The suite at my hotel was bigger than my apartment, and the bedroom was festooned with roses. In the morning, a personal guide had shown me the streets of Málaga where my grandfather grew up, and then he brought me to the beaches of Marbella’s Golden Mile. He told me the next day he would take me to a fort called the Alcazaba and a Picasso museum. He was younger than me, maybe twenty-one, and adorable, but I found myself thinking of Cavan.
Shortly after dusk, I lay nude and lubed up on the massive bed. The mist arose from the ring this time, and Cavan materialized, naked instead of in his usual tuxedo. Without a word, he flipped me onto all fours and mounted me, plunging in deep.
“Jesus!” I yelled at his entry.
“Last night was not enough,” Cavan growled as he thrust. He referred to our
