by Julia Sykes
“Oh, my baby!” Mom exclaimed as she rushed into the room. She slowed when she reached me and very carefully placed her arms around me.
“I won’t break, Mom.”
“I just don’t want to damage this beautiful dress.”
“It is gorgeous.” I didn’t recognize the soft, feminine voice. I peeked over my mother’s shoulder to find a stranger standing at the threshold. The woman was maybe a decade older than my mom, with streaks of gray in her curling black hair. I recognized her unique silvery eyes instantly.
“I’m Carol. Smith’s mother.” she introduced herself unnecessarily, hovering in the entryway as though unsure she was welcome.
I extricated myself from my mother’s arms so I could go to her. I paused a few feet in front of her, a little uncertain. The last time Smith had seen his mother, she’d accused him of being responsible for his father’s death and kicked him out of her life. That was over fifteen years ago. They hadn’t spoken since. I’d certainly never met her.
“You must be Lydia. I got your invitation,” she said, studying me warily. “I hope it’s all right that I came.”
“Of course it’s all right.” I reached out and took her hands in mine, drawing her into the room.
I hadn’t told Smith I’d invited his mother. Clayton had helped me track down an address and I’d sent the invitation in secret. I didn’t want Smith to be disappointed if she didn’t respond, and when I didn’t receive an RSVP, I’d assumed she wouldn’t come.
“I’m thrilled that you could make it,” I told her, squeezing her hands gently to convey all the heavy things I couldn’t say without breaking down. “I know Smith will be happy you’re here today. It’ll mean so much to him. And me.”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You’re a sweet girl, Lydia. I don’t know what my son did to deserve you.”
“He definitely does,” I assured her. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it. Can we talk after I get back from the honeymoon? I’d love to get to know you better.”
“I… Of course. I’d like that.”
Without thinking, I pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Smith had helped me become whole again. Maybe I could do the same for him by reuniting him with his family.
“I have something for you, dear,” she said when I finally pulled away.
“You didn’t need to get me anything. Just you being here—”
She waved me off. “I want you to have this for your wedding day.” She pressed a blue velvet jewelry box into my hand. “My mother gave it to me for my wedding.”
I opened the box, and the silver comb caught the light. Filigree interspersed with mother of pearl inlay made it shine with lustrous beauty.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathed.
“May I?” she asked.
“Of course.” I gave the comb back to her.
“Let’s do the veil first,” Rose interjected.
My mom repositioned me in front of the mirror so I could watch as she pinned my cathedral length veil into my hair. When she stepped back, Carol came forward to slide the comb in just above the swath of delicate organza. She placed her hands on my shoulders and met my gaze in the mirror.
“Beautiful,” she declared softly.
I smiled at her and rapidly blinked back the tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. Rose wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to look puffy for pictures.
“We’re running a little late,” Rose said gently.
I laughed. “Blame Smith.”
“Oh, I definitely do,” she replied, her voice lilting with amusement. “But I won’t tell him you said that. Are you ready to go down?”
I drew in a deep breath. “More than ready.”
Chapter 3
Smith
I took a moment to grin at Clayton, who stood beside me, but he was too busy staring at Rose on the opposite side of the aisle. Just before I could elbow him in the ribs, the string quartet started a new song, and the first notes of The Book of Love floated through the air.
Recognizing the cue, I looked to the ballroom entrance. Lydia’s father led her through the door, and I forgot how to breathe.
She took my breath away every day, but she was completely radiant in her white lace dress. Our eyes met, and she smiled, her blissful expression making her impossibly more angelic. She began to take achingly slow steps toward me. It was all I could do to stop myself from closing the distance between us and kissing her until she was just as breathless as I was.
When she finally floated to me, I didn’t bother to resist any longer. I cupped her cheeks in my hands and tasted her lips. The officiant cleared his throat pointedly.
I didn’t fucking care. I kissed her long and hard, until she melted against me. Only then did I finally pull away to smile down at her.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks were flushed, her gorgeous eyes shining. “I love you.”
“Maybe we should start at the beginning,” the officiant interrupted us.
I nodded my agreement, but I didn’t take my gaze off Lydia. The ceremony began. I knew what was being said, because Lydia and I had chosen the words. But today, it was a wash of sound. I was completely entranced by my lovely sub, my beautiful bride.
There was a pause, and I realized everyone was waiting for me to say my vows. I knew I was supposed to hold her hands, but I couldn’t resist tracing the line of her jaw, needing to touch her more intimately.
“Lydia, I love you unconditionally and without hesitation,” I began. “I vow to encourage you, respect you, and trust you. I will keep you and hold you, comfort and shelter you, for all the days of my life.”
The glittering tears that had pooled in her eyes spilled down her soft cheeks. When she spoke her own vows, her voice was husky with emotion.
“Smith, I accept you as you are, and I offer myself in return. I will care for you and share with you all of life’s joys from this day forward. I give you my hand. I give you my love. I give you myself.”
The corners of my eyes stung, and I did my best to blink away the strange sensation. To distract myself from it, I brought my lips down on hers again. The officiant sighed, and several women in the crowd giggled.
“There will be time for that in a few minutes, if you could just wait,” the man entreated.
I released Lydia’s lips, grinning unrepentantly. The ceremony resumed, and somehow I found myself with a ring on my finger and the officiant finally giving me permission to kiss my bride. A loud cheer rose up around us as I took her mouth. I had to remind myself that her family was watching, and I managed to restrain myself from doing more. I could claim her as I truly desired later tonight.
“Time to exit, Smith,” Clayton prodded me in an undertone. “Unless you plan to fuck her on the altar.”
An excellent idea. But that could wait.
Convention dictated that I do some stupid celebratory dance down the aisle beside my bride, but instead I swept Lydia up in my arms and carried her out. My friends whistled, and delighted women’s laughter filled the room. I ignored them all and strode out of the ballroom into the adjoining reception space. I would’ve simply carried her straight up to the honeymoon suite and fucked her senseless if she hadn’t stopped me.
“Smith,” she said breathlessly. “Our guests.”
“They can wait.”
“No, they can’t,” she declared, her countenance so serious that it gave me pause.
“Is everything okay?”
She smiled up at me. “Better than okay. But you should put me down so we can greet our guests. There’s someone you’re going to want to see.”
“All right.” I set her down on her feet just as a mass of people began to push through the doors into the reception room, all of them heading straight toward us. I sighed. We were trapped now.
Later, I reminded myself. I could more than make up for this delay later.
Lydia and I smiled and shook dozens of hands as our friend
s and her relatives came to congratulate us. Just when I thought there couldn’t possibly be anyone else, Lydia reached for me.
“Smith. Our special guest is here.”
I turned away from her uncle to greet the final guest, and my stomach did a funny flip. She looked different than I remembered. Older. Harder.
“Mom?”
“Smith,” she said my name stiffly, and my chest tightened. The last time she’d spoken to me, she’d been screaming that I’d killed my father. I might not have delivered the killing blow, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t responsible.
I felt Lydia tense beside me as anxiety gripped her. Automatically, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her soft body against mine, a silent reassurance that she was under my protection. If my mother had come here to ruin my wife’s beautiful day with her righteous anger…
“Congratulations, son,” Mom said, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m happy for you.”
“Carol spoke with me before the ceremony,” Lydia said quickly. “We agreed to catch up when you and I get back from our honeymoon in Italy. Won’t that be nice?” There was a note of uncertainty in her bubbly tone.
I looked at my estranged mother. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she cut me off, her jaw firming with steely determination. “I want to be part of your life, Smith. If you’ll have me.”
My eyes burned for the second time in an hour. “Of course…” I swallowed hard. “Of course I will.”
Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around me. Even though I was a foot taller, the warmth of her love enveloped me completely. After everything I’d done, my mother still loved me.
But could she ever forgive me?
“Lydia is a lovely girl,” she whispered. “She’ll be good for you.”
“She is,” I agreed, my voice strangely rough. “Mom, I…”
“We can talk about it later,” she told me firmly. “This is your wedding day. I’m not going to spoil it.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” I assured her. “You made the day perfect.” I hadn’t even known something essential was missing until I saw her. Now, a sense of completion made my heart swell. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Smith.”
Something warm and wet spilled down my cheeks. I released my mother and hastily wiped it away. When my vision cleared, I found Lydia kissing her cheek. She murmured something in her ear that I couldn’t discern, but Mom smiled and hugged her.
“I’ll let you two get back to your guests,” she excused herself.
I didn’t want her to go, but Lydia’s small hand closed around mine. “It’s time for our champagne toast,” she reminded me softly.
“I’ll come visit when you get back from your honeymoon,” Mom said. “I promise.”
I simply nodded, not trusting my voice to work properly. A few minutes later, Lydia and I had glasses of champagne in hand and I’d collected myself.
“Only two glasses for you, little sub,” I murmured to Lydia before I prepared to address our guests.
She shot me a quizzical look. “Why? It’s our wedding reception.”
“It is, but we’re going to an after party.”
“An after party? Where?”
I gave her a wolfish grin. “Decadence, of course.”
I found myself in a kinky version of the ceremony I’d performed only hours ago. Decadence was at full capacity, with all the regular club-goers in attendance to witness our second union. Derek had herded them all into place, keeping people on either side of a red-carpeted aisle. White rose petals would cushion Lydia’s soft feet when she processed toward me. She would be unaccompanied, this time. The two of us were the only ones involved in this ceremony.
I stood at the front of the dungeon in my leathers and boots, waiting beside a petal-strewn bondage table that Derek had kindly set up as a makeshift altar. Kennedy winked at me and handed me the item I’d asked him to hold on to for the last few days: Lydia’s modified collar. I took it with a grateful nod, and he eased back into the crowd, giving me space.
The music changed from a background hum to a low, erotic beat. My focus honed on the end of the aisle, and a moment later, Lydia appeared from behind the crowd.
She was even more stunning than she had been in her lace dress. Her only adornments were a pale blue garter belt and white stockings. The long veil that floated behind her gave her an ethereal quality, and the flush I’d put in her cheeks that morning by denying her orgasm lingered. She looked both perversely virginal and sinfully hedonistic simultaneously.
This time, it wasn’t difficult to remain in place and allow her to come to me. I wasn’t waiting for her father to give her to me; I was waiting for her to give herself to me. Her symbolic choice was so much more important than my caveman instinct to stride toward her and throw her over my shoulder.
I watched her as she slowly made her way down the aisle, her hips swaying to the deep beat of the music with each step. My cock strained against my leathers, aching to get inside my gorgeous, fuckable bride.
When she reached me, she gracefully sank down onto her knees, spreading her thighs so I could see her pretty pink pussy glistening with desire under the low gold lighting. Her back was straight, but she bowed her head in a show of submission.
I touched two fingers beneath her chin to lift her face so her eyes met mine.
“My sweet sub,” I began our second set of vows. They weren’t elaborate, but they suited us perfectly. “Do you promise to honor and obey me?”
“I do, Master.”
“Good girl. I promise to protect and cherish you, for the rest of our lives.”
I held out her shiny silver collar so she could see the new amethysts that were set into the metal. She reverently ran her fingers across the stones.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
“Yes,” I agreed, not taking my eyes off her delicate face. “Lift your hair for me.”
She gathered her long dark hair and her veil, sweeping them up so I could close the collar around her slim neck and lock it in place. A sense of peace settled over me when the tiny padlock clicked closed.
My sub. My wife.
My dick swelled, and I couldn’t wait a second longer to claim her. I bent down and picked her up before laying her out on the altar. My compliant sub stretched her arms above her head, ready for me to bind her to the table.
“No,” I said softly as I settled my body over hers. “Hold on to me.”
I freed myself from my leathers and found her wet heat. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, welcoming me inside. I drove into her tight sheath in one possessive thrust. She cried out, and her back arched, pressing her breasts against my chest. I reached between us to toy with her hard nipples, staying still within her as I tormented her. I waited until she was whimpering and writhing on my cock before I moved again. I started with fast, shallow thrusts. When she started panting in need, I slowed down, entering her in long strokes that tormented us both. Her nails scraped down my back, and she pulled me closer. I growled and nipped at her neck, admonishing her. She let out a shuddering sigh, and her palms pressed flat against my shoulders in a silent promise not to scratch me again.
Perfect. Fucking perfect.
Although I was peripherally aware of the crowd bearing witness to our union, none of them mattered. Lydia was the only one who mattered. Everything about her was essential to me—her heartbeat, her breath, her love. She belonged to me in every way possible, body and soul.
My pleasure came in a sudden, visceral rush, and I ground myself against her clit to trigger her orgasm as I began to come inside her. She screamed out her bliss, and her inner walls contracted around me, claiming my pleasure every bit as much as I claimed hers. I drove into her one last time, riding out our mutual pleasure as she continued to moan and shudder beneath me.
“I love you, Master,” she whispered. “My husband.”
“I love you, my sweet wife. You’re mine forever now.”
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“Yes,” she smiled. “Forever.”
The End
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Also by Julia Sykes
The Impossible Series
Impossible
Impossible: Sean’s POV
Savior (An Impossible Novel)
Rogue (An Impossible Novel)
Knight (An Impossible Novel)
Mentor (An Impossible Novella)
Master (An Impossible Novel)
King (An Impossible Novel)
A Decadent Christmas (An Impossible Series Christmas Special)
Czar (An Impossible Novella)
Crusader (An Impossible Novel)
Prey (An Impossible Series Short Story)
Decadent Knights (An Impossible Series Short Story)
Highlander (An Impossible Novel)
Centurion (An Impossible Novel)
Dex (An Impossible Novella)
Hero (An Impossible Novel)
The RENEGADE Series
TARGET
SPY
SUBJECT
ASSASSIN
AGENT
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