Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1
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Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2
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Hot and Filthy
“Are you nervous?” Alyssa asked as she placed the flower crown on top of my head. We were standing upstairs in the master bedroom, my mother and grandmother flitting around behind us, frantically trying to sew the frayed hem of my Aunt Eleanor’s dress.
I grinned at Alyssa in the mirror and bit my lip as I adjusted the flowers. “Not in the slightest. Giddy is more like it.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man more head-over-heels in love with someone than your groom. The man would walk over glass … hell, he’d walk over Lego for you.”
I smiled again, my cheeks burning from how mushy thoughts of my future husband made me. “I’d walk over Lego for him, too.”
“Everyone ready?” my mother asked, a rosy flush to her own high cheekbones as she stood up from the floor, the sewing needle and thread still between her lips. She was a beautiful woman, Anita Everly. With peaches and cream skin and a long slender neck, which she showed off with her short blonde pixie cut, she was the definition of a classic beauty.
I let out a big sigh and locked eyes with my mother in the mirror. We had the same hazel eyes, though hers held the kind of wisdom and compassion I only hoped to have one day. She gave me a teary-eyed smile.
“You bet!” I smiled back, emotion and the sudden realization of what I was about to go and do hitting me in the solar plexus like a swift kick. “Let’s go and get me hitched!”
“There’s my baby girl,” my dad said, meeting my mother and I at the foot of the stairs, his own eyes starting to show signs of needing a tissue.
He looped his arm through mine, and my mother took up sentry on the other side, while I clutched the bouquet I’d made from my own garden flowers in my sweaty fist.
“You look beautiful, honey.”
He glanced down at my feet, where my red painted toes just peeked out from beneath my flowy Grecian-style gown. “Still going with the no shoe thing, eh?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a backyard wedding. The grass is soft, and although we all know I love me some heels, I’d rather not trip on my wedding day. Besides, it goes with the whole Boho fairy princess thing I’m doing.”
I awkwardly gestured to my off-white halter dress and flower crown on top of my beachy, wavy hair. He just snorted a laugh and rolled his green eyes, smiling at me like only a father getting ready to give his only daughter away could, with heavily reined-in emotion and glowing pride.
I’m not a pomp and circumstance kind of girl, and James is certainly not a pomp and circumstance kind of guy. He’s not flashy, and neither of us was into the big church wedding with hundreds of people we hardly knew. We wanted simple, tasteful and, most of all, relaxing. James isn’t into big crowds, and he hates being the center of attention, so I took great care to make the day as minimally stressful and with the least amount of attention focused on him as possible, while still being fun for our guests. And what better way than a DIY, backyard BBQ wedding with just close friends and family? So, bare feet and a flower crown just seemed to fit the vibe we were jonesing for.
“Nervous?” my dad asked.
I swallowed. “Not at all. You?”
His jaw shook slightly, but he didn’t say anything; his expression was tangible.
Two tiny garden fairies in matching purple dresses and crowns of baby’s breath bounded down the aisle, sprinkling flower petals as they went. They might not be blood, but they were my nieces in every other way that mattered, and I was so happy they were sharing in our special day. Alyssa was next out the French doors, stopping at the edge of the patio and tossing her shoulders back. She glanced behind her and gave me a big wink and a smile before stepping down onto the soft grass towards the altar.
“I think you might have found someone who loves you more than we do,” my mum said as we made our way through the living room towards the open doors, the music in the back yard drawing us like the Pied Piper.
“As it should be,” my father said stoically.
He pulled me tighter against him and then turned his head and pecked me on the temple. He had to bend down a wee bit, though, as my dad is a tall drink of water and my head barely brushes his shoulders.
“We love you, baby girl,” he choked, taking a deep breath.
I squeezed both their arms and gave them each one final look before the daylight of the back yard dazzled my eyes.
“I love you guys, too.”
And then the big tall evergreens shielded the sun, and my groom finally came into view, standing handsome and regal next to his best friend, while his cobalt eyes twinkled and his mouth, that devilish, talented, delicious mouth of his, curled up into the most jaw-dropping — and panty-dropping — smile I’d ever seen.
“Well, Mrs. Shaw … God, I’m never going to grow tired of calling you that, you know that, right?” James growled, pulling me onto his lap in the back of the limo.
He nuzzled my neck while his hand made its way up my shirt, and he started pulling on the cup of my bra. I squeaked and squirmed when he tweaked the hard and achy bud, loving the bite of pain and the zing of need it sent to my core.
“Shall we consummate the marriage here and now? Or can you wait until we board the jet?”
I chuckled low and let my hand drift to the front of his shorts, unzipping him and worming my fingers in until I felt the hard column of flesh I just couldn’t get enough of.
“It’s not that long of a drive to the airport,” I purred. “And I certainly hope the consummation will take more than five minutes. So …” I dropped to my knees. “Let’s just do this until we get to the jet, where there is a big, beautiful bed, and you can fuck your new wife properly.” And then I pulled down his shorts, dipped my head low and took him into my mouth.
His fingers found their way into my hair, and he pulled on my scalp, setting the pace he wanted, hard and fast, just like our love. I’d loved this man almost instantly, craved him from our first kiss. He was my addiction, and I hungered for him constantly. There was no rehab or detox program in the world that could kick me of my James habit, not that I wanted one. The man was my everything, and now, finally, after almost two and a half years together, he was my husband. We’d been through hell and back both on our own and together. Fought past demons and weathered storms no couple or person should ever have to face. He’d torn down his walls for me. Let me inside, revealed his true self and the heavy weight and guilt he carried around on those impossibly broad shoulders of his. But now that guilt, those problems weren’t just his. We were in this together and even though I knew James would never truly forgive himself or let go entirely of his haunting past, at least now I could help carry the weight. Relieve him of the burden just a bit, and be there to rub out the knots and tired muscles at the end of the day.
“God, Emma … that fucking mouth …” he groaned, bucking his hips up off the leather of the seat. “Yes, you filthy girl. Suck it hard.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I took him to the back of my throat, my fist rhythmically pumping him root to tip; I loved the effect I had on him, loved how easily I could bring him to his knees while I pleasured him on mine. He was a bossy fucker, incapable of submitting, but when he was in my mouth, he was completely at my mercy. I could ask him for anything, and he’d never say “no.” Not that I asked for much, and not that he’d ever denied me. But when I was on my knees, the man was under my spell, and I was in control as much as he liked to think he was.
I flattened out my tongue and grazed the entire surface area up his shaft, feeling the thick roping veins and the silky, soft crown. He was perfect. Designed by the gods. Tall and muscular with a strong, chiseled jaw and dark, luscious, wavy hair that tumbled just over his forehead and ears. Not too long and unruly, but just roguish enough. I loved nothing more than burying my fingers in it, and pulling on the ends, especially when his head was bobbing up and down between my legs.
I snaked my other hand beneath him and cupped his balls, gently pulling and rolling them in my palm until I earned that extra moan I coveted, the moan that told me he loved it and he wanted more. The moan that told me he was getting close, barely holding on, pacing that narrow edge and about to tip over.
His cadence picked up, and he started to jerk on my head, really forcing me down hard onto his cock, until it knocked my tonsils and I fought to suppress my gag reflex. And fuck if I didn’t love it. I loved that I could drive him wild.
I sucked hard on the crown when I brought him back to my lips, flicking the tip, the small hole at the top with my tongue, wedging it in just enough to earn another moan, before I plunged him back to my throat again. In and out I fucked him with my mouth until his rhythm started to falter and I knew he was close.
I swallowed when he bottomed out in my throat again, knowing that the contraction of my muscles might just kick him over the cliff. I pulled down slightly on his balls with my one hand, and down on his shaft with the other, hummed slightly and deep throated as much as I could, swallowing again. And damn if that didn’t do the trick.
He snarled above me as his fingers loosened their death grip in my hair, his cock pulsing inside my mouth, filling me with his warm, salty semen. I swallowed again, letting it flow across my tongue and down my throat, reveling in his canticle of pleasure.
I licked him clean and then gently tucked him back into his shorts, taking great care not to snag him in his zipper. Then big, strong hands came up under my arms, and I was hauled off the floor and thrown onto my back on the cool leather. Growling low and deep in his throat, he pinned me beneath him, his mouth capturing mine.
He groaned against my lips as his fingers found a nipple again. “Oh, Mrs. Shaw. I’m not sure I can wait until the plane to fuck you.”