23. Oh, What a Wedding Night
Chapter twenty-three
Oh, What a Wedding Night
áINE
My hands tremble as I press the keycard to the lock on Kieran's suite.
This is it.
My wedding night.
I wasn't this nervous on my first wedding night, but then Troy and I had already had sex. I knew what to expect.
Tonight? Not so much.
After a long day at the park, everyone is fed and tucked into their room, if not their beds.
Except me.
Because I got married today and no way would my mom believe it was a real wedding if I suggested staying in the suite with Ellie, her and the girls.
Which is why I'm here, letting myself into Kieran's room.
Sure. That's why you're here. It has nothing do with wanting to climb Kieran like a tree and taking a ride on his big branch.
Stifling a groan at my inner snark queen's precociousness, I turn the handle and shove the door open. The sound of a shower running comes from the bedroom area and I drop the handle of my rolling case, leaving it right in the middle of the living room.
My feet are already moving in the direction of that sound without my brain saying, "Yeah, that's a good idea."
My inner hussy has it covered and she's salivating at the idea of seeing my new husband stepping out of the shower in all his muscle-bound, naked glory.
I stop on the threshold of the bedroom at another sight altogether.
A gift basket wrapped in cellophane covered in Disney characters sits in the center of the king-sized bed. And I just know Kieran didn't put it there.
I'm proved right when I pick up the card propped against it.
There's a picture of a very curvy Snow White showing more cleavage than a nineteenth century barmaid in the arms of a muscular, black clad man who looks more like a villain than a prince on the front.
On the back, it says:
Congrats! Here are a few things to help you have fun tonight, you two lovebirds! I expect my bestie to be walking funny tomorrow, Wraith.
E
Ellie is the one person in our party that knows Kieran and I are not lovebirds. She's also the one person in my life that is adamant I need a good dicking, and has been since a year after Troy's death.
Guessing exactly what kind of gift basket she would leave us on our wedding night, heat's already climbing into my cheeks as I pull the ends of the bow holding the cellophane together.
"What's that?" Kieran walks in from the en suite, drying his short hair with a towel.
Wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, his warrior's body is on mouthwatering display.
His chest is covered in a black ink tattoo of a two-headed eagle depicted in the Celtic style, a triskelion in the center of its torso.
Under the wing on the right are the words Dílseacht agus Onóir.
My Gaeilge isn't great, but I think that means loyalty and honor.
Besnikeri dhe Nder is written under the wing on the left.
From what little I know of Kieran, that's probably Albanian for the same thing. The entire tattoo is an acknowledgement of his combined heritage, but there is nothing that might allude to his Italian sperm donor.
He has another tattoo, this one on his right bicep. It's fully Celtic from what I can tell. A claddagh in front of a dirk. The tattoos aren't the only marks on Kieran's body though. Faded scars on skin stretched over defined muscles tell a story of violence and survival.
This man may be a mobster now, but he's always been a warrior.
Kieran tosses the towel and points toward the bed. "What's that?" he asks again.
"Oh, hey." I try for a nonchalance I definitely don't feel. "Uh…it wasn't here when you came in earlier?"
Ellie came into Kieran's bedroom while my husband was in the shower? Why does that make me want to grind my teeth?
Even if this were a real marriage, I wouldn't be jealous of my bestie. She'd never move in on my man. Only that unfamiliar feeling inside feels a lot like a visit from the green-eyed monster.
Kieran shakes his head. "McLaren."
"Who else?" I pull the ribbon ends and it unties, allowing the cellophane to flutter open.
My hand comes to my mouth to stifle nervous laughter, but it burbles out of me. Overflowing with lewdly themed Disney adjacent items, the basket has a giant dildo sticking right up from the center.
A black tag tied on with gold ribbon on the dildo says: A little help with the bibbidi-bobbidi-BOOM.
"The only cock going inside your tight pussy is mine," Kieran growls, grabbing the dildo and tossing it across the room toward the wastebasket.
It lands with a dull thud but I don't bother to see if that was inside the basket or out of it. The intense heat in Kieran's dark eyes has mine trapped.
"You said you'd wait until I was ready," I remind him breathlessly.
He doesn't dial back his sexual dominance one iota. "You're ready."
"I am?" I am. I really, really am.
And that's not just my inner hussy talking. Every tiny molecule in my body is ready to have sex with Kieran.
Not ready to deal with that knowledge I dive back into the basket. There's a bottle of cinnamon flavored lube with a tag that says: Deliciously Dangerous.
Another bottle of silky lube probably meant for use with the dildo Kieran tossed has a tag that says: Make sure it fits.
Oh my.
Kieran takes both bottles of lube from my hands and puts them on the bedside table. Then he picks up a black leather sleep mask with faux fur on one side. "Sweet dreams, dark schemes?" he asks.
"Uh…" I've got nothing.
"You won't need this to sleep tonight."
I nod my agreement and then shake my head in case he thinks I mean I will need it to sleep.
"But before you sleep…" His deep voice trails off with dark promise.
Ulp.
I double ulp when I see the matching black leather cuffs with the faux fur lining dangling from his forefinger. "We're definitely using these."
"We are?" My voice goes embarrassingly high on the are.
"Oh, yeah. Your hands cuffed behind your back, your gorgeous tits on display for me." He grabs the basket still half full and drops it on the floor at the end of the bed.
"Now?" I ask, my heart thudding in my chest.
"Soon." He drops the leather restraints on the bed and cups my shoulders. "First, I need to taste your lips."
A kiss? Relief flows along my sizzling nerve ending. Kissing I can do.
We've done that before. And it was good.
Criminally good, because he's my villain. And the part of me I hide from everyone else, wouldn't have it any other way. I don't want Kieran in spite of his job in the mob. I want him because the dangerous vibes he gives off make my pussy clench and weep.
If I touched myself between my legs right now, there'd already be a wet spot on the gusset of the fresh panties I pulled on before leaving the family suite. I took a shower too, but I put my wedding dress back on.
I understand why Ellie was so adamant I wear the white sundress covered in cherries with the crinoline skirt today. It felt dressy for the park, but she insisted I wear the 1950s inspired ensemble.
Because she knew I was going to have a surprise wedding.
And when I first got married, I showed her a similar dress in a magazine.
I told her I wished that could be my wedding dress because I loved the 1950s look and that it wasn't a real wedding dress.
The whole formal wedding thing had felt wrong with both my dad and brother gone, but mom wanted traditional and Troy had insisted on it.
So, I got married the first time in our parish church, wearing a long white gown with a train that I never would have been able to navigate without Ellie's help.
I forgot about the cherry dress, but my bestie didn't. That one had quarter length sleeves and an applique of a bunch of cherries on the bottom right of the skirt, but it was the same style.
I like this one better and didn't complain—too much—about wearing it, because the red butter-soft leather ballet flats I got to go with it are so comfortable.
The white pumps Ellie tossed at me after I came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes ago aren't nearly as comfy, but they do amazing things for my calves and make me feel a little bit bridal.
Besides I'm not going to be wearing them long, am I?
Am I?
Oh, lord. I have to stop waffling on this.
Kieran wants sex. I want sex. We can have sex without it being the end of the world. Even if he's the only man, besides Troy, I will ever have inside my body, it's okay. Right?
Kieran's my husband. We have the wedding certificate, and I have a huge diamond ring and wedding band on my left hand to prove it.
He sweeps me up into his arms bridal style—oh how appropriate—and slants his lips over mine.
I go up like a Roman candle, kissing him back and my tongue tangling with his, my neck arched to keep our lips close together.
He tastes so good.
Why didn’t anyone ever tell me a man could taste like want? Like need?
My want. My need.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift myself so my lips can mash harder against his. He reacts like I grabbed his sex and we eat at each other’s mouths. Pressing my breasts against his naked chest, I try to assuage the tingling ache in my nipples.
They're so hard and tight, it's as if he's already been playing with them.
I want that. His hands. His mouth. Body on fire, need burning in my veins like lava, I crave his body pressed against mine, with his sex stretching my pussy.
I’m so turned on every pore in my body is exuding pheromones.
Kieran's taste is straight-up lady Viagra. A moan of need tears out of me only to be caught by his lips and tongue and fed back to me.
Kieran lays me on the bed, his big warrior's body coming down to blanket me, his mouth never breaking from mine.
My legs spread, inviting him to settle between them.
But he rears back, tearing his lips from mine and his hands cup my calves under the crinolines of my skirt, hot and sure. "You're ready?"
This time it is a question and I know exactly what he's asking. Am I ready for sex with my husband?
"Yes, Kieran." My voice is raw with truth. "I want you."