Epilogue
Nova
Three Months Later
Today we’re renewing our vows. I know we’re legally married, but we wanted to do this to show that we’re really married.
It’s not an arrangement anymore, and it was important for us to do something to mark the change in our relationship. Especially with all the new changes in our lives.
This little chapel was a great find. It sits at the end of a gravel road about fifteen minutes outside of town.
I found it by accident a few weeks ago when I took a wrong turn.
Once I caught sight of the steeple through a thicket of trees, I knew I had to investigate.
It’s a picturesque traditional white chapel with tall arched windows and only ten pews, five on each side with an aisle in between.
It’s nothing fancy but once we loaded it down with flowers it looks Instagram worthy.
I’m standing in a tiny dressing room in the back of the chapel with my hands on my belly and a white sundress that accentuates the gentle slope of my baby bump. I’m eleven weeks pregnant and proud to be carrying Mica’s child.
The dressing room has a small sofa, a mirror, a wooden chair, and a small table with a pitcher of fresh flowers to brighten the place up.
I’m getting myself ready. It’s so relaxing not to have a throng of people hovering around trying to make everything perfect.
I don’t get much time to myself, and I really wanted that on my special day.
So, there are no stylists, attendants pinning my veil into place, or lacing me into a dress that costs more than my car.
It’s just me, my pretty white sundress and this baby growing inside me.
I smooth the cool cotton over my belly and turn sideways in the mirror.
I’m just far enough along that the bump is barely visible.
Mica worships my little baby bump. He loves smoothing his hands over it and talking to our unborn child like she understands his every word.
He’s convinced we’re having a girl for some reason.
I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror trying to figure out how I ended up with everything I ever wanted in a marriage that Cray arranged. It seems impossible, but it’s true.
Suddenly, Mica is standing in the doorway.
He’s wearing comfortable faded jeans, a button up shirt with his new Raging Vultures cut.
It’s the one with the merged logo he had one of his buddies from the military draw for him.
My husband cleans up well. And I love the way he looks in casual clothing.
This man was made to wear tight jeans and a leather cut.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” I tell his reflection in the mirror.
“I know that,” he says quietly as he closes the door behind him. “I came to check on you. I don’t like the way you keep getting sick in the mornings. It worries me.”
My heart melts for him all over again. “Aww, that’s really sweet of you, babe. But I’m fine. Queenie already told you about morning sickness and it will clear up on its own soon.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
My hand comes up to rub my belly without thinking. His gaze immediately follows the movement of my hands. His expression turns admiring. “You look incredible in that dress. It’s perfect for you.”
I smile up at him. “I bought it for two reasons. The first one was because it shows off my baby bump.”
He begins walking towards me. “And what was the other reason?”
“I’m being practical so I can show my hot accountant I’m not squandering my profits. You only wear a wedding dress once, but I’ll get plenty of wear out of this.”
Mica just laughs. “Seeing how hot you look in it, you ain’t gonna be doing much wearing of it if I have anything to do with it.”
He kneels down in front of me and puts his hands on my knees.
“Don’t get any ideas, babe. We’re about to get married, I’ve just fixed my makeup.”
My sinfully hot husband isn’t listening to a single word I’m saying. He’s too busy staring at the way my pretty white sundress cups my baby bump.
One hand slides up to rest on my belly. “Both of you look incredible today. A sundress was totally the right choice for our special day.” His free hand goes down to toy with the hem of my dress.
“Where is your mind right now, babe?”
“I’m thinking that you probably taste as good as you look right now.”
I lean back against the sofa and let my sexy husband look his fill. I chew on my bottom lip, wanting his mouth on me but knowing it’s all kinds of wrong. This man of mine has a very talented tongue. I can’t help but remember how quickly he can make me come.
I let my legs fall open. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes before they start playing the wedding march,” I tell him, suddenly feeling shy.
“That’s plenty of time for what I have in mind.”
“What’s that, babe?” I already know he loves putting his mouth on me. He craves it. And he already has that aroused look on his face that tells me his brain has left the building and his strong libido is taking over. Lucky, lucky me, is all I can think.
“I’m gonna take care of my queen, of course. I need to make sure she’s happy with me and sexually satisfied on our big day,” he says as he lifts my dress and shoves it up my body.
I gather it all up in my arms, trying to keep it from wrinkling, and eventually decide to carefully pull it over my head and drape it across the far side of the sofa. If I get rid of the dress my husband and I can play for a few minutes.
“You mean you want me to be a flushed hot sexy mess when I walk down the aisle.” I know just what to say to arouse him and it totally works.
His face lights up. “I hadn’t thought of anything nearly that devious,” he says as he gazes down at my white bridal lingerie.
One hand comes out to trace around the lace at the top of my stockings.
“I’ve never seen anyone in life half as sexy as you are right now.
I never knew this kind of beauty existed in the world. ”
“Babe, you always say the sweetest things.” I bring his hand up to my lips and give every single knuckle a kiss, before swiping my tongue over my favorite tattoo.
Mica groans and leans over to give me a hot kiss. “I wish I could take more time with you, but I have to be quick about our business.”
Before I can respond, he shoulders my legs apart more, pulls the scrap of white satin fabric aside and slides his tongue through my already wet slit.
It feels amazing every single time he tends to me this way.
He knows my body so well that he tips me over into an effortless orgasm within minutes. Quickie indeed, I think to myself.
I already know he’s going to try to leave with a swollen cock.
He does that sometimes when we’re short on time.
But I’m not letting him get away with it this time.
I push him back onto the floor, kick off my panties and climb on top of him.
Unzipping his pants makes me hot for him.
When his cock springs free, I gesture down at it dramatically with one hand.
“You’ve got a big thick cock that needs attention. If you want, I can take care of that for you. That way you won’t be walking funny at your own wedding.”
“Look, darlin’. If you wanna take a turn on my cock, you don’t have to make up wild reasons. If you think we have time, go for it.”
“We have to make time,” I tell him playfully. “I can’t have the wedding guests thinking that I’m not taking care of my wifely duties.”
“You’d be surprised how few people in my family care about whether my cock gets action.”
I snort a laugh. “I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sure you’re right.”
I settle over his cock and slowly sink down, taking him as fast as I can. About the time I bottom out, someone knocks lightly at the door. We both say, “Come back later,” at the same time.
Feeling like we might not have a good grasp on time when we’re being intimate, I get busy riding his glorious cock. I want to go slow and enjoy the experience, but my mind is telling me to go fast.
When I come, so does he. When I can’t go anymore, I collapse on his chest, burying my face in his new cut.
It smells like leather and I can see the patch with his club name on it out of the corner of my eye.
And a sense of being right where I belong floods my mind.
We stay there for a minute, trying to catch our breath.
Another knock at the door breaks through the afterglow.
This time the knock is sharp and incessant.
We scramble up and pull on our clothing. I step into the adjoining restroom and quickly clean myself up. When I come back out, someone’s knocking intermittently at the door.
I look around and see Mica standing at the open window. It occurs to me that he’s actually going to hop out the window to avoid dealing with whoever is on the other side of the door. He pauses with one leg on the outside to say, “You look beautiful.”
“You mean sinful? We just had sex in a church, Mica. We’re both probably going to hell in a handbasket.”
“We’re already married, sweetness. That means we can have sex if we want.
” He shoots me his brightest grin, the one that makes him look twice as handsome and causes my pulse to pound in my veins.
Then he slips out the window, and walks away with his hands in his pockets, just as Queenie bursts in.
She glances out the open window just in time to catch sight of Mica walking away.
She raised four sons in an MC and knows every one of them is a big testosterone fueled biker.
She looks at me. Her eyes move from my flushed face to my tousled hair to the slightly crooked strap of my sundress. Then she looks at the table, which is sitting about six inches further from the wall than it was when I came in.
“Hmm, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on here,” she says.
“It was nothing bad. Let me explain,” I start rambling.