Chapter 18
Eighteen
Beau
My wife. My. Fucking. Wife. Those two words have been on a loop in my head since she walked down that aisle looking like every dirty fantasy I’ve ever had wrapped in white silk. Ina Redding. My woman. My wife. Mine in every way the law, God, and my cock can make her.
And right now, she’s sitting barefoot in my truck, her heels tossed on the floorboard, my ring catching moonlight on her finger, and laughing at me because I apparently “kidnapped her from her own wedding.”
“People are going to talk, Beau.”
“Baby, the whole county already talks about us.” I squeeze her thigh through the slit of her dress. Warm, soft skin under my palm. “Might as well give ‘em something good.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. That full, gorgeous smile that punched a hole through my chest the first time I saw it. The one that made me think, there she is. There’s my whole life standing in front of me in tight jeans, sweating and talking about bull semen.
I pull up to the house and kill the engine. I don’t move. Just sit there looking at her. Moonlight painting her brown skin gold. Her braids falling softly around bare shoulders. Her dark eyes, bright and a little glassy from champagne and happy tears.
She turns to me. “What?”
“Just looking at my wife.”
Her breath catches. Something shifts in her face. Goes soft. “Say it again.”
“My wife.” I lean over and take her mouth. Slow at first. Then deeper, my tongue sliding against hers until she moans and grabs my shirt. I pull back before I fuck her right here in the cab. Again. “Inside. Now.”
I come around, open her door, and scoop her up before her feet hit the ground. She yelps, grabbing my shoulders.
“Beau! Put me down, I’m too heavy for…”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll spank you on the porch. Again.” She snaps her mouth shut, but I feel her laughing against my neck. I carry her across the threshold and kick the door shut behind us. My boots echo through the house. Our house. Ours.
I asked Mack to set up the bedroom before the ceremony. Candles. Fresh sheets. The dark ones she likes, the ones that smell like us after she’s spent the night. He gave me shit for it. Called me a romance novel hero. I told him to fuck off and light the candles.
When I carry Ina through the bedroom door, she goes still in my arms. Her eyes sweep the room. The warm glow. The bed. Everything.
“You did this?” she whispers.
“Had help. But yeah.” I set her down at the foot of the bed. Her bare feet on the hardwood. Her eyes, already filling.
“Beau Redding,” she breathes, pressing her hand to her chest. “You giant, beautiful, impossible man.”
I step close. Cup the back of her neck. Press my mouth to her forehead. Her temple. The corner of her lips.
“Been waiting for this all night,” I murmur against her skin. “Watching you in this dress. Watching you laugh. Dance. Watching every motherfucker in that room look at you and knowing you’re going home with me. That I’m the one who gets to peel this off you.”
She shivers. I find the zipper at the back of her dress and pull. Slow. The fabric parts under my fingers and I trace the line of her spine, feeling goosebumps rise under my touch. She arches into me.
“Turn around, baby.”
She does. And I slide the dress off her shoulders. Down her arms. Past her hips. It pools at her feet in a white puddle, and I step back.
Jesus Christ.
My wife is standing in front of me in white lace panties, my ring, and nothing else.
Her tits are full and heavy, dark nipples already tight and begging for my mouth, hips wide, belly soft.
Her thighs, thick and strong and made to wrap around my head.
Every goddamn inch of her, lush and real and mine.
She shifts. Crosses her arms over her chest. “Stop staring at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to eat me alive.”
I close the distance in one stride and pull her arms down, pinning her wrists gently at her sides.
“Don’t hide from me. Not tonight. Not ever.
” My eyes drag over her, slow, memorizing every curve like it’s the first time.
Because it is. First time looking at my wife’s body. “You’re fucking perfect, Ina.”
“I’m a mess. My makeup’s probably…”
“Perfect,” I repeat, leaning down to drag my tongue across her collarbone. She gasps. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”
I strip. Vest, shirt, belt, jeans, briefs. All of it. Her eyes drop and her lips part. Her gaze lands on my cock, already hard and heavy and straining toward her like it knows exactly where home is.
She swallows. “That thing should come with a warning label.”
I bark out a laugh. “You married it, sweetheart. No returns.”
“God help me,” she mutters, but her thighs press together and I can smell her. Warm, sweet, and so fucking ready for me.
I take her face in both hands and kiss her.
Not fast. Not gentle either. Thorough. The kind of kiss that says I chose you, and I’ll keep choosing you every day until they put me in the ground, and probably after that too.
Her arms come around my neck. Her bare tits press against my chest and I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding down to grip her ass.
Full, heavy, fucking incredible. I squeeze hard, and she whimpers.
“Bed,” I rasp.
I lift her and lay her in the center of the mattress. She looks up at me, hair spread on the dark sheets, skin glowing in candlelight, chest rising and falling fast. I hook my fingers in her panties and drag them down her legs. Toss them over my shoulder.
Then I just look.
Swollen. Wet. Glistening. Her pretty pussy already flushed and slick, clit peeking out from its hood like it’s been waiting for me all night. My mouth waters.
“Prettiest fucking sight in the world,” I say, my voice coming out wrecked. “And she’s legally mine now.”
Ina chokes on a laugh. “Did you just refer to my vagina as legally yours?”
“Damn right I did. Got the paperwork and everything.” I drop to my stomach between her legs and press my mouth to her inner thigh. She twitches. “Now lie back and let your husband eat.”
She groans. “You can’t just say ‘let your husband eat’ like…oh GOD.”
I drag my tongue through her. Base to clit. Slow. Firm. Tasting her like I’ve been starving for it, because I have. It’s been twelve hours since I’ve had my mouth on this pussy and that’s about eleven hours and fifty-nine minutes too long.
She bucks against me. Her hands fly to my hair. I press a palm flat on her belly, holding her down, and go to fucking work.
I lick her in long, slow strokes. Then short, quick flicks right on her swollen clit. I suck it between my lips and she damn near levitates off the bed. Her thighs clamp around my head, and I growl against her, the vibration making her cry out.
“Beau… fuck… oh my God…”
I push two fingers inside her. She’s so wet I slide right in. Hot, tight, clenching around me like she’s trying to keep me. I curl my fingers against her front wall, and her whole body jolts.
“There she is,” I murmur against her clit. “There’s my girl. Gonna come for me, Mrs. Redding?”
“Don’t… don’t call me that while you’re… oh, FUCK!”
I suck harder. Pump my fingers deeper. Press that spot that makes her lose her goddamn mind. And she breaks. Back arching, mouth open, pussy clamping down on my fingers so hard I grit my teeth. She comes loud and shaking and beautiful. Soaking my hand, my chin, and the sheets.
I lick her through it. Gentle. Soft. Until she’s twitching and pushing at my head. Then I kiss my way up. Her belly. Between her tits. I take one nipple in my mouth and suck hard, and she gasps. Switch sides. Give the other one the same until she’s squirming under me, oversensitive and needy.
“Beau, please…”
I settle between her thighs. My cock slides through her folds, slick with her, and we both groan.
“Feel that?” I rasp, rocking against her. “Feel how hard your husband is for you?”
“Yes…”
“Been thinking about this all day, baby.” I nudge her clit with my tip, and she whimpers.
“Standing at that altar watching you walk toward me, and all I could think was…” I push just the head inside her.
She gasps, her nails digging into my arms. “…tonight I get to fuck my wife. Fill her up. Breed her.”
Her eyes flash. Dark and wild. “Beau…”
“Look at me.” Her gaze locks on mine. “I’m gonna make love to you, Ina. And I’m gonna fuck you. And I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy until you’re dripping.” I push deeper. Inch by slow inch. Watching her face twist with pleasure. “Because that’s what husbands do. They take care of their wives.”
She moans, long and broken. “You’re… insane…”
“About you? Absolutely.” I bottom out. Buried to the hilt. Her pussy stretched tight around me, clenching, pulsing. I hold still. Press my forehead to hers. We breathe together.
“I feel you everywhere,” she whispers, her hands framing my face.
“Good. That’s the plan. Forever.”
She pulls me down and kisses me. Soft and deep and tasting like tears and champagne and us.
And I start moving in long, deep strokes.
Slow at first. Savoring. Every thrust pressing all the way in, grinding against her clit, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back home.
She wraps her legs around my waist and rolls her hips up to meet me.
We find our rhythm. The rhythm that’s been ours since the first night on this bed.
“Beau… oh God, baby…”
“I know, sweetheart. I feel you.” Her walls are fluttering. She’s close already. My woman. So goddamn responsive. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking perfect. Taking me so good.”
I shift my angle. Hitch her leg higher over my hip and drive deeper. She cries out, head pressing back into the pillow. I dip my head to her tits. Suck a nipple hard while I fuck her steady. Her hands claw at my back.
“I wanna feel you come on my cock, wife.” I thrust harder. Deeper. “Wanna feel this pussy squeeze me. Give it to me.”