Chapter 340

Vivienne

Daphne docks the yacht at what looks like a small cluster of villas, each one built on stilts over crystal-clear water.

The sun is lower now, turning the sea to molten gold, and the whole place feels like something from a dream—too beautiful to be real, too quiet to be anywhere I’ve ever been.

"I don’t have any change of clothes." I realize it as I say it. My suitcase is on the dock with Michael. In my excitement, I just ran towards her and didn’t get it.

Daphne doesn’t look up from securing the boat. "That’s okay. You can check on the second floor. Main master bedroom."

I leave her to finish with the engine and head down into the yacht. It’s ridiculous, this boat—all polished wood and soft lighting, like a floating hotel.

It’s beautiful,I’ve been on boats like this before, my father’s associates have them, the families at my mother’s galas. This one is different, smaller more intimate, more perfect but it could just be me. After all what do I know about boats?

I find the kitchen first. Small but perfect. Everything tucked away, everything gleaming. Then a bedroom I assume is for guests. Then, finally, the master.

I stop in the doorway.

The bed is huge, covered in white linens. The windows look out over open water. And on the bed, neatly arranged, are over ten shopping bags.

I walk closer. Peak inside.

Dresses. Bikinis. Underwear. Soft cotton, expensive silk, they are all brands I recognize. I can’t help but smile at the small detail of care.

Daphne is waiting on the deck, hand outstretched. She helps me off the boat onto the wooden patio of the villa, her grip steady, her smile easy.

I follow her inside.

The villa is open to the air. Walls of glass, floors of pale wood, furniture that looks comfortable and expensive and lived in. There’s a kitchen, a living area, stairs leading up to somewhere I can’t see. Everything smells like salt and sun.

I set the bags down on a low table, looking around.

***

Daphne

I toss the boat keys onto the table and fall onto the couch, letting my eyes close. The yacht, the drive, the endless sky—it catches up to me all at once. Jet lag, maybe.

I hear her moving around the villa. Soft footsteps on wood. The clink of a glass being set down. The rustle of shopping bags.

Then silence.

I open my eyes.

She’s there. Kneeling in front of me. Between my legs.

Well.

My breath catches. My hands go still at my sides. She’s looking up at me with those blue eyes, patient and waiting, and something in my chest cracks open.

"What are you doing?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

She reaches up, gathers her hair in her hands, ties it back. The movement is casual. Deliberate. The most devastating thing I’ve ever seen.

I would like to apologize to every man I’ve ever looked down on. That was, in fact, one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed.

"Why?" I sit upright, hands finding her shoulders. "I mean—you don’t have to."

She blinks up at me. "But I want to."

My throat tightens. She’s so earnest. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"You really, really don’t have to." I try to pull her up. She doesn’t move.

Like really, really you don’t.

"Why don’t you want me to touch you?" Her voice is soft. Curious. Not hurt exactly but close.

I freeze.

I freeze.

"Can I not want to suck my own Alpha’s dick?" She tilts her head, and there’s something playful in her voice now, something that knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

I don’t respond.

It’s not you, I want to say. It’s literally not you.

But how do I say that? How do I explain this weird body dysmorphophobia I have that belongs to that certain part?

I can’t.

So instead: "Okay. It’s just...I take more pleasure from making you feel good."

It’s not a lie.

She studies my face for a long moment. Those blue eyes, the ones that see everything, that miss nothing.

"So I can’t?" Her voice is small. Quiet. The sound of someone pulling back, protecting herself.

My heart cracks.

She probably thinks I’m rejecting her.I don’t want her the way she wants me.

I can’t do that to her.

"Okay." I cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Okay, my beloved." The word slips out, soft and unguarded. "I was just saying you don’t have to. I don’t mean anything by it."

She nods slowly. Not quite convinced. Still holding something back.

"I want to," she says again. Quieter this time. "If you’ll let me."

She sounds so vulnerable, how could I ever deny her anything?

I lean back onto the chair, and her eyes literally sparkle.

Her hands on my thighs, move to the front of my shorts, and remove ...it.

Arg.

It’s just there, my eye twitches, I mean sure at some point, straps were my favorite, but that’s different they were silicone, plastic, not real.

Vivienne wraps an arm, around it, it’s soft, but I look at it again, and it remains limp.

"I’m sorry, I think I’m tired." I say.

Vivienne looks at me, with a challenge in her eyes, she removes her shirt, and undoes her bra.

Boobs. Breasts. Titties. Heaven.

So pretty.

Wow, look at them.

She stands up and leans down to kiss me, my neck, she straddles me and puts a nipple in my mouth.

Wow, I think this must be the version of her I’ve ever been with that’s so forward. I like it... no, I love it, it’s so hot. I suck the nipple, use my hand to hold the other breast.

Seriously heaven.

I could stay here forever, just like this, with the taste of her on my tongue and the scent of her filling my lungs.

She pulls away, getting off me.

Noo my boobs.

"Guess you’re not tired." She says, kneeling back down.

Well, I guess I’m not tired at all.