11. Mia
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIA
I never thought I’d be the girl who elopes, but here we are. We didn't even wait two weeks. The engagement ring had barely been on my finger for seventy-two hours before we decided that a traditional wedding wasn’t for us.
Since Mick McLinden doesn't do anything halfway, and apparently, that includes the transition from fiancé to husband, we booked a trip to Las Vegas for my next three-day weekend off. We packed two small bags, told Mia and Harper to keep their phones on, and caught the red-eye to Nevada.
The desert heat hits me like a physical weight the moment we step out of the airport. It's dry, oppressive, and absolutely perfect. Mick grips my hand, his palm rough and steady, as we navigate the neon chaos of the Strip.
"You sure you don’t want a big fancy wedding?" he asks, checking the address on his phone. He’s wearing a sharp charcoal suit that makes him look like a high-stakes gambler instead of a professional hockey player. "We can still the traditional route if you want."
I pull him to a stop, adjusting his silk tie. My own dress is a simple white slip, silk and lace that feels like nothing against my skin. "I want to marry you today." I stand on my tippy-toes and place a kiss on his lips. “Let’s go get married.”
He grins, that mischievous flash in his eyes that always makes my heart do a frantic little stutter. "Anything for you, trouble."
The Happily Ever After Chapel is everything the brochures promised.
It’s a small, stucco building tucked between a pawn shop and a 24-hour liquor store.
The sign out front features a neon dove flying through a diamond ring.
The air inside smells of fresh carnations and industrial-strength floor wax.
"Welcome to The Happily Ever Chapel," a man says, stepping out from behind a velvet curtain. He’s wearing a very tasteful black suit with a light pink tie. He looks at Mick, then at me, and his smile wide. "You two looking to tie the knot?"
Mick squeezes my hand. "We have a reservation for two o’clock."
Gary, according to the small name tag on lapel, nods solemnly. “Did you get the marriage license on the way here?”
“I have it right here.” Mick pulls it out of his jacket pocket and hands it over to him.
“Give me five minutes to fill out the paperwork and we’ll be ready to get this show on the road.” He heads over to a computer and types away. Not too long later, he walks back to us and smiles. "Follow me, kids. We’ve got it all set up for you."
We walk into a small room draped in red velvet and gold tinsel.
A recording of 'Here comes the Bride' starts playing over a scratchy speaker system. It’s actually much classier than I’d imagined we’d find in Vegas.
It’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m standing here with a man who would do whatever it takes to make me happy.
A middle-aged woman in a pink wrap around dress and comes strolling out of the back room and sits in the front row.
Gary takes his place under a white arch.
He clears his throat, assuming a low, vibrato-heavy tone.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.
Mick, do you take Mia to be your partner for life? "
Mick takes both of my hands in his, his thumbs grazing my knuckles, and smiles down at me. “I do.” His voice is deep, echoing in the small space, filled with love for me. He means it.
"And Mia," Gary continues, turning his rhinestones toward me. "Do you take Mick to be your husband?"
I look up at Mick. I think about the night at The Roaring Crowd, the way I tried to push him away because I was afraid of how much space he’d take up in my life. I think about the way he makes me feel safe even when everything else is crazy and uncertain.
"I do," I whisper. A single, happy laugh escapes me, and I feel the sting of tears behind my eyelids. "I absolutely do."
Mick slides the platinum band onto my finger, his movements precise and deliberate. It’s heavier than the engagement ring, a solid weight that anchors me to him. Gary looks back and forth between us with a smile on his face.
"By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Mick doesn't wait. He pulls me in, his hands cupping my face with a possessive intensity that leaves me breathless. The kiss is a deep claim that marks the beginning of our life together. He pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine.
"Mrs. McLinden," he murmurs against my lips. The name sends a jolt through me, a sharp, beautiful realization of what we’ve just done. He says it like it’s a title he’s been waiting to bestow since the moment we met. "Finally. Mine."
"Yours," I agree, my voice trembling. "Always."
We walk out of the chapel into the blinding Nevada sun. Mick stops by a fountain, looking down at our joined hands. The gold bands catch the light, identical and permanent. He looks like he’s just won the Stanley Cup, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph that he doesn't try to hide.
"Hungry?" he asks, though his eyes are focused on my mouth. "Or should we head back to the suite?"
"The suite," I say, not even pretending to care about lunch. "I want to get out of these shoes. And this dress."
He flags down a taxi, his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his side. The ride back to the hotel is a blur of neon signs and heavy traffic. We don't speak, but the air between us is thick with a new kind of happiness.
Our suite is on the top floor, a sprawling expanse of marble and glass that overlooks the city. Mick shuts the door behind us and the silence is immediate, a stark contrast to the bells and whistles of the casino floor below. He doesn't let me walk three steps before he’s lifting me into his arms.
"Mick!" I squeal, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You don’t have to carry me everywhere."
"It’s my job now," he places a soft kiss on my lips, carrying me across the plush carpet toward the massive bed. "Taking care of you is the most important job I’ve ever had."
He sets me down on the edge of the mattress, but he doesn't pull away. He stays between my knees, his hands sliding up my thighs, gathering the silk of my dress. His touch is familiar, but everything feels different now. The stakes have shifted. The boundaries are gone.
"I’ve been dreaming about this moment since we met," he admits, his voice low as he works the zipper of my dress. "Giving you my name and making you mine forever."
I lean back on my elbows, watching him. "I’ve been yours since the first moment we met."
"I love you," he says. He pulls the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but lace. He follows it with his own clothes, his movements urgent but controlled. When he joins me on the bed, the weight of him is a relief, a grounding force that shuts out the rest of the world.
He kisses me like I'm the air he needs to breathe, pinning my wrists to the mattress, and every molecule in my body turns to goo.
He grins against my mouth, all wolf and sin, dragging the sound right out of me like it’s the only thing he wants for dinner. "You have no idea what you do to me," he mutters, and his voice is so low my toes actually curl.
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his hard cock, “Actually, I do.” I smirk up at him.
“God, I love you,” he breathes against my lips then his mouth trails down my neck, and I arch into him like I’m addicted to his touch. His tongue is hot, wet, hungry, working the sensitive spot just below my jaw until I’m trembling.
He palms my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, and oh my God, I almost come from the light touch alone.
"Mick," I gasp, and it comes out a hell of a lot more desperate than I meant. Sue me.
He just flashes that wicked smile. "Yeah, Mrs. McLinden?"
I freaking love hearing those words.
He kisses my stomach, slow, wet, open-mouthed and so thorough. There’s a pause, dragging out the suspense, and I think I might actually explode if he doesn’t get on with it. But then his hands grip my hips and he pulls me right to the edge of the mattress.
Every cell in my body is tuned to this moment. He drops to the side of the bed and kneels between my thighs. His big hands bracket my hips, and he lifts my leg over his shoulder. My pulse jackhammers away as he leans over.
The first touch of his tongue against the lace covering my wet center is a jolt straight up my spine. I buck, and he just pins me harder. Then he freaking slowly explores me like he’s got all night.
He peels the lace down my legs, trailing it with his lips, and I moan his name loudly.
Then his warm, wicked tongue licks a stripe up my center and that’s all it takes for my brain to shut down and my lady bits to take over. I claw at the sheets, at his hair, at anything I can reach, because he’s driving me out of my mind.
I’m already shaking, legs spread helpless and wide, pinned by Mick’s big hands and the promise in his eyes. The ceiling blurs, everything goes hot and liquid electric, and I about lose my mind when his stubble rasps up my inner thigh.
Oh, God. I’m actually making high, sharp, absolutely shameless noises. I should be worried about someone hearing me, but that requires brain function and I am currently experiencing a total system meltdown.
He drags his tongue up my center, slow and thorough, then sucks my clit like he’s staking a claim. My hips jerk up, but he just grips me tighter, groaning low and filthy.
“Stay still, trouble,” he laughs, rough and hungry. “Let me taste what’s mine.”
Sounds like a plan to me. I can’t do anything except grip the back of his head and cling for dear life. My heel presses into his shoulder as he nudges my thighs even wider.
He mouths me, sucks me, works me with devastating precision, like he’s memorized every single tell. My hands claw at his hair, his shoulders, whatever I can grab.
I feel his finger trace my entrance, and then just like that, he slides it in. Deep, thick, curling up and stroking this spot that sends fireworks exploding behind my eyelids.
“Oh my God.”
He grins against my skin, “That’s it, baby. Scream for me,” he growls, and then sucks hard, working his finger inside me, then a second, stretching me wide. I’m not going to survive this.
My toes curl and there’s a ringing in my ears. His tongue flicks exactly the right spot, relentless, merciless, and I’m gone.
My orgasm slams through me so hard I think I lose consciousness for a few seconds. Every muscle in my body tenses, my back arches, and my echoes around the room as I come apart on Mick’s mouth.
He doesn’t let up. He pins me down, working me through every aftershock, drawing out the pleasure until I’m sobbing. When he finally backs off, I’m limp, sweating, unable to move my limbs.
He leans up, and holy hell, the look on his face almost makes me come again.
There’s nothing controlled about Mick right now.
He looks like he’s about to eat me alive all over again.
He stares at me like he really might. Like I’m the main course and also dessert, and he’s a six-foot-three musclebound menace with an all-you-can-devour pass.
My pulse is hammering so hard I actually wonder if I’ll be able to survive this level of cardiac activity.
Mick stands, all slow-motion power and dark intent, and the city lights flicker across his skin. I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s got me laying back on the fluffy pillow, my legs spread wide, and my lady bits begging for more.
He leans over and drags his mouth up my thigh, my hip, biting and sucking, leaving little marks as he goes. He kisses up, up, up, over my ribs, right to the soft swell of my boob.
His tongue swirls around my nipple, then he sucks it hard and greedy. I moan, loud and desperate. Mick just grins against my skin, looking smugger than a guy who just scored a hat trick in overtime.
He doubles down and sucks even harder, and I practically come out of my skin. It’s not gentle, it’s not slow, it’s full-on possessive and wild, and I love every freaking second.
“Mick,” I pant, reaching down between us to wrap my hand around his hard cock.
He shifts to my other nipple, giving it a repeat performance while I slowly stroke him. He groans when I roll my thumb across the head and give him a little squeeze.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he rasps against my skin. “But I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”
He pulls from my grasp and kneels between my spread legs. I hold my breath when he lines his thick, hard cock up at my entrance. He rotates his hips a little and the head slides just inside my wet opening. My hips tilt up, greedy and ready. There’s fire pulsing through every cell of my body.
He pauses, and stares down into my eyes. “Tell me,” he says, voice rough. “Tell me you’re mine.”
I don’t even hesitate.
“I love you so much,” I breathe. “I’m yours. Forever.”
He groans, low and filthy, and then he pushes in deep filling me all the way up. “About freaking time.” He leans down, forehead pressed to mine. His breath is hot against my lips. Every muscle in my body tingles for more.
Then he kisses me, hard, swallowing my moan like he’s been dying of thirst and I’m the last drop of water on earth.
He rocks his hips forward, burying himself so deep. I cling to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. Can’t get close enough.
He groans, the sound vibrating against my mouth. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.” He presses his face in my neck, sucking and biting. “You were made for me.”
My legs lock around his waist, heels digging into him. “Harder,” I beg, because my dignity is dead and buried at this point. “Please. Don’t be gentle. I want all of you.”
He pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in, hard and deep and so good I actually see stars. There is nothing in the universe but this man, this moment, this pounding, relentless need.
He pins my wrists above my head with one huge hand, body caging me in. He stares down, eyes black, pupils blown, looking like he wants to devour me. I squeeze my eyes closed as pleasure pulses through me.
“Look at me,” he growls. “Want to see your face when you come on my cock.”
My eyes snap open as I groan his name. His hand slides down, thumb zeroing in on my clit, rubbing in tight, expert circles. Heat rips through me and I scream his name as an orgasm blasts through me.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, just grinds deeper and rougher, chasing his own release. “That’s it. Milk my cock. Take it all.”
I can barely breathe as the climax goes on and on. Then he slams into me one last time and shudders as he comes inside me, filling me even more and making my toes curl.
He collapses on top of me, trembling, but he’s still careful to keep most of his weight braced. His heart pounds against my chest, the sound wild and frantic, “I love you, Mrs. McLinden.” He breathes. “Forever.”
And just like that, everything falls into place and life is perfect.