Six Months Later
I STUDY MY SHOES THROUGH the delicate layers of my wedding dress, and even they look like something from a fairytale. Crystal-clear glass slippers with tiny white silk flowers painted along the edges, each petal so intricately detailed they look real. They're completely impractical and utterly perfect, just like everything else about this day.
The past six months have been nothing short of magical.
My billionaire may be the one who's made of ice, but oh, the things he's been doing—it has my heart melting day after day. It's not just how he loves me and Samuel; it's how he finds no shame in loving God, too, with Wynd telling me the same night he proposed that he had learned to pray after losing me.
Wynd was also the one to insist that we attend marriage counseling seminars at my local church, and he's had every woman in San Antonio swooning ever since the media somehow found out about his promise not to even kiss me until we're married.
The headlines have been relentless (Billionaire Blue Balls as one gossip site calls him), and the press has gone crazy since then, having realized how easy it was for them to rack up views and reads just by reporting every little thing about our relationship.
But the one thing Wynd has effectively kept private is our intention to adopt Samuel, with the help of Mrs. Chopin herself and an experienced social worker. We didn't rush anything, choosing instead to visit Samuel every day so he can take his time getting to know Wynd and me. Four months after that, our application to adopt him was approved, and our darling boy has officially become our son.
The wooden doors before me finally open, and the lilting notes of Canon in D come streaming out, played by the small orchestra Wynd insisted we hire even though I would have been perfectly happy with Mrs. Garcia on the church piano.
This is it.
My wedding day.
I take my first step down the aisle of the little church where I've worshipped for years, past the faces of friends and neighbors and colleagues who've become like family. Jillian sits in the front row wearing a soft pink dress that makes her jade eyes sparkle behind her grandmother glasses, and she's crying nonstop even as she takes photos of me like the professional fangirl that she is.
Oh, Jilly.
Is it okay if I pray that she's the one to catch my bouquet later?
But in the meantime...
The two most precious men in my life are waiting for me at the end of the aisle. There's my beautiful boy Samuel, who looks absolutely dashing in his tiny black tuxedo. He also looks rather proud at being entrusted to be our ring bearer.
And finally, my Wynd.
How is it possible that he seems to get more and more gorgeous each day?
And oh, look.
He's even had his wheat-gold hair styled and combed back, and he's just so, so beautiful, my knees go weak just by looking at him, and no, oh no.
I do my best not to ruin my makeup as I make my way toward my boys, but by the time I reach the altar, I know it's a lost cause.
My shoulders start to shake as Wynd and I each take one of Samuel's small hands in ours, forming our little family circle before God and everyone we love. My tears run faster down my cheeks as Wynd lifts my veil with his free hand, and my darling boy lets out a delighted gasp as soon as he sees me.
"Mama, you turned into a panda!"
As the entire congregation erupts into laughter, my billionaire of ice pulls me close, and my heart skips a beat when I see his lips start to curve. I love that he's smiling so much more often now—
Thank You, God!
And when I look into Wynd's icy blue eyes and see that they're no longer haunted by the shadows of his past—
Thank You so, so much.
The rest of the ceremony is a blur. The next thing I know, Wynd is once again pulling me close, and as he slowly bends his head, that's when I hear him say—
"I love you, Mrs. Panda."
WYND CLOSED THE LEATHER -bound book of children's stories and looked down at Samuel, who had finally succumbed to sleep after three different tales of battle from the Old Testament. He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead before carefully pulling away. He looked down at his little boy, and his heart was...full.
Thank You.
Clare, Samuel's nanny, was already waiting outside when he stepped out of the room, and the older woman bid him good night with a warm smile.
The evening was quiet, the turquoise waters only gently rocking against the hull of his yacht. The master suite he shared with his bride was at the opposite end, and his heart began to pound at the thought of finally claiming Star as his own.
A tap of his card key had the heavy wooden door silently sliding open, and the first thing he saw as soon as he stepped inside was the siren that awaited him, her damp hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and her body clad in a sheer ivory nightgown that left nothing to the imagination.
An impish smile curved over her lips as she came to her feet. "Welcome back, master."
He raised a brow. "Are we roleplaying?"
"You know how much I love to play games," his bride teased.
He did indeed, and so he simply followed her lead, knowing that it gave Star pleasure to do so.
She guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, her fingers working at his belt with almost reverent care. But as soon as his shaft sprang free, she leaned forward, her breasts brushing tantalizingly against his mouth as she whispered into his ear, "May I pleasure you, Mr. Sullivan?"
A shudder rocked his body, and she pulled away with a soft laugh.
"I'll take that as a yes, master."
His breath came out in a sharp hiss as she knelt between his legs before slowly taking him into the warm haven of her mouth, and his hands fisted in the silk coverlet as she worked him with eager innocence, her soft moans vibrating against his heated flesh.
His Star was everything. Sunshine and seduction. Innocence and heat. She was hope and love and faith, the key that heaven used to free him from the shackles of his past.
When pleasure finally claimed him, it was with a force that had him growling out her name—
"Star..."
Another shudder rocked his body as she finally released him from her mouth. He looked down at his bride, and she smiled up at him again. She was obviously enjoying playing the role of a vixen...but as he would soon teach her, all good things must come to an end.
“MY TURN.”
Wynd’s voice is a low growl in the dark, thick with promise and possession, and the moment the words leave his lips, he’s already lifting me up into his arms...before tossing me onto his massive bed.
His mouth crashes onto mine with a hunger that steals my breath. It’s a kiss that tells me exactly what he’s feeling—how undone I made him, how he’s been waiting to make me his in every possible way.
“Do you know,” he rasps against my lips, “what you just did to me?”
I’m too breathless to answer. My fingers find his shoulders, and I cling to him as his hands slide under my thighs, spreading me wide.
"Should I tell you...or show you?"
He doesn't wait for my answer.
I don't think he ever planned to...since my master and husband isn't the type to ask for permission, and—
"Wynd!"
All I can do is cry his name out as he takes me in a manner that's anything but soft, his length thrusting inside of me with such deliciously overwhelming force that it feels like I'm being torn apart...in the most excruciatingly sweet way.
Why has no one ever told me I'd feel so, so... full?
My husband begins to move, and all I can do is hold on to him, my legs locking around his waist, and my fingers digging into the muscular planes of his back as he thrusts harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper and deeper until... aaaah.
The pleasure is so intense, I feel like I've blacked out, but then I feel his body jerk, and when I realize he's filling me with his seed—
"W-Wynd..."
All I can do is sob his name out as it starts all over again.
And this time, there seems to be no end.
Just wave after wave of pleasure pounding through my body until I'm a breathless and boneless mess beneath his weight.
A...ma...zing.
My eyes flutter open when I feel him slowly pulling out. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I'm still trying to catch my breath when his fingers clasp my waist—
Huh?
Wynd flips me onto my stomach without warning.
W-What in the world—
The next thing I know, he's pulling my hips up, and I'm suddenly on my knees as he positions himself behind me.
"Your master is ready for Round 2..."
Wynd enters me from behind, and I think...I think I'm about to lose my mind again.
The End