by Stella Gray
Tori loops her arm through mine and spins me out of the way just in time for me to see Luka and the groomsmen pull up the legs of their pants to reveal knee-high Minnesota Wild socks, resplendent in the hockey team’s garish red and bright green team colors. Even our littlest groomsman, Tori’s adorable eight-year-old half-brother Max, is in on the tacky sock flashing.
Luka winks. I laugh. He warned me that he might add a few crazy elements to the wedding, and considering the huge smile on his face right now, I’m glad that he did. The evening flows on like a dream. Every time I see Luka across the room, each time he takes my hand, or kisses me at request of the guests, or gives me a heated, lusty glance, I melt a little more. Watching him joke with Mateo, the rift between them mended now, is the icing on the cake.
When there’s a lull, Mateo comes over to me with a glass of champagne and a smirk on his face. “Girl, you are glowing,” he tells me.
“I’m happy,” I can’t help gushing.
“Of course you are,” he says. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Never,” I say, pulling him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for…just everything.”
Finally I find myself in Luka’s arms for our first dance as husband and wife.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Zoric,” he croons as he pulls me against him.
“That has a very nice ring to it, Mr. Zoric.”
He tilts his head and gives me a questioning look. “Do you really think so? You won’t mind having my name?”
It feels so right. I’ve made the right choice, and the content look on his face says he feels the same. For the first time, we’re completely connected. I want it to stay that way.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I nuzzle against his neck. “I’m proud to have your name, Luka.”
A warm kiss presses against my temple right before he tugs me upright and gives me a spin. The crowd cheers.
My heart cheers.
Everything feels exactly right, like my life with Luka is finally coming together perfectly. And as I look into his eyes, I know—I won’t let anything stand in the way of our future.
Brooklyn
Chapter 27
I’ve changed into a classy white pantsuit that looks amazing with my red heels, but all I can think of is how eager I am to have my new husband strip me naked.
The well wishes and cheers of our family and friends fade into the distance as we drive away in our limo. I indulged during dinner and ate two pieces of our gorgeous triple-layer strawberry champagne cake from Aimee’s and had more than a couple glasses of the thousand-dollar-per-bottle champagne. But while my soul is content, there’s one thing I haven’t gotten my fill of. I want my husband inside me, repeatedly, until we’re both too spent to move.
With a happy sigh, I settle into my seat and slip a hand onto Luka’s knee with a gentle squeeze. His arm slips around my shoulders and he pulls me in tight against his side. He also changed into something more comfortable for our long night of traveling ahead. I’ve wanted to wrap myself around him since the moment we locked eyes as I walked down the aisle. It’s an ache that hasn’t lessened a bit this entire time.
He kisses the top of my head. “You should get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”
Playfully, I walk my fingers up his leg to the inside of his thigh. “Since when does Luka Zoric want to rest when he has the opportunity to do something more fun?” I press the button that closes the partition between us and the driver and give him a saucy wink. A dimple forms in his right cheek with the wicked smile he gives me.
“Darling, we’re going to Paris. I want nothing more than to fuck my wife for the first time with a view of the Eiffel Tower right outside my window.”
He stiffens as I brush my fingers along his crotch. “You want to wait that long?” I tease. “It’s a long flight.” Nuzzling into him, I take a draw of his masculine scent. “We could be on round three by the time we land.”
Luka takes my hand. “I love how eager you are. But I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says.
I cup his jaw with my palm and lose myself in his eyes for a moment. I am eager. Now that I’ve decided what path I’m going to take and how I’m going to handle this marriage, I’m content. More than content. I’m happy. “The wedding was…unbelievable. Thank you.”
He nods and kisses my knuckles, drawing a shiver over my skin. “I didn’t have a lot of say in the planning, so the credit is all yours. You put on an amazing wedding, Brooklyn.”
“Thank you. Now it’s time for you to put on an amazing wedding night.”
He moves to run his fingers into the back of my hair where the curls hang down. I look up at him hungrily as he leans down to kiss me, but his lips are soft and gentle. Sparks of pleasure burst through my body as I enjoy the feel of his mouth, and the way his tongue dances slowly with mine. He takes his time, drawing out every zing of pleasure. I moan. My nipples tingle and I shift my hips to get closer to him, but it’s not enough. I want the length of my body pressed against his, our nakedness mingling with waves of heat and pleasure until we can’t take it anymore. My desire ratchets, promising to surpass any need I’ve had for him before.
This already feels different. Maybe because I’ve never had sex with Luka when I’ve been at peace with my intentions. I can’t wait to experience it now that I’m whole and confident. Sex with him is already amazing. This time? I shiver at the thought of how intense it could be.
His palm presses to mine as he pulls away, our fingers intertwining. I feel how much he wants me through that simple touch, how pleased he is with how today turned out.
“We’re almost to the airport.” Luka rights himself in the seat but doesn’t let go of my hand. I’ve never seen him this contentedly quiet before. A less confident version of myself might wonder if he’s having second thoughts or regrets, but I can feel how relaxed he is, and it makes my soul soar. We’re on the same page. It’s amazing.
The car exits the highway and soon, we’re parking at a runway where our private jet is waiting to take us to Paris. Luka helps me from the car, never letting go of my hand as we embark onto the plane. Ducking my head to enter, I pause to take it all in. This can’t be real!
“Wow.” I glance back at Luka, then do a double take as I fully enter the plane.
The interior is sleek, with cream-colored leather seats, a mahogany table, and gold trim around the oval windows. An arched doorway stands open, revealing a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and en-suite, fully functional bathroom. The front offers a mini-kitchen and wet bar. A flight attendant greets us as she appears from the kitchen area and immediately takes our bags.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Zoric. My name is Miranda and I’m here to serve your every need. We’ll take off as soon as you’re comfortably seated. Congratulations on your nuptials.”
The luxury is a bit overwhelming and I’m not sure where I’m supposed to sit. Luka gestures me to a plush double recliner against the back wall. There’s a mini fridge at the base of my seat. It’s filled with tiny bottles of alcohol and a variety of snacks. There’s also a heated blanket on the armrest, waiting to warm me up if I catch a chill.
“Watch this,” Luka says with childish delight. He presses a button and a huge flat screen television slowly descends from the ceiling a few feet in front of us.
“Impressive,” I admit.
“You could live on this thing for a month and never feel deprived,” Luka says. “Though I’m glad we’re only on board for a few hours. Let’s get you comfortable.”
He positions the television back into place, then shows me how to operate the buttons on the reclining chair. It gently falls into a chaise position and I’m in heaven.
We settle in and the flight attendant brings out feather pillows and lap blankets. Luka settles in next to me as we take off, and once we’ve reached altitude, Miranda brings out a round of drinks. I’m not sure if I should drink more after the multi
ple flutes of champagne I had at the reception. Seemingly to sense my hesitation, Luka takes both tumblers and hands one to me.
“We won’t get to Paris until the wee hours of the morning. You’ll sleep it off by then.”
I want to make a quip about preferring to work it off, but Miranda is still standing there. The huge bed in the other room calls to me. I’m not scared of flying, but I’ve never been on a flight this long, and never this late in the day. As the adrenaline of the wedding begins to recede, fatigue creeps in more and more. My body feels heavy and light at the same time, my mind tired yet buzzing, and I don’t make it halfway through my whiskey sour before I lean into Luka.
“I think I’m about to have a post-wedding crash. I’d better lie down.”
He starts to get up. “Of course. It’s been a long day.”
“I want you with me,” I tell him.
His eyebrows go up playfully. God, I love his face. He taps the tip of my nose before taking my hand and helping me to my feet. “Are you going to behave yourself?”
We move to the doorway and go through, Luka softly shutting the door behind us. I spin into his arms and loop my hands around his neck. He’s never turned me away before, but I’m getting the clear impression that wedding night sex is not on his radar.
I kiss him softly. “Is it bad if I don’t want to behave?”
He groans deep against my mouth before kissing me slow and easy. “I want our wedding night to be special.”
“Luka—” The protest dies on my lips as his expression grows serious.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course.”
He fiddles with a strand of my hair, raising tingles all over my scalp. Leaning into his touch, I close my eyes at the pleasant sensation.
“This isn’t my usual MO. You know that. I take what I want and don’t think twice about it. But the truth is…it’s different for me this time. I want our wedding night to be amazing.”
My legs go weak at the sincerity in his voice. He actually cares about this, about me, and is doing the one thing he knows will elevate our union beyond the sham it’s founded on. He’s showing me the most vulnerable part of himself, and I’m not sure how to react.
“I have to say…I love that idea,” I murmur.
I smile at him and he kisses me again and leads me to the bed. We lie down on top of the covers, facing each other, and the last thing I remember is how lazy and relaxed I feel.
“Brooklyn. It’s time to wake up.”
I blink to the sound of Luka calling my name. He’s looking down at me, his hair disheveled, eyes heavy with sleep. Realization seeps in and my pulse ticks up excitedly.
“We’re here? In Paris?” I push myself up to a sitting position.
“Just about to land.”
Slipping out of the bed, I pat at my hair, finding that my curls have gone limp in my sleep. Luka chuckles and makes quick work of helping me remove the bobby pins so I can pull it back into a loose ponytail. Then he leans back and looks me up and down with a slow smile.
“Beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
We take a few more minutes to get ready. Butterflies swirl in my middle. I’ve never been to Paris, and I’ve never felt as close to a man as I do to Luka right now.
But I still haven’t told him about Elite…
“Come out here and sit with me.” Luka opens the bedroom door and waves me through. We sit and buckle in just as the plane begins to descend. Soon after, we’re taxiing on the runway at CDG through the early morning darkness. A car is waiting to take us to the Shangri-La Paris, and I can barely contain my excitement as we drive toward the city center just before sunrise.
There is so much to take in: gorgeous old stone buildings with sloping mansard roofs, the postcard-perfect, pre-dawn view from the bridge over the Seine, a few people out walking their dogs or setting up woven chairs outside of tiny sidewalk cafés. Luka leans over my shoulder to point out the window at the domed roof of the Sacré-Coeur and a few other famous sights in the distance, clearly familiar with the city and the arrondissement where we’re staying.
We pull into the hotel’s circular drive lined with lamp posts, and a valet opens my door.
“Bienvenue à Pah-ree,” he says warmly.
“Merci!” I respond, glad I can at least say “thank you” properly in French.
Luka and I step into a sprawling, luxurious building with white marble floors, softly glowing crystal sconces along the walls, a domed ceiling with a mural painted on it, and a wide staircase to our right with ornate black and gold wrought iron railings. A gentleman rushes to us, speaking rapid-fire French—which, of course, Luka seems to understand—and just like that, we’re immediately shown to our room.
My husband opens a wide set of cream-colored double doors, then cocks a brow playfully before picking me up in his arms and carrying me through.
“Does a hotel room threshold count?” he asks.
“It’s a threshold in Paris. Of course it counts!”
He doesn’t give me time to look around, closing the door with his foot and hurrying to the bedroom to set me gently onto a massive bed with a golden brocade quilt.
“Watch this.”
He moves to the French doors a few feet from the foot of our bed and opens them. A small balcony is lined with flowers and topiary trees and just off to the left, the Eiffel Tower is still alive with lights against the backdrop of a pink- and orange-streaked sky.
Leaving the doors open, he makes his way toward me from the foot of the bed until he’s straddling me. His fingers dance across my chest as he unbuttons my shirt and leans low to nibble at my ear. My desire sparks immediately back to life. I’ve been holding it back for hours and it’s a physical relief that I don’t have to anymore.
“Did you ever think you’d get fucked on your wedding night with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower outside your window?”
“Never,” I answer honestly.
I swallow hard as he pushes my top off my shoulders and down to my waist. Then I shimmy out of the rest of my travel-wrinkled suit. Catching his eyes, I arch my back as he unhooks my bra and pulls it off me. I want to say something sweet about never thinking I’d have any of this, including a man like him. But it’s not the right time. I want him too much to talk.
Neither of us says anything else. My brain sinks into the moment, losing all sense of time and our surroundings. It’s just me and Luka and the sinfully delicious things he’s doing to my body. His mouth is everywhere—sucking at my nipples until I can’t lie still from the pleasure, working down my belly to my pussy where he feasts like he’s never tasted me there before. He’s tireless, letting me guide the rhythm, and he doesn’t stop until I’m coming all over his face, moaning his name. Then he leans in again, licking and sucking until a second orgasm follows.
I’m breathless and overcome with the reality that this man is mine. He’s fully and completely mine. “I need you,” I murmur. “All of you.”
We rip and pull at his clothes until he’s naked on top of me. Flipping him, it’s my turn to taste the hot skin on the side of his neck, whisper kisses over the planes of his hard chest. I don’t have a chance to make it to his cock before he’s gripping my hips and aligning me, and I bring myself down, impaling myself onto his thick shaft. We both cry out, the pleasure nearly overtaking me. My thighs tremble as I ride him, and already I feel another orgasm begin to build. His hands wind into my hair. With a gentle tug, he brings me low to meet his mouth.
My own flavor is strong in the kiss as he devours my lips, then flips us again so he’s on top. I lose it then. All awareness just fades away save for where our bodies are connected. He takes my hands, the warmth of our connected palms driving my pleasure even higher, and suddenly I’m shattering again, taking Luka with me. I feel him spill hot inside me, whispering my name as he comes, and my eyes tear up with emotion as I wrap my legs tighter around him.
Finally he collapses next to me, pulling m
e in close.
I run a hand through his hair and let out an exhausted breath.
“You were so right. Waiting was definitely worth it.”
My nipples perk as he runs his fingers over them. “I’m glad you enjoyed that, Mrs. Zoric. Because we’re just getting started.”
Brooklyn
Chapter 28
I have no idea what time it is.
I’ve been watching Luka sleep for a while now, drinking up the contented, relaxed lines of his handsome face. The past twenty-four hours have been magical, and it’s silly, but I’m honestly not sure if this is really my life or if I’m lost in a daydream. This is one of those moments in the movies where people pinch themselves to double-check reality.
Luka is finally sprawled out on the bed after making love to me three times; the last time slowly and from behind so that I could fully appreciate the Eiffel Tower view. Rolling carefully to the edge of the bed, I sit and put my feet on the floor. My pussy and the insides of my thighs ache deliciously in a heady reminder of the incredible honeymoon sex we’d had. I’m already ready for more. And when we decide we’ve had our fill of sex, there’s an entire city waiting to be explored.
Best of all, we’re in a good place with each other. A comfortable place. It’s time that I open up to Luka a little more and allow him to know me—to let him in more than I have in the past. Like real couples do. But I need to take care of something first, before we dive into this honeymoon. I need my guilt out of the way.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure he’s still sleeping as I rise from the bed, then pause, listening. He doesn’t stir. Taking a soft cream-colored throw blanket from the wingback chair near the bed, I pull it around myself and close the bedroom door gently behind me as I quietly pad into the front room where the concierge had left our bags. My purse sits there, tilted toward me as if it knows what I’m after.
