A/N: The Micellis get out of their comfort zone on their final day of vacation.

Chapter Four: Second Honeymoon IV

Friday, March 20, 1987

Dear Sam and Jonathan,

It's our last full day in beautiful Jamaica. We can't wait to bring you two and your little sister here someday. Looking forward to seeing you at the airport tomorrow!

Love,

Mom and Dad


"Can we drop these off at the front desk on our way to the beach?" Angela asked, licking a stamp and sticking it on the postcard.

"You know we're going to see them before that batch arrives, right?" Tony asked. Actually, they would see the kids before they ever got home.

"It's more fun this way, with the postmarks and everything."

"OK, you have a point," he admitted. "Did you sunscreen your butt?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said in a sarcastic sing-song.

"Don't be a brat," he jokingly scolded her. "I'll have to spank you."

"Maybe later," she said with a wink.

"Alright, let's go to the front desk," he said. Time was dwindling away. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they'd be checking out in the morning.


Here goes nothing, Angela thought, pushing off her briefs. She was grateful for the empty beach and the cover made possible by her inattention to grooming. Two couples had been leaving just as they arrived. Tony took her hand and gave her a squeeze of encouragement. "You did it," he told her as they walked along the water's edge like Adam and Eve. "Doesn't it feel great?" He considered making a joke about the wind blowing through her hair but thought better of it.

"It does," she conceded.

"Are you ever going to do this again?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't be comfortable."

"Are you just trying to appease me?"

"No, it's easier because I'm pregnant. It's not only my body right now. I'm sharing it with Callista, and she makes me feel strong and beautiful."

"You've always been strong and beautiful, Ange."

"Tony?" she sniffled.

"Yeah? What is it, honey?" he probed, turning to study her troubled face.

"Thank you. For pushing me. Not just about today. You've always challenged me to do things that scare me."

"Not for nothing, Angela, but you've always been the bravest person I know."

"Yeah?"

"Hey, you got me through my first kiss. I even forgot about my sweaty palms when I smelled your bug spray."

"I wasn't brave enough to give you my real name," she said.

"Eventually you came clean, though," he said affectionately. "Jess," he teased.

"So did you," she said with a sly grin. "Bobby."

"Let's go for a swim," he suggested.

"You just want to be in the water so you can grope me without picking up a lewdness charge."

"Can you blame me?" he asked, risking an extended ogle.


Angela sat against the headboard and slipped her wrist out of the loop Tony had left it in. "Where did you learn to tie a knot?" she taunted. "Cub Scouts?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he scowled. "Listen, this ain't working for me. You gotta be the one to tie me up."

"Fine, we'll switch," she said, getting up. She impatiently waved him onto the bed.

"Wait," he stalled. "We're supposed to be enjoying this."

"I'm having a great time!" she bit out.

"Let's forget it," he pouted. The only redeeming aspect of her lie was that it was so obvious.

"Tony? It's our last night. I really wanna do this," she said sincerely.

"Do you?" he asked. The puppy dog eyes were in full force, and she found herself wanting to kiss his protruding lower lip.

"I do," she purred, stroking a single fingertip across his chest in a zig zag. "Someday, when we can go away alone together again, I want you to put me in handcuffs."

"You've thought about this, haven't you?" he guessed. When she nodded, chewing on her lips like a frustrated college girl, he pressed for more detail. "Tell me. What should I do to you?"

"Touch my legs. Tickle behind my knees until I forget to hold them together."

"Can I kiss your thighs, Angela?" he asked, gently sitting her on the edge of the bed. He knew how to tap into her fantasies, just like she knew how to tap into his.

"Oh God," she said when he knelt down.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, picking up one foot and setting it on his shoulder. His lips ghosted over her inner thigh until her breath grew short. Then, he pressed slow, wet kisses along the same path, letting his breath rest on her apex.

"Jesus Christ," she hissed, leaning back on her elbows. She decided not to interfere with her hands, allowing both of them the illusion that she was indeed restrained.

"You want my tongue, don't you?" he asked.

"I need your tongue," she corrected.

"So demanding," he murmured, going back to kissing her thighs. "I'm not licking your clit until it's throbbing as hard as my cock."

"Uh," she groaned.

"Maybe it already is," he teased, nuzzling her intimately. "You're wet," he told her.

"Tony!" she cried out when he tentatively tasted her. It took him back to the first time he'd drawn his tongue over her center, in their shared bedroom after their first date. It was all so mixed up. They were already married, even back then. They'd shared a house and two kids, just like before and just like now.

"Ah, yes. Like that," she sighed when he began eating her out in earnest. Surely, he could feel the blood coursing through her, if not the nerves lighting up. "Keep. Doing. That."

"I'm so hard," he panted. "Gonna make you come, k?"

All she could do was squeak in response while he nibbled on her most sensitive parts. She didn't need to say anything. He knew exactly what to do to get her there. Right on time, two of his fingers were stroking inside her, working in time with his mouth to push her over the edge.

"Oh my God!" she uttered when the blinding sensation began to wash over her. Successive waves of pleasure tore her from reality for what felt like five minutes, though it was probably more like fifteen seconds.

Tony stood up with a glazed and dopey grin. "Good?" he asked, swiping his arm over his face.

"Don't be so smug," she chided. "You know what my mouth can do."

"Hmmm, I'm not sure I remember," he teased, playing into her competitive nature. This was going to be fun, even if they didn't try anything novel.

"Lay back," she ordered. Before he could think, he was prone on the bed with one wrist bound in his own navy, burgundy, and gold repp tie. It felt snug. The other wrist was constrained without warning, as well, this one in a baby blue polka dotted tie. "I'll remind you," she said, giving him a peck on the lips.

"What are you doing?" he asked as a blindfold went on. He had only brought three ties, right? What if she had extras? Or something else? He felt nervous yet unbelievably turned on.

"Trust me." The staccato whisper against his ear sent a chill through him. Angela was full of surprises, but she wouldn't hurt him, he was almost sure. He flashed back on the passionate, mildly violent lovemaking they'd engaged in the morning after he'd interrupted Nate's attempted conquest. She was certainly capable of doing some damage. He tugged on his restraints and found them remarkably secure.

Tony's imagination ran wild along with his heart rate. The White Witch had killed multiple husbands and love slaves. Had her ghost followed Angela from the plantation and triggered something malevolent in her? "Honey, do we need a safe word?" he ventured in a shaky voice.

"What's that?" she asked, sounding completely innocent.

"In case things get out of hand and one of us wants to stop," he said. "The safe word means you really mean it."

"Tony, if you don't like what I'm doing, you can just tell me," she laughed. "I'm not going to hurt you or anything."

"Accordion!" he yelped, thinking of the most unlikely word to arise during an intimate encounter.

"OK, accordion is our safe word," she agreed, "but I don't think you'll need it." He felt her climb onto the bed and gently reposition his legs in a V. Her hands smoothed over his thighs in a familiar prelude.

"Ah," he exhaled, relaxing into her caresses. Her fingertips swirled over his torso, and then her lips parted, and he was taken into the soft warmth of her mouth.

"You like that?" she confirmed after several minutes of tender focus.

"Feels great," he said. "Is there anything you want?" he asked hopefully.

"You inside me," she said simply, stretching over him. Her breasts and belly rubbed across his torso and he stretched his neck up, puckering blindly until she granted him a long, gentle kiss. His inner thighs tingled at the touch of each of her knees in turn, and then she was straddling him.

"Please," he begged. A groan of approval escaped him when she took what she wanted. The relief didn't last long before friction and tension built up again. Being deprived of his vision and agency made his climax more intense than ever before, and she took advantage, riding him through it until she, too, was satisfied.

"Wow," she said, catching her breath. Suddenly, there was light again, the blindfold pushed back, then shadow as her breasts swung directly over his face. "I'll untie you," she said, reaching across without dismounting. He scooted closer to the headboard to shorten the distance and stay connected as long as possible.

"Can you do the right one first?" he asked, wondering if kids still gave each other Indian burns like he'd gotten from Anthony DiRezzo at camp the day after he and Angela kissed at Makeout Rock.

"I can't get it," she said, standing to get a better angle. "The knot's too tight."

"Then get the left one and I'll do the right," he suggested. She went around the bed and picked at the fabric binding his other wrist.

"I can't get this one either," she said in frustration. "I'll have to cut it. Where are your nail scissors?"

"They were completely dull and useless after I trimmed down there," he said. "Didn't you bring yours?"

"I didn't think we'd need two manicure kits," she groused.

"You brought seven pairs of shoes and no nail clippers?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'll call the front desk and borrow some scissors," she decided, picking up the phone.

"What are you going to tell them?" he yelped.

"That I need to use some scissors," she huffed. "Hi. This is Angela Micelli. Could I possibly use a pair of desk scissors? Or fabric shears, if you have them?"

"I'll send your butler right over with those, Mrs, Micelli."

"See?" she said, putting down the receiver. "Easy."

"You think you could cover me up, too?" he complained, watching her tie one of the fluffy white hotel robes around herself. He was a naked mess and would be in full view of the hallway when the door opened.

"Sorry!" she called, hurrying over to pull the sheet and duvet up to his chin. There was a knock on the door.

"Thank God," Tony grumbled.

"Here are the scissors you requested, Mrs. Micelli," their butler said from the hallway. The tall man peeked over Angela's tousled hair and recognized the situation immediately, pushing into the room and locking the door behind him. "You don't need to cut those," he said. "I will untie them."

Both Angela and Tony turned scarlet, but the butler was tactful as could be. He quickly picked both knots undone without meeting their eyes. "It happens all the time," he explained. "I am discreet," he assured them.

"Thank you," Angela called, as the man disappeared into the hallway again with the scissors. She bolted the door and looked back at Tony, still naked, but out of bed with only a couple of minor friction burns to show for the ordeal. She wondered whether he was still mad.

Tony took a deep breath, but he didn't explode. Instead, he began singing. "Lady of Spain, I adore you." He took his wife in his arms and danced her around the room while they laughed at the absurdity of their last night in Jamaica.