by A. S. Teague
He answers the question that was on the tip of my tongue as if he was reading my mind.
“And there’s more.”
“More?”
“Yep. Alex loved the comic and Connor’s story. He’s going to write a comic with a character named after Connor and donate a portion of the proceeds to The Make-A-Wish Foundation in Connor’s honor.”
My hand flies to my mouth and I gasp. “Are you serious?”
When he nods in confirmation, I push the box aside, careful not to damage the precious comic and attempt to crawl to Breccan. My wedding dress gets in the way, the long layers of silk and lace impeding my progress. When I get tangled in the material, I lose my balance and slide off the bed, landing with an “Oomph”.
“Sidney? Are you okay?” Breccan asks alarmed.
The dress is over my head, so my voice is muffled when I ask, “How sexy is this?”
His deep voice is laced with humor as he replies, “Need any help?”
His hand wraps around my forearm and he pulls me to my feet, the dress falling back in to place. I place my free hand on his chest and stand on my toes, kissing the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and inhaling the scent of his cologne.
“This has been the most magical day of my life.”
Breccan wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, my arms going around him.
“It was an amazing day, wasn’t it, Mrs. Carlisle?”
A thrill shoots down my spine. I tilt my head back to look at his face and tell him wickedly, “You know, husband, I’d really love to show you just how much I loved it all.”
His hips press against mine and he growls, “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur a mere second before his lips crash to mine. I moan and my mouth opens, welcoming the slide of his tongue against mine.
Breccan’s hands roam my body, settling on the zipper at the back of my dress. With a quick motion, he unzips the gown and it falls, pooling around my feet.
Pulling away, his heated eyes take me in as I stand in front of him in my white lace panties and bra.
Breccan’s hands settle on my waist and he spins us, guiding me toward the bed until my knees hits the edge. I lay back as he sinks to his knees on the floor, his shoulders settling between my legs.
Desire pools in the pit of my belly as Breccan kisses along my inner thigh, his hands running along the outside of my legs, I moan in anticipation.
When he reaches his destination, he nuzzles my core, pressing kisses on the outside of my panties. His breath, warm on my core, causes me to shiver and the longer he teases me, the more desperate I become to feel his mouth on me, without the thin silk barrier.
“Breccan, please.”
He growls, the vibration only making my desire grow. “Who am I?” he asks, and he begins to slide my panties down my legs.
“My husband,” I moan.
“Fuck yeah, I am,” he growls again. “Tell your husband what you want.”
I lift my hips. “I need your mouth on me.”
Slowly, his tongue sweeps my pussy, and I cry out, “God, yes!”
With each stroke of his tongue, my orgasm builds. His hands slide up my body and when they reach my breasts, he pulls the cups of my bra down, rolling my nipples between his fingers.
The rough tug of my nipples coupled with his warm, soft tongue, send me over the edge, and with my eyes squeezed tight, my body quakes, the waves of my orgasm crashing over me. When it begins to wane, I lay spineless, my body feeling as though its floating.
With one more soft stroke of his tongue, Breccan stands and peels out of his tux. I push up on an elbow and enjoy the show, my eyes trying to take in every inch of his perfect body as he climbs on top of me.
Hooking an arm under me, he slides us up the bed until my head rests on the pillows. His gaze is soft as he studies my face, his hands framing my head.
Staring in to my eyes, he slowly slides inside me, filling me completely with one smooth stroke.
My eyes flutter shut and my lips part at the welcome invasion.
“Open your eyes,” Breccan whispers.
My lids feel heavy, sated from the orgasm and the way he feels inside me, but I force them open and look in to his shining eyes.
Satisfied, he moves, slowly gliding in and out of me, his pace never quickening. One arm under my shoulders, he grasps my hip with the other, anchoring me beneath him. I wrap my legs around his waist and move with him, matching his rhythm.
In only a matter of moments, I feel another orgasm snowballing. His ragged breathing indicates he’s getting close too, and I lift my face to his, desperate to feel his lips.
His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue gliding against mine in tempo with his cock.
My second climax rips through me, and I cry out, moaning into Breccan’s mouth as he continues to kiss me. Moments later, he follows me, his own sounds of pleasure muffled by my mouth.
Stilling, he doesn’t pull out of me, but gives me his weight and I accept it, running my hands over his back.
His mouth at my ear, he whispers, “I fucking love you.”
My heart swells, so full of the love I feel for this man, I fear it may burst. I want to tell him that I love him too, that I will always love him, but there aren’t adequate words to describe my feelings for him. Instead, I flex my arms, squeezing him tightly and kiss the side of his head.
“And I love your honeypot.”
And just like that, my heart no longer feels like it’s going to burst. Sputtering, I ask, “Honeypot? What the heck is that?”
He licks the side of my ear and rolls his hips, his cock still inside me, “Your honeypot. Sweet spot, pussy, cunt. I fucking love it.”
Unlocking my legs from his waist, I push against his shoulders, fighting a smile, and groan, “God, you’re ridiculous. Get off me.”
Chuckling, he pushes up on his forearm and looks at my face, his eyes dancing, “You know you like it when I talk dirty to you.”
I roll my eyes, still pushing at his shoulders. There’s no way I could move him if I wanted to, but still, I try. “I said get off!”
He kisses my lips, but I refuse to kiss him back and keep my eyes open wide. He doesn’t close his either, staring at me as he continues trying to soften my lips with his. My mouth clamped tight, I tell him, “Mm-mm” and shake my head.
Giving up on kissing me, he smirks, “You better get used to it, baby. You married me. Now you and your honeypot are mine forever.”
“Oh, God. Does Costa Rica allow annulments?”
He furrows his brow. “On what grounds?”
“Fraud! I didn’t know I was marrying a Giglio.”
Breccan waggles his eyebrows and again rolls his hips. “Giglio, huh? I’ll show you a Giglio.” He begins thrusting his hips, his cock already hard again sliding in and out of me.
I give up on pushing him off me and this time, when he presses his lips to mine, I kiss him back, my mouth soft and pliant beneath his.
He tears his lips from mine and tells me triumphantly, “I knew my baby loved it when I fucked her honeypot.”
Giggling, I slap my hand over his mouth. “My sweet spot wants less talking, more fucking.”
His eyes darken and against my fingers, he says, “What my wife wants, she gets.”
CHAPTER Six
six months later
march
“I’M HERE.” REBECCA announces as she shuffles through the front door. For the first time since I’ve met her, she doesn’t look like she’s just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and colorful leggings, her hair’s piled on top of her head and there’s not a bit of make up on her gorgeous face. Her eyes are barely open and she rubs them, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, boy.” She turns back to me and says, “Prince didn’t want to get out of bed.”
I nod at her, “That makes two of us then.” Looking around her, I see the big dog lumbering up my front steps. “Come on, bu
ddy,” I call out, and I swear, if dogs had fingers, he’d be giving me the middle one.
Once he pads inside, he goes to Breccan’s chair and flops in it, immediately going back to sleep.
“Asshole,” Rebecca mutters under her breath before dropping down on one end of my couch.
“Who’s an asshole?” Breccan sings, practically bouncing down the hall.
Rebecca eyes him suspiciously and then looks back at me. I lift my shoulders in response to her unasked question, and she turns her attention back to my husband.
“Are you on drugs?” she asks when he settles in to the couch beside her.
“High on life, Reb. High. On. Life,” he tells her, ruffling her hair. She swats at his hand and rolls her eyes.
“The only thing makes you high on life at six am is crack, Brec. Let’s get this over with,” Rebecca groans. “I can’t believe I’m about to watch ten Harry Potter movies. In a row. What a waste of a perfectly good weekend.”
“There are only eight movies,” I tell her, trying to be optimistic. The truth is, I would rather cut a pinky toe off than sit here for the next nineteen hours watching movies. “And if we use our time wisely, we should be able to watch them all today. So, you’ll still have tomorrow at least.”
“So, how long are each of the movies?” Breccan asks. “Like, an hour? I mean, that’s a lot of movies, they can’t be that long, right?”
“Uhh…” I cut my eyes away from his. “So, I read online that if we don’t watch the credits we can shave over an hour off the total time.” Nervously, I rearrange the cookies I’d made last night on the plate. “That’s where I got the suggestion to start early.”
“How long is this supposed to take, baby?” Breccan asks again.
I hold up the plate and wave it in his face. “Cookie?” Changing the subject, I tell him, “I made these just for you.”
A smirk on her sleepy face, Rebecca asks, “You didn’t tell him, did you? No wonder he’s so chipper.”
Groaning, Breccan grabs two cookies from the plate and hands one to Rebecca. “Now I’m afraid to know.”
I pick a cookie up and shove it in my mouth before answering, “Nineteen hours.”
Breccan’s mouth falls open and his head swings back and forth between Rebecca and I. “Nineteen fucking hours of wizards? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
I shake my head rapidly and offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry, honey.”
Breccan sighs heavily and then settles back in to the couch. “Let’s get this shit started then.”
Six hours later, we’ve gotten through the first two and a half movies when Rebecca pushes to her feet. “I need a break. Like, a long break. With wine.”
I grab at the remote, but Breccan beats me to it.
“What? No!” he argues. “We’re right in the middle of the best part!”
Rebecca puts her hands to her hips and narrows her eyes at Breccan, “My brain is turning to mush. Ten minutes won’t kill you. But I will if you don’t pause the damn movie!”
Breccan huffs, but pauses the movie.
I stand, giving my legs a much-needed stretch and follow Reb in to the kitchen. She’s pulled two glasses from the cabinet and is filling them, her back to me.
When she’s done, she turns, a glass in each hand, and I reach for one.
“Oh, no, these are both for me,” she informs me, an eyebrow arched. “If I’m going to survive this day, I need a little help.”
I chuckle at her over-the-top theatrics and slide past her to grab a glass for myself.
“So, tell me about Australia,” she chirps.
“Gah, where do I even begin?” I breathe, remembering the trip that we’d taken last month.
After the whirlwind that was planning our wedding, I told Breccan that I needed to slow down. The wedding had been perfect, our families there with us, and our honeymoon had been even better. But we were checking items off the bucket list at a rapid pace, and instead of enjoying it, all I felt with each activity was dread.
The constant trips were exhausting, my work piling up at the office so that I felt like I was constantly drowning. But the biggest reason I needed to take a break was that we were nearing the end of the list. And it terrified me.
I wasn’t ready to be done.
Breccan didn’t understand, and we had our first big fight as a married couple just a month after our wedding. He’d planned a trip to Australia for Thanksgiving, trying to surprise me with it much like he did when we swam with dolphins. But this time, I refused to pack a bag and fly around the world on a moment’s notice.
Our fight was terrible, but I finally got through to him and we compromised. We would go to Australia after the new year, after we got through the anniversary of Connor’s death, and after we had a chance to get settled in to married life.
Breccan left the details of the trip up to me and I had a great time planning our first visit down under.
“How hot are the guys there? That’s all I really need to know.” Rebecca giggles, interrupting my thoughts. “You should have brought a boyfriend back for me, you know.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Breccan’s engrossed in his phone, so I lower my voice and tell her, “The surf instructor. Oh, my God, Reb, it was like he was carved from stone. And his accent. Jesus.”
Rebecca grins. “Did you fall off the surfboard on purpose?”
“Fuck, why didn’t I think of that?” I whisper. “Brec tried to get up on the board once before he gave up. He must have apologized a thousand times for leaving me alone, but really, I didn’t mind. Not. One. Bit.” I laugh, wagging my eyebrows.
“Dammit, Sid, you should have packed him in your suitcase and smuggled him back in to the country!”
I giggle again and take a swallow of my wine. It doesn’t taste as good as it usually does, so I put my glass down and tell Reb, “It’s too early for wine I think.”
She purses her lips together but doesn’t say anything as Breccan calls us from the other room.
“Sid, Reb, get in here.”
Groaning, I slide off the barstool I was perched on and shuffle back in to the living room. Rebecca trails in behind me and throws herself on the couch dramatically. “Okay, okay, we’re back. Start the damn movie. Only twelve more hours of torture to go.”
Connor never read the Harry Potter books, had never seen a single movie. I didn’t have a clue as to why he had a Harry Potter movie marathon on his bucket list. And I never took the time to ask him either. But for reasons only known to him, he wanted to watch all the movies in one sitting. So here we were, in what must be akin to the pits of Hell, watching these movies that were entertaining, but starting to blur together.
Breccan leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his phone still in one hand. “You may be in luck, Reb.”
His eyes dart to where I’m trying to get comfortable in the love seat.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods and then sucks in a deep breath. “There’s a storm in the Midwest.” He pauses and when he doesn’t continue, I lift my brows.
“They are predicting tornados in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Understanding dawns on me and my head falls back. “And you want to go,” I finish for him.
His eyes are bright and he nods. “I know it’s only been a month since the last item we checked off, but we may not get a chance better than this one.”
“You mean the last three items,” I mutter to myself.
“You’re actually going to chase a tornado?” Rebecca pipes up from Breccan’s side.
He whips his head toward her. “Why the hell wouldn’t we?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Breccan. Maybe because its fucking dangerous?”
“Well, it may be that, but it’s on the list, so we’re doing it. It can’t be any more dangerous than base jumping or sky diving. And we did that too.”
My head begins to ache as I think about jetting off across the country last minute to chase a
tornado. I’ve done some research on storm chasers and have learned that they can usually predict when a storm would have the potential for tornados. I’ve been prepared for the fact that we will have to leave last minute if we want to actually chase a tornado. But it was one of the last items on the list, and I’ve been hoping to put it off for a while.
“You’re not seriously going to go now, are you?” Rebecca asks incredulously, her gaze searching my face.
Breccan’s also staring at me, hope shining in his eyes, and despite the fact that we’re in the middle of an epic movie marathon, which is also one of the items on the list, I can’t find it inside myself to tell him no. My lips pressed thin, I nod at them both and Breccan lets out a triumphant whoop.
He springs in to action, telling me, “I’ll book a flight now. We can continue the movie on the plane.”
A small grin on my face, I shrug and tell Reb, “At least your weekend’s been saved.”
She groans loudly, tipping her wine glass and draining the last bit of her wine. She drops it to the coffee table and then announces, “I’m going with you.”
“What?” Breccan and I ask at the same time.
Pulling her hair down from the messy bun it’s been in, she runs her fingers through it and tells us, “I’m going too. I want to check an item off the list. I’ll drop Prince at Tripp’s, and go home and pack a bag. I can be ready to leave in an hour.”
Not waiting for an answer, Rebecca jumps to her feet and calls for her dog as she rushes through the door. “Pick me up in an hour!” she calls over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her.
Surprised, I turn to Breccan. “I’ll go get packed. What does one wear when they chase forces of nature that could kill them? Black? I’m thinking black.”
Breccan chuckles, but grabs me around the waist as I walk past him. His eyes are warm and he asks, “You sure? I don’t want to push you. Unfortunately, tornado season happens every year.”
I rest my cheek on his chest, and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sure, honey.”
