"I love you too."
She faced the camera. We didn't say a word as we sat in that moment, letting the enormity of our confessions swirl around us. It felt natural and right. I wanted to ride the crest for the rest of my life.
Now, was the first evening in the Riviera Maya with my favorite girl. We'd returned to our villa after a romantic dinner on the beach. The night air had been balmy with a slight touch of humidity. Jasmine had suggested that we sip our post-dinner cocktails on the balcony, and we'd stood there quietly and listened to the waves crash against the shoreline. The big and glowing moon cast a glow over the Gulf, our private pool, and our skin.
Moonlight landed across Jasmine's beautiful face, illuminating the flirtatious gleam in her eyes. Like a heat-seeking missile, I moved closer to her.
"Garrett, do you know what would make the evening perfect? If you fucked me. Right here."
My dirty girl.
I set my drink down and stepped even closer. My breath sped up at her proximity. I leaned in and dropped a ghost of a kiss on her mouth as I placed her drink next to mine. Without warning, I spun her around, pressing a hand to her chest, holding her to me before seeking out her tit. I pulled at the pebbled nipple. She moaned and pushed her ass back to rub against my hardening cock.
"If you want to do this, you've got to be quiet. You can't scream or yell. You can't call on Jesus when I make you come. Do you promise? I don't want our neighbors to know my name. Do you hear me?" I whispered in her ear, thrusting my dick against her ass for emphasis.
She sighed and nodded; her lips parted in ecstasy. She moved her hand up my leg until it met my hip, clutching me tightly. She gripped me in place as I rocked against her. The blood from my head and my feet flowed to the center of my body. The moon and the sea disappeared as black spots filled my view.
Jasmine let out a loud moan when I placed her hands on the balcony railing. I pulled the material of her diaphanous dress over her calves, past her shapely thighs, until I revealed her perfect brown ass. The fabric curtained over her back, exposing the tiniest sliver of lace that she liked to call "panties." Panties were bigger and utilitarian. Panties held things in. The handmade strings served no purpose other than to entice me to plunge into her like a fucking caveman.
My hand moved the lace aside and sought out her pussy. I lazily stroked at the soft and wet flesh and closed my eyes to imagine how good she would feel impaled on me. She opened her legs wider, allowing more access to her pussy.
"Six weeks is too fucking long. At this rate, I'll never let you go," I uttered, almost to myself.
"Garrett, fuck me."
"Remember, you can't disturb our neighbors or anyone who walks past. Everyone will know," I whispered into her neck.
"You talk as if I'm the loud one." She turned to look back at me. The excitement, desire, and lust all danced in her eyes.
In response, I slapped her ass. She shivered at the unexpected sensation.
The sound of my zipper was louder than the ocean. Jasmine trembled in anticipation as I pulled out my cock. Settling between her legs, I was rock-hard thinking about sinking into her warm, tight channel. I pulled aside the strip of lace and lined my crown with her entrance. I pushed into her slowly and smoothly, stretching her apart until every inch was buried. Her pussy felt like heaven. I held still and watched as she struggled to take shallow breaths, all while trying to pivot against me. I felt every quake and quiver from deep inside of her. When I couldn't take another second, I moved my hand to her shoulder and pulled my hips back, delivering a thrust.
She removed a hand from the railing and reached back until she found mine. Our fingers interlaced as I ruthlessly plowed into her. She pressed her lips into the opposite forearm to muffle her screams and moans.
It wasn't about sex and climaxing. It was about the connection with someone that meant so much to me. Six weeks had been difficult, but we made it through. Together.
There, under the moonlight, we made delicious love.
Jasmine
Fourteen months later . . .
I was the Chief Security Officer at Compertum Business Solutions. Compertum was the name of Garrett and Hunter's consulting company. If Lilah hadn't moved between them, the two would have come to blows about whose name would go first. After weeks of going back and forth, Lilah and I stepped in and gave them a few suggestions. They agreed that the Latin word for proven best represented the brand.
Besides serving on the leadership team, I was a limited partner. I took the savings I'd put aside for the ER Wallace partner capital contribution and used it to invest in my man's business.
Early on, Hunter and Garrett agreed to base the company out of Atlanta. With over thirteen thousand technology companies in the area, it made sense to start here.
The best part of this position was the lack of travel. We'd target small to medium-sized organizations in the Atlanta area.
Ten months ago, Garrett had packed up his life and moved to The Dirty South. Having a man full-time in my space was an adjustment, but I overlooked all the minor frustrations and concentrated on life with him.
Tonight was a big night. We would have a launch party for our family and close friends. They'd get to tour the office space, and Garrett or Hunter would announce their first contract. A one year, three-million-dollar project to modernize a school district's network and hardware.
I'd finished wrapping my hair in spiral rollers and walked to the closet to figure out the best outfit for the evening's festivities. Garrett had tuned the television to one of the financial channels. My ears perked up at the mention of a familiar name. I ran out of the closet and stared at the screen.
"Honey! Come quick!" I called out to Garrett. I picked up the remote and angled it at the television, raising the volume.
He ran into the bedroom. He'd been in the loft riding the Peloton bike he gave me for Christmas.
"Are you okay?" Sweat clung to his muscle tank as his chest rapidly rose and fell.
"Look!" I pointed to the television.
With his eyes plastered on the screen, he pulled his phone from the dresser and dialed up, who I could only assume, was Hunter. "Quick! Turn on CNBC. Call me back."
A red banner with "Breaking News" in white letters occupied the lower half of the screen. Video footage of Nic and Jeff Cagle being walked from the Dynex headquarters filled the top portion. The two held their heads down and avoided cameras and reporters' questions. Behind them, trailed three men carrying file boxes, each wearing matching navy jackets and white shirts.
"Oh shit. The FBI and the IRS. What the fuck?" Garrett called out.
The banner changed to "Scandal Rocks Dynex International."
The television anchor answered our question. "In what is being called the New Year's Eve Massacre, Nicolette 'Nic' Sewell, the CEO of Dynex International, was fired. The Feds have accused her of corporate hacking, insider trading, and sexual harassment. The company has been best described as the wild, wild west. Our sources have told us that Nicolette and Jeff used threats to intimidate and humiliate their employees, all while using the company's coffers as their personal piggy banks."
We both sat on the edge of the mattress and stared, wide-eyed at the screen.
"We've learned that a corporate whistleblower shared hundreds of files with fed—"