by Kendall Ryan
But I knew Emma, and I knew she couldn’t hold back for long.
“You getting close?” I asked.
Nodding, she moaned. “Need you.”
Folding my body over hers, I pressed my chest against the graceful curve of her back. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. “You have me.”
As I dropped soft kisses down the slope of her spine, my hips continued thrusting, my cock taking her ass with everything I had now. I continued playing with her pussy, wanting her to feel the blinding pleasure I was experiencing.
“I want to feel you come,” I managed to say.
That was all the invitation she needed. She arched her back, resting her cheek across her arms folded on the pillow, allowing me the most beautiful view of her body laid out before me, and then she let out a gasp like I’d never heard before.
“Fuck! Gavin!” She shrieked as she buried her face in the pillow, gripping the bedding while her body clenched wildly around me.
I closed my eyes, loving the hot, tight feel of her as her body quaked, and I worked her harder, faster, all the while listening to her whimpers of pleasure. It was like her orgasm stretched on for days, weeks, years, crashing in wave after wave of ecstasy until it finally slowed. I joined her, gripping her hips hard as I slammed into her body in hard, deep thrust after hard, deep thrust.
Closing my eyes, I savored the throb of my cock as I finished, loving the way my tension unraveled and burst apart inside my chest, tingling at the base of my spine, making my balls draw up as I emptied myself inside her tight ass.
“Holy fuck,” I murmured, pulling out, utterly spent. I helped Emma to her side where she curled, watching me curiously.
“You . . . liked that, didn’t you?”
Understatement of the year. “I think my cock’s in love with your ass.”
At this, she giggled, and I leaned over her to press a kiss to her lips. “Did you enjoy it?”
I didn’t have to ask, I’d felt how hard she’d come, but I needed to hear her say the words. The idea of not knowing how she felt, if I’d accidentally hurt her—it would kill me.
“I didn’t expect to, honestly. But yes, it was different . . . in a good way. In a hot-and-dirty kind of way.”
I kissed her again. “You were amazing. Thank you for trusting me with that.”
“I love you, Gavin,” she murmured softly, her gaze warm and hazy.
“I love you a million billion,” I told her, using the sweet words she’d murmured before.
• • •
After a shower and some cuddling, the rest of the night went on like that, making love and waiting until we could make love again. I couldn’t even remember when or how we fell asleep. All I knew was that one moment I had Emma in my arms, her breasts bouncing as she rode me, and the next I was lying in my bed, my arm over my face to block out the morning sun.
If it weren’t for the smell of bacon, I might have stayed there all morning. But then Emma was at my side with a plate of food and a cup of coffee, a wide grin on her face.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I cleared my throat. “Morning, my sweet fiancée.”
Her face lit up with a smile. “I thought I’d dreamed last night, but when I woke up and saw your ring on my finger . . .” She held out her hand, inspecting the diamond that glinted in the light, and the rest of her words died on her lips.
“Last night was incredible,” I said as I dragged myself to sit up.
“I agree.” She winked. “I brought you some food to get your strength up.”
I grinned and took a strip of bacon. “Very thoughtful of you.”
Emma leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
“You’re not sore, are you?” I murmured.
She shook her head, giving me a sassy smirk. “Nothing I can’t handle. Even though your cock is fucking huge.”
“Ha!” I couldn’t help the laugh that burst from my lips. I brought her mouth to mine again and stole another kiss. “Mmm, you taste like bacon. Come back to bed.”
“You can’t possibly be ready to have sex again. We did it like sixty-nine times last night.” Her tone was exasperated but her lips were curved into a smile.
“Sixty-nine?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas.” Then she handed me my cell phone. “We have work to do. Your phone was ringing earlier.”
Looking down, I noticed three missed calls and one message—two from my lawyer, and two from the judge on my case.
Trying to remain calm, I glanced at Emma. “I’ve got to listen to this. Can you give me a minute?”
“Of course.” She nodded and then walked from the room as I pressed the phone to my ear to listen to the most recent message.
“Mr. Kingsley, this is Judge Reed. After reviewing the information in your case, I felt it was important to let you know that this won’t be going any further. My office has been bombarded with letters from people informing me of the nature of your relationship with Ashley Stevens. And as a client of yours, I was also aware of your interactions with this young woman. This proceeding is a cash grab with no foundation, and after doing some digging, we found that the paperwork was filed incorrectly. This will be off the docket by Monday.”
The message ended, and I stared at my phone for a long moment before calling Emma back into the room.
She looked at me with wild eyes, a spatula in her hand. “What? What’s wrong?”
When I told her what the message had said, she reeled back.
“Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Now, come here. I have some plans for what we can do with that spatula.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emma
We decided on a winter wedding.
I wanted our ceremony to be in the library since it had inspired me so much. Not my tiny little suburban branch, but the big, beautiful library downtown. It gave me the chance to decorate the place I’d always felt was magical with a blizzard of paper snowflakes and fairy lights the way I’d always seen it in my imagination.
And that was exactly what we did. Surrounded by history and books and family, I walked down the aisle a few weeks later on my father’s arm and married the man of my dreams, right there in the classical-poetry section. The wedding party was small—just Bethany in a plum-colored gown and Quinn in a matching bow tie and vest, but I barely saw any of it.
I only had eyes for Gavin.
He stood there waiting for me in his black tuxedo, and when I finally reached him, he held me close, whispering sweet things in my ear.
“You look stunning, Mrs. Kingsley.”
At this, I thanked him, pressing a kiss to his freshly shaven cheek. But Gavin wasn’t done.
“I never thought I’d have this moment, never thought I’d have anything close to this. I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you a million billion,” I whispered, stepping into position when the officiant cleared his throat.
The ceremony was short and sweet. We exchanged traditional vows, though it was likely the only part of our relationship that was traditional. And then, when the ceremony was over and I was in Gavin’s arms, I felt so happy and fulfilled that I didn’t know what to do with myself. All I knew was that with him by my side, everything was going to be okay.
At our reception, I was in Gavin’s arms again, pressed to his chest as we swayed on the dance floor.
“Are you happy, wife?” he asked, a smirk on his lips.
“I’m so incredibly happy. I love you, Gavin.”
As the music sped up to something faster, Gavin pressed a kiss to my mouth and led me back to the table. Bethany sat there with her face in her hands, looking at us dreamily.
“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look tonight?” he asked me.
“Only a thousand times.” I smiled.
“Every time, it’s been true.” He touched one of the curls that framed my face.
“Are you sure you’re not sad?”
He frowned. “
You’re my wife. What on earth would I have to be sad about now?”
I tried not to bring up the topic, as I knew it was a sore one for both Gavin and me. Last I’d heard, Cooper was living in Florida, doing God knows what. He hadn’t followed through on the idea of opening a second location of Forbidden Desires, and I wasn’t sure the reason, but I tried not to pry too much. It wasn’t exactly a sore subject between Gavin and me, and yet it wasn’t something I was entirely comfortable bringing up.
I bit my bottom lip. “You know, that Cooper isn’t here.”
Gavin and I hadn’t discussed it when Cooper’s RSVP card was never returned. We hadn’t known what to expect today. Or, at least, we wouldn’t admit what we knew in our hearts.
“No,” Gavin said. “I’m not sad. Cooper has to find his way. And I think seeing you in your beautiful dress would have killed him all over again.”
I nodded in agreement. Maybe it was for the best.
After dinner, my mother came by our table and pulled me away for a few minutes of girl talk. I was suspicious, but followed her.
“Are you guys going to start trying right away for a baby or wait a while?” my mother asked, bringing one arm around my shoulders as we wandered toward the balcony doors where a thousand stars twinkled outside in the night sky.
“Mom!”
She was being ridiculous. We’d only been husband and wife a matter of hours. Plus, Gavin and I hadn’t had that conversation yet—about children. Maybe that was odd, but I’d always felt in my heart that I would be a mother, and if I knew Gavin, there was nothing he’d deny me.
“It’s not something I’ve thought about much, Mom,” I admitted.
She nodded. “Fine. Just enjoy your new husband. But don’t make me wait too long to become a grandma.”
With my mom’s words ringing in my ears, I greeted relatives and chatted with friends I hadn’t seen since college. Gavin was the perfect gentleman, kind and funny, and he handled my drunk uncle Byron beautifully. I could barely keep my eyes off him, my new husband. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of that word.
Later, he pulled me to the dance floor again, and I melted against his firm, broad chest. We swayed to the music with our family and friends looking on.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Hmm?”
“I know it’s early. We’ve only been married three hours, but . . .”
“What is it?” His brows drew together and he paused in the center of the dance floor.
“Actually, you know what? Let’s go get a drink.” I gave his hand a tug, but Gavin remained rooted in place.
“As long as you promise to tell me what’s on your mind, pet.”
Wishing I’d never brought it up, I reluctantly agreed with a nod.
Back at our table with glasses of fresh champagne in front of us, Gavin leaned close. “Tell me.”
“I’ve been thinking about our future.”
“And?” he asked, clearly unsure about where this conversation was heading.
God, why was this so difficult? I took a deep breath. Gavin was my husband. I could tell him anything. We hadn’t discussed having children yet, but I knew in my heart he wouldn’t deny me anything. If I wanted to be a mother, I felt sure he’d support that.
“Do you want kids?” I asked.
His mouth pulled into a frown. “I’m not sure this is the best place for us to have this conversation.”
My heart sank. His tone was harsh and unhappy, like I’d just asked to perform a colonoscopy on him in public.
“I see.”
“Are you surprised, Emma? I’m not the fatherly type. Given my childhood, and what I do for a living? There’s no way I’d want to bring a child into this world. Not ever.”
Tears stinging my eyes, I quickly excused myself and headed for the bathroom.
God, I felt so foolish. Why hadn’t I ever thought to bring this up with him before?
A short time later, Gavin found me standing beside the dance floor with my mother, and he laced his fingers with mine. “Please forgive me. Let’s talk about it later.”
I nodded, my throat tight. Drawing in a deep breath, I tried to force the thoughts out of my mind. I had to have faith that we’d figure it all out later.
We had to.
• • •
And then somehow, it was after midnight and the reception was ending. It had all gone by so fast, I wanted nothing more than to press rewind and do the whole thing again.
I hugged my parents and said good-bye to the few last lingering guests before Gavin crossed the room, tucking me close to his side.
“Will you forgive me, wife? We can talk about your proposal again another time,” he whispered in a low voice.
I nodded and forced the thoughts of babies from my brain. I wouldn’t let anything ruin my wedding night—not even this uncertainty that hung around us like a cloud. Gavin was my husband now, my everything, and maybe that would have to be enough.
We said our good-byes to our guests before climbing into the limo to head home. Once inside the limo, I slid off my heels and let out a heavy sigh.
“Tonight was incredible, wasn’t it?”
Gavin watched me with hooded eyes. “It was perfect. But I’m a very conflicted man.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I want you to wear that dress forever, but I also want to tear it off of you.”
I smiled as we pulled up in front of my brownstone. I hadn’t been back to the place except to grab a few of my things, but based on the huge red bow on the door, I had to guess the renovations were complete.
“Gavin?” I asked as we stepped out of the limo.
“Come see.”
We made our way through the door, and I gasped.
It was like stepping back in time. Every single thing inside was how my grandmother had had it. Every piece of furniture looked genuine, polished, and perfect. Tears sprang to my eyes but I wiped them away, desperate to drink in as much of the wonderful changes as I could.
“I know you’re not ready to part with this place, that it’s part of you. You can do with it whatever you wish. Have girls’ night here. Use it as a hideout when I act like an asshole.”
I laughed, the sound full and light. “I know what I want to do. I want to open a bookstore here.”
“I think it’s a brilliant plan.”
After we had toured the home with all its beautiful renovations, we were soon back in the limo and I was in Gavin’s lap, kissing him deeply.
“Let’s go home,” I murmured. “I need you.”
“So, have me.” Gavin gave me a wicked smile but I shook my head.
“I’m not riding you wearing a wedding dress while Ben watches.”
Gavin chuckled. “Probably a good call. He’s a good employee, and I wouldn’t want to have to kill him.”
And then we were home—in our bed—all tangled limbs and urgent kisses. We made love slowly, so achingly slow and tender.
But as amazing as it was, a little spot inside my chest still hurt at Gavin’s refusal to make a baby with me.
Epilogue
Emma
We’d adjusted to living together with only a few minor bumps in the road. Gavin was a neat freak and employed a housekeeper who came twice a week to do all the cleaning and laundry. I joked that that fact alone was worth marrying him for.
His sexual appetite for me hadn’t cooled, not that I’d wanted it to. The fact that he needed me pretty much daily—that he couldn’t seem to pass me by in the hall without stealing a kiss—it made me feel incredibly wanted. Incredibly loved and cherished.
We alternated cooking and ordering takeout, and generally figured out a simple system that worked best for us. My favorite was the quiet nights we spent in the media room, sharing a ten-dollar pizza and a sixty-dollar bottle of wine while cuddled together on the couch.
When we first announced our engagement and then our wedding date just a few weeks later, it had been difficult to convin
ce our friends and family I wasn’t pregnant. From our first date to our wedding day was only three and a half months. But when you knew, you just knew.
This was no shotgun wedding. My affections for Gavin had begun almost a year before we officially met, so to us, of course, it felt like much longer. A year of an unrequited crush, a year of yearning—it was a long time. And we were done waiting. It was a whirlwind engagement, but we wanted to spend every night together, to wake up together every morning. He was my other half, and his presence made me feel whole.
By Christmastime, when I wasn’t “showing” and was still drinking an occasional glass of wine, Bethany and my mother were forced to finally ease up about the whole baby thing.
But I didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to think about the conversation about kids I’d forced onto Gavin the night of our wedding. We would figure it out and navigate it in our own way, just like we did everything else. I had to have faith—the alternative was just too grim—and it was Christmas, time to be festive and happy.
Pushing those thoughts from my brain, I turned toward the full-length mirror again, hurrying to get ready for the ugly-Christmas-sweater party we were attending at Forbidden Desires tonight.
I knew Gavin was going to appreciate the black silk stockings and black Christian Louboutin heels he’d gotten me. He hadn’t even said anything; they’d just appeared. But he was always doing things like that lately, ordering me wonderful gifts online, or picking up things he thought I’d like in cute little boutiques on his way home from the office.
Sometimes, for no reason at all, silky lingerie would arrive in a gift box. A designer handbag was delivered the day after I complained about the straps on my old purse fraying. My favorite, by far, was a vintage book of poetry that showed up at the breakfast table.
And then tonight, I found my new sexy, daring heels sitting on the ivory-colored tufted bench at the end of our bed with a note in Gavin’s neat handwritten scrawl.
Wife,
Wear these for me tonight?
— G
I couldn’t refuse him. The shoes were exquisite, but paired with my ugly Christmas sweater? The effect was more comical than sexy.
