoffed, "My land legs. Right."

"Or," he started but paused to think. A second later, he was grinning devilishly again. "Tell them you went riding all week."

Mercedes raised her head to look at him, just as he unabashedly winked at her. "You weren't kidding when you said I gave you some new confidence, were you?" she asked with a small smirk.

"Not at all, Godiva."

"Shut up," she hissed with a smile.

"I wonder what her horse's name was."

"You're a damn fool, Evans."

He grinned again, "Only for you, my lady. And you might wanna think of a new nickname for me. You're an Evans too now, y'know."

She raised her head again to beam a giddy grin at him. "I knowwww," she half sang, half squealed. "But I don't wanna give you a new nickname. Evans and Benz have been our nicknames to each other since college. Plus, I call you Honey sometimes. So maybe you need to think of a second nickname for me besides Benz."

Sam raised his brow; sooner than expected, he answered in a matter-of-fact tone, "Godiva."

She grinned, "Have fun explaining that one to people."

"Oh I will."

"No!" she playfully pushed his face, "that's a name you save for the bedroom!"

He laughed at her reaction, "Alright but if I slip up and call you Godiva around, say…Mike, I won't have a choice but to explain."

"You'll have a choice. And you're gonna choose to explain it to him—I know it." Her cheeks were turning a slightly darker shade. Sam's answering grin told her she was right.

Sam felt a little bit guilty though when Mercedes sat up and winced, pressing a hand to her thigh again. He sat up as well—his legs bending on either side of her. For a moment, his lips pursed and then he kindly asked, "Can you walk?"

She was sliding to the edge of the bed again, "I better! I think I…You strained a muscle in my leg, but I'm not spending the whole week in bed." She chuckled at Sam's feigned pout but went on, "We're in St. Lucia. I want to be able to walk around—see the island, and do some shopping."

"Shopping," he echoed with fake dread. "Why, oh why the horrible "S" word."

Mercedes rolled her eyes at him and slowly stood to head to the bathroom. As she hobbled there, Sam got up from the bed as well to retrieve his boxers. "Hey, I thought I saw a couple robes hanging up in there. Why don't you throw one on and meet me upstairs? I'll fix us some breakfast."

"What time is it anyway?" she asked from the bathroom.

"Uhh…" he looked around the room for a wall or desk clock, and then spotted one hanging above the entry door's frame. "Looks like it's 1:15."

"1:15? Breakfast at 1:15?"

"…Brunch?" he suggested.

Mercedes popped her head out of the bathroom, smiling. "Brunch."

Please leave reviews! Do you want to see/read about more of their time in St. Lucia, off the yacht? Shall I move on from the honeymoon? Let me know what you think!