Bonus Scene for the Hate-Love Duet

This scene should only be read after completing the whole Hate-Love Duet.

Laila

“This is the prettiest view I’ve ever seen,” I say. 

“Second prettiest for me,” my husband replies.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Savage.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true, Mrs. Savage.”

We’ve been calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Savage throughout our entire honeymoon. Also, “husband” and “wife.” Because we’re dorks like that. Based on a suggestion from Reed Rivers, we decided to honeymoon along the southern coast of Italy. Our first week, we had a blast relaxing and sightseeing in a couple sparkling cities along the Amalfi Coast. After that, we toured Pompeii and Herculaneum, like all good tourists of this region do, and both stops blew us away.

We visited a couple islands, as well—Capri and Sardinia—and, again, had a fantastic time, before we headed to the small village in Sicily where Mimi’s parents—Francesco and Lucia Salvaggio—were born. And now, for the final stop of our glorious honeymoon, my husband and I are spending a couple nights aboard a small yacht that’s been slowly gliding along the coast of Sardinia, although, at present, the boat is anchored in the mid-day sun in the middle of glorious aquamarine waters.

I sigh happily. Life is good. Both our bodies are naked, tan, and wet, thanks to our recent dip in the ocean. I’ve got a cold glass of Prosecco next to me. Savage is sipping on a Peroni. And I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed or happy in my life. After the wedding, Savage and I both must have muttered, “Holy shit, we’re married!” at least a thousand times that first night. But it wasn’t out of regret or anxiety. It was out of pure elation. The notion that our greatest dream actually came true without a single glitch. But now, I’m starting to get used to the idea, I think. Holy shit, we’re married. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

“Hey,” Savage says, running his fingertip up my bare thigh. And when I glance at him, his naked cock is hard and his dark eyes blazing. The crew has assured us this area of the boat is private. That nobody can see us here. And that nobody will bother us, unless they’ve been explicitly summoned. So, we’ve taken full advantage. Repeatedly. And now, it’s clear from Savage’s erection, he’s ready to go again.

“Hey,” I reply, a naughty smile curling my lips. “What’s up?”

He chuckles. “Me.” When I laugh with him, Savage lifts his empty beer bottle and adds, “As you can see, I’ve finished my drink. So, I was hoping if you’d give me a sip of yours.”

“With pleasure, my darling husband,” I say. With that, I widen my thighs and dribble some Prosecco down my sweet spot, since I know that’s what my horny husband actually meant by his comment, and Savage immediately accepts my invitation. With a wicked smirk, he crawls between my legs and licks up the liquid, and then proceeds to lick and lap at me enthusiastically, until I’m coming against his tongue. As my body ripples and warps against my hot husband’s mouth, he crawls up my body and sinks himself inside me, and then begins fucking me energetically with enthusiastic thrusts of his hips. 

I kiss my husband’s lips as he fucks me, and then lick his tanned, chiseled cheek, enjoying the remnants of salt on Savage’s skin from our dip in the ocean. I grip his wet hair and move my hips in synchronicity with his, coaxing his cock to my farthest reaches. Savage is always beautiful. But, somehow, seeing him here, in his ancestors’ Motherland, has made him practically glow with supernatural beauty. Adrian Savage belongs here, among the turquoise-colored waves and white-sand beaches. He belongs here, along with the flowing red wine and incredible food. His beauty is at home here, meant to be savored along with all the other treasures this region has to offer. 

“Let me on top,” I gasp out, and we quickly rearrange our bodies on top of the colorful cushions beneath us to let me ride him like a banshee. This time, I fuck him slowly, sensuously, enjoying the sun and warm breeze on my skin. The lustful look on my husband’s chiseled face as he revels in my body. I know the man loves me. Obviously. But when I’m riding him like this, when I’m fucking him like he’s my plaything, I strongly prefer to see lust in his eyes, above all other emotions. 

After a bit, Savage sits up and devours my breasts, before sucking on my neck, clearly intending to leave me with yet another hickey—another mark that says “mine.” When he moves on from my neck, he kisses my lips again, this time while massaging my clit. And when I begin moaning in earnest, he presses his lips to my ear and whispers I’m hot as fuck. That I’m all his. And, of course, he calls me his wife. 

I think it’s that last bit that makes me come the most. Or, at least, it’s what makes me come so damned hard. Indeed, as my muscles ripple and warp around Savage’s hard cock inside me, I can’t keep my white-hot pleasure from lurching out of my throat in the form of husky, satisfied growls.

After our mutual orgasms, we clutch each other for a long moment, until, suddenly, for no apparent reason, we both begin giggling. Who started laughing first? I have no idea. All I know is we’ve been doing this very thing throughout our honeymoon. Spontaneously laughing for no apparent reason—both of us feeling too happy to keep it inside, I guess.

Savage kisses my cheek and suggests we dip into the ocean again, to clean ourselves off from our lovemaking. And I’m all for it.

We let a crew member know we’re heading into the ocean, since it’d suck to be unwittingly left behind in the ocean. And then, we grab snorkeling gear and slide into the warm water to explore, as we’ve done several times while staying aboard this spectacular yacht. We swim around for a while, holding hands and pointing at the colorful fish and sights beneath us. And life feels perfect. Lovely. Calm. Relaxing. Happy. The same way the entire honeymoon has felt. Savage and I belong together. We’re meant to be, whether we’re eating yet another huge meal together, or relaxing quietly in the sun. Whether we’re ordering every drink on the menu at our hotel’s bar, all at once, just to be silly and decadent. Or walking along the beach or watching the sunset or swimming in the ocean or fucking each other’s brains out. No matter what we’re doing, Savage and I both know made the right choice and that our true love high will never end.

We return to the ship and dry off for a bit. At our request, a waiter brings some snacks, which we enjoy heartily while chatting about nothing in particular. After a bit, Savage grabs his acoustic guitar and starts noodling around for a bit. He’s written several songs during our trip. He says ideas have been flooding him like crazy. Always, they’re songs about me. About love. About peace. Which, he says, is something completely new for him to write about. Something new for him to feel.

“Sing to me, baby,” I whisper, lying back against a cushion and closing my eyes.

“Any requests, wifey?”

“Anything. Husband’s choice.”

Savage pauses. And then, predictably, begins playing one of his favorite songs to sing to me. It’s a song I wrote for him, of course. The song we danced to at our wedding. But he absolutely adores singing it back to me, especially now that my name is Savage, too. Although, of course, Savage being Savage, he always makes one little tweak to the lyrics in the first verse:

One for the money

Two for the show

Three cuz I’m so good givin’ Os

Ooooooooooh 

 

Four for the cameras

Five for the fame

No catchin’ feelings, only a game

Ooooooooooh 

 

But then six came along when we had our first kiss

Six made me swoon, yell out “I call dibs!”

Six watched you sleep, whispered, “I want this.”

Six held you tight in a white knuckled grip

Ooooooooooh 

 

And now I’ve got a savage love for you

I’ve lost count of all the ways you’ve made me a slave to you

There’s no doubt my love is here to stay, I’m addicted to you

I’ve got a savage love for you, infinite and everlasting

 

Six hit the road, now it’s long gone

Seven came along, now you’re second to none

Ooooooooooh 

 

Cameras are off and our love remains

Eight, nine, and ten, our love never fades

Ooooooooooh 

 

Fake became real and want became need

Can’t live without you, I need you to breathe

You’re swimming in my bloodstream, enmeshed in my heart

I dream about you, in pain when we part

Ooooooooooh 

 

I’ve got a savage love for you

I’ve lost count of all the ways you’ve made me a slave to you

There’s no doubt my love is here to stay, I’m addicted to you

I’ve got a savage love for you

Infinite and everlasting

 

Take my heart, take my soul, 

Take my blood, bones, and flesh

Take the air from my lungs, every pound, every inch

Take it all, every ounce, I give everything

Savage love, my sweet addiction

Ooooohhhh

And now I’ve got a savage love for you

Infinite and everlasting

 

When Savage finishes serenading me with my own song, I crawl into his lap, carefully move his guitar to the side, straddle his hips, and kiss him deeply. 

“I love you, husband,” I whisper. “My sexy hubby bubby.”

Savage laughs. “I love you, too, Mrs. Savage. I’ve got a savage love for you, baby.” He smiles and kisses my cheek. “It’s infinite . . . and everlasting.”