Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beckett
I stand with Griffin, Mia, and the rest of the audience in ovation when Scarlett takes her bow.
It isn't just because I am a husband electrified with pride; I genuinely believe that Scarlett danced the role infinitely better than the lead dancer. I’d seen the show enough times to know the truth without bias.
I wasn't the only one who said it. I heard rumblings around the audience at intermission saying how much more graceful and controlled she was as a dancer.
There was also no mistaking my wife was the most beautiful woman in the cast. Scarlett has no idea how absolutely magnificent she is.
Another thing to love about my humble and talented wife.
“Goddamn it, Beckett,” Griffin gripes. “Maybe I should be more of an insufferable bastard. Maybe then I can score a wife as magnificent as yours.”
“You’ve got the insufferable part down to a tee.” I clap him on his back and bask in my wife’s victory.
“Well, before she was your wife, she was my friend,” Mia says. “Scarlett is mine so all y'all need to back off. She was mine first and will be mine after you—” She stops speaking because I grab her arm.
“Don’t say anything, dear little sister of mine, to disparage my union with my wife. Okay? There is no after…”
“Really?” She looks at me suspiciously.
I've been giving this a lot of thought. I don't want to divorce Scarlett after the five years are over.
Being Scarlett's husband and Rayne’s father has been hands down the most miraculous thing I'd ever done.
I'd nearly cured fucking cancer but something as domestic and purely magical as being a husband and father has made my life worth every breath.
I am not sure if Scarlett will be in agreement with me.
She's been so busy with dance, her school work, and our baby but she is still so attentive and responsive to me.
I have to believe she is feeling what I am.
She told me on several occasions that she loves me and I believe when she says those words they are genuine.
But does she love me enough? Does she love me to the point that she wouldn't want to seek somebody else?
Perhaps somebody younger who has her beautiful empathy and outlook on life?
I am still a cantankerous bastard more interested in logic and science and good scotch than I am in my fellow man and his plight in the world.
We balance one another, we are the antithesis of each other and yet we are also the perfect compliment to one another.
As I stand there clapping for the woman who has mesmerized an entire theater full of patrons, I feel like the situation is rather pressing.
We should have a real wedding and a honeymoon to celebrate all that we'd been through.
As the notoriety for Omexadol becomes nearly legendary, Carl has gone silent and almost disappeared.
He showed up at one CSS event. It was a concert benefiting one of the hospitals I worked for.
It was highly suspect to have him finally show up there.
I fully expected him to be at the ballet at some point, but he stayed away.
I hadn't received any more threatening texts and though I don't believe the interest in me has faded, something definitely has changed. The radical governmental group is still doing its best to vie for prominence in the political arena, but there is more scrutiny and eyes on them. Perhaps they are doing nefarious things in other sectors trying to get a stronghold in the general public where they do not belong. Regardless, I welcome the lack of threats and keep my bodyguards on the payroll. Even though Scarlett doesn’t like being trailed, she never complains because she understands.
Seeing Scarlett emerge from the dressing room is sort of like meeting her for the first time all over again.
Granted, she isn't wearing a mask but from this distance and the amount of stage makeup she has on she looks very artificial. Still as arresting and spectacular as the first moment I saw those long lean powerful legs, Scarlett carries herself with such grace and elegance that I am admiring her as if she didn’t already belong to me.
She holds her chin high, her smile is bright and glorious with her perfectly straight teeth complimenting the raven hair she’d fitted into a tight neat bun.
Though I’d seen my wife in her dance attire before, she always surprises me with her extraordinary elegance and grace.
At home, she wears comfortable clothing and often opts not to wear a bra since her tits are so perky and small.
At home she is mine. In the world as a dancer, she belongs to everyone and there is a tick of jealousy in my heart because I don't really want to share her.
My jealousy aside, I want to make sure she understands how much I appreciate her talent and the discipline it takes to be such a fantastic inspiration for everyone.
“You were magnificent,” I say, kissing her lips and handing her the flowers, reaching her before anyone else does. “I didn’t think I could ever be more impressed with you, Mrs. Myers, but you’ve proved me wrong.” She gives me a warm and loving smile as she touches my face.
I always have a little bit of stubble and it pricks her soft fingers but I don't care.
I want her fingers to tingle with the spikes of my stubble because more than anything at that moment I really need to mark my wife.
People are clamoring for her, wanting to offer their praise and adulation, most exuberant of them being my little sister Mia.
“Thank you, Beckett.” Her words are seductive and soft.
“Oh my God, Scar. That was brilliant, you’re brilliant. I love you. Have I told you, I love you?” She really knows how to gush.
Only with Mia does Scarlett ever break that elegant facade. The two of them seem to share a universe of their very own.
“I did it,” she says softly and Mia hugs her hard enough to break my poor wife.
Griffin, Caden, and Marcel then flood my wife with compliments and praise. Her friend John and his husband Raul are equally as enthusiastic and admiring of my wife, and that also makes me crazy.
“Scarlett, girl,” John starts, “you are a fucking goddess. Damn girl, those legs.” He touches my wife; his husband and I both lunge forward. Scarlett merely giggles sweetly.
I realize that evening, the first she danced Hermia's role, that no one else would ever touch her again because she is always going to be mine. I just need to make sure she understands that.
At night as we dry off from our shower and get ready for bed, she yawns and stretches those fucking amazing legs as she wraps her arms around my waist. Already my cock is rock hard from the shower and I am ready to bury it in her for the rest of the night.
I am smashed against that tight belly looking at those marvelous tits and an extraordinary pair of blue eyes.
“Have I told you yet how proud I am?” I lick her lips wanting to kiss her deeper.
“You have a million times, Mr. Cock.” Her smile is infectious; I could eat it right off her fucking face.
“Just wanted to make sure you heard me, Red.” I rub my cock up and down her belly desperate to be inside of her.
“It was fun tonight,” she says, pulling on me as I lengthen in her palm. She kisses my neck and my nipples. God, I fucking love this woman. “As much as I adored being on the stage, I’m glad I’m switching to therapy.” She offers a sweet smile as she lets me go, sliding into our bed.
“Oh?” I glide in right beside her.
“That exhilaration, feeling my body express the character’s feelings, knowing it was working at its optimal physical condition, it’s a rush, almost as good as the one you give.
” She tugs on my cock for emphasis. “But I’ve had my moment in the spotlight, I don’t need more.
I want to use dance to help others as much as it has helped me. ” She settles into my side.
“You do need more time in that spotlight, infinitely more, but you’re altruistic and saintly, my tiny dancer, and for you, that’s the bigger thrill.
Expect to see me front and center every night for the rest of this run since it’s all I’m going to have.
” I am saddened by the thought of never seeing her dance again.
“I’ll still dance, just maybe not with the New York City Ballet.” She traces my cock over her slick entrance, wetting me, making me groan.
“I’ll agree to anything you think is right for you, but I sort of love you entering my field of work.” I grab her leg and hook it over my arm, she is so flexible I could bring it to my ear if I wanted, but I just need to open her up for me, that first thrust always causes her a little pain.
“Ah,” she winces and cries out and I ease up a little, too desperate to be inside of her.
“Sorry,” I kiss her lips. “I’m always so fucking crazy for you.” I am mindless at times to be connected to her.
“I like it,” she says as she has on several occasions. “Take me hard tonight, Mr. Cock. I want to feel you all the way up to my throat.” She laughs knowing how kinky and absurd it is.
“I want to stay buried in you all night,” I voice a fantasy I’d always had, keeping myself hard enough to stay inside of her forever…
“Then do.” She is the one who presses me in as she moves her hips forward and claims my mouth with a feral need.
I fuck my wife to the moon and back that night.
Something about seeing her dance so elegantly, knowing she nearly died in a car accident, was kidnapped, and survived; all of it makes me crave her with feral desire.
If a raw pounding with a nine-inch dick says I love you, then I am screaming it from the rooftops over and over until she and I are so drenched in the dampness of our exertion, we are bathing in each other.
Seeing her sleep in my arms after being thoroughly fucked by me is absolute bliss.
“Morning,” she leans over and kisses my head before she gets up and goes to the bathroom which is fairly normal for her but I notice there is a small circle of blood left on the sheets.
I worry that I might have taken her too roughly, so I jump out of bed and move quickly to our bathroom to find her sitting on the toilet hunched over with her hands clutching her belly.
“Are you okay?” I ask, deeply concerned. “Did I hurt you last night? When you’re done, I want to look at you.” I am suddenly more doctor than husband.
She lifts her head and smiles at me. “Aunt Flo, no need to worry. I’m just a little crampier than usual. Ugh, they always say she likes weddings, parties, and vacations. I guess she likes to be a lead dancer as well. Eww, ugh, ouch.” She doubles over again.
I ruffle her hair and kiss her hand. “Women are miraculous creatures.” I leave then and get her some Motrin for the pain. “Do you need anything else?” I ask hoping the cramps will subside so she can dance that night.
“Just a hot pad and another kiss.” She lifts her face to me and I give her one helluva kiss. Her happiness at receiving my kiss makes me want to cover her in them. “At least we know I’m not having another baby.” Her smile fades a little.
There is a pang in my heart at the thought. “I’m actually a little sad about that. I mean I know it's too soon, Rayne is so young, but I always wanted a sibling. I got one… eventually,” I laugh to lighten the mood. “But she’s just a pain in my ass.” I know this will rile her.
“Ah, so I must be a pain in your ass too, because Mia and I are only two months apart and are sisters in spirit.” She gives me a bratty little grin followed by a wince.
“You sure I didn’t break you?” Guilt floods every nerve.
“Nope. You have a huge cock, my dear husband, but it’s not gonna break me.” She smiles and starts wiping and fuck, I probably need to take her to the doctor if she continues to have such a heavy flow.
“That’s a lot, Scarlett. Your cycle has just come back, but that’s pretty heavy. Did you have them like this before Rayne?”
I know a lot about women’s cycles and fertility, only because it is an area of study that fascinates me.
It can definitely be heavier after having a baby.
Her body has changed after giving birth so I really shouldn't be worried, but Scarlett is the only woman I'd ever been so fully enamored with.
Every single thing that happens to her creates a sense of stress and concern for me.
“Sometimes.” She brushes it off and puts in the diva cup we keep in the drawer next to the toilet.
“I’m just fine, only a little crampy. You jostled but didn’t break me.
I’m good. I just need some meds, a heating pad, and a nap.
” She stands up, kisses my cheek, washes her hands, and takes the medication I gave her.
I make sure she is set up with all she needs before I leave for work, though I am reluctant to leave.
“You call me if anything changes or you bleed that much again. I’m serious. I’ll call an ambulance to come get you if you don’t.”
“It’s just a regular ol’ period, Beck, I’ll see you at the show.” She yawns and that is the end of the conversation.