Chapter 36
AOIFE
We take the stairs, hand in hand. His thick fingers thread through mine. ‘I feel bare,’ I admit, eyeing the pocket that he stashed my panties in.
‘Get used to it.’ He guides me back into our reception, leaning down to murmur in my ear, ‘I’m going to steal every thong you own, so I can have easy access any time I want it.’
‘Welcome back,’ Ciaran homes in on us right away, flanked by Owen and Cathal. They’re all wearing the same knowing smile. ‘We took bets on whether you’d come back down at all.’ He turns to Owen, plucks a hundred euro note from his pocket and slaps it in his palm.
Owen grins and shoves it in his pocket. ‘I told you he wouldn’t miss his own party.’
‘Right, let’s get this first dance done. I need an excuse to hold Abby close to my chest.’ Ciaran flashes me a small smile. ‘I think she’s warming to me.’
My poor friend.
I doubt it.
I scan the room until I find her. She’s tucked away at the bar with Sheila and Mama K.
She shoots me a small smile and holds up her champagne glass in a toast. I know she doesn’t approve.
It was written all over her face this afternoon, but surely she can see I’m happy?
Dominic treats me like his queen—in and out of the bedroom.
The wedding planner appears beside us. ‘There you are!’ she exclaims, then turns to the band set up in the corner of the room. The singer looks suspiciously like the lead singer from Amber, but it couldn’t be, could it?
I turn to Dom, who’s watching me with a smile. ‘Is that…?’
He nods. ‘I will spend however long we have together doing my best to make you happy. Happy and flushed.’ He winks. ‘And for all the right reasons.’
This man.
My husband.
He continues to amaze me.
‘Come on.’ Dom pulls me onto the dancefloor. The lights dim, bar the spotlights shining on us. He takes my hand in his as our guests gather round. The first few notes ring through the air. It’s not an Amber song. It’s a cover.
Lewis Capaldi.
“Pointless”.
The same song we heard on the way to the beach.
My eyes well with tears. I have no idea what the future holds, but right here, right now, Dom is everything I never knew I needed.
‘No more crying, remember?’ He murmurs into my ear. “Songbird”, the melody we walked into. That’s what he meant.
‘I didn’t plan on falling for you, but how could I not? Apparently, you know me better than I know myself. You shower me with love and attention. Wipe my tears. Hold my hand. Offered me warmth, love, and protection.’
‘I always will,’ he says.
His irises flare as his face dips to catch my lips. It’s not sexual this time. It’s tender. Appreciative. Loving.
He pulls back all too soon. ‘Do you believe in fate now?’
‘Maybe.’ It does seem like too much of a coincidence that it was his bar I ran into. Him who saved me.
My heart swells in my chest. Thank god for the day my father traded me off to Rory Kavanagh, because if it weren’t for that, I’d never have run into this big, beautiful man. Ironic that this is where it started, and this is where we ended up, mere months later.
He leads me around the dancefloor, surprisingly graceful for a man of his size.
When the band reaches the chorus, our eyes meet, and he mouths the words to me.
Mama K and Sheila clutch each other at the side of the dancefloor.
Sheila is dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
Mama K palms her chest, then gives us a thumbs up. And I simply smile.
The rest of our reception passes by in a whir of dancing, drinking, and more introductions.
I haven’t got a hope of remembering anyone’s name because I can barely remember my own when my husband’s hands are permanently attached to my body.
I keep watching the clock, checking how much longer until we can go to bed. And spoiler alert—I’m not tired.
Finally, at two a.m., we make our excuses, promising Mama K we’ll call her from our honeymoon. I still have no idea where we’re going, but if it’s with him, I’ll go anywhere. He hasn’t let me down yet.
We practically jog up the stairs to the honeymoon suite, fingers interlaced again. My heart races in my ribcage at the enormity of what we’re about to do.
Dom opens the door, holding it ajar with his foot, then sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me the same way he did the first day we met. I squeal out of surprise, taking the opportunity to palm the muscular planes of his pecs.
He strides across the room and places me gently on the bed. Our eyes meet. His are sin filled and suggestive. ‘Mrs Kincaid,’ he murmurs.
‘Mr Kincaid.’ I glance at the ring gleaming on his left hand. It looks good there. Especially because it makes him mine.
‘Would you like a drink?’ His eyes scan the room, landing on a bottle of Beckett’s Black Label champagne chilling in a chrome bucket filled with ice. Someone has left heart shaped chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers beside them.
‘Do I need one?’ I whisper, eyeing his crotch. I can’t deny, I am slightly nervous. It’s supposed to hurt, right?
‘It might help you relax,’ he decides, crossing the room. He tugs off his bow tie, tosses it to the coffee table, then undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. Saliva floods my tongue. He pops the bottle and brings it over to the bed, placing it on the bedside table beside two crystal flutes.
‘Did you enjoy today?’ He asks as he fills the glasses.
‘It was everything any bride would have wished for,’ I bite my lip.
‘I’m not asking about any bride.’ His eyes snap to mine. ‘I’m asking if my bride enjoyed it.’
I nod, then rock up to a sitting position to accept the drink he offers to me. ‘It was perfect.’ And it was.
His lips lift into a wicked grin. ‘You’re about to enjoy it a whole lot more.’ He wets his lips. ‘If you’re certain, that is?’ Concern creases the corner of his eyes.
‘Certain?’ I take a sip of champagne and arch an eyebrow. ‘I was certain six hours ago.’ I place my glass down on the bedside table and reach around my back for the zipper, lowering it all the way until it falls to my waist and my breasts spill free.
He hisses, drinking me in. ‘I will never tire of staring at your perfect tits.’ He shakes his head in awe and his Adam’s apple bobs. I love the way he reacts to my body. It feels so utterly empowering to know this big, bad, dangerous husband of mine is wild for my body.
‘Shall I take it off?’ I sweep a hand over the skirt part. ‘Sir?’ I add, and his pupils darken.
‘Good girl.’ He lowers himself to sit on the bed beside me.
‘But no. I want the dress and stilettos on for the first time.’ He gently pushes me flat onto the pillows, then bunches up the material around my waist. His fingers drift between my legs as his eyes bore into mine.
They flare when they reach my centre. I am soaked for him. Again.
‘So help me, woman, I may tie you to this bed and never leave.’
My stomach spins as his thumb circles my clit, inching closer as he plays with my pussy.
His lips meet mine as he sinks a single finger deep inside my core.
My back arches off the bed, and pleasure zips over my spine, tingles firing in every direction across my body.
He pulls his mouth from mine. ‘I could play with you all night, every night, and never ever tire of it.’
‘Promises, promises,’ I murmur as his lips blaze over my jawline, along the column of my throat, my clavicle and finally latch around my nipple.
When he sucks, my pussy weeps onto his fingers.
He smiles against my breast. His lips pop off all too soon, and he lifts his hand to his mouth, cleaning my arousal from his fingers with long, languid licks of his tongue.
Why is watching him taste me so fucking erotic?
He prowls up the bed like a panther, but instead of mounting me, he drops onto the bed beside me, tossing the pillows behind his head to the floor. ‘Come, sit on my face, sweetheart.’ His black eyes glint as he beckons me up with a single finger.
I suck in a breath, suddenly shy. But the need to have his tongue between my legs again wins out.
He pats the bed either side of him, motioning for me to straddle him. I do as he instructs, holding my dress around my waist and placing a thigh either side of his torso.
‘Higher,’ he barks. ‘I want my wife’s perfect pussy on my face.’
That filthy mouth.
If he keeps it up, I might drown him. I inch higher, gripping the headboard with one hand and holding my dress up with the other. Our eyes lock as I lower myself onto his face.
‘Mmmmm.’ He moans, sinking his tongue into my centre. My thighs tremble as my fingertips turn white with the effort of holding on as he plunges in and out of me. His hands palm my breasts, thumbs rolling and pinching my nipples.
It’s so good.
Too good.
His pupils are feral with desire. He rolls his tongue higher until he finds my clit and his lips latch on, slowly sucking as hot white pleasure blinds me, and my orgasm rips through me, violent and debilitating.
‘Fuck,’ I cry out, riding his face like he told me to as he watches with a satisfied glint in his eyes.
Long after the last wave of pleasure ebbs away, he’s still lapping at my centre, like he’s enjoying this every bit as much as I am. Finally his tongue slows to a stop. I rock back until I’m sitting on his chest, panting and already greedy for more.
‘I’d like you to fuck me, now,’ I tell him firmly, ‘Sir.’