by Mj Fields
Love that boy.
And my brother, well, he sure as hell could have run from here, taken him away, but he hasn’t. The man he is now, he always was, but life knocked him down
Phoenix and I will still be getting married October 14th, two days from now. We will just be doing it a little differently. No ballroom. Instead, a barn, one that solidified my need to make her mine on a level I sure as fuck wasn’t familiar with. Same place she all but begged me to fuck her, and I had to force myself to say no.
I laugh to myself, thinking about the moment she took off and I was alone with myself and the big “What the fuck was that?” question.
The answer, loud as the thunderstorm when I ate her sweet pussy, was: that was me being a better man.
As we speak, Mags, Juliana, and Mandee are working on the plans I barked out over the phone when I got the call that our wedding venue was up in smoke due to an electrical issue, I decided right there I was going to grab the future and last Mrs. Gage Falcon.
When we pull onto the Landing’s dirt road, it’s dark. Phoenix slept the whole time, hand still in mine.
The bumps wake her, and she sighs. “We’re home?”
“Yeah,” I say as she sits up a bit.
I watch a smile creep up on her face. It’s fucking contagious.
Home.
Per my instructions, no one meets us or greets us at the door. Her and I are going to have a talk. I’m probably going to fuck her, too, even though I told myself I wouldn’t, and then we are back on task.
She’s looking around when we walk in, and then turns to me. “Where is everyone?”
I start to bend down to help her with her shoes, when I realize she doesn’t have any on.
I look up at her.
“I was in a hurry.” She shrugs.
“Guess we both were,” I reply, standing straight.
“Well,” she says, looking around again, “where are they?”
“They …” I pause as I walk us over to sit on the couch, pulling her gently down on my lap. “They’re waiting until I tell them they can come. Girls are all staying with you until your parents get here. Us guys will be in the cabins.”
“No, you most certainly are not,” she says, taking my chin firmly in her little hand.
“I am. And it’s also important you keep your little ass out of the plans. I got this all under control.”
“Is that so?”
I brace myself for a fight and answer, “You bet your ass it is.”
I don’t get a fight. I get beautiful brown eyes filling with tears, a sexy beautiful full red lip quivering, right before she throws her arms around my neck and squeezes.
Hate that she’s crying. Haven’t seen this side of her before.
Nothing I can do, but hold her. Nothing else I want to do, either.
When she stops shaking in my arms, she turns her head so I can’t see her face. “Just go, okay?”
“Excuse me?” I hold back as much shock as I can from those words.
She starts to stand, but I hold her still.
“God,” she groans, batting at her eyes. “I sound just like her.”
“Like …?” I’m still not catching on.
“My mother.” She shakes her head then holds it in her hands.
“You upset about not doing this up big? We can do it up—”
“Are you kidding me right now?” She tries to stand again.
“Not kidding you, but thinking maybe you should chill the fuck out and maybe breathe.”
To that, her eyes snap back to me. “Breathe?”
“Even with black shit running down from your eyes, you are so fucking beautiful,” I say. It’s the truth.
She scowls then looks down.
“You pissed you let go emotionally in front of me, tiny badass?”
She looks up, her scowl deepening.
“You’ve seen me go through some shit, Phoenix. Gave zero fucks by the time I filled that cabin up with flowers. You’re sitting here on my lap, my baby in your belly, going to be my wife in the matter of days; if you can’t let go, cry, lose your shit with me—the man who will now and forever feel honored to hold you together when shit’s fucked up—then we got a fucking problem.”
She leans into my chest, resting her forehead against it.
“We got a problem, Phoenix?” I ask, rubbing her back.
“I’m so tired,” she says as answer. “And being tired and around my mom”—she sighs—“it’s been exhausting.”
“Then we’ll get you to bed.” I stand up with her in my arms. “Just as soon as I make sure you’ve had something to eat.”
“I want scrambled eggs,” she says, looking up at me. “And toast, with blackberry—”
Unable to stop myself any longer, I kiss her. I kiss her like I haven’t kissed her in two days. I kiss her like she’s the only fucking person I ever want to kiss. I kiss her like I own her. I kiss her like she owns me, because all that is true.
Her hands are in my hair, fisting the fuck out of it, pulling me closer like she can’t get enough. I set her on the counter then step back when I know damn well we both need a breath.
As she grabs the hem of my shirt and tugs it up, I bend down so she can pull it over my head. She then tosses it aside and goes for my belt buckle as I move my hands up the back of her shirt, unhooking her bra. Then I pull her shirt up.
She is fumbling with my button, While I am trying to take it really damn easy with her tits.
“Christ,” I grumble when I grip one in my hand. “Two days and they grew that much?”
She stops fucking with the button as soon as my tongue licks slowly across her tight, little nipple. Then she shoves her hand down my pants, grabbing my cock like she fucking owns it. She does.
I suck gently on her nipple as I unbutton my pants and shove them down. She grips me tighter and yanks hard, pulling me closer, which makes me clamp down on her tit a bit too much, and she whimpers.
As I shove my thumbs into her waistband to pull them down, she wraps one arm around my neck, while still stroking me, as she lifts her ass up. I pull her pants off.
After tossing them aside, I reach under her, grabbing her hot little ass and lifting her up. She grips my shoulders as she wraps her legs around me.
“Bed,” I groan out as I feel her hot, wet pussy rub against me.
“Now,” she pleas as she reaches between us and grips me, rubbing my cock against her and lining us up.
“Fuck yes,” I hiss as she impales herself fully.
She cries out, her head falling back.
“Open your fucking eyes.”
Her eyes open slowly. Fire, I see fire in them. The same fire I feel burning inside my balls and following up as if there is a line of gasoline right to my fucking heart.
“Fuck,” I groan, pulling her head to my chest, wanting to ease the burn, or let her fucking feel it—feel what she does to me. What she’s done to me from the first time I saw her.
“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, then pleas, “Come with me.”
I push her against the stainless-steel refrigerator and fuck her, make love to her—it’s one in the same with her, which is fucking perfect.
I make her feel me deeply, so fucking deep that I know not one thing will ever come between us. Not now. Not ever.
My balls are tight, so tight, as I thrust in and out of her. Her body tightens, her breath hitches, her pussy squeezes my cock so tightly I can’t hold back.
“Don’t you ever fucking leave me again,” I groan as I come hard, so fucking hard it nearly weakens my knees.
“Never!” she cries. “Never.”
Mandee
Grayson’s lips are against my neck, then his tongue. He is trailing that hot, wet tongue slowly, too slowly, up my neck to the back of my ear, where he captures my lobe with his teeth and tugs slightly.
When a moan escapes my mouth, he chuckles.
“I have to finish this menu,” I sigh out. “Two days, Grayson, two days until my best f
riend marries your brother.”
“I’m not stopping you, sweetheart,” he says, tongue licking lazily down my neck.
“You are distracting me,” I say as I squeeze my thighs together slightly, trying to dull the burn between my legs caused by one Grayson Falcon, sexiest man alive.
“I’m just here, Mandee.”
I look back over my shoulder at him and try my best to give him a scolding look.
He smirks, leaning back against the log headboard of our cabin and linking his hands behind his head, popping his pecks.
Ink, nipple piercing, lips, and then those eyes. This is the common path my eyes take when I take in my lover. My heart’s smile. My man, Grayson Falcon.
He smirks, nodding. “Get back at it.”
Easy for him to say.
I force myself to turn around and focus back on the list in front of me. I want to look back, but I don’t.
Gage wants to marry Phoenix in the barn. Grayson, Garrett, and Brand have built more benches, like the ones used at Juliana and Garrett’s wedding, to accommodate the one hundred and twenty guests, mostly Phoenix’s parent’s friends. It’s no Stone Country Club, but it will be beautiful.
Wagon wheels will hang from the beams, with flameless flickering candles sitting on top of them, and lilies. Gage insists on lilies being placed everywhere. We have used old wooden wheelbarrows, galvanized milk cans, and even bushel baskets to fill the large barn with red and white lilies.
The stage built for Garrett and Juliana’s wedding has been repurposed and changed slightly for them to stand in front of everyone to exchange their “I do’s.” An arbor, built with beams, made to looked older than they are, has been added, one in which Gage insists on building himself.
He wants it simple. He wants it raw and strong looking, adding the lilies for beauty.
I feel Grayson push my hair away from my neck and over my left shoulder. Then his lips, soft and wet, are against my skin.
“Sweetheart, it’s all good,” he says, gripping my hips and giving them a squeeze.
“But there has to be more,” I say, unable to get it through my over-planning head that it took less than a day to get it all worked out and it’s perfect absolutely perfect. I know Phoenix is going to love it.
“Does there?” he asks, skating his hand around my waist.
I laugh, and not because it tickles, but because he groans when he touches the part of my body I hate the most.
“So sexy. So fucking sexy,” he whispers as he moves his hands slowly up.
I grab them before he gets to my chest. “I have to—”
“You have to believe that everything is gonna come as easy as ours, yours”—he kisses my neck—“and my …” He moves his hands up.
I give in and lean back against his hot and hard body, fully expecting his hands to grab my boobs, but they don’t.
Both land over my heart.
“… Love. It’s that easy, sweetheart.”
“I want it to be perfect,” I tell him. “I want her wedding day to be perfect.”
“I know,” he says, leaning us both back. “And I know it will be.”
“The minister hasn’t responded.” I sigh and take his hands from my heart, pushing them down to my boobs.
His chest vibrates in silent laughter as he squeezes them.
“Tell me what your, Mandee Carlin’s, idea of a perfect wedding is,” he says, gently rubbing his thumbs over my nipples.
“Much different now,” I admit. “Reception at the bar. I love it.” I look back into his smiling eyes. “And you for all you’ve done to make it exactly what I wanted, but better.”
“For the rest of my life, I’m gonna be doing whatever I can to show you how fucking easy love can be for two people meant to be together.”
He leans in, and I am sure he’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes, ready for it to happen. I open them when I feel his body against mine, but no lips touching.
He grabs his phone from the nightstand and leans back. Then he hits a number and holds the phone to his ear.
“Mags, you got a few minutes to do me a favor?” he asks with such sweetness in his voice it makes me smile.
I don’t know what she says, but he laughs. I can only imagine it was a yes.
“Get on that laptop of yours and get ordained,” he tells her then laughs. “Yeah, Mags, love you, too. Need any help, buzz me back.”
When he hangs up, he sets his phone back on the charger, leans back, and links his hands behind his head. His smile falls a bit, and then he takes in quick breath.
For a moment, I’m confused by the way he’s looking at me, like he’s nervous, but that quickly vanishes. His eyes leave mine, moving down my body, and a sexy, cocky smirk forms in the corners of his beautiful mouth.
“Tell me about your dream wedding.”
“Grayson, you’ve been torturing me, trying to get my attention”—I allow my eyes to cast down to my boobs, showing clear evidence of excitement—“and now you want to talk about my idea of a perfect wedding?”
He gives one quick nod. “That’s right.”
“I have the ring.” I hold up my engagement ring. My mom’s solitaire that Grayson enhanced with many more diamonds. “I never knew how much I needed this.” I flop back on the bed and close my eyes.
He chuckles. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to picture my perfect wedding,” I tell him. “Can’t imagine anything more perfect for me than you, so I’m closing my eyes, trying to block out the man who came into my life, the most handsome I have ever seen. Block out the man who has made me feel more beautiful than I’ve ever felt in my life, to try picturing what on earth it would take to top just an average, ordinary day with the person I know was sent to me from heaven.”
I hear him move, and then the bed dips beside me. He takes my hand and whispers, “Try to top that.”
“Not possible,” I whisper back.
“Glad you think so, but seriously, give it a shot. Please.”
Please was said with a hand squeeze and a tone that was a quiet plea.
With his hand holding mine, I try to give him an answer.
Finally, I answer with the most honest one I can come up with. “All my life, I imagined having a love like my parents’. I imagined it as best I could.” I giggle uncomfortably. My answer is so odd, yet so very true. “I imagined that day would be the day I would dress up, looking like a princess. Everyone would think I looked beautiful. Everyone would get choked up by how beautiful an event it was. How pretty the flowers, how stunning the dress, how handsome the groom.” I squeeze his hand. “Thinking on it now, it was going to be the best day of my life, one none other could compare to.” I open my eyes to see his head is resting on his hand as he gazes down at me sweetly, lovingly. “It’s almost as if that day is the day you are in the spotlight. It feels almost”—I scrunch up my nose—“staged.”
He smiles, encouraging me to continue.
“At first, when watching my best friend and watching her smile at her mother while planning via Facetime, then hanging up and looking utterly frustrated, I was so confused. My emotions kicked in. I put myself in her place and thought: what wouldn’t I give for my mom to be here with me, planning the best day of my life?”
“I’m so sorry, Mandee. I’d do anything to make that happen.”
I nod. “I know. But if she was, I’d probably act just like Phoenix. I mean, she doesn’t know half the people who are coming, and ninety percent of them, she isn’t close with. I understand her frustration. The happiest I’ve seen her is last week when they applied for their wedding license.”
“And we did, too.” He smiles. “Means we have six months to plan.”
“Don’t you dare say the best day of my life.” I smile. “The best day of mine, of a girl’s life, is the day she’s promised forever to with the person who is”—I swallow hard—“everything. You’re everything. Every day with you is the best day, so I don’t care about the day we say it or wh
ere we say it.” I laugh as the tears fall, and he smiles slightly, his eyes full of care and understanding. “You and I could get married in the middle of the lake, on top of the bar, right here, right now, and although taking your name will be the best choice I’ve ever made for me—”
“Made for you?” he interrupts with a slight smirk.
“You were sent to me from heaven, Grayson Falcon. No question in my mind. You were made for me.”
“It’s true. And you, Mandee soon-to-be Falcon”—he leans in and rests his forehead against mine—“were made for me.” He kisses me softly, gently, sweetly.
When he pulls back, he starts kneading my breast. “Used to get pissed at the bar when guys checked you out.”
“And now?”
“Still annoying as fuck,” he sighs out. “But you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” I smile.
“That’s fucking right,” he says before bending down and taking my boob in his mouth.
“Finally,” I moan.
He grips my wrists and holds them over my head, then takes them in one hand, holding them still as he sucks on my nipple, one then the other.
With his free hand, he pulls at my leggings. I lift my ass, and they come down.
He lets my breast drop from his mouth. “Hands up above your head. Don’t move them.”
His voice is authoritative, and I love it. I love that he controls our bodies. It makes me feel even more …
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he says, pushing himself to his knees beside me.
Beautiful, I think, watching him pull my pants the rest of the way, eyes raking over my entire body. The way he looks at me, the way his jaw tenses, and then how he licks his lips, the way he so unmistakably desires me … I feel beautiful.
Me.
He holds my legs up, moving until he’s kneeling in front of me. His hard, strong, beautiful body holds my legs against his chest.
He kisses and licks my ankle, then the other, before spreading me widely, completely baring me fully to him.
His eyes close tightly for but a moment, and he lets out a slow growl before opening them.
They are hooded, dark, and he again licks his lips before bending down and lifting me by my ass, burying his face between my legs.
