The honeymoon suite was a golden cocoon of morning light, the sun spilling through sheer curtains to dance across the tangled sheets of the oversized bed. Beza stirred first, her body still humming with the electric aftershocks of last night’s wedding revelry. She stretched languidly, the silk of the sheets sliding against her bare skin, a delicious reminder of the passion that had consumed them mere hours ago. A slow, satisfied smile curled her lips as she turned her head to the side, her dark eyes landing on Anthony.
There he was, her brand-new husband, sprawled out beside her like a disheveled king. His shirt from the night before hung half-buttoned and crumpled on his frame, boxers askew, and a soft snore rumbling from his parted lips. He looked utterly ridiculous—and utterly hers. Beza’s grin turned mischievous, a spark of deviltry igniting in her chest. Oh, she was going to wake him up in a way he’d be recounting for years.
Sliding closer with the stealth of a cat, she let her bare skin brush against his, the warmth of him drawing a shiver down her spine. Her fingers found his chest, tracing teasing, featherlight patterns over the fabric of his shirt, circling lower with deliberate intent. Anthony mumbled something incoherent, his brow furrowing in sleep, still lost in whatever dreamland he’d wandered into. Oblivious to the storm brewing beside him.
Beza leaned in, her lips hovering just above his ear, her breath hot against his skin. “Wake up, lover boy,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr laced with command. “I’ve got plans for you that don’t involve snoring your way through our first married morning.”
His eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, but the sight of her—naked, radiant, and sporting a devilish glint in her gaze—snapped him to attention faster than a cold shower. “Beza?” he croaked, his voice rough with sleep, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he registered her proximity. “Damn, woman, you’re a sight to wake up to.”
She smirked, sitting back just enough to give him a full view of her unapologetic nudity. “And you’re a mess, sloppy groom,” she teased, her tone sharp and playful as she flicked at the collar of his wrinkled shirt. “What kind of husband crashes in half his wedding clothes? Were you planning to wear this to breakfast?”
Anthony chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face as if to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep. “Hey, I was too busy being seduced by my wife last night to care about wardrobe etiquette. Sue me.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than sue you,” Beza shot back, her eyes flashing with wicked intent. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a commanding purr. “Lose the shirt, lazybones. I’m not waking up to a half-dressed disaster on day one of forever.”
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening, but he complied, fumbling with the buttons as his sleepy fingers struggled to keep up. Beza watched, her gaze hungry and unapologetic, drinking in every inch of skin he revealed. “There’s my man,” she purred, her tone dripping with mock approval. “Though I gotta say, you’re moving slower than a hungover turtle. Did I wear you out that bad last night?”
Anthony laughed, finally shrugging the shirt off and tossing it to the floor. “Wore me out? Babe, I’m just getting started. You’re the one who’s gonna be begging for a nap by noon if you keep looking at me like that.”
“Begging?” Beza scoffed, her laughter bright and cutting as she swung a leg over him, straddling his hips with effortless dominance. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg. I demand. And right now, I’m demanding you keep up with me. Think you’ve got it in you, or should I find a backup groom?”
His hands instinctively settled on her hips, but she caught his wrists, guiding them where she wanted them with bold confidence. Anthony tried to pull her down for a kiss, a flicker of challenge in his eyes, but Beza held firm, leaning just out of reach. “Nice try, hotshot,” she taunted, her voice laced with amusement. “But I’m driving this morning. You just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
He groaned, half in frustration, half in delight, his head falling back against the pillow. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Beza. You know that, right?”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she replied, her tone wicked as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his just enough to tease. Their banter melted into heated whispers, the room filling with shared giggles and the crackle of undeniable chemistry. The morning light seemed to glow hotter around them, wrapping their playful struggle for control in a warm, intimate haze.
As their connection reignited, Beza’s triumphant laugh echoed through the suite, a promise of more mischief to come. She reveled in the moment, in the power she wielded over him, and in the delicious certainty that this was only the beginning of their wild, untamed journey together. “Buckle up, husband,” she murmured against his skin, her voice a velvet threat. “You’ve got no idea what I’ve got planned for you today.”
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