 Photo by Ashley Winkler on Unsplash  CHAPTER 1
NAOMI Viper was laughing when he left, taking the sedan to the airport because I was scrubbing the skirting boards. They’re gleaming, and I had to give up my compulsive straightening and spot-cleaning campaign to shower and make myself presentable. Vicky laughs, swiping the mascara over my lashes and capping the wand. “You look amazing, but understated. She’s going to love you.” “We don’t want kids,” I blurt out, wincing as Vicky blinks at me in surprise. “We decided we don’t need to get married to be together, and we don’t want kids.” “And you think his mother will hate you because of that?” “Wouldn’t you?” Sighing, Vicky shrugs, packing away her hair and makeup kit. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t have kids.” Shit. My cheeks flame, and my mouth drops open. “Shit. Sorry. I mean -.” “Don’t stress, babe,” she laughs, straightening and picking up her bag. “I’m okay with it. I only mean, surely having her son happy would be enough for her, you know? And Viper sure as shit is happy these days.” “You think so?” “Babe, I have eyes. I know so.” Grinning like a maniac, I wave her off, smiling and continuing to straighten the flowers. I bought a few bunches to brighten the place up. Viper rolled his eyes. After all the flowers he bought me finally died, this place smelled like a florist shop for a week. I think he was getting used to having his house smell normal again, and okay, maybe I went slightly overboard. The garage door rattles, and I freeze. After he bought us the car, Viper had an automatic door opener installed, so I don’t have to mess around opening and closing it at night. It was super sweet of him. I’m like a deer in the headlights, halfway between the kitchen and the dining room, a dusting rag in my hand as the door to the garage opens. Shit. I drop the dusting rag onto the kitchen countertop, flashing a megawatt smile as Viper steps into the house carrying a suitcase, followed by an immaculately dressed blonde woman in her late fifties. I can see Viper around her eyes. Setting the suitcase down next to the table, Viper beams at us. “Peaches, this is my mom, April Martin. Mom, this is Naomi.” I stretch out my hand, blinking as I’m swept into a tight hug. “It’s so nice to meet you finally!” she cries, holding me tightly. “Damon has told me so much.” Stepping back, April Martin keeps her hands on my arms, looking me over from head to toe. “You’re even more stunning than the picture he sent through.” My cheeks flame. Viper sent a picture of me? I hope it was a nice one. Viper gathers the suitcase again, walking it through to the spare bedroom. April looks around, her eyes sweeping the open-plan living space before coming to rest on me again. “I’m glad you made the space your own. When I took all my things, I tried to make it only seem like half a bachelor pad. It looks much better now.” Sagging with relief, I offer her a smile, remembering the manners Mama taught me. “Would you like some sweet tea?” “I’d love some.” Viper reappears, slinging his arm around his mom’s shoulders. “Come on, Mom. We’ll have it out on the back porch.” They move through the house as I fetch the sweet tea I made earlier, setting it out on a pretty tray with glasses and some cookies. Picking it up, I take a deep breath, walking through the house and out onto the back porch, where April and Viper are seated on the comfortable patio furniture, looking out over the back garden. I’m growing flowers. I used cuttings of some ones Viper bought me the night of Lisa and Palmer’s wedding. The night he told me he loved me. “It looks amazing out here!” April beams, reaching for her glass of sweet tea. “That’s all Peaches. I hate gardening.” Viper grins, saluting us with his glass. I laugh, rolling my eyes at him. “He mows the lawn.” “As he should,” April agrees, clinking her drink with mine. Her eyes linger on my bare left hand and the claiming tattoo there, tightening a little, though she doesn’t mention it, talking about her flight instead. VIPER Mom is dancing around the subject, and I wish she’d get to the fucking point. Finally, she looks pointedly at Naomi’s hand, at the viper head laying on her left ring finger, and sighs. “You aren’t thinking of getting married?” And there it is. Naomi opens her mouth, but I beat her to it. “No. We’re not.” Silence reigns as Mom’s lips tighten. “I see. May I ask why not?” Snorting, I roll my eyes at her. “Because marriage doesn’t mean shit to me.” Mom looks scandalized, pressing her hand to her chest. “Damon! How can you say that? I apologize for my son,” she says to Naomi, who looks mortified. “You don’t have to apologize for me. Peaches knows the score.” “That you’re stringing her along without hope of a ring?” Mom’s voice is rising in volume and pitch, a sure sign she’s getting agitated. “I’m not stringing shit. Peaches knows I’m all in. Forever. We don’t need a fancy party, a piece of paper, or a priest to make this more real.” “You don’t need it, no. But every woman wants it.” Naomi’s eyes widen, and she stands abruptly, knocking over an empty sweet tea glass in her haste. Blushing, she quickly picks it up, loading everything on the tray and hightailing it back inside, mumbling something about not wanting to get involved. Fuck that. She is involved. The person who isn’t is my fucking mother. Turning to the woman, I shoot her a venomous glare. “I’ll thank you for not getting involved in my relationship.” “What kind of relationship do you expect it to be without a hope of a wedding? Why are you so against it, anyway? Naomi seems like a lovely woman.” What does that have to do with anything? “Naomi is lovely. That’s why she’s mine. That’s why this is forever.” “So, marry her?” “No.” “Why not?” “Why would we? So we could be as happy as you and Dad?” Mom shrinks like a balloon I just burst, pressing her lips together and blinking rapidly, trying not to cry. Fucking hell. I shouldn’t have let her get to me. “Things between your father and I were… complicated.” Bullshit. “Complicated? Mom, he cheated on you at your wedding reception, kept cheating, and left after three years. That’s not complicated. That’s fucked up.” “That’s life.” “Not my life. Not with Peaches.” Mom sighs, shaking her head and running her hand over her eyes. “Damon, you are not your father.” “No? I was a legacy prospect to the Hawks. I patched in, same as him.” “And you’ve risen higher than he ever did. He died in jail, Damon. He was miserable so much of the time.” “Oh, great. Something else for me to look forward to.” “Are you expecting to die in jail?” What? The snort escapes me before I can stop it. “No.” “Are you planning to cheat on Naomi?” Fuck that. “God, no.” Mom shrugs, settling back in her chair and fixing me with a hard stare. “See. Nothing like your father.” Yeah, I already knew that. I have no desire to be like that man. I like to think I modeled myself after Archer. The old secretary was a good man, loved his wife, was loyal to the club, and kept his nose clean. He was also more of a father figure to me than my dad ever was. I shrug. Exasperated, Mom sighs again. “So, there’s no reason not to marry that girl.” “We are happy not getting married. She’s mine. I’m hers. That’s all we need.” “And when kids come along? Are you going to have those fashionable hyphened surnames?” Ah, fuck. I was hoping to have these conversations separately. I shift in my seat as Mom narrows her eyes at me. “We don’t want kids.” “Naomi is a young woman. You can’t know that for sure.” “She seems certain.” “Oh? As certain as she is about not getting married?” Yeah, as certain. Peaches is fine not having either of those things. We’ve talked about this. There were fucking rose petals involved. “Yeah. She’s certain.” “Because she sure took off in a hurry instead of staying to defend your position.” “Maybe because she just met you and wants to impress you, and you don’t seem happy with our life choices?” Mom harrumphs, turning to look at Peaches’ flower gardens again while I stew in silence. She’s sure… right? CHAPTER 2 NAOMI Hugging my knees to my chest, I stare at the bedroom door, willing it to open. The house is quiet. Dinner was weird. Everything felt awkward after that scene on the back porch, and Viper has been distant and moody. I have no idea what is going on. Maybe his mother not liking our choices has him second-guessing being with me or something? I hope not. That would kill me. The door creaks open, and my eyes lock on Viper as he slides into the room, dropping his sweats and crawling into bed, looking up at me as my eyes find his. “You okay, Peaches? I’m sorry about my mom.” “I’m okay,” I whisper back, my heart clenching as his fingers stroke my bare arm. “Are you okay?” In an instant, he is sitting up in bed, drawing me against his chest, his face buried in my hair. “Do you want to get married, Peaches?” I… what? Drawing my head back, I stare at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “Was that supposed to be a proposal?” He shifts awkwardly, sighing and releasing me to scrub his face. “I don’t know. Mom’s all up in my head. I need to know if you’re only saying you’re happy with not getting married because you think that’s what I want to hear. I don’t believe in marriage, but I’d get married for you. If that’s what you wanted.” The sincerity is bleeding through his tone, and my heart cracks for him. Kneeling on the bed, I wrap my arms around his neck, sighing with relief when he wraps his around me too. “I don’t want to change a single thing in our life. Marriage made none of our parents happier. We’re happy. Having rings and a party isn’t going to change that or make us happier.” Viper sighs, resting his cheek on my shoulder as his arms tighten around my waist. “And kids?” “You know I have no intention of having them. I change diapers all day. I sure as hell don’t want to come home and change them.” He snickers. “There are other aspects of having kids that people like.” “They smile at me and hug me all day too. I get the nice aspects. I also get to sleep until I wake up in the mornings.” Viper’s lips press against my neck, and I smile into the dimly lit room. That’s a sure signal this conversation is almost over. “No marriage, no kids?” “No marriage, no kids. Just us, forever.” “Forever,” Viper whispers, his hands sliding up my back, taking my silky pajama top with them. “Now, stop worrying about what your mom thinks, and kiss me already, Damon.” “I aim to please, Peaches,” he breathes, his lips clamping down on mine as he tips me backward, covering me with his body and pressing me into the mattress. I can live with this forever. I’m looking forward to it. THE END  Photo by Taylor Gray on Unsplash  SHELLEY
Amity got the maid of honor pick. I suppose I should be annoyed or whatever. Sophie and I have been besties since middle school. But I can’t find it in me to be upset. Amity is the right choice. I hate every decision Sophie made for this wedding – from the flowers to her dress – because none of them are what Sophie from last year would have picked. I don’t know what happened when that ring hit her knuckle, but it clearly transplanted a WASP’s brain into my vibrant, gorgeous friend. Standing in my silky, forest green gown, clutching the stereotypical wedding flower bouquet with too much baby’s breath in my hands, I watch with more than a little sadness as Sophie glides down the church aisle on her father’s arm, her layered satin skirt swirling around Mr. Martindale’s legs. For the last eleven years, the Sophie I have known wouldn’t have been caught dead in that dress. The Sophie who asked Amity Hamilton to be her maid of honor is beaming, looking like all her Christmases have come at once. Ugh. Kill me now. Can you mourn someone who isn’t actually dead? I mean, the Sophie I love pretty much is dead. Now there’s just a facsimile copy of her mother standing in front of me, smiling blandly at Hugh Sharpley as they join hands. For the first time, I’m not upset that Sophie is moving an hour and a half away to LA. She can’t go far enough. If she was closer, I might be tempted to visit her and torture myself some more with the Sophie who used to be. Their custom vows are corny, all about being soulmates. They couldn’t have been more different two months ago, but looking at the two of them now, with their bland smiles and slicked-back hair… yeah, they’re totally the same. I’m sure they’re in love, but I can’t help but think of how Palmer and Lisa look at each other… like they can’t tear their eyes away. Palmer looks at Lisa like he wants to devour her. Hugh looks at Sophie like he wants to put her in a glass case and charge people an entry fee to view her. Finally, it’s over, and we’re ushered out of the church and into cars to be taken to a three-hour photoshoot. Sophie is on the dancefloor, laughing and dancing with Hugh. For a brief second, our song came on, and her eyes lit up, finding mine. But before we could break out our self-choreographed dance, someone spoke to the DJ, and the song abruptly cut out. I thought Sophie – as the bride – might have demanded the song come back, but she simply shrugged and turned to dance with Hugh again. So I’ve retreated to the bridal table, drinking champagne and watching Sophie morph into her mother – who is dancing a few feet away from her – and wishing I was anywhere else. I catch Amity’s smug smirk thrown in my direction, wrinkle my nose, and dig my phone out of my purse. SHELLEY: Want to fuck? I stare at my phone, lying on the table in front of me, sipping another glass of champagne. It’s a satisfyingly short time later that it buzzes. MERCH: Always down kid. Where are you? That’s more like it. SHELLEY: Society wedding. Pinedale. The Nathan. MERCH: You got a room? SHELLEY: I’ll go organize one now. MERCH: Text me the room number. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Draining my flute, I stand, ignoring the called protests as I slip out of the room, making my way to the reception desk. “What can I help you with tonight, ma’am?” The young man in his shiny vest behind the counter smiles at me. “Yeah, I need a room for tonight, please.” He bites back a smirk. I may be playing up how buzzed I’m feeling. That way, everyone will think I’m getting a room because I need to lie down. I do need to lie down… in a bed with Merch going to town on my body. “And my bag is being stored here. Can you have it brought up?” “Of course, ma’am.” Taking the key from the smirking hotel employee, I tuck it into my purse, making my way to the elevator bank. As soon as I’m alone in the elevator car, I dig my phone out of my bag. SHELLEY: Room 674. Sixth floor. I’m not expecting him to answer. He’ll be on his motorbike. Stowing my phone again, I step out of the elevator, find my door, and let myself in. The room is nice, and I close the curtains, crossing to the phone. Picking it up, I call for room service. “Ma’am?” “Can I get a bottle of champagne and a fruit platter brought up with my bag?” “Of course, ma’am.” MERCH Parking my rig down the street from the Nathan, I make sure my leather jacket is zipped up to my chin and stride through the marble-filled lobby, beelining for the elevator bank. This time she’s on the sixth floor, not the eighth, but this place is the same. The same plush carpet and the same eerily silent hallways. I left the clubhouse to come here, but I have no regrets. The groupies can’t take a fucking hint, so they were all over me. I was half an hour away from texting Shelley about a hookup when she texted me. Locating room 674, I hammer on the door, my eyes fixed expectantly on it. A society wedding? She’s going to be dressed as Michelle. I remember my last encounter with Michelle… it’s a good memory. The door swings open, and I blink. She’s not just dressed as Michelle. She’s like Michelle but supercharged. Stepping into the room, I kick the door shut behind me, drinking in every inch of Michelle. Her hair is elegantly piled on top of her head, diamonds sparkling at her ears and wrists. Her body is covered in a dark green, silky dress, which leaves one shoulder bare and sweeps the floor. “You look like a princess,” I smirk. Shelley grins up at me. “I was a bridesmaid.” “You look good.” “Thanks.” A small smile tugs at her lips, a blush covering her cheek. Tearing my eyes away from her, I glance around the room. The same as last time – except for the room service trolley with champagne and a fruit platter – that’s different. There is also a small black suitcase on the luggage rack. My eyes stay glued to it, my eyebrows raising. “Are you staying the night?” “That’s the plan,” Shelley agrees, pouring herself a glass of champagne. Good. That means I can fuck her as many times as I want before leaving. No time like the present. Spinning, I pluck the champagne glass out of her hand, drain it, and set it down on the trolley beside where the bottle is sitting in an ice bucket. “Hey! That’s was mi-.” Shelley’s words cut out as I grab her, hauling her against me, my lips crashing down on hers. Moaning, she opens her mouth, allowing my tongue in to plunder. She tastes like strawberries and champagne. Walking her to the wall, I press her against it, lifting her and pinning her with my hips. As our tongues clash, our mouths fused, I shrug out of my leather jacket, dropping it on the floor and bunching her skirt until it is around her waist, gathered between our stomachs. She’s wearing a thong and moans against my mouth as my fingers rub her clit through the barely there lace. “You want my dick, kid?” “God, yes,” she pants, clinging to my shoulders, pressing her hips forward, grinding against my fingers. I think I can oblige. Still rubbing her clit, I retrieve a condom from my back pocket, tear the packet and roll it on, positioning Shelley and thrusting in hard. “Shit! Yes!” Her head tips back, resting her fancy bun against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed. God. She’s so fucking beautiful when I’m inside her. “Hold tight, kid,” I mutter against her ear, nipping her earlobe. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember where you are.” “I am so on board with that plan, Merch,” she murmurs back, gasping, her words catching when I keep my promise, gripping under her thighs as I hammer into her. Clinging tightly to me, Shelley gasps and mewls as I suck on her pulse point, occasionally swirling my tongue. Her back slaps against the wall in time with my punishing thrusts. “Shit! I’m gonna come,” she gasps, her eyes flying open. Her pussy is fluttering, clenching down on my dick. Fuck yeah. “That’s it,” I coax her, groaning as I thrust deep and come. Shelley’s silky green dress falls to the floor, covering up her gorgeous legs and that lacy thong I want to get better acquainted with at some stage tonight. Throwing me a smirk, she walks across to the room service trolley, pouring another glass of champagne. There is a second unused glass, so I dispose of the condom, zipping my dick away and moving across to pour my own drink. Shelley turns to me with wide eyes. “You aren’t leaving?” Smirking back at her, I kick off my motorcycle boots, get comfortable on the bed, and flip the TV onto some football game. Shelley is still standing beside the trolley, studying me with raised eyebrows. I salute her with my champagne, taking a sip. “Oh, I intend to fuck you at least twice more before I leave, kid. Get comfortable.” A slow smile crosses her face as she sets down her glass, slowly shimmying out of her dress while my eyes drink in the sight of her strapless lace bra and matching lacy thong. She kicks off her heeled sandals, collects her glass, and slides into the bed beside me. I can’t keep my eyes off her legs or pussy, visible through the lace. “I can’t wait,” she murmurs, her eyes glued to the touchdown happening on the TV. Me either. Setting my glass down, I slide a hand up the soft skin of her inner thigh, loving the way her breath catches. Maybe I’ll fuck her three times before I leave. We do have all night. THE END   CHAPTER 1
LISA My wedding dress is nothing like my mother would have picked. She would have gone with ivory, sleek lines, very in vogue right now. I haven’t. My dress is head-to-toe lace. A sheath dress with a plunging neckline, high waist, and long, lacy sleeves. I love it. Stepping out into the church on Bullseye’s arm, Palmer turns at the other end of the aisle, looking so handsome in his suit. His eyes burn into mine, a flush creeping over my cheeks as I smile. He likes my dress too. I picked it especially for him. It’s very sweet. My eyes dart over Merch, who is dressed in a matching suit to Palmer and Shelley, looking gorgeous in a cream cocktail dress. Merch is smiling, not looking at anything in particular, and Shelley is glaring at the side of Merch’s face, trying to murder him with her eyes. Oh no. Sliding my eyes back to Palmer, who is smiling broadly at me, I fight the urge to glare at him. Shelley’s eyes can only mean one thing. They totally played a song I asked them not to, thinking because I can’t hear, I wouldn’t know. I don’t want to make a scene at my wedding. Palmer can pay later after Shelley tells me what song they played. PALMER Lisa glides toward me on Bullseye’s arm, looking like a vision in a cloud of lace. She looks so sweet my teeth actually ache at the sight of her. Bullseye is trying not to laugh as the last strains of Broke Ass Bitches fade away, replaced by the pretty piano song again. What Lisa won’t know won’t hurt her. She reaches me, smiling serenely as I take her hands, squeezing them in both of mine. Stepping closer, I make sure our noses are almost touching. I want her to hear every fucking word as I tie myself to her for life. Every. Fucking. Word. The priest talks, saying a lot of shit about love and God. I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I hope he gets to the bit about Lisa becoming mine forever quickly. That’s the part I care about. Finally, he gets to the fucking point. My eyes burn into Lisa’s as I recite my vows, pledging myself to her. A cute pink blush spreads over her cheeks as she listens to my words. She whispers her vows back, and I get to put my ring on her. Fucking finally. Lisa slides a matching ring onto my finger, whispering the additional vows. “You may now kiss the bride.” The best part of the ceremony. Tugging Lisa against me, I cup her jaw, teasing her lips with my tongue, sliding it into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Just like candy. We break apart as the congregation cheers, but Lisa can’t hear them, her whole attention focused on me. “We’re married,” she whispers. “And we didn’t even kill each other trying to get here,” I mutter back. She giggles, but I’m fucking serious. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her mother and stepfather, sitting with pinched looks on their faces, glaring at us. They could at least pretend to look happy, for Lisa’s sake. What the fuck ever. She’s mine now, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never feels a whisper of the disdain they are shooting her way. I shoot them a warning glare, tightening my hold on Lisa’s hand as I lead her down the aisle, enduring the backslaps and whistles the boys are sending our way. CHAPTER 2 PALMER Normally I would always be down to be the last one at a party, especially a party that is going off like my wedding reception currently is. But for the first time, I don’t want to be shooting whiskies with the boys. I want to be alone with my wife. The hotel we are at here in downtown took a large cash payment to look the other way for a Wild Hawks party. Lisa didn’t want to get married at the clubhouse, and I wanted to give her the wedding she deserved. Sliding my hand into hers, I tug her away from where she is laughing with Shelley and Vicky. My eyes slide over to Vicky. She’s dressed in the same color as Shelley. The dress is shorter and different, but they’ve made it fucking clear that they match. My eyes narrow. Vicky is the only groupie invited to the wedding. She’s tight with Lisa. I initially put my foot down, but my sweet Lisa is a cunning one when she wants to be. I was never turning down the offer she made. The memory of her tight ass stretched around my cock… heaven. Lisa calls out her goodbyes as I drag her away. Shelley shoots me a glare – probably for the stunt with the music earlier – but Vicky waves me off, her eyes dancing over to where Rooster is laughing with Aaron and Buster from the road crew. My lips find Lisa’s ear. “Why does Vicky always go for older guys? She’s your age. What’s the fascination?” Lisa looks up at me, an eyebrow arching. “If I tell you, will you keep it a secret?” Uh, sure. “Yep. Not really into gossip.” Lisa rolls her eyes. It hasn’t escaped my notice that I’m literally asking her to gossip about her friend, but I’m curious, so sue me. “She’s not into older guys. She’s in love with Rooster. He’d never do anything other than treat her like a groupie – she’s only a few years older than his daughter – but she sleeps with other members his age to make him jealous. Vicky thinks sleeping with younger guys won’t make him as jealous.” I snort. Fucking groupies. Fucking women. That makes no sense to me. But whatever she’s into, I don’t really care that much. I was always just curious. Shoving Rooster and Vicky out of my mind, I lead Lisa into the elevator, tugging her into my arms, my lips teasing her ear. Lisa looks away at the elevator doors, a small smile playing across her lips. I nibble at her earlobe until a ding rings out, announcing our floor. We’re in the honeymoon suite, and Lisa giggles as we walk in. There are flickering candles, rose petals, and an open bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. I have other ideas first. I want to cut this lacy dress off her. My lips slide over her ear again. “I want to up against the window, your hands braced on it, facing out.” Lisa doesn’t move, standing stock still, looking up at me with an amused look on her face. A frown tugs my eyebrows down. Lisa has never not immediately moved to obey me in bed. What the fuck is going on. Fuck. A pit is growing in my stomach. Did something more happen to her hearing? “Sweetness? Did you hear me?” Fear threads through my voice. Lisa blinks slowly, shrugging. “I heard you.” Relief courses through me, followed quickly by confusion. “So…?” “So… no.” My eyebrows shoot up. Excuse me? “No?” “Yeah. No.” She’s looking defiant now. It’s sexy and fucking infuriating. Pressing my nose against hers, my eyes burn into her dark brown ones. “Is there a reason behind your no?” Lisa’s eyebrows raise to match mine. “No reason. This Broke Ass Bitch just doesn’t feel like doing what she’s told.” Fucking hell. Fuck Shelley for tattling. Fuck Merch for talking me into that shit. “You know about the song,” I murmur. Lisa steps back, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring up at me, looking furious. “I know about the song,” she snarks back. Oh, fuck. This is bad. “How can I make this right?” Apart from never fucking listening to Merch ever again. Thirty seconds of amusement isn’t fucking worth this. I’m a little worried she’s going to insist I sleep on the couch or something, which so isn’t fucking happening. But Lisa is looking less furious and more thoughtful. “You have to do what you’re told,” she announces decisively. My eyebrows shoot up. “When?” “Now. In bed.” “For how long?” Like, a once-off thing? I like how she obeys me in bed. I’m not willing to give it up forever. “Until I come.” Relief floods through me. Can do. Grinning, I spread my arms wide. “I am at your command, sweetness. What do you want me to do?” Pursing her lips, Lisa’s eyes slide over me. She tips her head to the side, a small smile appearing. I’m starting to feel a little nervous. Do I need a safe word? “Take off your jacket, tie, belt, shoes, and socks. And roll up your sleeves.” Okay. I can do that. Our eyes still burning together, I quickly follow her instructions, leaving my things on the small couch in the living area. Lisa’s eyes drop to my forearms as I roll up my sleeves. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, my dick twitching in response to the sight. Lisa turns abruptly, walking into the bedroom. “Come on,” she calls over her shoulder. I hurry after her, watching, my mouth dry as she lies on the bed, carefully folding her dress over her stomach, revealing silky white panties covered in lace and a garter belt. I lick my lips, taking a step closer to the bed. I’m glad Lisa didn’t take her dress off. I’ll have her coming in no time. Then I’ll have her up against the window like I want, cutting the dress off her. Lisa holds up one foot, looking pointedly at her little white heels. Right. Closing the distance between the bed and me, I slide off her shoes, unclipping the garter belt and slowly rolling down her stockings, stopping to press kisses along her legs as I do. A darting glance at her face confirms her lips have parted, her eyelids drooping with desire. Her chest is heaving. I’ll have her panting with anticipation before I get to the main event. She’ll come so quickly. Sliding her panties off, I drop them on top of the stockings and shoes on the ground, running my legs back up hers. “What now, sweetness?” I ask, my face turned toward her so she can see my lips move. I’m too far down the bed for her to hear me. Lisa giggles, spreading her legs, and presenting her gorgeous pussy to me. “Now you get to lick the candy.” Growling, I lower my head, hiding my smirk. This isn’t exactly a hardship. She had me by the blue balls. She could have gotten me to do almost anything. Licking her clit isn’t exactly a punishment. I’m not about to let her know that, though. I’m okay with her thinking this is an adequate punishment. It will get me out of a lot of things in the future. My lips close around her clit, sucking lightly as Lisa’s soft moans fill the air. I’ve gone down on her enough to know exactly what will get her off the fastest. I increase the suction on her clit, counting in my head. She’ll shatter soon enough. Her moans grow, but I find my lips moving. She sighs, straining her hips upward, chasing them. Avoiding her clit, I swipe my tongue around it, teasing the edges. I did break an agreement. I shouldn’t be taking the easy route out. That’s not fair. If I’m going to take this punishment, I will take it properly. Lisa deserves more than a quick and dirty orgasm. She deserves the eating out of her life, and I’m going to give it to her, making this a wedding night to remember. Her dress isn’t going anywhere. I can cut it off her at some stage. My tongue curls, still teasing her clit, as I slide a finger into her tight pussy, pumping slowly. Now I have set myself a challenge, I intend to see it through. LISA Palmer abruptly changes his technique. Not that I’m complaining. I was getting close to coming quickly, which was clearly his initial intention. Now he’s teasing me, letting me fall away from the precipice before slowly building me back up. I like this better. It is supposed to be a punishment, after all. His finger inside me curls, finding my sweet spot and jabbing it again and again. I moan louder, gripping the coverlet under my head, rose petals tickling my cheeks, crumpling under my writhing body, releasing their sweet scent as they crease. I’m going out of my mind with need. Palmer finally curls his tongue again, sucking on my clit. His teeth graze it, and I come with bucking hips and a breathy whimper. Lifting his head, Palmer’s face is full of the need consuming me a moment ago. “Punishment complete?” he asks. I nod slowly, anticipation building low in my stomach again, wondering what he wants to do with me over at the window. Or if he has something else in mind. Rising off the bed, Palmer smirks down at me. “Hands on the window, looking out.” My knees are trembling, and my lovely chignon has come loose as I climb off the bed, walk to the window, and rest my palms against the cool glass. The city is lit up around us, but no one would be able to see in because our lights are off. Palmer’s breath brushes my cheek, his heat against my back. His lips tickle my ear. “I’m sorry about the song. I should never have let Merch talk me into it.” “I know.” He chuckles, but the sound fades, and when he speaks again, his tone is very serious. “Don’t move a muscle. No matter what.” My breath hitches, but he has stepped away from me. One of his hands lands on my shoulder, and I stare out the window, wondering what is coming next. Something cold and hard presses against the back of my neck. I swallow roughly but freeze in position, not even breathing. Palmer’s hand moves off my shoulders, gripping my dress. The cold, hard nub moves down, tracing my spine, and there is coolness on my back like it has just been bared to the room’s air conditioning. Oh my. I think the cold, hard metal is a knife. I think Palmer is cutting me out of my wedding dress. I suck in a breath, my heart thumping in my chest, throbbing and slick between my thighs. This is so sexy. “Arms down.” I obligingly drop them. Palmer’s hands land on my shoulders again as he strips my dress off me. The cold metal presses against my back again, and my bra drops away. I feel it against my waist, and my garter belt disappears. “Hands back on the window.” They are trembling as I brace against it again. Thankfully, the next thing I feel is both of Palmer’s hands, warm and soft, stroking over my skin. One slides around my torso, palming my breast, the fingers pinching my nipple. The other slips between my legs, parting my folds as a finger spears into me, pumping slowly. My head tips back as my eyes flutter closed, Palmer’s beard tickling my cheek as his lips move against it. “You keep those hands on the window.” Swallowing, I nod eagerly. Palmer’s finger leaves me, his hand gripping my hip as the fingers of the other keep pinching my nipple. I can feel him at my entrance, and he groans softly against my face as he firmly slides in, burying himself fully in me. “So fucking sweet,” he breathes against my cheek, slowly pumping. My head tips forward, resting against the cool glass between my braced hands. Palmer doesn’t speed things up, taking me slowly, withdrawing fully, and sliding firmly deep again. “I’ve been dreaming amount this moment ever since you stepped into that church,” he gasps into my ear. Me too. His hand leaves my hips, pinching my clit as he tweaks my sensitive nipple. I come with a gasp, an answering growl rumbling into my ear. “Next time, when I tell you what to do, you do it immediately.” I nod, moaning and flushed from my orgasm. Palmer comes with a grunt, withdrawing and picking me up, carrying me to the bed. I lay with the petal-covered white sheet over my chest as Palmer fetches the champagne and glasses, sliding into bed and handing me a flute, tapping his against it. His arm snakes around my shoulders, anchoring me against his chest. “Why Spain?” I tip my head back, smiling at him. He let me pick our honeymoon. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. “I had a trip planned. I was supposed to leave three weeks after I got sick. I was going to spend the summer there. Maybe study abroad.” Palmer’s beard tickles me as he drops a kiss on my temple. “Do you still have your itinerary?” “No. But I know where I was going to go.” “Then that’s where we’ll go. I want you to see everything you wanted.” My heart aches in my chest. I believed a lot of things growing up about people like Palmer, and almost all of them have turned out to be wrong. I’m glad I was wrong, and I’m glad I’m with him now. I tip my head back and grin up at him. “Did you hate it when I didn’t do what I was told when we got in here?” “Yes.” He glowers down at me. “Don’t do that again.” “You took your punishment well.” “I deserved it.” “Yeah, you did.” I snuggle down in his arms, listening to his soft chuckles, sipping my champagne, my fingers tracing circles over his forearm. I slide them down, tapping his new wedding ring. It sits on the stripe of the candy wrapper he has tattooed there – for me. I love it, and I love him. Insisting on moving to San Remo was the best decision I ever made. Hashtag, no regrets. THE END  Photo by Roberto Nickson on Unsplash  Chapter 1
LACEY The sun is shining, and a cool breeze blows through the palm trees. Barbados in January is perfect. I know, I know, I literally just left the desert. But winter is still winter, you know? I got to pick where we came for our honeymoon, and I’d heard good things about Barbados. Sun, sand, yummy cocktails – what more could you want. I’ll tell you what, for all these slutty women to keep their fucking hands off my husband. I’m not standing out in the lovely sunshine. I’m hiding behind a potted palm, watching two women try to tempt my new husband into having a threesome – they aren’t even being quiet about it. Bitches. Poor Buster. He looks so lost. If we were back in San Remo and two groupies offered this, he’d tell them to fuck off. But he doesn’t know how to tell two WASPs how to fuck off without getting complaints to the hotel, so he’s just standing there, his eyes darting around, looking for me. Which is why I’m hiding. If he finds me, I won’t be able to laugh at his predicament anymore. Initially, I was hiding here to spy on how snackalicious he looks, standing there in all his muscled, tattooed glory. But then those women started propositioning him, and I stayed here to giggle. “Madam, can I help you with something?” I jump, looking over my shoulder at the porter standing behind me, peering through the palm leaves, trying to work out what I’m laughing at. “Uh, yeah. Actually. Can you take that man a Sex on the Beach,” I jab my finger at Buster, “and tell him really loudly, so those women hear, that it’s with his wife’s compliments.” The porter’s eyebrows raise, a smirk crossing his face. “Of course, madam.” “Don’t tell him where I am.” “Of course, Madam.” Perfect. The porter disappears, and I watch Buster’s cheeks turn pink. Oh, one of the women is getting really bold, telling him exactly what she wants to do to his cock. The man needs to walk away. Built like a Greek God, unable to say the words, ‘no thank you, I’m here with my wife.’ Hilarious. My porter approaches him, holding the red, sunrise-looking drink with its orange wedge and little tropical umbrella. Buster’s eyes land on him, relief shining through them. “With your wife’s compliments, sir,” the porter says with a flourish, handing Buster the drink. The look of relief is short-lived when the porter walks off, and I don’t appear. Now he looks betrayed. “Oh, you have a wife? Where is she?” the louder, bolder of the two propositioning sluts asks. “Oh, she’s here,” Buster replies, his eyes darting around, the drink clutched in his hands. “She’s watching. I just need to find her.” “We could help you look,” the other woman purrs, reaching out and running her hand over Buster’s rippling abs. I almost step out from behind my palm at the action. Almost. It’s the first time either of them has touched him. It’s also the jolt he clearly needed to find his inner asshole. He steps back, swatting the woman’s hand, slapping it away from him. “I’m on my honeymoon. I don’t want to have sex with anyone except my fucking wife, least of all either of you. Just take a hint and fuck off.” Yes! I do a little happy dance, my arm brushing the palm leaves, making the plant shake. Shit. Buster’s eyes snap to the palm, narrowing. Caught. A smirk crosses his face. He can’t see me. I know he can’t, but his eyes are glued to the palm, even while he continues to converse with the women. “There’s no need for you to be so rude,” the first one huffs. “There’s no need for you to come over and offer to suck my cock,” he retorts. “Let me give you a lesson in men. If you walk up to one and say, we’d like to both suck your cock, and he doesn’t immediately take you up on the offer, he’s not interested.” “You could have just said you weren’t interested.” “I was trying to be polite and hoping you’d take a fucking hint, but you’re clearly a fucking clueless idiot.” Ouch. I wince. That had to hurt. They flounce off, and Buster slowly stalks toward my palm. I should run, but that wouldn’t be very sporting. Or very fun. BUSTER Those two clueless bitches finally fuck off. They were getting annoying. I would have told them where to shove their offer sooner, but Lace read me the riot act on the plane. She said I wasn’t allowed to be rude to people, and saying ‘get the fuck out of my face’ definitely would have come across as rude. The second the porter handed me the drink – sex on the beach, ha ha ha – I knew Lace was here. Watching me. Listening to this fucking conversation. She didn’t come to save me, so I didn’t have to obey her fucking bullshit rule anymore. Fair’s fair. The bunch of palm leaves in the colorful pot are no longer moving, but they are the only place she could be watching me from. She has to be there. I round the plant, smirking down at my wife. She could have run, but my Lace has a backbone. Running and hiding from me wouldn’t be her style. “Hi,” she murmurs at me as I hold up the drink. “Sex on the beach?” Lace flutters her eyelashes, purring. “I wouldn’t say no to it.” Neither would I, but I have other plans for her right now. My eyes lazily trail over her glorious body, displayed in all its glory in a bright red bikini. Leaning down, I grin as she shivers when my lips brush her outer ear. “I want you to go to our suite, take all your clothes off, lay on the bed, and spread your legs.” Her breathing catches and quickens. “What are you going to do?” “Oh, I’m going to take my sweet time to finish this lovely drink you ordered me. I’ll make my way there eventually. You’ll be waiting for me when I decide to make my appearance.” “And if I’m not waiting in position?” “I’ll turn around and find something else to amuse myself with. This resort has plenty to do.” Lace steps away from me, her eyes flashing between amusement, desire, and annoyance. “How long will you be?” “You’ll have to wait and see.” Frowning, she sniffs, spinning on her heel and stomping away. I watch her go with a grin, admiring how her firm ass shakes a little with each stomp. God, I’m a lucky fucker. She disappears out of sight, and I slowly sip my drink. I need to give her enough time to get back to the room, get in position, and wait at least five minutes. The anticipation will have her dripping. Perfectly ready for what I intend to do to that body. As I sip my drink, I turn my eye back to the beach spread out in front of the building. Barbados really turned the weather on for us. It’s been perfect. San Remo might not get as cold as other places in winter, but the desert nights can be freezing. Not here. We’ve slept with the balcony doors open every night. It’s been awesome. A uniformed porter appears out of thin air the second I finish the drink, holding out a tray for me to place it on. I tip the man, striding off in the direction of the stairs. Our suite is on the third floor, overlooking the beach. The sunsets are incredible. The mouthwatering sight that greets me when I step through the door is even more incredible. Exactly as I asked, Lace is naked on the bed, on her back, her legs splayed. Her head snaps toward the door as I step in, and she relaxes when she sees it’s me. I grin wolfishly, checking the Do Not Disturb sign Lace hung on the doorknob is still there, closing the door and locking it. My swimming trunks are off before I hit the bed, sinking to my knees beside it. “Beautiful,” I murmur. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, babe, especially your pussy.” She moans from my words and my warm breath blowing across her sensitive flesh as I speak. “Buster, please.” “Did you have fun watching me squirm down there?” “Yes.” To reward her honesty, I reach out, brushing a thumb lightly back and forth over her throbbing clit. She gasps, her hips surging. I lift my hand, not touching her again. “No moving.” She grumbles but holds still, so I reward her with more soft, feather-light stroking. “You did well not to tell them to fuck off sooner,” Lace whispers. I snort. “Only thing keeping my tongue civil for so long was trying to keep my promise.” Leaning forward, I skirt my tongue around her clit, careful to tease her without touching it. “You broke it in the end,” she sighs. I chuckle, Lace moaning again as my breath breaks over her in waves, her legs trembling where she’s holding them spread wide. “Only after I clocked your hiding place.” I give up on teasing her, curling my tongue around her clit, flicking it just how she likes. “God, yes, Buster.” As Lace’s fingers leave her knees, moving to grip my hair, her mouth starts up, filthy talk spilling off her lips, spurring on my tongue. She comes with a curse, lifting her hips against my mouth. Straightening, I smirk down at her. Lace attempts to glare up at me, but she’s too post-orgasmic for it to be effective. “Have I been adequately punished yet?” she mocks. My eyebrows shoot up as a grin plays across my lips. “Not quite. Off the bed, on your knees.” Lace smiles smugly, sliding off the bed, landing on her knees at my feet. I fist my aching cock, tapping my thumb against it. Lace eagerly reaches for it – she’s come a long way with her blowjob fears. There’s a moment’s hesitation, my eyes searching her face, ready to call time on the attempt. But there’s not even a flicker of fear as she takes me in her mouth. Her fucking amazing mouth. “Finger yourself, babe. I want you to get yourself off while you get me off,” I groan. Immediately, Lace’s hand creeps down, curling at her crotch. Yeah. That’s what I want to see. A cool breeze blows the blue and white curtains through the open balcony doors, swirling around us. Barbados is fucking amazing. I never want to fucking leave. Chapter 2 LACEY While I enjoy the daily sight of Buster in nothing but flip flops and swimming trunks, flaunting his gorgeous body, I think my favorite sight of this honeymoon is when we have dinner. I have brought a selection of sundresses, working my way through them. Buster has worn linen shorts, boat shoes, and a loose, cotton, pastel-colored button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks almost preppy and so fucking hot. He catches me staring at him across the table as he digs into his meal. Waggling his eyebrows at me, he picks up his beer, tapping the glass with my cocktail. “Like what you see?” God, he’s so fucking cocky, and rightly so. I could stare at him all night and not get bored. “Very much,” I giggle. “You’ll be seeing more of it later.” Yes. Please. Buster’s hand slides into mine, pulling me away from the lit-up beach area in front of the resort. “Where are we going?” I whisper loudly, letting him tow me along, the soft white sand sliding between my toes. “You’ll see,” he calls over his shoulder, leading me further into the darkness, along the beach. It’s getting more secluded, and the further away from the resort we get, the more stars appear above us. Eventually, I let him lead me, my head tipped back, staring in wonder at the absolute blanket of stars covering the sky. “I never knew there were so many,” I breathe. Buster stops, standing beside me, our fingers tangled together as he tips his head back as well. “You’ve never gone out into the desert and looked up?” I glance at him, but he’s not looking at me, still staring up at the millions of stars. “No. Have you?” “Yeah. I’ll take you sometime when we get back home.” “Oka… sounds amazing.” I choke on my words, changing my sentence halfway through the first word. Buster’s eyes tear away from the night sky, landing on me as he smirks. “Come on.” He tugs my hand, leading me off again. Beside us, the water is lapping softly against the shore. I have no idea where we are going, but Buster seems to know, and I trust him. We have to climb over a fallen palm tree at some point, and the resort is nothing more than pinpricks of light back along the beach. Buster stops, turning to me and sliding his hands around my waist, holding me against him as his head tips forward, his lips brushing over mine. “Are we there yet?” I murmur against his mouth. “We’re here.” I look around eagerly, but we’re just standing on a secluded little cove in the middle of the dark. “And where is here?” Buster’s quiet chuckle fills my ears. “Here is where you’re getting naked and getting in that water.” I step away from him, giggling, shimmying out of my dress and lingerie. There is enough light to see with all the stars, though it’s dim. Buster watches me silently until I’m completely naked. I turn, sauntering into the water, making sure to swing my hips, throwing a look over my shoulder. “Are you coming?” “After I enjoy the show.” I laugh, continuing to walk into the balmy water. It’s quite nice. Buster strips off his clothes, leaving them in a pile beside mine, and he is next to me in seconds, sliding his arms around my waist, his hands stroking everywhere they can find. We swim out under the stars until we are up to Buster’s shoulders. I lost the ground before he did, so I’m clinging to him like a monkey, my legs hooked around his waist, my arms around his neck. “Why here?” Buster laughs, his lips teasing the outer shell of my ear. “One of the porters told me about it. It’s far enough away that no other fucker can lay eyes on your body, and the cove means there are no huge waves or danger of rips. It’s fucking perfect.” “I’m not getting sand in unmentionable places, just so you can get a memorable fuck,” I warn him. Buster’s lips tease mine. “I’ll take one for the team and get the sand in unmentionable places,” he assures me, deepening the kiss. Well, okay. I can live with that. Buster’s tongue licks into my mouth, fencing with mine as my core rubs against his hard cock. The water swirling around us is the perfect temperature, like a tepid bath. One of Buster’s hands creeps around, finding my breast and palming it, pinching the nipple. I’m so glad I didn’t lose sensation there after my stupid piercing idea. “I think it’s time to take this party to the sand,” Buster pants, breaking the kiss as he thrusts his hips, rubbing his cock against my clit. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” I gasp back. Holding me tightly, he strides out of the water, carrying me over to our clothes. I’m set down for the briefest second – boo – while he lays out his shirt, sits on it, and tugs me down until I’m straddling his lap. Our mouths meet, our tongues clashing as Buster strokes my clit, lining me up and settling me down on his cock. I groan against his mouth as he fills me. “That’s it, babe,” Buster groans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “Ride me.” I don’t need to be told twice. I grip his shoulders, taking my weight on my knees, setting a comfortable pace. Every downward movement I make has my clit being rubbed the way we're positioned. So. Good. I’m panting, my fingers gripping his shoulders, my eyes fixed on the sand behind him as Buster grunts in time. “So fucking sexy,” he groans, his fingers tightening at my waist. “Come for me, babe.” I’m so, so close, losing my rhythm and grinding down on him as my head tips forward, my teeth sinking into my lower lip as I come. Buster grips my hips harder, manipulating me, his breath hissing through his teeth as he bucks and comes. “Enjoying your honeymoon?” I whisper against his ear. “So fucking much,” he growls back. Yeah. Me too. BUSTER We get a few knowing looks and smirks as we walk back into the circle of light on the sand shining from the resort. Lace blushes, but I tighten my hold on her hand, leading her up the stairs, bypassing the bar. Lace glances over, but I have tonight planned out. I already tipped a porter big to have something waiting for us in our suite. Sure enough, when we step through the door, Lace’s breath catches, her eyes glued to the balcony. There is a bucket of ice on the wooden table with a bottle of champagne sitting in it, two flutes beside it with a bowl of fruit, and flickering candles. “This is so romantic,” Lace breathes, dropping my hand as she hurries over to it. Two hibiscus flowers lie beside the champagne flutes. Lace’s fingers brush over them, stroking the soft petals. “Tulips are hard to come by here.” She looks sharply over at me, a smile playing across her lips. My arms slide around her waist, anchoring her in front of me, my cheek resting against the side of her head. In front of us, we can see the moon reflected on the sea. “These are pretty too.” “I’ll buy you tulips when we get home.” “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get used to it,” she whispers. Yeah. I said that. But I like spoiling her. I like how her face lights up like a kid who was surprised by a puppy on Christmas morning. “You shouldn’t get used to it,” I murmur against her ear. “It won’t happen all the time, but that doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen.” “Okay.” My growl rumbles low against her ear, and she laughs. Minx. She knew exactly what she was doing using that word. “What now?” she asks, still looking down at the table. “Now I’m going to feed you exotic fruit and fancy champagne like the princess you are.” She’s definitely giggling now. “You’re such a hopeless romantic.” “Only for you, Lace.” And only when we’re fucking alone. Her fingers trail over the lace cuff tattoo on my wrist. “I like that no one else knows how romantic you are. They think you’re all tough, but you’re just a gooey teddy bear.” “Careful,” I growl. There’s cute, and there’s taking things too far. Releasing her, I take a seat, snagging her wrist and drawing her down onto my lap. She wraps an arm around my neck, and I run my thumb over the tattoo on her wrist – a hawk holding a tulip in its beak. It covers her old groupie tattoo. Even though the cover job is amazing, I still know what is under it. My hand closes around her wrist, covering it with my palm. Lace’s hand closes around mine. “Sorry,” she mumbles, dropping her chin to her chest. Fuck that. Using my other hand, I place two fingers under her chin, lifting her head and turning it, so we are nose to nose, our eyes burning together. “I’m not. If you were never a groupie, I might never have met you. That would have been a fucking shame.” I brush a kiss over her lips, dropping her wrist and moving my hand from her chin. Reaching over, I pour two glasses of champagne, handing her one and plucking up a piece of mango. “Now, open up, or I’ll smush this in your face like a piece of wedding cake.” Lace’s giggles are back, all her sadness gone. “That ruins the romantic mood.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “You’ve had my cock in your mouth. I know how wide you can open it.” She makes a noise of outrage, but grins, opening her mouth wide as I place the piece of mango in her mouth, juice dripping down the webbing between my forefinger and thumb. Lace grabs my hand, swallowing the mango and licking the juice clean. Growling, I tangle the fingers of my other hand in her hair. “I don’t know how many pieces of fruit I’m going to last.” Lace’s eyes sparkle with excitement and mischief. “Let’s find out.” I can’t fucking wait. The End. |
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