Royal Atlas

by HJ Bellus

  I’ve lost track of the time by the time I finish. All I know it’s early into the morning and my baby has a piece of me on her now forever. I take a moment to stare at the art between her shoulders. Tears threaten, but never fall.

  I snap a few pictures of the ink on her back before waking her. They won’t be going in my portfolio. No, they’re for me to remember this moment forever. I stare at the picture on my cellphone digesting the hummingbird with its wings spread wide. It’s a vibrant bird with splashes of all sorts of color with a gold crown sitting on its delicate head.

  Molly is my hummingbird princess and I’m her cowboy. It’s a little girl’s daydream that will never die. I’m going to make sure we live out every single day of that fantasy.

  I bend down and gently kiss her lips. It’s more of a sideways kiss because of her position. I continue to kiss her until she begins to stir. I help her sit up and wait for her to gain her bearings before taking her to the mirror.

  “Is it done?” She wipes the sleep from her eyes.

  “All done. You’re an expert, baby.” I bend down putting my arms under hers, giving her time to wrap them around my neck, her legs soon follow, gripping tight around my waist.

  “You ready to see it?” I mumble into her neck.

  “I am ready, but there’s no need because I know it’s perfect.”

  I squeeze her ass in appreciation causing Molly to wiggle against my chest. I walk over to the hallway which is lined in mirrors on both sides and it gives us both the perfect view of her back. My breath is taken away once again when I gaze at her silky white skin and then the bird sitting squarely between her shoulders. The colors are fresh and so vibrant. Even with angry pink skin framing the ink, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Molly gasps before she speaks. “Holy shit, Guy…”

  Her words get caught in her throat as she stares into the mirror. She finally gathers herself to finish.

  “It’s more than I could ever ask for.”

  “Exactly how I feel about you, Hop.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “I’m going to give you the world, Molly.”

  “I already know that. Are you ready for the big day?”

  “More than ever. I can’t wait to make you Molly Webb for the rest of our days.”

  She giggles, but doesn’t break her contact from staring at her new ink. “You sound like a cheesy hunk from a chick flick.”

  “The shit you do to me.”

  I clean up quickly before we leave the parlor. Molly keeps her body huddled next to me while we drive home. It’s not the right time, but something about this magical evening makes me drive to the farmhouse. I don’t want this memory to end.

  “Where are we going?” She asks when I don’t turn up the lane to the barn.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Christ.” She sits up and looks over at me. “Are you role playing Santa Claus tonight?”

  A hearty chuckle escapes me. “Well, baby, if you’re into role playing, I’m game.”

  “Guy, seriously you’ve already given me everything I need.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m just getting started making you happy for the rest of your damn life.”

  The headlights of the truck light up the small farmhouse. It’s old, built back in the forty’s and has all the elaborate work of old construction. The wrap around porch frames the house perfectly. The upstairs screened in porch right off the master bedroom just adds to the charm of it. The white paint covering it is chipping and beyond its wear, but the one piece of advice Molly’s Grandpa gave me was to let the women pick the colors.

  “Where are we?” Molly asks, sitting upright to take in our surroundings.

  I watch her and soak in her reaction. She finally looks over to me when the silence is too long.

  “Our home.”

  Two simple words that make everything surreal in my life. I never thought saying those words would make me feel whole again.

  She gasps, throws her hands over her mouth, and continues to stare at me waiting for me to deliver the punch line of a joke. I continue to wait until she’s ready.

  “Are you serious?” She finally asks.

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t breathe, Guy, oh my God I’m speechless.”

  I throw my door open, grab her hand, and then pull her out of the truck. Her hand trembles with nervous excitement in my grip as we near the house. My hand shakes as I unlock the door. It’s clear we’re both experiencing the same emotions.

  “When did you do this?” She asks, as I turn the doorknob.

  “It’s been in the works for a while.” I shrug.

  “I can’t believe this.” She lets go of my hand, throwing both of her arms low around my waist. “I never thought about us having a house. Weird, huh?”

  “I know, me too. I think it’s because the ranch has always been our home, but this is now part of the ranch and ours. I’ll buy you an ATV to get up to the barn and it’s less than a half a mile from your mom’s if you use the pasture.”

  “Guy, you are the best.”

  I swing the door open and flick on the light. “There’s still a lot of work left to be done, but it’s all ours.”

  We step inside and I let Molly take it all in. She lets go of me rushing from room to room. She squeals as she enters each and then races upstairs to the master bedroom. I hear her bounce on the bed and squeal even louder. I bend over and begin to build a fire. There’s no bear rug yet, but a brand new dark chocolate leather couch ready to be broken in.

  “Guy,” she hollers.

  When I look up she’s standing at the top of the stairs with her hands planted on the old fashion banister. “This is so perfect.”

  Even though it’s nearly four in the morning we are both wide-awake living on adrenaline and our future. Molly slowly saunters down the stairs running her hand along the banister. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my entire life.

  “A fire?” She asks with a flirtatious grin.

  “Yep, I want it all with you. I had plans of making love to you in front of it on a bear rug, but the new couch will have to do.”

  I grab her by the hip and drag her to me. Molly melts into me as I undress her. Her milky skin glows by the firelight. I step away from her to turn off the rest of the lights in the house. When I get back to her she mirrors my actions pulling me to her. She undresses me with ease after I kick off my black boots.

  Our lips connect and devour each other with a hasty pace. Our hands roam over each other. Our motions are fast and this won’t last long. She pushes me back on the couch and I growl at her with the need to be holding her.

  “Now.” I hold my arms up to her.

  She shakes her head no and crawls up between my parted legs. Her tiny palms roam up my large thighs until she’s rolling my balls in one hand. Molly darts her tongue out licking up the underside of my strained dick.

  “Fuck, Mol,” I growl out while trying to control my release.

  I could lose it all right now, just like this. I bite down on my bottom lip while she takes me into her mouth. My hips jut straight up into her mouth while she bobs up and down. This will never get old. I want to so badly come in her mouth and then kiss my taste right off her lips.

  I grab her arms pulling her up to me.

  “You’ll have to be on top, baby. You’re back is going to be sore from the ink.”

  She nods and then turns around to face my feet. I have the perfect view of the top of her ass and my artwork. All of my artwork, Molly Marshall. I grip her hips tight as she settles down on me.

  She lets out a guttural moan while sinking down on me. It fuels my need to fill her completely. I push my hips up until we’re one. My fingers dig into the flesh of her hips. The action helps me control the pace as she rocks up and down on my hard cock.

  I sit up just enough to reach my hand around and strum her taut clit.

  “Oh, Jesus. Oh, my God, Guy. I’m so damn close. So…close,” sh
e sings out.

  “Let go, baby.” I grab for her hand perched on my thigh and drag it over to mine. “Help me, baby.”

  Molly’s shy at first and her fingers stiff, but I take them and roll them through her wet folds. When the pads of her fingers hit my cock soaked in her juices I groan loudly. Soon her fingers are intertwined with my hand while working her closer and closer to her release.

  I feel her hot pussy tighten around my cock and hope like hell she’s going. When she yells her first plea of ecstasy I fall with her pushing my dick up hard and fast while filling her with my hot cum. I don’t stop until my head spins and my energy is zapped.

  But a rapid desire over takes me. I have to taste her here and now. I gently lay her on her back and prop her up with a pillow, being careful of the bandage between her shoulders. Confusion fills her features as I spread her legs and dip low between them.

  I grab her hand tugging it down to her center. I help her find a rhythm with her fingers. Once she’s going at a steady pace and moaning I dip my head low lapping her folds causing Molly to yell out loud. I taste our mixed passion and lick her until she’s in a melting puddle then carry her to our forever shower.

  27

  Molly

  “Duct tape and pubes…not a good combo. Poor Heather.” -Amos

  “I’m going to beat that boy’s ass.” Momma shakes her head while zipping up the back of my dress. “He’s ruined a perfect dress and your back. Jesus.”

  “Mom, enough. I’m an adult.”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t put it on my forehead where I wanted it.”

  “Molly Marshall.”

  I spin like Cinderella in my wedding dress and stick my tongue out at her. I thought it would be my dad who would beat my ass for the new tattoo, but nope it’s good ol’ momma bear. Dad just shook his head and muttered something about crazy kids before heading out to work.

  Grandpa just chuckled and now I know why. He knew exactly how my momma would react.

  “Okay, are you happy it still fits?”

  “Yes, I guess.” She plops back on the bed.

  “Mom, it’s just a tattoo. It’s not like I killed someone.”

  “I know. I know. I just thought…” Silent tears roll down her face. “It would be Amos being the jackass to get one of those awful things.”

  “I’m sure he would’ve. It probably would’ve been ‘I have a big dick’ across his forehead.”

  She laughs lightly. “One day you’ll know exactly how it is to have your little boy wrapped around your finger.”

  “My son won’t get away with murder and be a momma’s boy.”

  She smiles through her tears. “We will see.”

  I strip out of the dress when she leaves the room. Tonight is the rehearsal dinner even though the wedding is two days out. I have a serious reason for having the rehearsal dinner so early. It’s my turn to surprise Guy.

  We’ve moved all of our stuff—which really isn’t much—to the new house. I cleaned the hell out of it since I’ve been banned from the barn until after the wedding. It’s like a damn prison sentence. Focusing on our new house is a damn luxury in my world.

  We both decided to honeymoon at our new house instead of leaving. I’m sure we will figure out a way to spend our time in the very best and sweetest of ways.

  “Mom, I’ll be back. If Guy asks any questions tell him you sent me on an errand.”

  “I got it, dear. Get going, bean spiller, before you reveal the surprise.”

  I smile back at her before running down the front porch and hopping into my truck. It’s a quick drive to the airport. I’m too nervous to listen to any music. I’m not sure if my little plan will backfire or not, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

  Guy has rarely talked about his other brothers he served with, but when he did, it was like a little boy bragging about his favorite toy. They meant so much to him and so did his time overseas and it was all ripped from him. I’m hoping to give it back to him.

  I wait by the baggage claim having no idea what these men look like. My fingers tremble as I think about the new man Guy came back to me as. He came home not caring anymore. He’s made it such a long way. These men are his brothers and family and deserve to be in his life.

  A new group of people exit out of the security portion of the airport. I keep my eyes open and survey the crowd still having no idea who I’m looking for. The group dies down and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth becoming so nervous and anxious that I can’t stand it.

  Finally, a group of men burst through the automatic doors. I hear their deep roars of laughter before I actually see them. One man is tall and strapping with no show of war on his skin or limbs. He has dark hair that’s still clipped tight to his head. He walks next to a man who is missing an arm, but has a dazzling smile, and is in the middle of pretending to air jack his dick. The third man is in a wheelchair rolling right alongside both of them.

  His muscle mass has dissolved. It’s evident he was once a big, strong man who fought for his country. A fourth man jogs behinds them swinging a bag over his shoulder. He slaps the man in the wheelchair in the back of the head as his deep voice floats over to me.

  “You’ve got more pussy game since gaining wheels, Simpson.”

  The group erupts into another round of laughter. My nerves are at a level ten, emergency threatening bursting disaster zone. I manage to garner up a weak smile, but internally I’m a complete mess staring at these men.

  They don’t see me yet giving me the chance to study them. These are the brothers who fought side-by-side with Guy and Amos. I haven’t missed my brother in a very long time, but hearing them jab at each other makes the heartache of missing him rush right back in.

  “Look a miniature Amos, but much better looking for fuck’s sake.” The man missing his arm hollers.

  I offer them a weak wave and then find myself being lifted up off the ground by another one of them. The tight hugs squeeze my rib cage together. I manage to offer him a weak pat on the back.

  “Put her ass down, Richards, Guy will kill you jackass.” One of the men hollers.

  “I’ve been looking for a good fight anyway. I could whip that pussy,” he says, stepping back smiling brightly at me.

  “Damn, you do look like him.” The man in the wheelchair nears me.

  “Thanks, I guess,” I laugh. “I’m more likable. At least I have that going for me.”

  That gains a laugh out of all of them. I wait a couple steps away from them while they wait for their bags. The men don’t go easy on each other as they wait, harassing each other about dick sizes and their mommas. It’s painful to realize how perfectly Amos would fit in with the group of men and how different my wedding day would be.

  I observe the men who act like young boys, yet are so respectful to others. It makes me wonder if they have any idea what these men have sacrificed for our country.

  “We’re ready, junior.”

  The group turns to me with toothy smiles and their bags over their shoulders. On the way home I learn their names. Simpson, Garcia, Richards, and Stent fill the inside of my truck. Simpson is the one in the wheelchair and even with his limitations you’d never know it. He swung right up into the front seat letting the rest of the men put his chair in the back.

  “Webb know yet?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’ve managed to keep it a surprise.”

  Garcia, the man missing an arm, pipes up. “That man was madly in love with you. Amos gave him shit about it.”

  “Didn’t he call him sister fucker?” Richards pipes up. His only scars are burns that run up the side of his neck and slightly mar his cheek.

  Garcia hits his chest clearly embarrassed by the comment.

  “Sounds like my jackass brother for sure,” I say, reassuring them nothing like that affects me. “He broke the news to my parents over FaceTime that Guy and I were together and had done dirty things.”

  They let out a
roar of laughter making tears sting my eyes. They catch on quick and quiet down.

  “No, no, no.” I wave my arm up in the air. “It feels good to talk about him. It’s taken all of us a long time to get here.”

  “He was a good one, Molly, a real good one.” A hand pats me on the shoulder.

  Then soon one of them goes into a story about Amos lighting his farts when they had down time. I focus on the road and the funny stories about my brother.

  When I pull down the drive I point out our house down the road a bit and explain our honeymoon plans. Once I park in front of the barn, the door of it swings open. The men all duck down like goofy teenagers. When Guy looks up at me he’s running his hands through his long shaggy hair and grinning at me.

  One of the guys howls and then there’s rustling in the truck making it sway back and forth. I can’t help but laugh out loud making Guy grow curious. I hop out of the truck and try to play it off, but the dimwits in the cab keep going on not making the surprise much of a surprise.

  “What in the hell is in there?” He points to the truck.

  I saunter up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “A damn herd of wild buffalos.”

  “Sounds like it, but really, Mol, what’s going on?”

  “It’s your turn to be surprised.”

  No sooner than I get the last word out we hear clear as day.

  “Who shit their pants?”

  Guy looks over my shoulder no longer intrigued with me, but rather who is in my truck. Both doors bust open and the men tumble out. I don’t watch them, but Guy’s face. His jaw drops and inhales harshly before truly processing who he is seeing.

  “Nuts, Garcia, Balls, and is that you Stent?”

  Simpson hopped down into his wheelchair and then sent Guy the bird. The men all rush toward each other, each of them take a long moment to hug Guy. Not one single tear escapes from any of them. The joking mood has evaporated and morphed into something unexplainable.