by Rob Somers
I can feel the sweat dripping down my forehead, and my heart is beating through my chest, filled with excitement that I’m about to marry this amazing woman. Brock, who has been by my side for as long as I can remember, stands in front of me and crosses his arms, which are so big that if he flexes, he’ll tear his shirt. He squats down, so his six-foot-six, professional wrestler frame is eye level with me, and he has a very serious look on his face.
“Bro, you know I love you and I would do anything for you,” he says, as he puts his hand onto my knee and squeezes firmly. “I just need to know. Are you seriously thinking of leaving the club for good?”
“Dude, keep that shit on the down low. Piper and her whole family already think I left the club.” I glare at Brock, as I stand up quickly and look to the door, to make sure no one heard him.
“They think you’re already out?” He takes a swig of his beer, then tosses the empty bottle into the trash, and it clanks against the other twelve empty beer bottles already in there. “You stupid fucker. How the hell are you going to hide this from them?”
“Look Brock, you and I both know you can’t just up and leave the club. There are consequences to that shit.” I look in the mirror, making sure my bowtie is straight. “If I say I want out, you know they are going to come after me, or worse, come after my family. I can’t have that. They don’t know the club life, and cannot begin to understand it either.”
“Well, as your best friend, I’m gonna be straight up honest with you. You are crossing into some dark fucking waters with this shit.” Brock walks over to the cooler and pulls a bottle of Jameson out.
“Damn dude, does what I said require a shot?” I ask him with a smirk on my face.
“You think this shit is funny, Connor, but it’s not, man.” He glares over at me as he pours two shots. “You really are fucking crazy, bro!” He holds his shot glass up to me, and continues, “This isn’t gonna turn out good. Not good at all. But I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. I love you; you’re my boy, my brother, and I will stand by you through thick and thin. Cheers, fucker!”
We touch our glasses together before we slam the Jamo down our throats.
Connor and I step off the plane from our eighteen-hour flight from New York, with only a quick stop off in Los Angeles. I never dreamed I would actually be here, in Tahiti. My God, it is so beautiful, and we haven’t even left the airport yet! We have been planning this trip for almost two years. It has always been a dream of mine to come here on a vacation, but it’s even more amazing that we’re here on our honeymoon. The sun shines down on us, and there is a slight breeze blowing. You can smell the ocean everywhere.
“Connor, I can’t believe we finally made it here!”
As we are walking to get our bags, we are met by a tall Tahitian man, holding a sign with our names on it. Mr. and Mrs. Connor Teller. It feels so strange, yet wonderful, to see our names together. I am loving everything about it. Connor holds his hand out to greet the gentleman.
“We’re the Tellers,” he says, a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“Welcome to Tahiti. I am George and I will be your guide to your private hut today.”
I look at Connor in surprise, not expecting this at all. Connor grabs my hand in his and pulls me close. “Only first-class treatment for my new bride,” he says, winking.
George grabs both of our bags as we climb into the limo, which is decked out with wine, beer, water, and of course, a bottle of Fireball. They really must have known I was coming. Driving away from the airport, all I can think about is what this trip is going to be like, from the romance to the fun we’re going to have exploring the island, and spending quality time with each other.
“Babe, I can’t wait to see our room!” I squeal, squeezing his arm tight and smiling.
He looks over at me and grins. “Sweetie, you have no idea!”
Rolling the window down as we drive down the coast, I lean my head out slightly, taking in a deep breath of the ocean air. This is so much better than the smog-filled air in New York. No cars horns honking, no people screaming at each other, and the best part is, I’m here with Connor. My husband. I can’t believe I’m finally Mrs. Connor Teller. As we get closer to the ocean, I can see around twenty to twenty-five huts, seemingly hovering over the water. The water so clear you can see the bottom, and every fish swimming. The huts are standing above the water, built as if they belong there. It’s a sight straight out of a movie scene.
Pulling him up to the window so he can see the sight, I squeal again. “Babe, that has got to be our place!”
George answers excitedly. “Yes ma’am, that is your hotel. It’s the finest on the island. You two are going to have a memorable time here.”
We pull up to the front of the hotel and George comes around to open the door for us. We make our way to the front desk as George gathers our luggage. Connor hands George a hundred-dollar bill to show our gratitude.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Teller. If you need anything at all, you give me a call.” George hands Connor his card.
After checking in and receiving our hut key, the bell hop gathers our luggage on a cart and we head toward the rooms. Walking down the dock to our hut, I can’t get over how beautiful the water is. It must be fifteen feet down, and the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen. Connor opens the door, and as we walk in, I see the floor covered in rose petals, with a trail leading to the huge hot tub on the outside deck. I start running through the hut like a little girl. Opening all the doors as I go, I skip into the bedroom to see an enormous four-poster bed.
“Connor, you have to come see this, babe!” I yell, as I continue my tour of our home away from home.
Connor walks into the room and his eyes widen in pure excitement. I can see he is overwhelmed with how exotic it is. As I walk around the room checking everything out, I feel Connor snuggle up behind me. He wraps his arms around me and presses his soft lips to the tender skin behind my ear. As he starts nibbling on my neck, I shut my eyes, getting that tingly feeling from my fingers to my toes. His hands slowly run up and down my hips in a massaging motion, sending chills up my spin. Connor has such a passionate touch that makes me feel so safe, and loved.
I grab his hands in mine. “Mmmmm, babe, you sure do know what gets me going,” I murmur, as we turn to face each other, our eyes locking. Connor slowly traces the line of my jaw with the pad of his thumb. He knows exactly what I need to get lost in him. Our lips touch ever so slightly, and then his lips capture mine, and I go weak in the knees. Our kiss deepens with intensity before he grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat to him. I let out a soft moan, letting him know what he does to me. I love when he pulls my hair, making me feel like I am under his control. Gently, he traces the tip of his tongue up and down my neck. As soon as I feel the heat from his tongue on my body, the electricity of his touch moves throughout my body, and I feel myself becoming wet with anticipation.
Just then, he slides his hands around my thighs and picks me up, guiding my legs around his waist, and carries me over to the bed. As he lays me on my back, I hungrily look into his eyes, feeling both nervous and excited. Oh, my God, I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past five years. Connor and I both agreed we were going to wait till we were married to have sex with each other. We wanted it to be meaningful, and not just about the physical sex.
As our lips come together, his hand travels up my body, in slow caresses, making its way to the side of my face and he cups my chin so gently. I arch my head back, wordlessly asking for him to pay attention to my neck again. Connor takes the hint, tracing his lips and the tip of his tongue down my neck. He makes his way lower and lower, until I feel my shirt slide up, exposing the sensitive skin of my stomach. His lips are kissing every inch of me, pausing on my belly ring, and tugging ever so slightly. I’m lost in the pleasure of his touch.
He slides his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down, painfully slow. As he slides th
em off and tosses them to the floor, I look down at him, gazing at him longingly. Not breaking eye contact, he spreads my legs apart, kissing the inner part of my knee and working his way methodically up my thigh. I’m aching for him…to touch, to lick, to fuck. God, I want him in every way. I want his cock so desperately. I gasp as his tongue finds my wet pussy, and the touch of him only entices my senses more. Connor spreads me apart, his tongue expertly finding my center. He flicks my clit with his tongue, as he slides a finger deep inside of me, and I let out a moan of pleasure. Feeling him finger-fucking me only makes me want his cock more. My hands find the back of his head to keep him where I need him most. God, his touch ignites in me a building of desire that makes it so easy to submit my body to him, which I have been longing to do. Connor runs his tongue up and down my pussy lips, lapping at me, teasing me, while continuing to finger my pussy. He adds another digit, and my breaths turn into whimpers. The sensation is consuming and unlike anything I’ve felt before.
“Oh fuck, Connor! That feels so fuckin’ good baby.” As I struggle to get the words out in between breaths, I can feel my orgasm building. “Baby, I’m gonna come.”
Connor’s fingers speed up a little, bringing me to the edge. Letting out a loud and gratifying moan, I can feel every square inch of my pussy twitch. My orgasm hits me hard, almost undoing me to my core. “Holy shit, babe.”
I lay there for a second, catching my breath, before I scoot myself down the bed, maneuvering out from underneath him, and place my hands on his arms, turning him and gently pushing him down on his back. “My turn.” I wink at him with a sly smile and press a kiss to his lips, tasting myself on him.
I reach down and grab him, rubbing his cock through his jeans, and I can feel how hard he is. I start to unbutton his jeans, desperately wanting my fingers to work faster, to free his ever-growing erection. I reach into his jeans and wrap my fingers around his thick shaft. The desire in my eyes is mirrored in Connor’s. He lowers his jeans down his hips, releasing his massive cock. I begin stroking as I lean forward and take the head into my mouth, teasing the tip with my tongue. Slowly, I lower my mouth down, my lips barely touching his throbbing cock, wanting to make this last as long as I can. As I continue to push him to his limits, stroking and sucking, I become more excited at the anticipation of finally having Connor inside me.
Placing his thumb and forefinger on my chin, he gently but assertively, pulls my head up, until my mouth meets his. Kissing me gently, he murmurs, “You gotta stop, you little vixen, or I’ll never make it. I want to feel that sweet pussy squeezing me when I come.”
Connor scoots me back on the bed, my head laying on the soft pillows. He hovers over me, and I feel him guide the tip of his cock into my throbbing pussy. Connor slides further inside me, igniting an abrupt sensation of ecstasy. Hungry for him, I thrust my hips up, taking all of him, my pussy stretching to accommodate him, our bodies fitting together perfectly. We move together slowly at first, our eyes locked in a heated gaze. It’s a sense of pure heaven, one that we have waited five years for. This man, this moment, is everything I imagined it would be and so much more. The touch of his hands, the feeling of him inside me, the connection we have right now; it’s amazing, and I don’t want it to end. Connor wraps his fingers around my ankle and guides it onto his shoulder, trailing his fingers along my sensitive skin. He starts to speed up, bringing me closer to another orgasm. He is fucking me like I’ve never been before, and the pleasure I’m feeling is almost more than I can take.
“Baby, you feel so good. I wanna straddle that cock,” I whisper into his ear.
Pulling out, Connor rolls over onto his back, allowing me to see every inch of him. Without a second more delay, I place my knees on either side of him and grab his cock, slowly guiding him back inside me. I begin a slow, sensual grind, back and forth, and feel another orgasm building within me. As I continue to ride him, I feel Connor’s cock start to swell. Knowing he is close, I slow my pace ever so slightly; I want us to finish our first time together, as one. Connor reaches up grabs one of my breasts, palming it, his thumb and finger gently squeezing my nipple, eliciting another moan from me. He brings his other hand to my clit, his thumb strumming me like an instrument, and the tingling sensation begins to build inside me again.
“Yes baby, right there,” I say, flinging my head back, my breaths turning into pants.
Through raspy breaths, Connor groans, “Piper, I’m going to come.”
“Me too, babe, me too!”
Connor arches his body, never letting up on his rhythmic ministrations to my clit, as my orgasm overtakes me, and I feel the warmth of his explosion deep inside me, filling me.
My breasts heaving, I lay down onto Connor’s chest, where we remain for a little while, just holding each other. As I listen to the beat of his heart slow to normal, I feel safe, and am overcome with an overwhelming sense of love.
After we get cleaned up and climb back into bed, I quickly curl into Connor’s side, not wanting to be separated from him for even a second. He pulls the covers over us both, and we lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, where we fall asleep to the sounds of paradise.
After an incredible two weeks exploring safaris, scuba-diving, and sight-seeing in Tahiti, we are finally moving the last box into our new house. Connor and I have been at it for the past week and a half, getting all our stuff into our dream home. Settled on five acres, we are now the proud new owners of an old Victorian-style house. It’s what I have always dreamed of living in, with a long cobblestone driveway leading up to a wraparound porch with a wooden swing. Old white wooden paneling wraps around the entire house; it feels so warm and cozy here. Through the antique oak double front doors is our foyer, a huge area with that old Victorian look about it. The molding around the doors has been hand-carved, and the smell of old wood lingers in the air. Walking in, you can hear the creak in the old wood floors. The windows are so old they still have the old weights on a string, and they’re the type of windows that if you don’t open them every once in a while, they stick and are hard as hell to open. I can see Connor across the hallway, leaning over the kitchen sink. He has been busting his ass all day, and I’m sure he’s tired.
“Connor, babe, are you okay?” I walk into the kitchen and watch as he leans over the sink, in obvious pain.
“Yeah babe, I’m fine. Just a little chest pain, is all. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need me to get you anything? Why don’t you let me grab you a glass of water, and you go sit on the couch. You’ve been going all day long, and you need to take a rest.”
“I’ll be okay. I mean it. Thank you for being so concerned, though. Go finish what you were doing.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Gathering the last box to go into my office, I give him a kiss on the cheek. I need to get this room in order so I can start doing my work. I’m currently in the middle of my third novel; this one has been going strong in my mind now for a while now. My first two novels were easy to write and get published, but this one… holy shit! I’ve been writing all my life, short stories here and there, up until last year, when I started writing books. I had been wanting to expand my writing and met a few other authors who gave me the nudge I needed to write more than just my short stories. I knew I could write, but never thought about turning any of them into a novel. My first book sold like crazy, and I’m currently in the works with a production company to make it into a movie. The success of my first book was like a dream come true for me, much like this beautiful home. Connor has always supported my writing and frequently asks for me to read him parts of the books.
Unpacking all these books and putting them on the bookshelf is a big job. I have over four hundred books that I have read and need to get out of boxes, onto my new wall to wall bookcase. There must fifteen boxes of amazing books in here; box after box of nothing but a treasury of beautiful words. In the corner, I notice a smaller box, with “Connor” written on it in bold black marker. Why would Connor have a box here in t
he office, I wonder? My curiosity gets the better of me and I use a pair of scissors to slice open the box. To my surprise, it’s a box full of his old motorcycle club patches.
“Connor!” I yell out to him. As he comes waltzing into the study, I can’t help but assault him with my question. “What the fuck are these?”
He looks at me, trying to act stupid like he didn’t know what they were. “Um…Oh, those were from way back when I ran with the club. I thought I’d lost them.”
Whether he was telling the truth or not, I was pissed. “Well, I want them out of here. Throw them the hell away. I don’t want this shit in our house!”
With a look of disgust on his face, Connor grabs the box and walks toward the door.
“I worked way too hard to earn these patches, Piper. I’m not just gonna throw them away. I know you hate the fact that I have them, but that’s just too damn bad.”
As he leaves the room with his box filled with things from the life he lived before me, I can kind of understand where he’s coming from, and feel bad for snapping at him. Deep down, I don’t want any memories of that life in our house, but I must make some sacrifices, just as he did.
A few hours later, I almost have my study all set up and ready for me to start working. My parents gave me an antique, circa early 60’s typewriter as a wedding gift. I have it sitting on the end of my desk. It’s not usable but adds to the writing décor theme that I’ve created in here. It kind of looks like the one used by Jack Nicholson in The Shining, which is one of my favorite movies ever.
As night falls, Connor and I prepare to spend our first night together in our new house. Our bedroom is somewhat situated, with our bed and dressers in place, but there are boxes everywhere. As I lay in bed watching Connor in the bathroom, I can see him hunched over the sink again. There is obviously something wrong.
