Chapter 43 #2
“Connor, do you take Delilah to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish, honor, and love, in sickness and in health, in seasons of plenty and in seasons of need, and to be true to her in all things as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” The heartstring binding us glows golden in the sunlight.
“Delilah, do you take Connor to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish, honor, and love, in sickness and in health, in seasons of plenty and in seasons of need, and to be true to him in all things as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” The golden heartstring solidifies into unbreakable, unbendable steel, binding us together, forever.
“You’ve chosen to exchange rings as a symbol of your unending love. As you place this ring on your love’s finger, please repeat after me,” the officiant says.
Connor takes the ring box from his pocket and hands me his thick band and holds my thin band between his fingers.
He takes my left hand in his and vows, “With this ring, I choose you through all the changes life may bring us.”
The band slides onto my finger, nestling perfectly against my engagement ring.
Our hands dance, shifting for me to hold his left hand between mine. “With this ring, I choose you through all the changes life may bring us.”
I place the ring on his finger and my heart skips at how much I love seeing him wearing proof of our commitment.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Time stops, and in the split-second day overtakes night, Connor slides one hand up my neck and clasps our left hands together between us.
I grab onto his shoulder for dear life and our lips meet.
His kiss heals every broken piece inside me and promises a lifetime of love and joy, beneath the perfect sunrise.
“I love you, Delilah.”
“I love you too, Connor.”
We move to a small podium and sign our marriage license, and for the first time, I sign my name Delilah Anne Hayes. CJ and the newly minted Isabelle Andersen sign as our witnesses and relief floods my body as the last thread to my parents is cut—never again will I be a Tate.
The photographer ushers us to begin our first dance as a married couple.
I laugh with delight as our song plays from hidden speakers.
He places his cowboy hat on my head and gives it a little tip-up with his knuckles to see my face.
We slow dance, no one to impress, nothing to prove—to none other than the great Randy Travis.
“You’re mine, baby, forever and ever.”
He presses the sweetest kiss to my lips before I whisper, “amen.”
Izzy and Reid slow dance in the shadows, giving us our moment.
CJ gives the photographer a run for his money, snapping pictures on his phone for us.
Our song ends, and we’re led back inside the chapel to cut our cake. Airy, sweet lemon crumb is the perfect complement to the tart lemon frosting.
“Mmm! My favorite. Connor, you really did all of this?” I ask, devouring my slice of wedding cake.
“Of course I did, dollface. I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection for my wife.” He playfully licks a smear of frosting from the corner of my mouth.
I shiver, both from the wet heat of his tongue, and from being called his wife.
The woman from the chapel boxes the rest of our small cake and kindly escorts us out with our paperwork and instructions on how to get our photos.
Izzy’s hand finds mine and gives me a squeeze.
“I’m so glad you came,” I say
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Reid wraps his arm around her shoulders and tips his head to a car waiting in the valet.
“Livy’s going to have a conniption she wasn’t here.” I cringe.
“We’ve got it covered. Don’t stress about it for a single second,” Reid assures.
“Time to get back to our own honeymoon,” Izzy says with a wink.
Connor shakes Reid’s hand, and hugs CJ goodbye.
Three of the most important people in our lives get into the car to presumably head back to the airport to return to Colorado.
Only half an hour has passed since we stepped out of the limo, and in that short time, everything has changed.
Our limo pulls away from the chapel and we have our first private moment as husband and wife.
I straddle Connor’s lap and crash my lips to his. His throaty laugh sends vibrations to my core. I kiss his neck, unknotting his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and trailing kisses onto his chest.
“Baby, what are you doing?” Connor groans but doesn’t stop me.
I wrench his clothes aside to reveal the sun tattooed on his pec. I trace it reverently with my tongue, overflowing with love because he got this tattoo for me years ago, years before he knew I loved him back.
“I love you so much, Connor. I can’t find the words. I need you.” I’m burning up and need him inside me. He thickens in his pants and shamelessly grinds me down onto him.
“We’ll be in our hotel room in a few minutes, and you’re going to take your husband’s cock into this tight little cunt.” I moan at the delicious friction between my legs.
The rest of the drive passes with heated promises and sparks of incomplete orgasms. By the time we get to our room, I’m feral for him.
Connor carries me across the threshold to our marital bed. As soon as he sets me down, I’m on him. I carefully set his cowboy hat on the nightstand before I ravish my new husband.
We kiss and hump like teenagers, and it’s hotter and more fun than I could’ve dreamed. Laughter fills our suite as we fumble out of our boots. I unwrap him from his tuxedo and he takes his time peeling me out of my wedding dress.
Connor lays on his stomach and shoves his shoulders between my thighs, holding me open for him. He licks me through my lace thong, soaked with my arousal.
Nothing will ever be better than this—having the man of my dreams, the love of my life, my husband, bathing me in pleasure.
“Sorry doll, I hope you didn’t like these too much,” Connor says as he rips the delicate lace from my body and discards it on the floor.
His tongue spears inside me, and I go delirious the same way I always do when his mouth makes love to me. I’m already close from dry humping him in the limo and on the bed, so when his beard scrapes my inner thighs as he sucks my clit into his mouth, penetrating me with two thick fingers, I come.
I’m shaking in the aftermath of my explosive orgasm as Connor kneels between my legs, trailing wet kisses up my belly and across my breasts. I need him inside me, now.
“Fuck me, husband.” Connor’s pupils blow, his chocolate eyes going molten with lust.
He fists his cock and smears the pre-cum from his slit down his length. He knows how much I love watching him touch himself.
“You want your husband to fuck you, baby?” He notches at my entrance. “Does my wife need her husband’s cock deep inside her?” The tip of his cock breaches my hole, and I tighten around it involuntarily.
“I need my husband’s cock. Please, baby. I need you,” I beg.
He slides into me achingly slowly, in halfway and back to the tip until I’m delirious.
“My wife,” Connor growls as he punches his hips forward, filling me completely.
“Yes!” I cry.
“You’re my wife.” Thrust. “Mine.” Thrust. “Say it,” he demands.
“I’m your wife.” Thrust. “Yours.” Thrust. “Always yours.” I whimper.
Primal need radiates from him, instinct taking over as he fucks into me with abandon.
“And what am I, baby? Who am I?” he taunts.
“My husband.” His thrusts becomes erratic, and I know he’s close.
“You’re my husband. You’re mine.” I moan, grabbing his tight ass to pull him deeper, my nails digging into his flesh.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, spilling into me. My pussy ripples around him as I ride out my second orgasm, leaving me twitching in the letdown.
He rolls off but takes me with him, so I’m sprawled across his chest. We lay together, our labored breaths the perfect soundtrack to this day.
“So, there was no horse emergency at the ranch?” I joke.
His laugh rumbles beneath my palm. “No there wasn’t. Reid was a great wingman and doesn’t expect us back until after the weekend. I’ve got you all to myself in this hotel for two more days. I know it’s not much of a honeymoon but—”
I cut him off. “This is everything, Connor. This is more than I ever dreamed of. Everything was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy, doll. It’s been a rollercoaster to get us here.” He chuckles.
“Fess up, mister. I want to know how you pulled all this off,” I say, impressed and still in disbelief this is real.
“I promise I’ll answer every single question you’ve got, but first, let’s order some room service and take a shower.” He squeezes my ass and slaps it with a loud pop, making me squeal and squirm off him, racing me to the shower.
Soft cotton billows around me as I nestle in to the comforter, reveling in post-consummation bliss. Connor’s fine ass waltzes across the suite to get the room service menu and I drool over his half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs as he returns.
“Breakfast or lunch?” he asks.
It’s not even eight a.m., but we ate breakfast in the middle of the night.
“Both.” I happily reply.
And together, we cuddle in bed, order enough food to feed an army, and enjoy each other’s bodies until we pass out in each other’s arms—as husband and wife.