Chapter Six
Lawson
Seeing what you want and taking what you want can be two wildly different things.
Once I set sight on Lark Stokes, I saw exactly what I want in a woman. Lark is the entire package: sweet, smart, supportive of the people she loves, and the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Being with her is the closest I have ever felt to heaven, the closest I have ever been to feeling good and whole.
Earlier tonight I made a joke during a get to know the groom game about not knowing who I was or where I was headed. It might have been a joke, but it was also true. Before I met Benji in college, I was spoiled with everything I could ever want—but nothing I ever needed.
If it had not been for him teaching me some humility, giving me some direction, I might never have grown up at all. I could have partied my way through college, never learning a bloody thing. Benji saved me from myself. From wasting what little I thought I had going for me. He was there to tell me to get to class, to use my head, to make something out of nothing.
“I am glad I get to be here with you for this,” I tell him after the tapas dinner, even as my eyes watch his mother stroll towards the beach.
“It wouldn’t be complete without you being here. Having all the people here who count feels good. The wedding is going to be a beautiful day.”
“Yeah, mate, it is. I am so proud of you. You’ve got such a lovely life starting now,” I nod at his bride-to-be, smiling as she throws an arm around me in a hug before planting a kiss on my cheek.
Beside her, his younger sister Beatrix makes eyes at me. Those eyes have been eating me up all night, but I’ve ignored it. Not to be rude to her or dismiss her. To do right by Lark. I would hope Lark would do the same if a man were flirting with her or making known is interest. It would infuriate me if another man even thought about making a pass at her now.
Chatting with the wedding party a while longer, I watch Lark get a little further from the others. Once I consider her a safe distance, I excuse myself to go to her. Truth be told, I would not care if I told my best mate that I have been hooking up with his mother. There is no reason for us to hide it.
Ought to wait till after his wedding to tease I could be his stepdad.
Going to Lark, I glance back at the rest of the party. No one even notices me slip away. Reaching her, I swear I can read her mind. All the questions and doubts. Her sweet scent carries on the wind, filling my lungs and settling me, making me realize I had been unsettled without her close.
Reaching her, I grasp her hips in my hands, unable to keep my hands off her. I have to touch her when I get close enough. Lark lets out a little sigh, unable to hide that she welcomes my touch. Lowering my head, I whisper in her ear, telling her not to consider this thing between us as a mistake.
We go back and forth a little on our views on this. On us. Because whether we want to admit it or not, whether we expected it or not, there is an us here. There is an us happening. We can deny it, we can try to hide it, but it is there in the way I look at her, in the way she looks at me.
“Lawson, I did not come here for me,” Lark argues as she gazes up at me.
Christ, she is beautiful. The sun settles low in the skies behind her, shimmering off the crashing waters. Her thick, raven hair billows in the wind, framing her beautiful face in inky darkness. I reach out to her, cupping her face in my hands, because she might be right about that. But she is wrong about one thing.
“No, Lark, I believe you came here for me.” Lowering my head, I brush my mouth over hers.
Lark moans, opening her mouth to my tongue as I crush her soft body to my hard one. I am shaking as she latches on, her tongue stroking mine, her breathy sighs making my heart thunder in my chest. I am insatiable for her, for her sounds, for her pleasure, for her smiles and laughter.
Glancing back again, I see the others have left the beach. It reminds me there were a few weddings here this weekend. Struck with an idea, I kiss her once more before pulling back. Lark blinks at the grin she sees on my face, but I think she will love my idea.
“Let’s go crash a wedding, love,” I tell her, hands brushing through her wild hair. “There is one every single night. What do they say? Something borrowed? Borrow me for the weekend, let me be your date at the weddings. Let’s have a good time together while we’re here.”
“We can’t crash all the weddings, Lawson,” she argues, even as a huge grin overtakes her face. We talked about it on the plane and the idea excited her then.
If I can show her a good time, if I can make her happy all weekend, maybe she will trust that I can do it past this weekend. Maybe she would give me a chance to make her happier than a few orgasms and some dirty talk can make her. Although, the orgasms I’ve had with her and our dirty talk has been hot as hell, so I would take it if that’s all she can give me.
“We can. No one knows us at the wedding tonight. I have to share you with everyone Sunday at Benji’s wedding. Let me have you tonight and tomorrow night too,” I plead, pulling her against my body as the salty ocean air kicks her dress up.
“Lawson, I don’t know,” her words drop trail off when my hands cup her ass, dragging her tighter against me. I took advantage of that little wardrobe malfunction to get my hands on her plump ass.
“I do know. Last night we talked about how fun it could be. It will be fun. We can dance,” I tell her, swaying her slightly. “We can eat, drink. I can kiss you,” I murmur, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her throat. “Afterwards, I can take you back to my room and spend the night buried inside of you.”
Giving a little moan, she opens her mouth as I slip my tongue inside again. My hands grip her ass tighter, lifting her off her feet to let her feel how hard I am talking about it. I want more than a filthy fling with her, but I do want to be buried inside her as long as I can this weekend.
“Yes,” she cries out, rubbing against my stiff cock shamelessly. “Yes, I want to.... Lawson,” her whimpers echo softly, making my dick harder.
“Anything you want, Lark. Anything. Just me. You won’t ask anyone else to give you what you want, will you, beautiful?” I demand, fingers tangling roughly in her hair now as she tries to rub her body against mine.
“No. No, baby,” she moans, her hands clawing down my back.
“That’s my good girl. You don’t get to come yet, love. Not before I say you can. Come, let’s go crash a wedding. Give me that mouth first.”
Nodding, she crashes her mouth to mine as her thick legs tangle around my hips. I hoist her up, licking my tongue crudely into her mouth, tasting the champagne we had earlier. I want to take her down to the sand and pound her, but it will wait. Kissing her deeper, loving how she wraps herself around me, not her body but her spirit, her essence, I almost cave.
Breaking apart, I grin as she stares up at me with lust drunk eyes. I kiss her once more, fleetingly, teasing her, before I lead her from the beach. We laugh as we stumble down the halls towards the first wedding, commenting on their flowers, their lumberjack theme, reaching the chapel as the bride and groom come out. Blending in with the others, we follow the crowd to the reception hall.
“We’re doing this?” Lark asks with a grin full of mischief.
“Yeah, beautiful, we’re doing this,” I shoot back with a smirk.
Following close behind me, soft curves pressed tight against my back, she lets out a little laugh. Calling hello to strangers, we mingle with them before I lead her to the bar. Ordering us both champagne and tipping the guy well, we toast to the new couple as we make our way to the food.
“Oh, they have mini pancakes. I love breakfast food!”
“Best meal of the day,” I agree, watching her fawn over it all. Getting some tiny waffles and syrup, she laughs about the cute donut display too.
Thinking better of sitting—these big parties tend to have arrangements—we circle the room a few times. Lark drags me back to the food table a few times, trying each of the little offerings of breakfast food. Then a donut. A second donut. I tell her to eat whatever she wants, to drink all that she wants, because I want her to have a good time.
“What about you? Don’t you want to have a good time?”
“Love, seeing you smile, seeing you laugh and do that thing with your hair, when you flip it back while you’re talking about something you love to talk about, that is a bloody good time for me.”
“If you had a wedding,” she starts, biting her lip as she slides close to me, letting her soft tits crush to my chest. “What would we serve?”
Not missing her little slip of the lip, I bend to kiss her syrup sticky lips, considering her question. Getting married was never on my to do list. Not because I am against the ideals of marriage or don’t believe in love. I never believed I’d be that guy for someone, a man they could see a future with.
Staring down at Lark, I see that woman. Someone I could build a future with. A home. Our own family. Having children is not the only way to have a family. We could have pups or kittens. Hell, we could have a goat or a flock of geese for all it matters. Being with her, waking up with her each morning and getting to hold her each night, would be one hell of a happy ever after.
“Well, obviously beer not champagne,” I say thoughtfully, tapping my chin as I play along. “Dark stout if I had the choice. Fish and chips. Good, crispy filets of white fish with the best fried chips ever. Maybe some bangers and mash. Ever had any of that, beautiful?”
“No, I have not. Bangers and mash always sounded good. Love myself some good meat,” Lark teases, waggling her brows as she licks her lips.
“Oh, I know you do, you filthy little thing,” I whisper against her lips, laughing too. “What about you? What would your spread look like?”
Flushing, she bows her head. Turning her eyes back on me, she wraps her pretty little hands tight around my heart. “I think afternoon tea would be beautiful. The tea, the tiny sandwiches, the crumpets,” she sighs as I cradle her in my arms, both of us swaying to the slow songs filling the hall.
“Hmm, that sounds awful romantic. Awful English too, love,” I hum against her mouth as we start to twirl through the crowd, dancing slowly.
“Well, I might have a soft spot for all things English,” she teases.
Nodding, I twirl her once more before bringing her back against my chest. I think I have a soft spot for all things her. Holding her close, I sway us through several more songs, never loosening my hold. As I said, I kiss her whenever I want to, we dance until she kicks her shoes off, and she eats all the sweets she wants.
It might be the most magical night of my life. There is no doubt she is something special. I’ve never been serious with a woman before. Never even considered slowing down my lifestyle for someone. As we walk on the beach back to our hotel room, I am considering all the above.
“What do you do, besides crash weddings and read filthy books?”
Grinning down at her as she beams up at me, my heart doubles in my chest. I want to tell her everything about me. Share all the parts of me with this woman. “I uh.... well, I write some of those filthy books. You never wondered why I knew so much about them?”
Lark stops on the sand, staring up at me. That smile of hers widens as she pushes close with heat glittering in her eyes. “No, I figured you were another connoisseur, handsome,” she purrs, sliding her hand inside my jacket to slowly undo one button at a time of my dress shirt. “Tell me what you’ve written, Lawson. I want to read all of them.”
Gathering her raven hair in my fist, I yank her head back. Her little gasp makes my cock jerk and I bite my lip. God, I could write a hundred books about the things I want to do with her. To her. Have her do to me.
“How about we play out one of my favorite scenes?” I offer, kissing a path down her neck as she continues undoing my shirt.
We’re on the sand but I walk us towards the water. It might seem hot or erotic in books, but wet sex is not as fun as it sounds. Neither is sex on the beach. Sex beneath the stars, beneath a full glowing moon that will show me all her perfect curves...I cannot pass up the chance.
Leading her towards the shore, we laugh together as we check to be sure we’re alone on the beach. Ducking through a small cove, it is the perfect spot. Huge, black boulders break up the small sliver of sandy beach, made smooth by the crashing waves that flood the cove at high tides.
“Come here, love,” I whisper as I head to a low rock, the top smooth and sloped downward. Lark does not hesitate, lying back on the cool stone.
Beneath the moon, I tear off my clothes and then hers. Water crashes behind me as I fit between her creamy thighs, adoring her warm skin with my mouth. I taste every inch of her until she is trembling beneath me. Surging over her as the skies glitter overhead, I fill her full of me, our hands locking tight. I take her until we’re both spent, until our bodies become one, until pleasure crashes down on us as sure as the rising tides.
We lie there for a long time, tangled together, talking in the dark, sharing a moment we do not want to end. Before we leave the beach, we make love once more, sitting up on the rock, twisted in a heated, hungry tryst as I drive into her again and again. It is as if I am afraid to stop, afraid she will be taken from me before I get enough of her.
Lying in bed with her beside me, nestled close, I decide I will never get enough of her.