The honeymoon suite was a golden cocoon of morning light, the sun spilling through gauzy curtains to paint the tangled mess of sheets in a warm glow. Beza stirred beneath the covers, her body deliciously sore from the wild revelry of last night’s wedding festivities. Every muscle ached with the sweet memory of dancing, laughter, and the kind of passion that only a newly minted marriage could ignite. She stretched languidly, her bare skin brushing against the cool fabric, a satisfied hum escaping her lips.
Her gaze drifted to the man beside her—Anthony, her brand-new husband, sprawled out like a disheveled god. He was half-dressed, a rumpled white shirt hanging open over his chest, boxers slung low on his hips, one arm flung dramatically over his face. Soft snores rumbled from him, each one a little louder than the last, and Beza couldn’t help the mischievous grin that curled her lips. Oh, this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Slipping silently from the sheets, her naked form caught the morning light, casting long, playful shadows across the room. She moved with the grace of a predator, straddling his hips with a deliberate thud that jostled the bed. Anthony grunted, his snoring stuttering into a mumbled, incoherent protest, but he didn’t wake. Not yet. Beza leaned down, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, her breath hot and teasing against his ear.
“Really, love? Snoring like a chainsaw on our first married morning?” she whispered, her voice dripping with mock disdain. “I thought I married a man, not a hibernating bear.”
His eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, but a slow, groggy smirk spread across his face as he registered the sight of her—naked, confident, and perched atop him like a queen on her throne. “Mmm… morning, Mrs. Carter,” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. “Didn’t expect to wake up to a goddess… or a tyrant.”
Beza arched a brow, her grin sharpening. “Tyrant, huh? Well, this tyrant isn’t impressed with her sleepy lump of a husband. Come on, Anthony. Prove you’ve got some life in you. Or are you just gonna lie there looking pretty and useless?”
He chuckled, a low, lazy sound, as his hands found her thighs, sliding up with a teasing slowness that belied his drowsy state. “Pretty and useless? Ouch, babe. That’s cold. How ‘bout I show you just how useful I can be… once I’ve had my coffee?”
“Coffee?” she scoffed, leaning closer, her lips hovering just out of reach of his. “You think I’m letting you off that easy? Wake up properly, Mr. Carter, or I’ll make you regret it. And trust me, I’ve got ways to make you squirm.”
Anthony’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief even through the haze of sleep. “Oh, I’m trembling. What’s the big, bad Beza gonna do? Smother me with kisses? ‘Cause I could live with that.”
She laughed, a sharp, bright sound that filled the room, but her tone turned commanding in an instant. “Don’t tempt me, smartass. I’m already half-tempted to tie you to this bed and leave you there until you beg for mercy.”
His hands tightened on her thighs, and he tugged her down into a messy, morning-breath kiss that she pretended to resist for half a second before melting into it with a playful growl. Their lips clashed, sloppy and unpolished, but it sent a spark of heat straight through her. Beza pulled back just enough to pin his wrists above his head, her grip firm, her eyes flashing with dominance as she smirked down at him.
“Look at you,” she purred, her voice low and taunting. “Half-dressed like some frat boy after a bender. What kind of husband shows up to his first morning like this? I should make you strip the rest off just to teach you a lesson.”
Anthony barked out a laugh, his chest rumbling beneath her. “Damn, woman, you’re ruthless. I’m half-dressed ‘cause you wore me out last night. Give a guy a break.”
“A break?” she shot back, grinding her hips against him with deliberate intent, watching his breath hitch. “Breaks are for quitters. And I didn’t marry a quitter, did I?”
He groaned, half in protest, half in pleasure, as he tried to flip their positions, his hands flexing against her hold. “Come on, Beza, lemme at least pretend I’ve got some control here.”
“Not a chance,” she snapped, her grip tightening on his wrists, her smirk wicked. “You think you can just roll over and take charge? Dream on, sweetheart. I’m running this show, and you’re gonna like it.”
Their playful struggle intensified, laughter mingling with breathless gasps as they wrestled for dominance—though Beza made damn sure she stayed on top. Her commands came sharp and teasing, each one laced with humor and heat. “Stay down, Anthony. Move again, and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to walk today.”
“Promises, promises,” he panted, his voice rough with desire, though his eyes sparkled with defiance. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that to keep me in line.”
“Oh, I’ll work you, alright,” she retorted, her movements deliberate and torturous as she pressed against him, stoking the fire between them. Their banter dissolved into heavy breaths, the tension coiling tight as their bodies moved in sync, a delicious push and pull of power and play.
Finally, Beza slowed, hovering over him with a triumphant smirk, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Don’t think this is over, love,” she warned, her voice a sultry promise. “You’ve got a long day of punishment ahead if you don’t keep up with me. Think you can handle it?”
Anthony grinned up at her, utterly disheveled and clearly loving every second of her reign. “Bring it on, tyrant. I’m all yours.”
The morning hung between them, charged and unresolved, a game of mischief and desire that promised to stretch well into the day.
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