Tyler #2
A few minutes later, we were led to the altar.
A kind-looking older man in a pressed white shirt stood ready to officiate.
My heart was thundering so loud I barely heard him.
All I saw was her, standing in front of me, hands clasped tight in mine like she’d never let go.
Her hair caught the candlelight, her smile was breathtaking, her eyes slightly glazed over but still striking, and for one insane second I swore I felt the ground shake under my feet.
The officiant’s voice was soothing though the moment was anything but. “Welcome both to the Eternal Love chapel, we gather here today to witness the joining of you, Tyler and Orla, in marriage…”
I barely registered the rest of what he said, it was just a muffled sound in the background. All I could feel was her thumbs brushing over my knuckles, the way her breath caught like she was balancing on the same razor’s edge I was.
“Do you, Tyler, take Orla to be your wife?”
“Fuck yeah,” I said without hesitation. Orla tried to smother her laugh but failed completely, her shoulders shaking.
The officiant smiled politely before turning. “And do you, Orla, take Tyler to be your husband?”
Her eyes shimmered, but her voice remained steady and sure. “Of course I do.”
“You may now…”
Too late; I was already kissing her, hands framing her face, mouth crashing onto hers like I could make it permanent by sheer force of will. She gasped, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt like she needed me just as badly. Somewhere behind us, the officiant cleared his throat, but I didn’t give a damn.
When I finally pulled back, her lipstick was smudged, her cheeks bright crimson, and her eyes… Christ, they were dancing with something I knew belonged to me.
“Hi, Mrs. Reed,” I said, grinning like a fool.
She laughed, breathless. “Hi, husband.” And just like that, she was mine. Not just for tonight. Not just for Vegas. But for good.
We stumbled back into the hotel room half an hour later, me shouldering her through the door in my arms with the keycard clenched between my teeth. I spat it out the second we were inside and claimed her mouth, kissing her like I hadn’t already had her twice today.
“Now I get to have my wicked way with my wife,” I growled against her neck, dragging my teeth down to where her pulse fluttered.
Her breathless laugh turned into a moan, the straps of her little dress already sliding off her shoulders, baring the top swell of her breasts.
“You wore this to remind me what a little slut you are, O?”
“Maybe,” she breathed, her eyes already darkened with need.
I shoved the dress down further, exposing her hard, dusky nipples, and caught one in my mouth. She gasped, her hips grinning into me.
“Good,” I muttered against her skin. “Because I know how filthy you like it. You’re my wife now. All mine. And tonight, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you. I’m going to show you exactly what you mean to me.”
“Fuck, Tyler… I need you,” she panted, dipping her hand down my jeans and wrapping it firmly around my cock. My hips jerked helplessly into her grip.
“Oh, you’re a needy little thing tonight. Couch. Spread your legs.” I ordered unsteadily. “Tonight’s about you and that perfect little pussy.”
I guided her back, barely breaking the kiss until she dropped onto the sofa, parting her knees with a devilish grin. The hem of her dress rode up high, breasts still bare, my heart almost flatlined.
“That.” I pointed at her underwear. “Off.”
She slid her black lace thong down achingly slow, only closing her thighs to hook them over her knees. When she opened them up again, she surprised me by sliding a finger into her own slick heat, pumping it in and out while holding my gaze.
“Fuck. Me, O,” I groaned.
She pulled her finger out and pressed it to my lips. I wrapped my mouth around it, tasting her.
“You’re so gorgeous right now,” I rasped. “I’ll never get over the taste of you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as I dipped my head between her thighs, spreading her with my fingers before my tongue found her clit, teasing it slowly.
“Tyler!” she yelped, her hands fisting in my hair as her hips tilted, sliding lower, giving me the perfect angle.
The satin of her dress bunched at her waist, was no barrier between me and everything I wanted.
Her thighs trembled against my shoulders as I licked into her, tongue working with precision over her clit until she cried out.
“Jesus, Tyler…don’t stop.”
I didn’t plan to. I sucked her into my mouth, circling it with my tongue, fucking her with my fingers until she writhed against the sofa cushions. Her wetness now streaming down my palm.
“Hands off my hair, O,” I warned when she tugged too hard. “Sit back and take it.”
She whimpered, dropping her hands, clutching the couch instead. Good girl.
“Fuck, you taste like heaven.” I pushed another finger inside her, curling it just right, and she let out the kind of noise that made my cock throb painfully against my jeans. “You’re dripping for me. Gonna make a mess all over my face.”
Her eyes rolled back, her hips jerking uncontrollably then she shocked me again, slipping her hand down and pressing against her clit while I fucked her with my fingers.
“O,” I growled, pulling back to watch the perfect view. “You trying to take control of my job?”
“Just helping,” she panted, teasing, the little minx.
I ripped my fingers from her, shoved her hand away, and pinned her hips to the cushions with a palm spread firm against her stomach. “Not tonight. Tonight you’re mine. You come when I say.”
Her mouth dropped open, eyes dark with heat, and I knew she loved it.
I stood, stripping my jeans and boxers off in one rough move, my cock springing free, heavy and aching. She licked her lips at the sight.
“On your knees. Right now.”
She slid off the sofa without hesitation, sinking down between my thighs, eye glinting wickedly. I wrapped a hand in her hair and guided her mouth to me, groaning when her red lips stretched around my cock, leaving a trace of her lipstick.
“Fuck, Orla. That’s it. Take it.”
Her tongue swirled, throat tightening as she swallowed me deeper, and I had to close my eyes for a second just to hold on.
She worked my length expertly, I could feel myself hitting the back of her throat.
She pulled back with a filthy pop, looking up at me with a grin through those long dark lashes before stroking me hard and running her tongue from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue as she reached the top.
“Christ almighty,” I rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Maybe,” she said teasing, before taking me back down like she wanted to prove something. I could feel the adrenaline radiating off us both. The need for what we both wanted, what we’d done tonight was almost too much to bear.
I pulled her off suddenly, dragging her up to her feet and guiding her over the back of the sofa. She gasped when I shoved her dress up to her waist again and pressed the head of my cock against her slick entrance from behind.
“You’re mine, Orla, you’re my wife now,” I told her, voice shaking with the effort not to just slam into her. “Say it.”
“I’m your wife, Tyler,” she moaned, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked smile.
I pushed inside in one slow stroke, her body clenching around me like she’d been made for this. We both groaned in unison and I had to grab her hips to keep from coming too quickly.
“That’s it, O. Take every inch of me.”
She gasped, fingernails clawing at the sofa as I set a brutal pace, my hips snapping forward until the sound of our skin meeting filled the room.
“Tyler, oh god…”
“You love it, don’t you?” I grunted, pulling her up gently by the hair so her back arched against the sofa. “Being fucked like this. My perfect. Filthy. Wife.” I ground out in between each thrust.
“Yes,” she cried out. “I love it… I love you…”
That undid me. My thrusts grew harder, deeper, until she was trembling, nails digging into cushions just to hold it together. I could feel her getting close. “Come for me, baby,” I demanded against her ear. “Let me feel it.”
Her whole body shook, her cry breaking as she shattered around me, clenching so tight I saw stars. I came hard, spilling deep inside her with a grunt, grinding into her until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.
I could only stay still, feeling her warm smooth skin beneath my palms, listening to our ragged breaths recovering from thoroughly consummating our marriage.
“Fuck, O,” I whispered, kissing her damp shoulder softly. “If this is married life, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” She couldn’t speak, all that came from her was a breathless, smug smirk.
Tomorrow, when the hangover hit and the regret tried to creep in, I was taking her straight to Tiffany.
I’d buy the biggest, most obnoxious fucking ring they had, slide it on her finger, and make this real.
Because after tonight, there was no going back.
She could have the whole damn world if she wanted it, every last piece of it.
And I’d spend the rest of my life making sure she knew it was hers.