The Sizzle Saga

by Sarah O'Rourke

  Molly couldn’t help giggling at the long-suffering exasperation in her husband’s voice. “You know, at some point you’re going to have to make your peace with the fact that your Executive Assistant is marrying your Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions. You were the one that introduced them, after all. Do I need to remind you that the best man is supposed to be supportive of the groom?”

  “Yeah,” Devil snorted. “Which one? There are two grooms, and they’re equally batshit crazy.”

  “Both.” Molly laughed gently. “And watch your language,” she chided, shuffling the baby to her other breast. “We’ve got mini-ears now.”

  Nodding, Devil sighed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just need you to understand I still blame you for this best man business, you little sneak,” he continued in a deep growl, lowering his voice when their daughter rooted for a moment in her mother’s arms. “You just had to go and volunteer our house for the ceremony and the reception when I wasn’t listening. Not only that, but you enlisted Nana’s help. After the last few months, I’m beginning to think my own grandmother loves that crazy-ass new best friend of yours more than she does me! And I’m bankrolling the damn affair.”

  “Your Nana thinks Mannie hung the moon, Devil. Get over it. You have to learn to share affection now. Besides, you don’t wanna anger the highly-emotional man that keeps your schedule finely tuned, has upper management living in fear of him, and makes sure that Nana has a fresh arrangement of flowers delivered to her every week with a loving card from her wonderful grandson. Life might become very hard for you if you fell from Mannie’s good graces,” she reminded him, carefully moving Devlynn’s head to allow the baby to rest against the pillow Devil shifted toward them. “Speaking of Nana, did Momma and Daddy take her home?”

  “They all left about half an hour after you fell asleep. But not before your mother decided that it was highly improper for her newest granddaughter to be wearing an onesie embroidered with “Spawn of Satan”. She had our daughter redressed and the offending garment stuffed in her purse in record time, mumbling under her breath about how she and Samantha needed to come to an understanding about Devlynn’s wardrobe. I’m pretty sure she laid in wait in the parking lot to ambush Sami,” Devil reported gleefully.

  “Oh, I hope she isn’t too hard on Sami. You know she had ten of those little outfits specially made in a rainbow of colors. They were the talk of the baby shower,” Molly reminisced, tracing a gentle finger over her baby’s simple pink nightgown.

  “I’m sure they’ll come to an agreement,” Devil replied with a dismissive smile as he reached for his daughter.

  Letting Devil take the baby, Molly watched as he carefully lifted her against his chest, rubbing his hand up and down her fragile spine as he attempted to coax a burp out of her. “What about Karen and Grant?” she asked.

  Devil’s lips twitched. “Oh,” he drawled, lifting his eyebrows as he met his wife’s sparkling eyes. “Now you’re concerned for your poor older brother?”

  “Devil…” Molly began in a warning tone.

  “Karen went home with your parents, but Grant’s still around here somewhere – probably still icing his testicles.”

  “Hey! I told him to put down the camera,” Molly stated defensively, tucking her bra back into place and lowering her t-shirt again.

  “And I’ll remind you that just last week, you told everybody who would listen that you wanted every moment of Devlynn’s arrival recorded for posterity. He was merely trying to oblige you,” Devil returned, fighting the urge to laugh.

  “I changed my mind,” Molly replied petulantly, reaching for the green soft drink can on the nearby tray, wincing slightly as she felt her body tug and pull in ways that reminded her that she had indeed just shot out a seven-pound watermelon from her precious woo woo.. “I can do that. I’m a woman. And I was a woman in labor!”

  “Baby, you coaxed him closer on the promise of getting a better shot and then shoved the camera in his gonads. It was the most diabolical thing I’ve ever seen in my life – and I’ve seen a lot of things.”

  Molly cringed and bit her thumb. “You should have stopped me!”

  “Couldn’t,” Devil denied simply with a satisfied smirk. “I was too busy being grateful they were his balls and not mine,” he informed her with a straight face as Devlynn burped her agreement.

  Shrugging as she took a sip of the clear liquid, she muttered, “I’ll apologize tomorrow.” Yawning, Molly watched as Devil rose and deposited their sleeping little girl back in her bassinet. Her heart swelled as she watched him bend and drop a kiss against her auburn-covered head. Waiting until he turned around again, she beamed at him. “We did good, didn’t we? She’s perfect,” she whispered, still slightly awed.

  “She’s beyond perfect, Molly. Beautiful and healthy. It doesn’t get any better. But we didn’t do it. You did the work… endured the pain. I was just an extremely scared, seriously awed spectator.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I kicked your birthday’s ass with my gift, huh?” she teased as he approached the side of her bed and perched beside her hip. He easily captured her drink, depositing the can out of reach in mere seconds.

  Bending, Devil captured her lips with his. “You did, darlin’,” he murmured against her mouth before he took her kiss. “Next to you, our daughter is the best damn present I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

  Touching a hand to his jaw, Molly smiled against his lips. “That’s good. Because next year, you’re getting socks. Making a homemade gift for you is hard work.”

  “Babe, I’ve got everything I need right here in this room.”

  Her lips sizzled as he gently kissed her once again, and Molly had to agree. Finally, everything had fallen perfectly into place. They both had everything that they could ever want....together.

  Apparently Fate...and a meddling Irish grandmother with a killer wooden spoon...had obviously known what was best for them both, after all.

  ~~~** THE END **~~~

  Scorched

  By Sarah O’Rourke

  Scorched: Chapter One

  Devil

  Holding his preferred expensive Cuban cigar clenched between his shiny, white incisors, Devil Delancy glared through the picturesque French window located at the front of his sprawling home. The sheer window treatment offered him an unobstructed view of the occupants residing inside the dwelling, and needless to say, he was less than happy with what he was seeing.

  Inhaling deeply, he tried to allow the aromatic smoke to soothe his frayed nerves while he watched, undetected and hidden by the shrubbery dotting the landscape. His jaw clenched as he watched his love, his Molly, heft yet another china plate toward her face, her eyebrows furrowing as she studied the etched pattern adorning the rim with discerning, albeit tired, eyes.

  Christ on a cracker, he thought to himself, this wedding madness was going to be the death of them both… and it wasn’t even their ceremony she was planning! Hell, come to think of it, he didn’t recall her ever working this hard on their actual nuptials. How was that for irony?

  Nope, he’d been happily married for almost two mostly glorious years to the amazing woman currently kneeling on the floor next to a stack of china inside the home in front of him. Their own wedding woes should have been nothing but dim memories, but noooooo…. Somehow, he and Molly (oh, hell, let’s be real… it was mostly Molly) were now playing wedding planners and party hosts to the commitment ceremony of two of their best friends - his own dependable executive assistant, Armando Savage, and his partner, Devil’s Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions, Nick Santino.

  How, you ask, did this happen? Go ahead, ASK!

  Because the answer was almost painfully simple.

  His own blushing bride had a death wish. That’s right! Molly had willingly allowed herself to be submerged in this storm of matrimonial madness that had descended from the heavens. His own completely crazy, but inarguably beautiful wife had volunteered to organize and host the freakin
g festivities. And she’d signed up for this duty while she’d been NINE months pregnant, knowing full well that he’d never be able to deny her anything that close to delivering their child. Never mind the fact that Devil had known that she would be a brand new mother, running on infinitesimal amounts of sleep and only functional thanks to copious doses of caffeine. None of that had mattered a single iota. On the contrary, Molly had forged ahead, determined to give her gay bestie the perfect day despite being in the middle of giving birth to a brand spanking new tiny human.

  Yeah, it was entirely possible that his wife had gone certifiably insane. In fact, he would have been willing to place a cash bet on it. He’d have been thrilled to have blamed her insanity on pregnancy hormones, but even after his own little Devlynn had made her appearance a mere eight weeks ago, Molly had continued to insist on spearheading Operation: Get the Guys Hitched.

  And when was this anticipated ceremony set to commence, you ask?

  VALENTINE’S DAY!

  That’s right. Their good friends, Gay and Gayer, had chosen the most stereotypical holiday of all time to tether the ol’ ball to the chain.

  Idiots.

  Devil sighed heavily and shook his head as he watched Molly yawn widely and set aside the china plate while she made some kind of note in her ever-present oversized wedding bible. Oh, how he wanted to burn that book. He’d thought his wedding had been a challenge, but he was quickly realizing that his own special day had been a walk in the park compared to Mannie and Nick’s Big V-Day Wedding Extravaganza. And, yeah, Big Day should appear in capital letters here because Molly had insisted to him time and again that nothing less than their very best would do. (He’d learned months ago that it was really just better - and safer, too! - for him to turn over his credit card, close his eyes, and let the chips fall where they may. He was nothing if not a self-preservationist.)

  Bitterly, he recognized that it was now official. His ass was currently (and for the foreseeable future) residing in what could only be called a holiday hell of the Cupid variety (and as a special side note - if he ever got his shot, that arrow that the little imp carried around with him was going directly up that diapered fool’s ass). As God as his witness, he was gonna dance across that sappy cherub freak’s fuckin’ coffin if something didn’t give with all the wedding nonsense soon. St. Valentine could kiss his hairy ass… Devil wanted his wife back, dammit. Hell, he was a decent enough guy, wasn’t he? He didn’t mind loaning Molly out for her wacky friend’s wedding adventure, but all this craziness had gotten so far out of hand that it could be spotted from the space station.

  Lifting his hand, Devil rubbed his jaw, the short hairs of his five o’clock shadow abrading his palm as he stared at his weary wife with a resigned eye. Surrounded by china plates and paper saucers full of half-eaten wedding cake samples, she was still a vision of loveliness that made his heart melt into mush and his dick harden to the point of painfulness. She was a vision, and he was honest enough with himself to be able to admit that he was a lucky son of a bitch to have convinced her to be his. The truth was that his Molly was the light that shined at the end of his very long tunnel, beckoning him toward her. Well, at least she would beckon if she could find time to devote a little of her attention toward him. Lately, his current enemies were making that a little difficult for her. Moving his gaze to the interlopers that sat on either side of his wife, he tried not to feel envious of the trio of cockblockers. He tried, but he knew it was an effort doomed to fail.

  Because right now, they had some things he desperately wanted.

  Like Molly’s time. Her attention. Her fucking smile.

  They had it, and he wanted it.

  NOW!

  Lately, however, Molly’s best friends, Mannie, Vivian, and Samantha, had seen more of his wife than he had, monopolizing every spare moment she wasn’t with their daughter. Yep, every second Mols wasn’t with Devlynn, one of her cohorts was devouring her attention regarding the upcoming commitment ceremony like a prisoner eating his last meal on death row.

  If he was being completely honest, he wasn’t accustomed to being an afterthought in his own house. Between being a new mother and wedding planner extraordinaire, Molly’d had next to no time or energy for him. He couldn’t lie; that smarted. She’d become so obsessed with giving Armando the wedding of his dreams that she’d forgotten those vows they’d made to put each other first in all things. Hell, just this morning, he’d caught himself feeling jealous of his own precious daughter while he’d watched her hungrily nurse at her momma’s ample breasts. His own kid! He wasn’t proud of it, but he was self-aware enough to admit that they had some problems.

  And three of those dastardly problems were sitting inside the house with his woman.

  Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he reminded himself that all marriages had their share of challenges. According to his Nana, for every hill life offered, there would be a valley to balance it out or some sentimental crap like that. But damn, couldn’t he just get to the top of the mountain and stay there with Molly admiring the view for a few uninterrupted minutes?

  Nobody could blame him for how he felt, could they? Of course not, he thought decisively, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he continued to eye his wife. It wasn’t as though he was completely selfish. He’d been patient with her, dammit. He’d given her time following the birth of their perfect child to heal and rest – at least he’d tried. Was it his fault if Molly was convinced that he and their child couldn’t survive without her constant supervision? He wasn’t allowed to breathe near the baby unless her watchful eye was narrowed upon him.

  Not to mention, the six-week anniversary of their tiny little miracle’s birth had come and gone over two weeks ago with very little fanfare. Both mother and daughter had visited their respective physicians and been pronounced hale and whole. It should have been cause for much celebration in Delancy Land.

  Suffice it to say, nary a shout for joy was heard.

  He hadn’t said a single negative word about it, but try as he might (and despite her obstetrician pronouncing her recovered), he STILL hadn’t managed to coax his way back between his wife’s gorgeous thighs and the marriage bed remained decidedly chilly. Despite that, Devil had tried his best to be the sensitive husband Molly needed. Instead of tears and a temper tantrum, he’d been entirely supportive, offering her cuddles and snuggles galore. No, instead of whining about their lack of a love life, he’d done the manly thing and resorted to extra long showers with only his hand, his imagination, and his memories of better times for company. Okay, if he was completely honest, maybe he’d shed a few tears in that lonely shower stall.

  Not that he blamed his wife….not exactly, anyway. He was well aware that she was burning the candle at both ends in order to pull off a wedding coup de grace AND earn a nomination for mother of the year. Lately, if it wasn’t all about their daughter, then it was ALL about the commitment ceremony. But, Devil couldn’t help questioning when it could become just a little bit ALL about THEM again.

  He’d been hoping that tonight would be the night they’d rediscover each other. He’d made overnight arrangements for their kid despite Molly’s argument that she didn’t need any time alone. Currently, their little Devyl was happily ensconced at her grandparents’ house, being spoiled like the little princess she was. Looking down at the supplies in his hand, he gave himself a little mental pat on the back for being prepared. Glancing down at the bouquet of roses he held in his left hand and the bottle of Merlot he held in his right, he was fairly confident that he had the tools required to romance his wife. Now, all he had to do was get rid of the unwelcome guests taking up residence in his home.

  It was definitely time to evict the squatters, he decided as he squared his shoulders and strode with a purposeful step toward his ornate front door. Letting himself in quickly, he could tell by the tittering voices that the wedding planning was still in full swing in the living room.

  Of course, he wasn’t going to allow th
at to slow him down.

  He was Devil Delancy, damn it! He’d been responsible for orchestrating some of the most lucrative business deals in Atlanta history. Surely to God he could convince this bunch of yahoos to get the hell out of his house.

  Marching into the living room, he directed a smile toward his wife as he announced, “Honey, I’m home!”

  She (and her minions), however, barely spared him a distracted glance as they continued to pass a dark bottle from person to person.

  “Mmmmm,” Sami hummed her approval as she savored the mouthful of decadent champagne happily, completely ignoring Devil’s entrance per her usual. “Molly is right, Mannie. Cristal is really the only way to go for the wedding toast. At least for the head table. We can always use the Anderson Valley Roederer for the rest of the guests. The wedding party, though…we definitely need the good stuff.”

  “I come bearing gifts, sweetheart,” Devil tried again, brandishing his roses and sliding them in front of Molly’s nose.

  Batting the roses out of the way, Molly ignored her husband and instead concentrated on the prospective groom. Arching one eyebrow while her pen was held poised over her wedding planner guide, she stared at Armando while she awaited his decision. “The Anderson fits our budget, too, Mannie,” she added hopefully.

  “Perfecto!” Armando declared enthusiastically. “The premium champagne for us and swill for the less fortunate! As Marie Antoinette would say, ‘Let them eat cake’,” he added with a playful wink.