I wet my dry lips. “Sit,” I order, pointing at the couch.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and so he does.
I laugh, a little high on this power of mine that won’t last. He likes control. I like him in control. But this is fun. I give him my back, fix my bra, and finish unzipping the front of my dress, which was designed to run top to bottom. Once it’s hanging open, my pretty strappy white bra is exposed, and quite uplifting in all the right ways. My lacy bridal white garter belt wraps my waist and holds up white lace-top stockings. As for my panties, well—they’re barely there. I drop the dress and Rick gives a little moan of approval. This has me smiling and feeling oddly shy. He’s so intensely male and while turning him on is arousing and empowering, it’s a bit intimidating at times. I cover myself with my hands and turn around.
His eyes sweep over me and lift to my face. “Why are you covering yourself, baby?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I confess, “I don’t know,” in a low whisper.
He stands up and closes the space between us, easing my hands from my breasts and kissing my ring finger. Warmth spreads through my body and the shyness begins to fade. I have no idea why that little act, him kissing my ring is so erotic, but it is, incredibly so, in fact. He gives me a slow inspection and then his hands cup my neck under my hair, an intimate, dominant touch, that has my sex clenching.
He tilts my gaze to his and says, “You are stunning. So fucking beautiful. And for so many reasons, Candace, I don’t know how I lived without you. I don’t want to try again.” His voice is not about sex. It’s pure, raw, emotion. Oh yes, the shyness is gone. This is me and Rick. This is us and we are as right as anything ever could be in my life.
He kisses me, another gentle caress of lips to lips, before he deepens the connection with a long stroke of his seductive tongue.
I moan with the taste of possessiveness on his tongue and soon we end up on the couch, with me straddling him, and unhooking my bra, and tossing it aside. I don’t need it anymore. He saw it. Now he sees me. His cock is in front of me and I stroke it. He groans and drags my mouth to his, licking past my teeth, his fingers rolling my nipples.
“Take off the panties,” he orders roughly. “I need inside you now.”
“They have a slit,” I whisper, and that’s all he needs to hear. He captures my waist and lifts me, pressing inside me, anchoring me as I slowly slide down him until he’s buried inside me.
And then, all that shyness is gone. There is nothing but passion and the man I love. I rock with him, and the heat between us is scorching. The passion is so intense I barely recognize the sounds I’m making, but there is just such a deep ache in me for this man, I cannot do anything but try to sate it. He must feel the same, the need for more, because he rolls me over and captures my mouth and one of my legs, and then drives into me. Yes. Yes, that’s it, I want to say, but I can’t speak. He thrusts again and again, and I am suddenly there, in that sweet place I both resist and crave, so very badly. I’m trembling and he groans, a deep guttural groan, his head tilted back, his face contorted in pleasure, and then he’s shuddering into release. I’m done just enough before him to enjoy the display of all that power he possesses in complete abandon.
And then we melt into each other and the couch, Rick sliding to the side just enough to protect me from his weight. For long moments, we lay like that until I say, “You liked the lingerie?”
He laughs low and deep and leans on his elbow to look at me. “I loved you in the lingerie.”
“And the cake? It was good, right? Especially yours. They liked the half you didn’t eat.”
He chuckles. “Yes. They did seem to like the half I didn’t eat.” He eases to my side fully and rolls me to face him. “It was perfect.” His hands slide down my leg and over the cross pinned to my stocking.
He glances toward it and I explain, “My mother’s cross. My father gave it to me.”
His eyes warm. “Like I said. It was perfect. She was there with you.”
“She was,” I say. “She would have loved it. And you.” I rest my hands on his face. “I can’t believe we did it. We’re here. We did this. We’re married.”
“Yes, we did this,” he says, stroking hair from my face. “And now it’s just you and me against the world.”
“I like that. Just you and me against the world.”
“Forever,” he says.
“Forever.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Savage
Candace doesn’t just roll with the punches when it comes to having escorts on our honeymoon. She brings them breakfast. We step on the private Walker-owned jet just in time for an eight AM flight to San Francisco set to last a good five hours. We’re greeted by Adam and Lucifer, who are already on board, in the front of the plane. “Morning, Fin Boy,” I greet Adam, and to Lucifer, “Morning, devil boy.”
Candace, on the other hand, hands them each a bag so full they both have half of McDonald’s menu inside. “The breakfast of champions,” she says. “Thank you for doing this. You’re amazing.”
The guys are all blown up with big heads that I’ll have to smash down later. And I get the chance when they start playing poker, and Candace is so unfazed by their presence that she suggests we play. My little wifey proceeds to beat all our asses.
“Army brat,” she declares. “If you can’t play poker, you’re a disgrace among the ranks.”
About halfway through the play, I don’t miss the way she digs for the perfect gift for Lucifer, either. “Where are you from?”
“Austin, Texas.”
“Oh wow,” she says. “We’re from San Antonio. Adrian is from Texas, too. Is your family still there?”
“They’re dead,” he states, tossing in his cards. “And you’re killing me.”
I also don’t miss the way he tries to move away from the topic of his parents.
“Were they military?” she asks, because Candace isn’t one to be put off.
“My father was. My mother owned a couple of coffee shops. She smelled like coffee beans all the damn time.”
Adam tosses in his cards. “You won again, Candace. If Savage wasn’t your husband now, I’d call you a bitch.”
“And I’d bitch slap you,” I assure him.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Candace replies, “Because I can take it like a soldier. I am a bitch. The one that just beat you again, Adam.”
We all laugh. We never get back to Lucifer’s story, but for the first time, I see him as more than the guy I don’t really know or trust. I still don’t trust him, but I’m not hating him either.
“I need a nap,” I say, catching Candace’s hand. “And I know you need a nap.”
Her cheeks flush at my reference to last night, which included very little sleep. “Ah, yes. A nap would be good.” She stands up and together we head to the rear of the plane, where I pull the curtain. There’s actually a fold-out bed, and despite my best efforts otherwise, all we use it for is sleep. The good news, if there is any good news, to being in bed with Candace and only sleeping, is that we arrive with a hell of a time change and we don’t feel like shit.