by Fifi Flowers
From that moment on, champagne never stopped flowing as we gathered a crowd to celebrate with us in a lounge in our hotel. Our wedding coordinators kept announcing our nuptials to anyone that would listen and invited them to toast to us, much like they had done earlier in the day—or the day before since it was after midnight. I thought that I recognized a few of them from the pool cabana, but things were getting a bit blurry…fuzzy…my cue to bring water into the mix.
I had no desire to be kicked out of the lounge nor did I want to be arrested for jumping into any fountains—I remembered that suggestion being mentioned. I wanted to be conscious of what was going on and I definitely didn’t want to be hugging a porcelain bowl. Especially not when there were better things to hug—namely Jensen…my husband. The champagne did relax me and made me start thinking about performing my wifely duties.
It was my wedding night so that made it perfectly acceptable to fuck a stranger. Could I still call him a stranger since we had spent hours together? Many people didn’t truly know their mates, they got to know them as time moved on. I mean, I know that at the beginning of every relationship the couple is on their best behavior. Flaws always seemed to work their way out over time. We were like any other couple starting out…and we were married…I already mentioned that, but it is important to point out that fact. It justified my desire to give myself to Jensen.
A good girl, I had waited twenty-nine years…and I have to say that it was worth the wait. He was a man, not some high school or college guy wanting to get his rocks off and brag to his buddies, nor some one-night stand or bar hookup. I did what my mother told me was important and waited for my husband. For some reason, thinking about my mother seemed so wrong and funny at the same time and I started laughing like a crazy woman.
In that moment of laughter, there appeared one gorgeous, larger than life, Jensen carrying a bunch of shopping bags. His love of shopping surely made him look even better since I love to stroll along window shopping—popping in a shop here and there.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, setting the bags down and joining me on the bed. Oh no, I thought in my head as his mouth met mine, followed by why didn’t I jump out of bed and brush my teeth. I always snickered and thought no way when I read romance stories of first thing in the morning kisses and there it was happening to me.
However, I was not about to pop out of bed at that point since I was naked. He had seen me the night before, but it was dark for the most part. The neon lights of Vegas did create enough backlight for me to see that he had an amazing body and a large appendage ready to say hello to me intimately. It scared me a bit, but that part of him came into play after he had wowed me with his hands and mouth.
“I was just thinking about everything that happened last night…or I should say, in the early hours of the morning. Things were quite eventful…”
Like how he slowly undressed me—no laughter during that part—and kissed each exposed area of my body. From my neck to my shoulders, his lips skimmed softly and spread goosebumps over every inch of me. He mesmerized me, causing me to leave my inhibitions at the door—inside that hotel suite I was a new woman on a quest for ultimate intimacy. I wanted to experience everything with him. No stopping. No excuses. Just to feel every sensation and to free my mind to nothing but pleasure.
“You have a pretty look on your face…you look happy…you’re glowing.”
“I am happy.” That was a true statement and the glowing part was probably because my mind was wandering to his lips drawing my nipples into his warm mouth; sucking them, nibbling them, licking them. I swear I could feel it like it was happening all over again. Maybe because they were pebbled and rubbing against the crisp sheet as I held it up against my bare skin.
“Something tells me your thoughts might include the view from our room.” I was sure that my face was bright red as I could feel the heat. He had tuned in exactly to the moment I was replaying in my head. I hadn’t even gotten to the part where he ran his tongue painfully slow down my stomach after my dress hit the floor. Or how he took too many minutes to slide my panties down my legs while following them with his hands and mouth. He tortured me until he reached my…
I attempted to change the subject. “What did you shop for now?”
“Are you really that interested in what is in those bags at this moment?” His voice was sexy and I really didn’t give a shit about what was in them, but I was feeling a bit shy. Which was completely silly in every way…and not. We were in the light of day that made a big difference and reality was looking me right in the face, leaning in for another kiss.
I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t let him kiss me deeply without at least swishing some water in my mouth—a toothbrush with paste was preferred. Thoughts of monster breath would not allow me to feel sexy. Bravery won out and I sprang from the bed, heading toward the bathroom, leaving the sheeting behind.
Behind closed doors, I heard him chuckle which made me smile and then it hit me as I looked at myself in the mirror while sanitizing my mouth with his whitening toothpaste—I left the evidence behind. The reminder that I had lost my…started my period… I remembered him saying it was no big deal when he came back from the bathroom at some point in the night. My fuzzy-ish brain didn’t quite focus on his words at that time since I was still reeling from a high I had never experienced. When I took my turn in the bathroom, I knew immediately why he said what he did.
Not that it was much blood but it was enough that it had to be on him. In the heat of the moment when his fingers were sliding through my extreme wetness and another orgasm was rolling over me, I didn’t worry about anything. I was floating as he moved his hard body between my legs and his mouth on mine made me dizzy. He moved perfectly for me; slowly in a bit, slowly out a bit—letting me adjust. It had to be obvious to Jensen that his package was bigger than the average man and he had to work a lady up to accepting his girth.
I have to say that I totally appreciated his gentlemanly behavior at that moment. It hurt as he eased in and I did bite my lip, but only briefly because his swiveling hip action and his delicious aim at a spot I thought was a myth had me relaxing and moaning. With each glorious movement he made, I raised up my hips to meet him until a foggy haze took over and my body shook and tightened.
“Are you coming out of there or do you want me to join you in the shower before we head out for brunch?” I heard his voice on the other side of the door and the thought of trying shower sex for the first time sounded pretty good. I unlocked the door and let a very naked and erect Jensen into the bathroom and he wasted no time—readying the shower and lifting me up to carry me in.
What a thrill! He did not disappoint me at all as he held me up against the tile wall of the stall, angling me while sliding me up and down his mighty length. I loved the feel of being in his strong arms, the feel of his slick body against mine…and filling me. I was thankful that we…he was too caught up in the moment to inquire about my cycle not evident as I wanted to avoid the whole virginity subject. I just wanted more delicious sexy time with him and the pure pleasure between us seemed to roll on and on—I never wanted to stop. But at some point we had to turn off the water, get dressed, and go out into the world before we had to say goodbye.
Once we were dried off, Jensen placed the shopping bags on the bed and I found panties, a halter top sundress, and flat sandals. After thanking him with a chaste kiss, we got dressed for brunch and then went on a little stroll before rejoining our friends to jet to the airport where we caught two different flights to the East Coast; one to Boston, the other to New York. I hated to say our farewells, but I did love the departing embraces and kisses that were so intense, like we may never see each other again.
Chapter Ten
Jensen
Leaving Ireland at the airport was the worst feeling ever—I hated to say goodbye, even if it was only for a relatively short time. Every day without her was painful; I ached to feel her back in my arms again. I couldn’t believe how excited
I was to drive a rental truck to Boston to pick her up…to bring her home. We waited until the coast was clear, meaning her parents were out of town. She didn’t want them questioning who I was and why Montana wasn’t helping her move out as planned, before I came into the picture.
I was fine with keeping our secret as I had yet to tell anyone outside of our Vegas party of four. Eventually, we would have to confess to our parents but in the meantime we planned to get adjusted to living together. I had never lived with anyone other than my parents. I didn’t even stay in a dorm room or frat house during my college days since I went to school within walking distance from home. I certainly never thought about living with a woman since I preferred a dip my dick, love ‘em…fuck ‘em—no love involved—and leave ‘em approach. Having male roommates was not on my list of things to tryout either, so I waited.
When it finally came time to leave the nest, I had no desire to live in the same style as I had grown up in. My parents preferred to be in a stately prewar building by Central Park, complete with a doorman. Ultimately, I longed for something homier…like a brownstone. However, it wasn’t in my budget—it was in my parents’—and I wanted to buy it myself when I found the right one. Another preference was that it be in Brooklyn away from my parents’ crowd. Mr. And Mrs. Pax Callum are truly wonderful people, but I wanted my own life. Working in the family business kept me connected to them enough.
Brooklyn was exactly what I was searching for—to be part of a neighborhood. I met far more people living across the bridge than I ever did living by the park. Starting in the heart of the action, living in a two bedroom walk-up apartment a couple floors above a business, I learned the neighborhoods. I strolled each block, checked out streets that were close to restaurants, essential markets, and other handy shops. I wanted to live within walking distance of places that would add to and compliment my social life. The only need for an additional means of transportation was to get to work.
Eventually, when the time was right—my bank account was nicely supplied—a few places came on the market. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as easy to procure one as I had hoped. Ones I wanted were being snatched up quickly at a high price that often included crazy as fuck bidding wars. I finally got my foot in the door when I came in at the right bid on a brownstone not far from my apartment on a great tree lined street. The fact that it was a wreck may have been in my favor as well, but it had potential and a great little backyard.
My parents thought I had lost my ever-loving mind—it was definitely a project. The previous owners had been down on their luck and used the wood in the walls to heat the house. A plus was that I knew all of the fireplaces were fully functional. The walls that were still partially intact were covered with torn wallpaper—apparently the paper worked well to get the wood lit. Another bonus, thanks to a home inspection that told me that the bones of the house were sound, the plumbing and electric had been updated. I loved it instantly and saw it as a forever home with room to grow. And though it was a challenge to get the house repaired and the yard that was a mix of trash and weeds cleaned up, it was an enjoyable one.
I took pride in what I accomplished with the help of a contractor and his crew—leaving them to the big work like reconstructing walls and remodeling the kitchen and bathrooms. Another thing I had them do was to incorporate a street level apartment to the house since I had no desire to rent out the space, so why not use all four floors. I loved the change as it made accessing the yard easier without stairs and it eliminated walking up several steps to get inside the house from the street. A feature that could come in handy with the addition of children and strollers—thinking way ahead.
After the major work was complete, I found that I was pretty good with a can of paint and brush and not too bad in the gardening department. I even built raised planter boxes and laid down square paving stones with crushed granite between them for a patio area. The only thing missing once the fantastic shell was ready to be inhabited was furnishings as I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Nor did I want my mother’s fancy, in-demand decorator invading my space—having parents contribute to a few construction fixes was enough and luckily they were to my liking.
As I drove Ireland to her…our new home, I hoped that she liked what had been accomplished so far and I looked forward to her input. “Did you just move here?” were the first words that she asked once we had stepped inside after I had unlocked the front door and set her bags on the foyer floor, next to the staircase. Besides a pale brown sofa, two gray, tan and black striped chairs, and a pretty good size flat screen TV on a table in the living room, there was no other furniture visible.
“I’ve lived here about two years,” I answered with a laugh knowing that I basically used three rooms in the entire house. “What you see is a showroom set that I bought to replace folding beach chairs and cardboard boxes…and in the master bedroom I have a box spring and mattress to sleep on.” Literally, there was nothing else in that room—not even a bed-frame, nightstand, or a set of dresser drawers since there was built-in cabinetry in the walk-in closet that I had added.
I may have sounded and looked like a typical bachelor, but my lack of decor turned into a great thing as Ireland and I spent hours making the…our house a home. Within the first two weeks of her moving in she had me popping in and out of unique stores to furnish the entire place, I loved every minute of it. I also enjoyed breaking in every room and several pieces of furniture, keeping the local pharmacy in business with my condom purchases alone.
Celebrating our accomplishments, I took great pleasure sliding into her warmth. We moved perfectly in sync until we had each reached the point of no return and called out each other’s names or just moaned because we couldn’t form real words. I had to commend her on all fronts—both in the sex arena and with her awesome decorating skills.
Ireland had reconfigured the living room furniture on either side of the fireplace to be a quiet socializing spot—sofa and chairs facing each other with a coffee table in between—or as we often used it, a reading room where we cuddled up on the sofa. Another place we lounged in each other’s arms was the street level room off the yard where we had a large sectional couch in front of an oversized TV mounted on the wall. It was also the space where we lost all focus on the movies playing and took great pleasure in each other.
She made the house into a place that I could hardly wait to come home to and rarely wanted to leave…especially on mornings after she had awakened me for work in the sexiest ways. Sharing our four poster bed could be very dangerous to my prompt work commute since Ireland had a habit of sliding her soft, naked body over my morning erection that was always eager to engage. Not one to rush in the pleasure department, I took my time—fuck being on time—they could write me up, complain to management. It might’ve also been the fact that I was my own boss that kept me from worrying about going in late and leaving early.
Either way…any time, I wanted nothing more than to have Ireland wrapped around me and to feel our ultimate connection, physically and mentally. There was no denying it, we were an incredible match. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner and to be honest we still barely knew each other, but I looked forward to years of learning everything there was to know about her. Not to mention, the joy of experiencing new things as we moved through our life together.
We had already started some new traditions such as our silly Friday night feast or famine. On those nights we selected unknown restaurants and different cuisines, asking the person who took our order to provide us with dishes that were popular. Then one or both of us went to pick it up or we had it delivered, but we always ate it at home. Most of the time we sat out on the back patio at a funky old metal table and chairs set that Ireland brought in from the curb and spray painted bright orange.
Thankfully, most of the food was enjoyable and on one occasion that it was not edible—too spicy for us—we boiled some pasta and threw in veggies from our summer garden. I was not sure what we would come up with to am
use ourselves when wintertime rolled around, but I wasn’t worried about anything with Ireland in my life.
Chapter Eleven
Ireland
Everything was going incredibly well with our life in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, my little bubble burst sooner than I wished when I decided to inform my mother that I had not moved into Montana’s place but into my husband’s…my…our new home. To say that she didn’t take my news well was an understatement. But it really worked both ways as she came clean as to why there was a big rush for my marriage that had nothing to do with my age.
“Ireland Marigold Dumont—” There was the full name I expected. “—how could you do such an irresponsible thing to us? We were counting on you righting things—” I heard her let out a big sigh. “We have been losing key sponsorships.” She was quiet for several seconds. “Your fiancé’s company was looking for athletes—”
Oh shit! I thought to myself.
Putting my head down in my one hand as my other hand still managed to hold onto my cellphone, my mother continued. “They were about to low ball our client list at first, but your father knew what was coming and talked to them about a partnership that could benefit all of us.”
“Wait!” I exclaimed, pulling my head up, shocked by the words that I was finally comprehending. “So I was part of the deal? It wasn’t just your typical arranged marriage like you and Daddy?” She remained silent and I tried to picture the look on her face—sadness, I imagined—but I wasn’t sure if it was for me or the company. “Mother, why didn’t you tell me?”
