Free Five Golden Rings (Facets of Passion) by Jeffe Kennedy

He hadn’t moved by the time she emerged, so she wandered naked out onto the sun deck. The discreet servers had come and gone while they were out last night, cleaning up the dishes and clearing away all evidence of their long Saturday of decadence.
    Copying Miguel’s method, she called down to room service and asked them to send up breakfast in the elevator. In the mood for a big Sunday brunch, she ordered everything that sounded good—and made sure they put it on her room tab.
    When Miguel emerged nearly an hour later, bleary-eyed and sexily rumpled in the white silk pajama bottoms, it was her turn to hand him his coffee—black and strong. He took in her plate—heaped with biscuits, sausage gravy and eggs, next to a half-demolished Belgian waffle with amaretto-caramelized bananas—and shook his head.
    “I was starving.”
    “So I see.” He kissed her on the forehead, sat and began to fill his own plate. “I’m surprisingly hungry today, too.”
    “All that exercise yesterday.”
    “Indeed. Speaking of which, how are your...tender areas today?”
    He seemed to be much more relaxed today. Expansive, with all signs of the wolf bled away. She wiggled her naked bottom on the chair. “Not too bad. Kinda sore.”
    “Not surprising. We’ll save more strenuous activities for tonight. Care to do some sightseeing?”
    “Yes!” She pointed a forkful of waffle and whipped cream at him. “But I’m not going naked.”
    “The thought never crossed my mind.” He smiled, that charming lawyer grin that meant he planned to get his way. “I know exactly what you’ll wear.”
    It turned out to be a simple oufit—a white, thin cotton halter sundress, reminiscent of the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in the famous skirt-blowing-up scene. Tilda put it on, then tied the halter a bit more loosely so her nipples didn’t show through quite so much. However, when Miguel added the gold clamps to her nipples, he made the halter tighter than she had. She thought about arguing propriety, since they were going out in public, but he had her holding the full skirt over her head while she straddled his lap and he stroked her clit to throbbing life before slipping in her silver bullet and clamping on the alligator clip.
    By the time he let her go, she was campaigning for another day of sex by the private pool and had forgotten about how the dress looked. He promised her the five gold rings for later in the day, told her to stop whining or he wouldn’t let her come for the rest of the week, and whisked her into the elevator.
    They traveled around, playing tourist in the various shops. And he teased her, too, sliding a hand inside her halter to tweak her clamped nipple when no one was looking, sitting next to her at their waterfront table for a late lunch—ostensibly so they could both enjoy the view—but more to lightly rub her swollen clit under the tablecloth.
    When they returned in the afternoon, Miguel suggested sunset cocktails on his private terrace and she readily agreed. “Though it’s not sunset yet.”
    “We’ll find a way to pass the time.”
    His warm hand rested on the small of her back, guiding her into the glass elevator. He pulled her into his arms for a searing kiss, her stomach swooping, not only from the rapid ascent. The ties at her neck slipped away, leaving her suddenly bare breasted, the gold spirals winking around her tight nipples.
    “I love dresses like this,” he grinned with a wicked slant, then slid his hands up under the full skirt to squeeze her naked bottom and press her against his erection. He had her panting in moments, only the ding of the elevator doors opening penetrating her senses. “However, I’d like you to go take this one off. It’s time for your rings. Meet me in the master bath. Wear nothing at all—not even jewelry.”
    Deeply curious, that thrill of suspense quickening her blood, she hung up the dress and met Miguel in the spacious tiled bathroom. A jewelry box of mirrored gold sat on