Chapter 3
Meirna
The rooftop is dark.
Except for the hundreds of candles that illuminate the edges of the space against the harsh winter wind.
It’s freezing up here, but I love winter. Not only did I wish to be married around Christmas, but also outside.
Because I’m an undiagnosed psycho.
But I love the crisp air.
I love being bundled up.
I love cocoa and the earth covered in sparkly white.
It’s magic.
And tonight only proves that.
Bobby waits patiently for me on the other side, dressed in an all-black suit on the other side. A priest stands at the head with two rows of candles that create a makeshift aisle for me to walk down and marry the man of my dreams on the other side.
I brought the bouquet Bobby bought for me earlier, feeling nervous and a bit shy as I walk towards him.
As always, he’s a god dressed in his perfectly fitted attire. He’s in all black again, which was planned.
And, goddamn, he’s sexy as fuck in it.
“You came,” he deadpans in his deep octave that has a thrill of excitement sprinting up my spine.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” I look around the rooftop again, in awe of the quick planning he put together to make this happen. It’s textbook romantic. And I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. “It’s beautiful, Bobby.”
He extends a hand, prompting me to stand beside him while the priest takes his cue and begins our private ceremony.
His words are a muttered blur in my head as I try to stand present in the moment. But it’s so much, and so little at the same time.
We don’t have our closest friends or family here, but this is everything I wanted.
Small.
Private.
Ours.
Bobby gently turns me to face him, and I try to listen and wait for my cues, offering them when it’s my turn, but I can’t break my gaze from my soon-to-be husband.
It feels so laser-focused and content to be standing in front of him.
Together.
We’re going to do all this together.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Bobby doesn’t wait another second before getting in my space, wrapping his arm possessively around my waist, plastering the dirtiest kiss known to man on my lips in front of a man who’s given his life to God.
And this isn’t sacred.
It feels like a possession.
His tongue coaxes my lips wider, binging on the taste of me. His fingers dig into my waist when he pulls me even closer, sandwiching me between his hold and rock-hard chest.
Rising more on my tiptoes, I realize the heels I wore are still too short because I still have to put in some extra effort to reach Bobby.
But, besides the incorrect footwear, this is a dream.
My dream.
It’s serene with no added pressure and eight hundred eyes on us. It’s what I told Bobby I always wanted.
He remembered.
We’re going to be fine.
“I made cookies for tonight,” I mutter against his lips and feel his lips heave a little. “You said you’d try them.”
Gingerbread cheesecake cookies.
When I said I loved Christmas, I meant it.
I bake hundreds of cookies every year, and Bobby is my taste dummy.
I am never anywhere without cookies in my purse around this time of the year.
Not only are my recipes specifically organized down to the type of cookie, but down to the rating of how good they are.
“Did I?” Bobby says against my lips, stealing another long and provocative kiss from my lips. “I had something else in mind.”
“I’m down for anything,” I whisper breathlessly. “As long as it’s not talking about that one client you were trying to sign on.”
The man sounded like a nightmare with his anal suggestions about where to put his money down to the cent and weekly reports on how it was doing.
“You cold?” I shake my head. “Good. Because I want to fuck you overlooking the city and show everyone that you’re mine.”
That suggestion takes my breath away.
I can’t say I’ve had the most exciting sex life imaginable.
Bobby and I once had sex on his office desk when I surprised him with lunch, but that’s as crazy as we’ve gotten.
Not that I’m complaining because it was equally hot as well as thrilling.
Yet, I’ll admit, busy schedules have kept us from continuing to have sex in random places and keeping it at a spicy level.
Late nights turn into sleeping before our heads hit the pillow.
I don’t love him any less for it, but I would like us to carve out some more time for ourselves and our relationship.
“Roof or room,” Bobby presses, cupping my ass through my dress impatiently. “I have to have you within the next two minutes or I’m going to lose my fuckin’ mind.”
“Roof.”
My answer is mindless when Bobby’s mouth finds mine again. This kiss is more depraved than the last. I don’t know where my mouth ends and his begins because he eats me alive with this one.
His breathing is battered with need, and mine is enthusiastic with Bobby’s new desire to fuck me as his wife.
I’m lifted in the air before my butt and spine hit the hard brick within seconds, while Bobby’s body spreads my thighs through my dress.
He begins bunching up the fabric, giving up on the length of it because it’s a lot. “How much do you love this dress?”
A lot.
However…
I quickly glance around, looking for the priest and imagining the look of pure horror at Bobby’s impatience to maul me, when I find nothing.
He’s gone.
“Mierna," Bobby growls tersely. “Dress…”
“Well, I’m not going to wear it again after—” The sound of ripping collides with my ears, and I gasp in equal parts shock and surprise when I suddenly feel his warm hands gliding along the inside seam of my thighs.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he leers through clenched teeth. “You already know what this is, don’t you, my little Daydream?”
Daydream?
I pull away, locking onto his face, his eyes, his everything. “What…did you say?”
He reaches up and runs the crook of his index finger gently down one cheek. “You couldn’t possibly think I haven’t had you in mind these last two years with everything I’ve been doing. I’ve built everything you deserve. From the first moment I saw you, Meirna…I had to have you. And, now, I do.”
My lips parted from his admission, and I feel the same way.
Bobby has made me feel special and loved in other ways when we’re not physically in the same room.
Being in a family where money is everything and emotions aren’t something that are spoken about on the norm, I’ve always known where Bobby was.
His love language is acts of giving. When words fail, he puts thought behind them to articulate what and how he feels.
It took me a minute, but I got the concept pretty quickly.
“Goodness, Bobby,” I lightly tease, receiving his fingers right at the base of my cunt. “It almost sounds like you love me or something.”
He peels my panties to the side, dragging the pad of one digit over my already soaking folds. “I think what I feel for you is a bit darker than that.”
He suddenly shoves the same teasing finger inside me, and my next exhale is practically choked out of me when he immediately adds another.
Bobby’s pumps stretch me and my imagination to unimagined limits. He’s never gotten this deep with me, but with what we’ve just done, I want nothing more than to be honest and open.
“Bobby,” I moan, clutching tightly onto his shoulders. “I need you to fuck me.”
“I want to,” he murmurs, brushing my clit with his thumb. “But you’re using the wrong name.” My brows clench a bit when he adds, “I’m your husband. You’re soulmate. You’re every breath, Meirna. All you’re going to be thinking about is me.”
I smile because that’s easy. “Wait until you see what I bought you for our honeymoon, husband. You’re going to be daydreaming of me during conferences and business trips for the next year.”
“I’ve already done that.”
Increasing his tempo between my legs, I shamelessly moan. Sparks ignite throughout my body with every thrust he inserts into me. My patience grows thin as I grapple with the waistband of his dress slacks and start undoing his belt for him.
A satisfied groan reverberates from the back of his throat, and he pushes his weight onto me, crushing me harder against the wall and his frame.
With my small hands, I’m able to reach in without having to shove his pants down his waist and receive him.
Hard.
Warm.
Thick.
Perfect.
God, I missed his cock.
So much so that I forgot the gosh dang dimensions of it.
Not that I have the damn things written down, but you know what I mean.
Stroking his length, Bobby chases my hand and begins driving his cock between my fingers and palm.
The growl he makes only amps up my confidence to place more pressure and test the grounds on what he likes that maybe I haven’t done before.
“How much do you want this cock, Daydream?”
His question is a strained mixture of a groan and breathy exhale, and I love how it sounds.
Instead of answering, I show him when I line him up toward my entrance, and he removes his fingers to see my next play.
I run his tip through my wet folds, teasing his control that rapidly dissipates because he’s ramming his cock inside me within the next five seconds, and my ego skyrockets at how quickly I got Bobby to lose control.
However, my body wasn’t ready with how abandoned it’s felt because his filling me is almost unbearable.
I’m soaked, but without daily sex, I’m tight, and Bobby’s working, forcing his way inside me to give him everything he has.
It hurts in the best way.
I spread my thighs a little wider, giving him more to work with when he suddenly bottoms out in one thrust, and I wince and moan at how freaking full I feel.
“Don’t tell me I haven’t fucked you hard enough,” Bobby rebukes, his voice hard and strained as he remains still inside me.
I mean…we’ve never really done this—a rooftop sex session that’s semi-public—but in his office once, when he went to town on me.
I’ve never felt the need to complain before.
I’ve never been unsatisfied with how Bobby has made love to me or accuse him of not fucking me at a certain pace or how often.