Chapter 9
Wendy Ann
I can’t wait to be alone with him.
I’m desperate for more of his kiss, his touch, his…everything.
My husband is the sexiest man in this jam-packed elevator. Hell, the sexiest man in the world.
I press closer to his side, wishing we weren’t on the top floor, even as a part of me relishes the sweet torture of being forced to wait just a few minutes longer to have him naked in bed. “You smell better than wedding cake,” I whisper against his soap-and-sweet-cedar scented skin.
“And you taste better,” he says, sealing the words with a kiss.
It’s a relatively sweet kiss—slow and sensual, with just the hint of tongue—but it still makes my head spin. Then, the last passengers step off on the twenty-first floor, and suddenly he’s kissing me like a starving man, his tongue stroking against mine as his hand molds to my breast through the lace of my wedding dress.
It’s truly my dress now.
I’m so glad Connor wanted to buy our wedding clothes, too, though I won’t need a dress to remember any of this.
From the moment he showed up at my door this morning to the moment we tumble out of the elevator, our hands already all over each other, this magical day will be imprinted on my memory forever.
“God, I need you so much,” he says, the feel of his fingers teasing over my nipple through the lace is enough to make me gasp.
“Yes,” I breathe. “I need you to touch me. Everywhere. With nothing between us,” I say, arching into his hand.
“Everywhere,” he promises. He pulls away long enough to tap the card in his pocket to the keypad, but as soon as he pushes the door open, he’s dragging me into his arms again, kissing me hard as we stumble inside.
I close my eyes and cling to him as we kick off our shoes, returning the kiss with equal passion, lost to everything but the wild need to be naked with this man. “Oh God, yes,” I murmur as he tugs my dress down and my breasts spill over the top of the bodice. A beat later, his fingers are rolling my nipples, sending hunger rampaging through my bloodstream.
“You, too,” I say, going for the buttons on his dress shirt, grateful he removed his coat, vest, and bow tie before we stepped out into the heat. The fewer barriers between his skin and mine, the better.
“As fast as I can,” he promises, helping with the buttons before jerking the shirt off and pulling me back against his lightly furred chest. The crisp hair feels amazing against my breasts, but I want more.
I want all of him hot and bare to all of me.
I reach for his zipper, but his hands are already there. I let him do the honors before curling my fingers over the top of his boxer briefs and guiding them down in front, freeing the hot, heavy length of him. His cock is so hot against my palm, it feels like he’s caught a fever.
“You’re burning up,” I murmur against his mouth as we continue to kiss-stumble-undress our way to the bedroom. “Is your penis okay?”
“No,” he says, with a tight laugh. “He’s not. I’ve been hard for you at least fifteen times today. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”
“That’s okay, I think I do,” I say, pulling back to shoot him a naughty look. “Let’s get rid of these clothes, and I’ll make him feel better.”
Connor’s breath rushes out. “You are so fucking sexy.” His lips tremble into an awed grin. “And you’re my wife.”
“And you’re my husband.”
“Damn, I like that word coming from your mouth,” he says, kissing me again.
Before his lips cover mine, I catch a brief glimpse of what looks like a gorgeous living room behind him, and Sharkbait’s new cage sitting on a table in the corner, just as the concierge promised when we dropped him off.
But the cage is covered by black fabric, so we’re spared parrot-commentary as Connor pushes open the bedroom door and scoops me up, carrying me to the giant, king-sized bed.
He sets me down beside it and turns me gently around, dragging the zipper on my dress all the way down. My dress falls into a puddle at my feet and I step out of it, climbing onto the mattress in nothing but my white panties and the thigh-high stockings I’m so glad I bought at the drugstore.
The way he’s looking at me as he hastily discards the rest of his clothes leaves no doubt that he appreciates them as much as I hoped he would.
My eyes widen as I take in his powerful body. He’s gorgeous, perfect, and…larger than I remember.
“Everything okay?” he asks as he climbs into bed beside me.
I gulp and nod. “You don’t think we’ll have any problems with um…fit, do you?”
He leans closer, brushing his lips against mine, sending fresh tingles across my skin as he promises, “No, we won’t. Because I’m going to make sure you’re soaked for me, Wendy Ann Sinclair.”
“Sinclair.” I curl my fingers into his biceps, wonder filling my chest. “I’m a Sinclair.”
“You’re mine,” he says, his hand slipping down the front of my panties, making me cry out as his fingers glide through my already soaked folds. “And I’m yours. Forever.”
“Forever,” I promise again, meaning it more than ever as he drops his mouth to my breast and does mind-bending things to my nipples, proving my husband is the very, very best.
Connor
M y girl, my beautiful girl…
My Wendy Ann…
My wife …
Just thinking the word is enough to make me want to shove her panties to one side and take her now. I want to be inside her so much, it’s torture.
But sweet torture.
Torture I want to make last as long as possible…
I roll my tongue against her nipple as I suck her deep, making her whimper and writhe. Someday, I’ll spend hours worshipping her honey-sweet skin, but today, we’re both too eager, too desperate for each other.
“Panties off, please,” she pants, reaching for my cock and wrapping her fingers tight around it.
I groan in response, pre-come leaking from my tip. “Let me get a condom first.”
“No condom. I’m on the pill, and I don’t want anything between us.” She pulls back, holding my gaze as she adds, “Besides, if we accidentally got pregnant, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. After all…” She strokes me up and down again, making my soul threaten to exit my body. “We’re married.”
“We are so fucking married,” I agree, my heart slamming in my chest at the thought of her slick heat around me bare.
I want to come buried to the hilt in her sweetness more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Ever. I want to fill her with my release, mark her as mine. Some primal part of me roars at the thought as I drag her panties and stockings down her legs, promising the stockings I’ll pause to appreciate them fully next time, after I’ve made this woman mine.
As soon as we’re both naked, I surge over her again, sucking her nipple into my mouth, until she’s panting and writhing beneath me again. Then her hands are buried in my hair as she pulls my mouth to hers. Her tongue strokes into my mouth, wild and hungry, her taste, her passion, driving me even crazier.
“Need you, Wendy Ann,” I groan against her lips as I stroke a finger inside her, then another, stretching her, preparing her.
“Please,” she says, her hands trembling as she cups my face. “I need you, too. Now. Please. Don’t make me wait. Not anymore.”
I can’t deny her that. I can’t deny her anything.
I’m hers to command, tonight and for the rest of our lives.
I hold her gaze as she wraps her legs around my waist, shivering as my cock presses against her drenched pussy. “I love you,” she whispers. “Let me show you how much.”
The words are barely out in the air between us before I’m somehow lined up perfectly with her entrance and gliding into her with a pained, pleasured groan. I clench my jaw, fighting to take it slow, but at that exact moment she flexes her thighs, forcing me deep.
She cries out, but thank God it’s a sound of relief, not pain. “Yes,” she pants, smiling as she pulls in ragged breaths and hugs me close. “God, Connor, it’s so perfect. You feel so good. It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“No?” I ask, sinking deeper, until every last inch of my throbbing dick is encased in her sweetness. And it is…heaven. Paradise. Better than any sexual encounter I could have imagined before I fell in love at first sight with the only woman I ever want to take to bed, from now until the moment they lay me in the ground.
“No,” she confirms, rocking her hips forward, taking me just that tiniest bit deeper. “I just feel full in the best way and…” She trails off, biting her bottom lip as she wiggles slightly. “And like, I want to…move.”
“We can move,” I promise, stroking into her long and slow—once, twice— a tight laugh bursting from my throat when she grips my ass in her hands, using the leverage to shift the angle of our connection until her lashes flutter with a blissful sigh.
“Yes, just like that, right there,” she whispers, moaning as I follow her lead.
“I like you bossy,” I say, my balls so full and tight it’s nearly painful. “I like it a whole fucking lot.”
She sucks in a sharp breath as I circle my hips at the end of my next thrust, grinding against the top of her. “Oh wow, yes, that’s even better. Oh my God, Connor, let’s do this forever. Every day. Every night.”
“Yes, baby, every fucking night,” I promise, my control already slipping as she bucks into me, urging me to grind harder, faster.
I hold on for as long as I can, but soon we’ve found an urgent rhythm that makes it almost impossible to breathe as we cling to each other, taking each other with a shameless ease that solidifies my certainty that we were meant to be. She was meant to be my girl, my lover, my other half, and coming inside her is about to be the best thing that’s happened to me in longer than I can remember.
She cries out as her pussy locks around me. I kiss her hard, promising with every stroke of my tongue that I’m going to make her gush for me like this for the rest of our lives.
“I love you, Wendy Ann, I love you so much,” I gasp as I take her faster, and she clings to me, her body still gripping my cock like a fist.
I come with a ragged cry, burying myself deep as I give her everything—my come, my heart, my passion, my soul. It’s all hers.
“Always.”
I don’t realize I’ve said the word aloud until a croak from the other room echoes, “Always! Always be your baby!” The squawk is followed by a few bars of Mariah Carey’s classic warbled in the parrot’s melodic alto.
“Apparently his repertoire expands beyond the 80s,” I say as I pull back, gazing down at Wendy Ann as we both burst out laughing.
We laugh and kiss and grab a quick couples’ shower in the bathroom. Then we order room service, feed Sharkbait, and kiss some more. We eat and plan an adventure for tomorrow—our only full day in Vegas—before rebooking my flight to Boston for the following Monday, with a seat for her right beside me. I still have three weeks before classes start, and we both agree a little time in Bad Dog to ease our families into the transition is a good idea.
“And I have to pack up my apartment and see if I can get out of my lease a little early,” she says.
“And I should come clean with my parents instead of running away,” I agree, popping another French fry into her open mouth. Even burgers and fries taste better with her. “I’m suddenly feeling strong enough to face a confrontation.”
“It’s your sexy and devoted wife,” she says. “Because you know she’s got your back.”
“I do know that,” I agree, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I love you. I truly do.”
“Me, too,” she whispers, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that destroys me and mends all my broken pieces, all at the same time. “Should we get naked again, do you think?”
“We absolutely should,” I say. “Just let me tuck Sharkbait back in for the night.”
The parrot, who was enjoying a wander around the hotel room, doesn’t put up a fight when I collect him from the top of the television. He just hops onto his perch with a sleepy-sounding, “Built this city on rock ‘n roll.”
“We sure did,” I assure him as I pull the cover back over his cage.
Then Wendy Ann and I head out to the balcony to make love with the lights of the city dancing all around us, but my wife still shines brighter.
Brighter than every single one.
B y the time we make it back to Bad Dog on Monday, the cat is out of the bag. Wendy Ann told her sister Mel, who told everyone in town, and we deboard the plane to find a makeshift party in the baggage claim area, complete with a wedding cake in the shape of an airplane.
Shockingly, our mothers seem thrilled about our wildly impulsive marriage, and are already planning a post-nuptial wedding shower for December, when we’ve promised to be home for Christmas. Wendy Ann’s sister, Mel, is a little sad that we’re moving to Boston, but Wendy Ann vows to keep in touch via Zoom, so she doesn’t miss a moment of her nephews growing up, and we make plans to have dinner the next time Aaron, Mel’s husband, plays a hockey game in our area.
We eat wedding cake right there by the baggage claim, then Christian McGuire puts on some music, and we dance around the carousel until security finally tells us that we have to move along. We adjourn to one of the McGuire family’s favorite pubs, the one where Drew apparently met his wife, Tatum, and celebrate until Wendy Ann and I are both too tired to do anything but stumble in my front door and straight into bed.
Thankfully, Starling offered to watch Sharkbait for us for the night, though we won’t be turning him over to the shelter, after all. After just two days together in Vegas, we’ve grown attached to our song-quoting buddy. He’ll be coming with us to Boston, along with Wendy Ann’s shockingly large collection of test tubes and several fancy appliances my mother purchased for our new home.
By the time we finish packing our storage cube and it’s winging its way to Boston, we’re even more certain that we’ve made the right choice. Marriage is sweet and getting sweeter with every passing day. By the time we come home for Christmas, we’re more in love than I believed was possible before I ran into Wendy Ann on the steamy dock last July.
And by the time my brilliant wife tells me we’re pregnant the following summer, I’m so gone on her, I almost start crying with happiness. But in the end, I don’t. I hold it together and hold her so tight, whispering into her hair, “I love you, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“And you’ll never have to find out,” she promises.
We welcome our daughter, Scarlet, in February, and she is perfect, with her mother’s nose and my blond hair and a universe of curiosity in her big blue eyes. And as time rolls on, I almost forget that all of this perfection is the result of one wild, impulsive night.
It isn’t until we’re back in our Vegas wedding clothes ten years later, standing in front of our friends and family this time, that I remember, and thank all the stars in the sky that my very sane, rational wife once took a crazy chance on me.
On us.
The End