20. Phoenix #3
I drop a light kiss on her flushed cheek. “You okay?”
“I’m more than okay. That was… that was… there are no words.”
I chuckle. “We’re good together?”
“We are.”
“This was a little rushed because I wanted you so damn much, but I’ll make it up to you later.” I murmur my promise in the crook of her neck. “I can’t wait for you to come all over my tongue.”
Her breath hitches. “Phoenix, I can’t do this again. It’s way too intense.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Until now, I had no idea sex could be this mind-blowing. There’s no way I can handle this kind of wild ride more than once every other day.”
I pull away from her so our gazes meet. “Every other day?”
She nods. “I need a day—even two—of rest.”
“What kind of inept lovers have been fucking you, woman?”
“I haven’t been with many men and it’s been a while, not that you need to know. Also, not everyone has your stamina or your size, King Stallion.”
If that doesn’t make me laugh. “Well, in my kingdom things are different.”
“My body won’t sustain it.”
“The fuck it will.”
“Phoenix, between your punishing thrusts, the position you had me in and your Prodigious Phallus , I doubt I’ll be able to walk elegantly in my heels. Everyone will know something happened between us.”
“And that’s a problem how? You’re my wife.”
She shakes her head.
I pull out of her and drop her to her feet.
I cup her face in my hands.
“If you think I’m not going to taste your pussy and give you at least three other orgasms before the stroke of midnight, you’re dead wrong, Mrs. Konig.”
She considers me, lips pursed, and malice shining bright in her eyes.
I brace myself for the flames that are about to erupt from her mouth.
“Well, when you put it like that?—”
A knock at the door has me jumping out of my skin.
Shit.
Michaela draws in a harsh breath as one hand flies up to cover her breasts, while the other cups her pussy. When her panicked gaze meets mine, I do a hand gesture, coaxing her to find out who’s at the door.
“Who is it?”
“Hey, sis, it’s Wilder.”
“Oh, hey, Wilder. What’s up?”
“Abuelita Noelia sent me to find you,” he says. “You and my brother better come back downstairs because she’s looking for you all over the place.”
“Is your grandmother okay?”
Wilder chuckles. “That eighty-three-year-old woman is an oak tree. She’s looking for you to have a little chat to bestow womanly wisdom for your wedding night. She even enlisted one of the cousins to help with the translation. She says you’re gorgeous, but your Spanish is not very good looking .”
“That’s a funny saying,” Michaela says.
“ Abuelita adapted that saying from Celia Cruz,” Wilder says. “ “My English is not very good looking” was the Cuban queen of salsa’s go-to phrase whenever she addressed a non-Spanish speaking audience.”
“I see,” she says.
“In any case, you two better come down, pronto . And for the record, I’m just the messenger, so don’t kill me for putting an end to your husband and wife fun.”
I can picture his shit-eating grin.
I roll my eyes.
Michaela cringes.
Mom’s youngest sister, Aunt Angelina, lives in LA.
She’s part of our big day, accompanied by her husband Blaize Bickford-Smith, and my cousins Callum and Ainsley—she’s here with her new husband.
Dad chartered a jet to fly the rest of Mom’s family from Argentina for the wedding.
My grandma, uncles, aunts, and cousins survived my mother’s and Barron’s death.
Even if this is a fake wedding, not having them here would be wrong. Explaining a divorce is much easier.
“How did you know I was up here, Wilder?”
“Bro, I have eyes. Your wife is stunning. Smoking hot, in fact. If you weren’t up here with her, I was going to seriously start questioning your sanity and your manhood.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I apologize for my brother’s lack of tact.”
She winces.
“You two are terrible actors, by the way,” Wilder says.
I was certain we fooled everybody. “What are you talking about?”
“Regardless of what you professed, one look at Michaela, and I thought, platonic, my ass . The chemistry between you two reverberates against the walls. It’s electrifying.” He launches into a falsetto.
“You idiot. You’re not auditioning for a talent show.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says. “In any case, you can thank me later.”
I frown. “Thank you for what?”
Then, it hits me.
I’m having a conversation with my brother and I’m still buck naked while he’s standing on the other side of the door.
Unbelievable.
Under other circumstances, this would be quite comical.
I shake my head at the ridiculousness of the situation as my gaze moves to Michaela’s naked body and then her terrified face.
The poor thing is as white as a sheet.
“You’re lucky I came to warn you.” Wilder keeps talking.
“About what?”
“I gave you a minute to hit your apogee before knocking, it would’ve been rude otherwise,” he says.
It’s now he chooses to be a fucking poet?
“FYI, you two are fucking loud. I mean, really fucking loud.” Wilder chuckles. “I could hear you when I reached the top step and as I was making my way to Michaela’s room. And, that says a lot since this mansion is enormous.”
“Oh God.” There’s no hiding Michaela’s mortification.
I’m right there with her.
I have a close relationship with my brothers. Not this close. “Jesus Christ.”
“It’s a good thing everyone is outside enjoying themselves,” Wilder says.
“Your secret is safe with me, lovebirds.” He inhales and exhales a dramatic breath.
“But I’d recommend you keep the bumping uglies for later, get dressed and get your ass downstairs.
Make sure to bring the consort to the king, aka my lovely sister-in-law. See you kids later.”
A booming laugh resonates on the other side of the door, as his steps recede.
Michaela’s face turns a bright shade of pink that’s eerily close to the bouquet of Dahlias I got her a few days ago.
Wilder can be such a fucker when he puts his mind to it.
I wait and make certain my brother is gone before speaking. “Come on, let’s get dressed before Abuelita Noelia comes up here.”
“Okay. I might need a shower first, though.”
“No, you don’t.”
“But—”
“I want my cum inside you. It’s dirty and sexy, and it’ll get me all worked up for round two.”
Her jaw drops.