by Christa Wick
“Did your mom take her seat already?” Siobhan asked after her gaze made another trip around the room.
“Yes, too noisy in here for Phyllis to work on her phone,” I answered.
Snorting, Siobhan squeezed out another cautious hug that managed to avoid wrinkling either of our outfits.
“Stupid snow,” she complained. “Lindy is going to be sad she missed helping you dress.”
“It’s a shame,” I agreed as I displayed the folds of the vintage lace gown that my future mother-in-law had helped restore and fit for the wedding.
Picking up a white cashmere stole Lindy had knitted just for the event, I showed it to Siobhan.
“I left this for her to put on me.”
Sniffling, Siobhan wiped a careful line under her eyelid where the mascara threatened to run.
“Don’t you start,” I whisper-smiled. “So, do you have your next target picked out?”
Grinning, Siobhan cut a discreet side glance in the direction of bridesmaid number three, Madigan Armstrong.
“You’ve been working that line for a long time.”
Siobhan shrugged. “Only a little longer than I worked you. And, as everyone knows, my will is inevitable.”
Leah cocked her head then threw her hands in the air.
“Sutty here!”
I cast a skeptical look at Siobhan. The door to the changing room was closed and there were no windows to look out.
“That child came equipped with sonar,” Siobhan laughed.
Sure enough, the door opened a minute later and Lindy Turk slipped into the room.
Leah intercepted her grandmother, showing off the skirt’s twirl on her flower girl dress.
“Wonderful,” Lindy said and kissed the child’s cheek. “Show me again when everyone gets to dance. It’s time for you to grab your flower basket now.”
Leah ran back to Sage, her little hands making “gimme” motions.
Lindy headed for me with tears in her eyes. “Oh, love, you look so beautiful.”
Another careful hug was exchanged.
“Thank you,” I sniffled. “It’s all your work.”
“Nonsense,” Lindy said. “It wouldn’t shine like that draped on a hanger.”
“I saved the stole,” I said as Siobhan handed the piece to me. “Would you do the honors?”
Lindy nodded, then tilted her face toward the ceiling for a few seconds to stall the cascade of tears that threatened.
She exhaled, laughing at herself, then spread the stole around my shoulders, fastening it at the front with a silver chain.
Siobhan followed with the winter bouquet she’d crafted for me, complete with white roses, rosettes made from pine cones, the silver foliage of the Artemisia stelleriana, and ribbons of burlap.
“I still can’t believe you wanted the burlap left in,” she joked.
My head bobbed. “It was in the picture you showed me and it’s a fitting adornment. I’ll always have this reminder of Walker rescuing me from that room.”
I bobbed my head again, a small blush coloring my cheeks. “When we got back to his place that night, it was the first time he told me he loved me.”
“He felt it long before that,” Lindy gushed. “You two are so lucky to have found one another.”
Throat convulsing with emotion, I mimicked the head tilt Lindy had used to keep her makeup from sliding down her face.
“Okay, okay,” Siobhan laughed. “We better get this show started while the waterworks can still be contained.”
Lindy voiced her agreement as I pulled my veil down.
Sneaking her hand under the veil, Lindy offered my cheek a soft caress.
“Time to officially make you my daughter.”
29
Walker
Seeing Mama signal the organist and take her seat, I tapped Sutton’s shoulder.
“Time to get in place,” I smiled.
“Right,” Sutton said, patting around his pockets to tease me.
“You already showed it to me,” I chuckled. “And I’ve been dying for the last thirty minutes, so don’t be cruel.”
With a flourish, Sutton produced the ring box and opened it.
My chest heaved. For two months, Ashley had worn the diamond solitaire as my fiancée. Today, I would slide the wedding band in place, binding us together forever.
As the organist played the first note of Mendelssohn's Wedding March, my gaze snapped left.
Madigan and Emerson stepped into view, their appearance noted by a hard click at the back of Sutton’s throat audible to me over the soft strains of music. Sage and Adler followed, their faces still glowing with the marital bliss of newlyweds.
Fingers tapping against my side, I watched Siobhan and Jake make their way down the aisle. Then Leah stepped into view, her unexpected poise easing some of the tension in my shoulders.
Seeing Ashley on her father’s arm, the rest of my worries melted away. She was really doing it—marrying me, staying in Montana and looking for a local job that didn’t involve chasing bad guys.
Reaching the altar, Gregory Callahan quickly lifted the veil and kissed Ashley’s cheek before joining his wife in the first pew.
Lips pursed, I released the breath I had been holding ever since Leah tossed her first handful of petals. Stepping next to Ashley, I pressed my palm against the small of her back, my thumb caressing her spine through the layers of lace and silk.
God, I prayed as the pastor began his speech, let me be a deserving husband.
Feeling the sweet tremor running through Ashley, I knew I would move heaven and earth to keep her safe and happy. I wouldn’t let a day go by in which she didn’t feel loved and cherished.
I would always honor her.
“Son,” the pastor prompted, “Don’t keep the bride on pins and needles. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I nodded, my throat laced up tight.
“I do,” I rasped. “All of those things and more. I love you, baby.”
Lifting the veil, I kissed Ashley and finally made her my wife.
30
Ashley
Not my first rodeo, I reminded myself nervously as Walker finished lighting the fire in our honeymoon cabin.
The internal pep talk did nothing to bolster my confidence. True, I’d had a rudimentary bit of experience—if you could really call it that—but only with a very small number of men. Some of those men had hoped for a second rendezvous. One even carved out a year of my time and affection before everything between us fell apart.
But something had always been missing. And now that I was here with Walker, not just here on our wedding night, but in this place in our lives together, I knew everything had been missing until now. This, the way he made me feel, the way I felt about him—it was everything. And it made every limited experience I’d had before barely a speck in my memory banks worth qualifying.
All that said, this would be our first time together. And just as nerve-wracking, it would be the first time Walker saw my body completely naked.
The hard reality of that left me shaking in my rhinestone boots.
Walker closed the fire screen and stood. The first place his gaze landed as he looked at me was my face. His smile faltered. I felt the sting of my first failure as a wife.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, my hair down and bouncing around my shoulders. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life to date—and it was. After the late start, everything had been perfect. But day turned to night as it inevitably must. Night meant disrobing. It meant placing my unclothed body against the perfect masculine specimen that was Walker Turk.
He approached me as he might a spooked filly, one hand out, his entire posture subconsciously urging me not to bolt.
“Come sit with me on the couch,” he coaxed, further extending his hand.
I nodded. I wasn’t going to run away. Another foot of snow had fallen during the wedding reception. We had barely made it to the resort two cou
nties over before the state police closed the roads.
Walker cracked a grin. “You remember that first day, how you were looking down the ravine and trying to calculate if the Jeep would make it?”
I nodded again, the grin spreading from his face to mine. “You asked me what kind of crazy I was.”
He took one step toward me, I matched it and extended my hand. His fingers wrapped around my palm and then he slowly drew me into his arms.
Walker whispered in my ear, his lips caressing the rim. “For a second, you had that same calculating look on your face, love. And I’m pretty sure you glanced at the door as I invited you to sit with me.”
Without admitting he was right, I buried my face against my husband’s chest, the fabric of his tuxedo muffling my confession. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Impossible,” Walker soothed. “Baby, you have no idea how much you turn me on. Everything about you is sexy. Even the stubborn, independent bits.”
As he talked, Walker steered me to the couch. My heavy bridal cloak hung by the door, but I still wore the cashmere stole and my wedding dress. He undid the delicate clasp on the stole, folding the material and placing it on a side table before he removed my boots.
His fingers played over my bare, powder white shoulders, the flickering light of the fire reflected in his languid gaze. He stroked along and under my chin, his touch slow and mesmerizing.
Everything about Walker at that moment made me feel adored. There was no judgment in his expression, just quiet anticipation mixed with infinite patience.
And love, so much love.
Drawing a deep breath, I presented my back to him, my chin pressing against my shoulder in silent communication. Taking his time with my submission, Walker caressed my neck, the calloused pads of his fingers easing up and down my spine so that I grew more and more relaxed.
When my eyes drifted shut, he teased them open with a tug on the ribbon threaded through the gown’s corseted back panel. With Walker’s warm lips dusting my shoulders, I measured my breaths in the time it took the end of the ribbon to move from one eyelet to the next.
He reached the middle of the corset. The stiff fabric caging my breasts surrendered its hold. The boning rods kept the satin from falling away and exposing my flesh. Sucking on the curve of my neck, Walker smoothed one hand around to my chest and eased it under the material to cup a breast that had grown tender and swollen.
His fingers teased the thick nipple, plucking and pinching while his other hand continued to pull the corset’s ribbons.
“I could have vibrated across the dance floor when I took your garter off at the reception,” he murmured before his tongue curled along the edge of my earlobe, a fresh shiver branching like lightning across my torso.
With one long slide, the last of the ribbon came free. Walker gathered up the skirt of my dress and smoothed a hand along my thigh. I squirmed, tried to turn toward him, but he gently blocked the maneuver.
“Open for me,” he ordered with a hot whisper against my neck.
I placed one foot on the floor, the knee pointed almost ninety degrees away from my body.
“Hold your skirt.”
My hands shook, but I managed to grip the fabric he had gathered up and secure it against my lower stomach. Walker slid the hand teasing my breast down to the gap between my legs while his other hand captured the opposite breast.
He leaned back, dragging me with him, my weight distributed between the cushion beneath my bottom and Walker’s broad chest. He palmed my pussy, his grip on my plump mound unrelenting as he began a sweet torture of the long neglected nipple.
I wiggled my hips as moisture seeped from between my slick folds to wet the thin lace panties.
“Months,” he rasped. “Every night I went to bed, I thought about sucking these thick cherries.”
He gave the nipple a pinch. My squeak of surprise quickly slid into a groan.
“Every night I thought about licking a line up and down your clit, penetrating you with my tongue and drawing out your sweet cream.”
Walker’s joke about vibrating off the dance floor suddenly seemed plausible. I had to draw a deep breath and hold it to keep from bouncing off the couch, every muscle in my body tensing as he squeezed harder at my mound.
“Baby,” he groaned, “your panties are so wet.”
My response caught in my throat when I saw the intensity in his heated gaze.
“Take them off for me.”
Complicating his order, Walker cupped both breasts and pinned me to him as I lifted my hips and pushed at the soaking fabric that covered my sex. My fingers turned clumsy with need. My legs refused to cooperate as I tried to slide one foot out. I kicked at the material, the wild dance of feet flinging the panties halfway toward the cabin’s front door.
Walker folded the gown’s bodice to fully expose my breasts. Then he ordered me to gather and hold the skirt once more, leaving the most intimate areas of my body on display while all but his hands and part of his arms remained hidden behind me.
With a satisfied groan, he fastened his lips against my throat. His fingers surfed down to my sex, already slick with my arousal. He stroked the tips, spreading the liquid before he wedged the rough, calloused pad of his thumb against the top of my clit’s spine.
I exhaled with a whimper, my hips beginning to move while his hand remained rigid.
“Damn it, you’re going to have me going off like a bottle rocket if you keep moving like that,” he murmured in a tortured, but wholly appreciative rumble.
A protest rattled my lungs. My bottom pushed upward to convert the wiggle into a grind. I bit my lower lip, all my concentration focused on that small point of contact between his hand and my pussy.
Walker pulled back, his hold on my breast keeping me from twisting around to face him.
“Lift,” he rasped.
I pushed my hips higher, felt his free hand slip under my bottom, heard the metallic slide of his zipper, and then, eyes rolling back in my head, I felt the head of his cock press against the gate of my pussy. I cried out, wanting to impale myself all at once. But Walker coaxed me into a slow descent, my inner lips trembling around his fat crown as my tight ring of muscles sucked him into me inch by hard inch.
Using both hands, Walker grabbed my thighs, pinning me down at the same time he held me open. The forced gap tugged at my labia, exposing my rigid clit to the cool air. His thumbs feathered upward to stroke its length while he used his strength to keep his cock buried inside me, my attempts to lift and bounce thwarted.
My eyes filled with frustrated tears.
“Just hold me, love,” he coaxed, thumbs methodically dragging up and down the swollen spine. “You’re so hot and wet inside. So tight. I want you to come just like this around my cock. With me so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”
I buried my face against his throat, my teeth scoring his neck before sinking into the corded muscles of his shoulder. Walker growled and stopped the teasing strokes. I clutched at my dress again, my soft whimpers begging him to continue.
He kneaded my plump, fleshy mound, squeezing without mercy until the sensation bordered on pain. When he relaxed his grip, the blood returned with a hot rush, my arousal climbing high and forcing my eyes shut. My muscles rolled up and down, hugging and sucking his thick shaft, its head a fat pommel inside me, battering the opening of my cervix.
“There, baby, just like that,” he groaned, his thumbs returning to bully my clit into a twitching submission.
A stroke up. A slow drag down. A pinch. A rolling twist.
Cream flowed from me, pushing and drooling its way past the tight seal of Walker’s shaft possessing me. He slicked the liquid up, painting my clit with fresh lubrication. My torso jerked with each stroke he took against the hooded pearl. My mouth gaped, a long, yearning cry climbing from my throat toward the ceiling.
Fingers dented my heavy flesh, my hips spasming, my thighs trembling. My clit jerked rhythmically as Walker aband
oned it to cinch me around his cock. I whipped my head back, the action mindless, my cry down to a desperate mewling as I strained upward then collapsed against him in a shuddering heap.
With his hands lightly roaming my sensitive flesh, Walker ghosted a kiss against my cheek. When I could finally breathe again, he smiled. “Are you ready for me to see you naked now?”
Too mindless and blissed-out to respond in words, I simply began tugging at my dress, all but ready to shred it to feel him skin on skin.
31
Walker
Grinning, I helped Ashley out of the gown, her muscles still adorably weak from the straining climax and its long buildup.
Though she was singleminded in her pursuit to just fling the fabric off of her now, I stepped back to carefully drape the dress over the couch, all the emotions and memories attached to it from today worth it to preserve. Then I quickly scooped my beautiful bride up into my arms before she had a chance to turn shy again.
So long as I didn’t go off like a firehose the second I finally sank into her, I was going to love her so thoroughly on our first night as a married couple that she would never question her gorgeous appeal again.
Reaching the bed, I placed her in the center then stepped out of arm’s reach. I had taken a second while Ashley’s dress still circled her full hips to tuck my cock back into my pants and zip up. Now it was time for me to show my sexy wife just how hard I was for her, how hard she’s always made me.
Slowly, my gaze on Ashley’s face as she watched me, I removed the cufflinks then unthreaded the line of small buttons running down the center of my tuxedo shirt. My chest muscles pushed forward as I peeled the fabric from skin grown damp while pleasuring my wife. Far less careful with my own clothes, I dropped the shirt onto the floor as I kicked out of the shoes. I shucked my pants and briefs together, my socks removed a second later.
Not once did I look away from Ashley. I watched her lips soften and part, caught the deepening blush on her cheeks, mirrored the flare of her nostrils as my cock came into view.
