by Shayla Black
“You mean like this?” Nia spreads her thighs just enough to tease me and begins to rub her clit.
The sight of her fingers on her pussy has me gripping the wheel tighter. “Exactly like that.”
“Hmm. How much longer until we reach wherever?” She licks her lips. “Enough time for me to make myself come?”
As much as I’d like the show, no.
I grab her wrist again. “Your first orgasm as my wife is mine, Nia. You can get yourself wet and hot and ready, but you’re going to give me that first scream while I’m on top of you, inside you, kissing you, and making sure you know you belong to me.”
Vaguely, I’m aware that I sound decidedly unevolved. Being with Nia isn’t strictly about sex…but I enjoy every moment I spend in bed with her. I’m not against her making autonomous decisions about her pleasure, generally speaking. But not tonight. From now until the sun comes up, she—and all her orgasms—are mine.
Nia shivers. “All right.”
Slowly, I release her wrist. Her fingers delve between her folds again. It only takes a second before her back is arching, her hips lifting.
“What are you thinking about?” I demand.
“You.”
“What am I doing?”
“Making love to me. Slowly. Carefully. Touching me everywhere. Wringing pleasure from me. Telling me you love me.”
I can picture that, too. “That’s what you want tonight?”
Her head falls back against the seat and she closes her eyes. “Please.”
“Why? Because that’s ‘wedding night’ sex?”
She shakes her head. “Because no one has ever done that.”
Really? She’s had playful sex, intense sex, spontaneous sex, even slightly kinky sex. But she’s never had thoughtful, lingering, meaningful sex, the kind where someone revered her body, stoked her heart, and consumed her soul at once?
Come to think of it, neither have I.
“Then we’ll share this first together.”
The smile Nia gives me leaves me basking in anticipation and reeling with need.
Two torturous minutes later, I pull into the driveway and stop the car. Thank god we made it.
She blinks in the darkness and lifts her hand from between her legs slowly, looking disoriented by her lingering haze of self-pleasure. “We’ve been here.”
I nod, waiting for her to catch on. “We have.”
As she takes it all in, I exit the car and run to open her door.
“Have you guessed yet?” I almost hold my breath, hoping she’s happy with my surprise.
“Is this the house where you proposed to me?” she asks as she steps out.
“It is.”
“The house I picked out from the stack of listings? The one with the fireplace?”
A smile splits my face. “It is. And it’s ours.”
She gasps, a smile spreading across her face. “Seriously?”
“I accepted their counter offer the day after you agreed to marry me. I signed the paperwork at eleven this morning. I thought it would be fitting to spend our first night as a married couple here, so we can start building memories.”
Her smile almost blinds me. “That’s perfect. You got me a fireplace! I always wanted one as a kid.”
And she never had one. I’m so fucking glad I can be the man to give it to her. “Now, it’s all yours.”
Nia squeals. There’s no other way to put it. She throws her arms around my neck, jumps up and down excitedly, and peppers my face with kisses. “You did this for me?”
“We needed a place to live.”
“But you picked the one I chose, even though it wasn’t the best investment of all the properties you saw.”
“I did.”
“You chose the non-logical place simply to make me happy. I know how major that is for you, Evan. Thank you. I love it!” She brushes a kiss across my lips. “I love you.”
Her response is everything I’d hoped. “You’re welcome. You can refurnish anything you want, however you want. We’ll be living here permanently in just over three weeks, then you can redecorate and—”
“I’ll have plenty of time to set up the perfect nursery.”
My smile turns down. Her words jolt me with anxiousness. Fear. Will she purchase a bunch of items meant to welcome and care for a new baby that I’ll again have to cancel and return because fate stole my wife and child from me?
I can’t think that. I can’t be that unfortunate twice. Nia will be fine. She’ll have a baby—our baby—and we’ll raise him or her together. I refuse to accept any other possible future.
She squeals again, grabs my hand, and tries to drag me toward the door. “Let’s go inside.”
“One minute.”
I grab all the stuff out of the trunk and lug it up to the front porch. Harlow, bless her, set up everything to turn our master bedroom into the perfect honeymoon suite. I didn’t give her much in the way of instruction, just asked her to make it romantic and conducive to hours of pleasure. She gave me a wink and assured me she’d take care of it.
Beside me, Nia opens the door in excitement. Before she can step over the threshold, I ease the bags I’m carrying down on the porch step and reach for my bride.
“You don’t get to walk inside. Tradition.”
I’m more than delighted to pick her up, fold her against my chest, and carry her over the threshold. She slides an arm around my neck and cuddles closer. Instead of looking around her new house, she sees only me. The love shining from her eyes nearly blinds me.
“I want to kiss you right now.”
Her smile widens. “I want you to do more than kiss me.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Cook.”
Without wasting a second, I hustle her toward the bedroom. In the doorway, I almost stop short because I don’t recognize the place. Harlow has managed to shroud the huge mahogany tester bed in gauzy white drapes. New white bedcovers and pillows in watery shades of blue add to the romantic feel. Candles provide a soft glow all around. A second glance tells me they’re all battery operated, but the effect is still idyllic. Sultry scents of vanilla, jasmine, and sea salt blend in the air. The overhead fan sways lazily, but the fireplace is cracking and jumping merrily for my wife. Outside the open double doors, I see the low lights surrounding the patio and the pool, then the shift of the ocean beyond, visible under the moonlight.
I’m going to share all of this—and the rest of my life—with Nia.
I set her on her feet. “Wait here.”
She nods slowly, taking the place in. “Wow.”
Grinning stupidly, I jog back to retrieve the rest of our things, then haul them into the bedroom. Shoving the suitcase to one side—I’m hoping we won’t need clothes until we fly back to Seattle on Monday night—I grip the sparkling cider by its neck, find the two plastic glasses, and open the bottle.
The cork pops free, and I manage to contain the overspill into a glass just before I pour us each a few sips. I hand her one and hold it up.
She joins suit. “What are we toasting? Us?”
I nod. “You know I’m not good with words or sentiments. And today, I’ve got so many things running through my head.” Not to mention clogging my throat. “Now that we’re married and starting our lives together, it all seems so big. No, sharp. That’s not exactly it, either. More like soft but important. I can’t put it into words…”
“Poignant? Emotional?”
Those are words that have barely been in my vocabulary before now. I was aware of their meaning in an academic way before Nia. “Yes. That’s what I mean. We’ve had an…interesting road to get here.”
“By interesting, do you mean the fact you failed to notice I’m female for years?”
“Yes,” I admit sheepishly, then frown. “Wait. Are you saying you noticed me as a man before that night at the BBB Revue?”
Nia rolls her eyes. “Evan, of course. I was professional, not blind. I would have never acted on my attraction, especially while
you were married to Becca. But…I always wondered what you’d be like if you turned all that considerable focus and attention to detail on me.” Then she smiles. “Besides, I’m a sucker for green eyes.”
That makes me laugh. “Well, I’m a sucker for this one beautiful woman who turned my life upside down.” Then I sober and cup her cheek. “I can’t imagine ever being this happy without you. Here’s hoping we have fifty amazing years together.”
She clinks her glass with mine. “I’m greedy; I want more.”
I could point out that if I live another fifty years, it would extend me beyond the average life expectancy of the American male and that we can’t know whether I have any heretofore unknown medical conditions or an unfortunate incident might cut my life short. But her point is sentimental, not logical.
“I want more, too,” I assure her. “But right now, I want you out of that dress.”
As I turn her away from me, I shuck my tuxedo jacket. Next, I lower her zipper. It’s a quiet, suggestive hiss in the room.
“It’s beautiful here,” she says, trembling. “Thank you. I can’t think of a more perfect place to spend our wedding night.”
The dress folds away from her body, leaving the smooth expanse of her back to gleam by the candlelight. As I ease it down her hips, I spread kisses across her shoulders and up her neck. “I can’t wait to take advantage of this romantic atmosphere—and you.”
“Evan…” she murmurs as I nip at her lobe.
“Yes, wife?”
I circle my hand around her middle and lay my palm over her flat-for-now abdomen. Tonight, I’m not thinking about the baby or what might happen. I’m focused on this moment, on her.
I shift up to cradle her breast, reveling when her head falls back to my chest with a little moan.
“Be with me. Stay with me. Love me.”
Her words fill me with something I can’t describe. Rightness. Not the sort of certainty that comes from being correct when I’ve solved a complex equation or a complicated business dilemma. It’s not straightforward. It’s not tangible. It…just is. This rightness comes from somewhere deeper than my brain. It’s louder than my logic. It’s pure bliss. It’s a certainty stemming straight from my heart that I am where I’m meant to be with the woman who completes me.
Until now, that’s another notion that always confused me. Each person is an individual unto themselves, so how could they need another person to complete them? Maybe it’s finally feeling genuine love that’s helped me to understand. But as sure as I’m standing here now, I know my world will never be the same again if I don’t have Nia by my side.
“My pleasure.”
I’m not even conscious of what we do next. Our clothes seem to melt away as we embrace. We stand closer with every touch. Suddenly, we’re in the middle of our king-size bed, and Nia is under me as I kiss her, looking for new places on her body to both conquer and worship. Those seemingly contradictory urges should strike me as odd, but feeling them simultaneously tonight seems somehow normal.
With my lips, I feel my way over her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. With my tongue, I adore her hips, her thighs, her pussy. When she cries out and reaches for me, I have to be closer. I have to be with her. I have to be inside her.
As I ease into the snug heat of Nia’s body, I fit my mouth over hers and possess her in every way I know how. She opens her arms, her legs, her heart to me. I sink deep—body and soul. It’s more than a meeting of mere flesh and passion. Slowly, we move together. Until now I’ve never tried sex with this kind of unhurried reverence. I never needed my joining with a woman to be more than two bodies seeking mutual satisfaction.
Tonight, with Nia, everything is different. We’re making love.
As I stroke deep and steady into her, I bend to wrap my lips around her nipple, drag my way up her neck, then whisper in her ear, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
“As long as you love me, too, neither will I.”
Our pleasure rises, bright and inexorable. It’s as if the restraint we’re exercising to make it last makes the blaze between us burn hotter. Our feelings power the desire we share into something more mesmerizing than the mere rubbing together of bodies. I would never have believed how much emotions could heighten ecstasy if I wasn’t experiencing these stunning sensations for myself.
As we reach a gasping, cataclysmic, mutual end, I feel satiated, content, and far more wrapped up in another human being than I thought myself capable of feeling. This is my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward. I may have been married before, but for the first time, I actually know what that means. I’m going to love, honor, and cherish Nia for the rest of my days.
I tuck her damp body against me and wrap my arms around her. She closes her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction, making me smile all over again. If this is marital bliss, sign me up for more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Seattle, Washington
Sunday, December 17
After a few idyllic days at our new place in Maui, we squeezed in a quick visit with the new obstetrician before heading back to Seattle. The next time we step foot on the island, we’ll be new residents.
Unfortunately, that means I have a lot of packing up of my penthouse to do in the next week, especially since I’ve decided to sell the place after all. Engaging a good Realtor to list it eight days before Christmas might be less than simple, but I’m determined to get rid of the old baggage and start fresh with Nia.
I’ve just finished sorting out Becca’s half of the closet—finally. I’m giving away all of her clothes and shoes to a local women’s shelter that needs the donations, according to Nia. Becca’s jewelry I’ve consigned with a reputable jeweler. Now that everything is in boxes and I’m staring at the empty racks beside my neatly arranged dress shirts and suits, I feel lighter, as if I’ve lifted a huge weight off my chest.
While I drag the last of the boxes to the foyer, someone knocks on my door.
“You there, bro? Or you busy boinking your bride?”
Bas. I’ve hardly seen him since I returned from Maui. We’ve both been busy as hell, preparing year-end reports, dealing with a new malware designed to take down our security, a particularly insistent hacker, and our respective upcoming moves. I’m glad he stopped in now.
I open the door to find him lounging against the frame. “Hey, man. What are you doing?”
He takes in the boxes I’ve stacked against the wall. “Same as you, culling through crap and trying to decide what to take and what to ditch. I’ve lived in my little place for five years. I didn’t realize how much shit I’ve collected.”
“For real. I’ve barely managed to get through Becca’s closet and it’s taken me all morning.”
He turns quieter. “Was it hard?”
“No.” I thought memories, guilt—something—would nag me, but…nothing.
“So you’re putting her behind you once and for all?”
“It’s time.” Actually beyond, but I don’t say what we both know.
Bas nods, his golden hair gleaming in the sun pouring through the windows. “Good for you. Where’s Nia?”
“Organizing and purging at her place. She’s also got to sell her furniture since she can’t bring it with us and her landlord doesn’t want it.”
Besides, I didn’t want her to have to toil here with me as I finish closing the chapter of my life with another woman. I needed to say my final goodbye to Becca alone.
“Gotcha. So…how’s married life?”
I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face. “Great.”
“You reconciled to the fact you two are having a baby?”
That’s the one dark spot in my bright pool of joy. “Still working on that.”
Shock and denial still slap me every time I think about it. I don’t know when or how I’m going to embrace pending fatherhood again. Even the thought terrifies me.
“You’ll get there. I’m just glad you’re finally happy. I had a feeling about yo
u and Nia. But your announcement shocked the hell out of everyone at the office.”
“That it did.”
The whispers about us started just before Thanksgiving, but most everyone thought it was a lurid, unsubstantiated rumor—until we came back from Maui married. By mutual agreement, we decided not to say anything publicly about our relationship before we tied the knot. We didn’t want the gossip, and it was none of anyone’s business anyway.
“The employees may not even be your employees for much longer. You still waiting to agree to Lund’s deal until the very last moment?”
I give him a head bob that’s neither yes or no. “That was the plan. But now…I don’t know. The sale is worth a billion dollars, and I stand to make a huge profit. Then I can do anything else I want with my life. I get all of that. The thing is, when I think about it, I realize I’m already doing what I want with my life. I love Stratus.”
“What are you saying?”
“Maybe I don’t sell.”
Bas raises a brow at me. “Seriously?”
I shrug. I’ve been reluctant to mention this to my best friend, but since he works for me and is one of my chief officers, he needs to know. “So if you were already out job hunting—”
“Hell, no. For selfish reasons, I hoped you’d keep Stratus. I wasn’t going to start looking for another job until I had to. But I’m definitely not working for Lund. He seems like an asshole and that son of his…”
“The douche who couldn’t take his eyes off my wife? Yeah, that’s the other thing. I really don’t want to give Lund or his junior anything they want. It’s spiteful, but they both rubbed me wrong.”
“What about your biological father? Refusing to sell helps him, at least according to your whacked-out half sister.”
I’m not worried about Bethany or Barclay. “That can’t be helped. There’s no perfect solution. But the more I think about the situation, it would be hard to turn over the business I’ve built from the ground up. This year, we have twenty percent market penetration. Next year, we’re projected to top twenty-eight. We could be as high as thirty-four percent in the next three years. I know you’ve done the math on this; it’s your job. That’s a lot of return, especially since we’ve already done the majority of the capital investment. And when I think about keeping what’s mine versus letting an asshole potentially tear it apart… Well, I’ve already got a lot of money and a solid revenue stream. I don’t need his billion dollars.”
