Chapter 6
SIX
Nic pinned the last of his service ribbons into the leather binder as Cam, minus his tuxedo coat, sauntered into the bedroom.
“Does Joe forgive us?” Nic asked.
“Bird,” Cam corrected. He slipped the binder from Nic’s hands, zipped it, and set it on the dresser. “And debatable. His dinner was hours late.”
The orange ball of fluff had voiced his displeasure the second he and Cam had stumbled through the front door, meowing pitifully from his perch atop the sofa.
They’d managed to detach their lips and untangle their limbs long enough for Cam to feed the cat and for Nic to text Mel, telling her they’d return the truck tomorrow and asking her to threaten bodily harm to anyone who intended to interrupt them further tonight.
Moving closer, Nic slid Cam’s already loosened bowtie the rest of the way off. “Hopefully he doesn’t divorce us.”
“He might for parents who feed him timely and aren’t confused about his name.”
“Oh, I’m not confused.”
Cam rolled his eyes and began unknotting Nic’s tie. “I can’t believe you stole my cat.”
Nic trembled, the brush of Cam’s knuckles against the underside of his jaw more erotic than it had any right to be. Maybe because Nic couldn’t stop thinking about another knot he wanted Cam to untie.
“Well,” Cam said, “he’s half yours now anyway.”
Nic chuckled. “That’s not how community property works,” he repeated for the second time that day.
Cam tugged free the tie, tossed it on the dresser, then stepped chest to chest. He could push Nic’s coat off his shoulders, so slowly, so fucking tempting. “How does it work, Counselor?” he asked, his lips ghosting over Nic’s throat.
Nic had to clear the gravel from his voice before speaking. “You have to commute prior owned property.” Still sounded scratchy. “You have to demonstrate the intent to make the property ours.”
“One, I think we belong to the cat, not vice versa. And two, I can’t rip Bird in half.” Cam shifted a step away to hang up the coat in their closet.
As soon as the coat was secure, Nic tugged Cam back by a belt loop, crashing his back against Nic’s front.
Wrapping his arms around Cam from behind, Nic ran his hands down Cam’s torso, slowly, returning to the earlier torture.
He began unfastening the buttons of Cam’s dress shirt on his way back up.
“Of course not,” he said. “We can’t do that. ”
“And I’m never conceding his name is Joe.” Cam’s voice was as low and rough as Nic’s, both of them near panting. “But we can share feeding and litter duties.”
“So generous.” Nic lowered the shirt down his husband’s arms with the same slow reverence Cam had used to remove his coat.
Cam’s head fell back against Nic’s shoulder. “Something else I’d like to share with you.”
“Yeah?” Nic nuzzled behind his ear. “What’s that?”
Cam tilted his ass up, nuzzling it against Nic’s erection. “My cock, after I take that tie off yours and make you come.”
“Fuck, Boston.”
Slow left the building. Nic pitched the shirt toward the laundry with one hand and yanked Cam’s undershirt up with the other, dragging it off over his head and pitching it the same direction.
Cam spun in his arms, lips crashing against his, and Nic groaned down his throat, desire pouring out of him.
All day he’d wanted this man—a day that had started at the brewery, included a wild car chase, and ended with them married.
Finally. As a SEAL, then prosecutor, Nic had experienced more than a few adrenaline rushes in his life, but nothing compared to this day.
And all that adrenaline was cresting on a wave of overwhelming joy and blinding need.
Cam must have felt it too, smiling against his lips.
“Too many clothes, baby.” He quickly divested Nic of his dress shirt and tee, followed by his belt, and was halfway to his knees before Nic remembered something else he needed to say, the joy he needed to share with Cam out loud.
He clasped Cam’s shoulder to stop his descent. “Wait!”
Cam straightened, brows knitted. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is better than I thought it ever could be.” He grasped the heated skin at Cam’s waist and rested their foreheads together.
“I just . . .” Warm hands glided up his chest, fingers fanning out over the myriad of tattoos, giving Nic time and keeping the fire between them warm while he gathered his words and his heart, ready to offer it up on a silver wedding platter to Cam.
“I always thought we’d write our vows, but—”
Cam chuckled, the breath puffing over Nic’s lips. “But our friends hijacked our wedding.” Hands cupping his neck, Cam drew him in for a quick, soft kiss. “What would you have said, Counselor?”
Nic leaned back far enough to see Cam’s face and so Cam could see his.
He took Cam’s hands in his and lowered them against his chest. “I would have said that these past two and a half years have been the best of my life. That you are the best part of my life, and you’ve made all the other parts of my life better too.
My brewery is better with you, my job is better with you, my family is better with you.
My life is better than I thought it ever could be. ”
“Jesus, Nic.”
“You, Boston, make me better.”
Using Nic’s hands in his, Cam yanked him forward into a scorching kiss.
When they came up for air again, after they’d fumbled out of the rest of their clothes and stumbled back to the bed, Cam stood between Nic’s spread legs.
In what was perhaps the most surprising thing of the day to Nic, Cam ignored the tie-wrapped cock straining his direction.
Instead, he framed Nic’s face with his hands, and Nic smiled, cheeks lifting and lips curving, chasing more of the gentle, loving touch.
Cam’s thumbs skated over his cheekbones.
“I’m glad I broke the rules for you, Dominic.
Every single one of them was worth it to end up right here, with you, in our life together.
Thank you for always being the rope I needed, thank you for always tugging me back to shore, and thank you for not mentioning Tom Brady once today. ”
Nic covered the lump in his throat, the sting behind his eyes, with a watery laugh. “It was really fucking hard.”
“I’m sure it was.” One corner of Cam’s smile hitched higher.
He smirked as he lowered a hand off Nic’s face, skirting it down between them, over Nic’s neck, his chest, and around his belly button, a trail of sparks in its wake.
A path that caught fire as Cam finally seized one of the silk tie ends and gave it a tug.
“But let’s focus on something else that’s hard instead. ”
Moaning, Nic held himself upright by sheer force of will, which began to crumble when Cam crawled up onto the bed and forced Nic to scoot back, never letting go of the tie. Cam’s smirk turned positively wicked. “I’m glad you put this back on for me.”
Falling back onto the pillows, Nic gazed at his husband through heavy-lidded eyes as he wound the tie through his fingers. Grew harder with each tiny jerk the motion caused. Nic wanted to feel those deft fingers on his cock. “Please, Boston. I held up my end of the deal.”
“Time for me to hold up mine, then.”
Cam let go of the tie end, grabbed a bottle of lube from the side table, and pushed Nic’s thighs apart, almost painfully wide, but the warmth the exposed position brought to Nic’s heart—the trust and openness there between them—was so much greater.
And the pleasure when Cam’s lips brushed his cock, featherlight, as his teeth tugged at the knotted tie was out of this world.
Nic clutched the bedsheets, writhing and cursing, only making the exquisite torture worse. “Fucking hell.”
“Almost got it.”
Spoken words brought more lip contact, and Nic scrunched his eyes closed, fighting an orgasm that was right there.
Cam’s fingers against his hole, cool and slick with lube, didn’t slow things down.
Pressure assaulted him from both points of pleasure—insistent tugs and touches against his dick, thick fingers pushing into his ass.
It was a sensory overload like Nic had never experienced.
Two and a half years together and Cam could still blow his mind.
He could only imagine what else they could get up to in the years to come.
He babbled out his thanks, his praise, his love, ending on a roughened sigh when the pressure around his cock eased.
“Success!” Cam mumbled around—Nic opened his eyes again—the tie between his teeth.
“Impressive,” Nic complimented. “But I don’t think you can claim success until you get your dick inside me.”
Cam cast aside the tie and stared down at him with dark eyes as heated as Nic was sure his own were. “Oh, is that the measure of success?”
“Tonight it is.” Nic wound his legs around the backs of Cam’s thighs and urged him forward. “I want my husband to make love to me.”
Cam’s devious grin softened, morphing into something soft and so full of love, an expression Nic could happily spend the rest of his life gazing up at. “There’s nothing your husband wants to do more.”
He didn’t make either of them wait any longer, lining up and thrusting inside Nic.
Hard, just the way Nic liked it, and fuck if Nic didn’t love that feeling even more now that he wore a ring to match Cam’s.
He clawed at Cam’s back and hitched his legs higher, bringing them chest to chest. Their sweat-slick bodies ground together as Cam pounded inside him, racing toward their climax.
There was no more taking it slow. They’d teased enough already and had half a night—a lifetime—ahead of them for more of that.
Now, though, was about releasing the desire that had built all day, about the love between them driving them higher.
Faster. Until Cam stiffened in his arms and let out a deep, satisfied groan that unlocked Nic’s own orgasm, the two of them coming together.
Cam collapsed first onto his elbows, then, with a nudge from Nic, completely on top of him.
He shifted as if to slide off to Nic’s side, but Nic tightened his legs around him, keeping Cam firmly in place.
With his left hand, Nic reached over and grabbed Cam’s, the metal of their rings pinging.
Nic held them together, over his heart. “Couple of vows I forgot.”
Cam propped his chin on their joined hands. “Oh yeah, what are those?”
“Do you promise to always argue with me?”
Cam grinned. “I do.”
“To tell me if my beer sucks?”
Grinned bigger. “I do.”
“To not give me too much shit for being a Kings fan?”
Laughed out loud. “I’ll try.”
Nic chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Cam kissed his knuckles. “Got a few more of my own too.”
“Figured you might.”
Cam’s grin morphed into a smirk. “Do you promise to always bring me donuts?”
An easy one. “I do.”
“To always keep beer in the fridge and coffee ready to brew?”
Another easy one. “I do.”
“To accept the fact you married a Southie boy who loves his Boston sports teams?”
Accepting Cam was the easy part—the easiest, best thing Nic had ever done—but the sports teams . . . “I’ll try.” He silenced Cam’s dramatic guffaw by hauling him up for a kiss. “I love you, Cameron Byrne. Boston sports teams notwithstanding.”
“And I love you, Dominic Price, including all that fancy legalese.”
Their smiling lips met, sharing each other’s breath, happiness, and bodies again and again, slow and teasing mixed with fast and rough, making the most of their wedding night.
Which remained blissfully uninterrupted.
Thank fuck.