Playboy Ever After

by Chance Carter

  “I can assure you that my son is not a man who would enter into something as serious as a marriage without thinking it through. He just wouldn’t do it.” She took a sip of her drink, smacking her lips dramatically. “I had a similar thought, you know, and I interrogated him. I can assure you his desires are quite genuine in nature.”

  This. This was what I needed to hear today.

  My heart swelled, and the final piece of my dream wedding—an enthusiastic, loving groom—fell into place.

  “Let’s do this.”

  It was amazing to think how long I’d been planning the details of this wedding. My Pinterest board was full of ideas for center pieces, chair covers, even place settings. I’d spent hours browsing and organizing for a wedding that I half-expected never to occur.

  If it did happen, I figured as I planned, each of these minute details would shine like a beacon to me on the actual day. I would traipse down the aisle feeling accomplished, like I’d done a good job of preparing a slideshow presentation or thrown a good party.

  One thing I’d never planned for, never anticipated, was forgetting that any of those details existed, which is exactly what happened to me the moment the doors to the ceremony space swung open to admit me.

  It didn’t matter that the roses were the right shade of cream, or that the chairs were perfectly arranged in rows of eight on either side of the aisle. It didn’t matter that Max’s tux had sprigs of baby’s breath in his pocket that matched my bouquet. None of it mattered a lick.

  The only thing that mattered wasn’t a thing at all, but a man. He was tall, broad, and had a grin that could disarm a ticking bomb. His eyes were the blue of rolling waves, and every time I looked into them I risked getting lost. And sometimes I hoped I would.

  And this man, this beautiful person who had helped lift me out of a funk I’d been swirling in for years, was now waiting for me at the end of the carpeted aisle. And it was our wedding day.

  It could have been on a beach in Mexico or in a crappy twenty-four-hour chapel in Vegas. It could have been on the back of a camel somewhere in the middle of the desert. The moment my eyes landed on him I no longer cared where the damn wedding was held or what kind of flowers were in the centerpieces. More than anything, I just wanted Max for the rest of my life.

  Everyone stood as I walked through the door. I was surprised to see how many people Max had managed to corral on such short notice. Half of the office was here, as well as a fair few unfamiliar faces who I assumed were Westfield family friends.

  What surprised me the most was the two familiar faces from the front row, both staring at me, teary-eyed. My parents. How had Max found my parents?

  One of the things that had never featured into my wedding planning was my family. I never intended to have my father walk me down the aisle, and had no dress picked out for the mother of the bride. Max knew that, but he’d invited them here anyway. I wouldn’t have, but now that I was seeing them for the first time in years, I was able to see through all the manipulation and bad feelings. I was grateful they were here. I didn’t know how much longer we could go on like this, with me pretending that the whole state of Illinois didn’t exist and that I’d sprung from the dirt instead of from my mother’s womb.

  It was time to forgive them. Maybe not today, but sometime soon. Today was my wedding day, though, and everything between us needed to be cast aside.

  “Hey beautiful.”

  I was still standing in the doorway, clutching my bouquet in a death grip as I absorbed everything going on around me.

  Max was holding a microphone now, his other hand thrust casually in his pants pocket.

  “Hey,” I replied weakly.

  “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “I wasn’t going to miss my own wedding, was I?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Max’s eyes twinkled. “Before you walk down that aisle and make me the luckiest man in the world, I wanted to say a couple things. I know the speeches are generally after the ceremony, but we’re not exactly doing things by the book here, are we?”

  More laughter from the crowd. I giggled. This hadn’t been part of my wedding plan either, but so far I liked it.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who connects with people easily,” Max began. “I tend to form very surface level attachments, which is something that has vexed my mother to no end in my lifetime, but never really bothered me. I never thought I’d be standing where I am now based purely on the fact that I didn’t think I could be with anyone long term. I didn’t think I had it in me.”

  He smiled, and my belly filled with warmth. His eyes held my gaze while he spoke, and the other people in the room seemed to just fade away.

  “Then you came along, Emma. You intrigued me from the moment I first laid eyes on you, from the moment I first talked to you. You challenged me, challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. But I didn’t adapt fast enough and I nearly lost you. I did lose you, I suppose, even though I knew that it would only be temporary, because I would do anything to be with you. So I started planning.” He gestured around him, at the decorations and the guests. “I brought your dream wedding to life. I knew how much the vision in your head meant to you, and I was more than happy to draw it into real life. This wedding is a gift for you, Emma. The woman I love. The woman I would do anything to protect, and who I will cherish for the rest of my life.” He grinned. “And while yes, this wedding is a gift to you, the honor of getting to call you my wife...” His eyes narrowed on mine. “That’s my gift to me. I love you.”

  The room erupted into applause. I realized my cheeks were wet with tears and I wiped them away, laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation felt.

  “I love you too,” I mouthed over the din. He stared at me, smiling, and handed the microphone back to the officiator. With a flick of his wrist, the band in the corner struck up the Wedding March.

  I put one foot in front of the other, closer with every step to the man of my dreams and the life I could have never dreamed I would have.

  Things were starting to wind down on the dance floor, with only a few couples left swaying, including my husband and me.

  My husband.

  Me, Emma Westfield. My husband, Maximilian Augustus Westfield. Together we were the Westfields. I still wasn’t over it, and might never be. Good thing I had the rest of my life left to adjust to the change.

  “What’s on your mind,” Max murmured into my ear as we swayed across the dance floor. “You’re being very quiet.”

  “I’m just enjoying the moment.” I leaned against his chest, my forehead resting just under his shoulder. I felt so safe in his arms, so secure. Not just physically, either. It was like his scent wrapped me in some unseen barrier that separated me from the rest of the world. When I was with Max, I was free.

  “So, how’d I do?” He leaned back and tipped up my chin with his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. His lips were turned up ever-so-slightly because he already knew he’d done an amazing job. Jennifer Lopez had nothing on him when it came to wedding planning.

  “It was everything I dreamed it to be, and yet not at all what I pictured,” I replied.

  A troubled frown marred his handsome features. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  I laughed, “Yes. It’s a good thing…a very good thing.”

  He released my chin and folded me back against his chest.

  “Good.”

  We continued to sway, letting the music carry us around the floor. I never wanted the moment to end. Tonight had been perfect, even if I’d had an unanticipated conversation with my parents that I had to get through. It had gone better than I imagined it would, and for the first time in years I began to think that maybe we could have some sort of relationship going forward. The reception dinner was delicious and fun, with both Willow and Jeremy giving speeches that had me in tears. And now, tired but happy, I was ready for whatever the rest of my life wanted to throw at me.

  Max’s chest rumbled an
d I looked up at him questioningly to find the source of his laughter. His attention was fixed somewhere behind me, and I craned my neck to see what it was.

  “They’re getting very cozy,” Max commented lowly.

  Jeremy and Willow were dancing at the other end of the floor. Her arms wound around his neck while his circled her waist, and the position was so intimate that I began to wonder if the wedding wasn’t the only thing Willow kept from me these past few weeks.

  I turned back to Max and grinned. “When the hell did that happen?”

  He shrugged his burly shoulders and spun me. “I don’t know. Crazier things have happened, I suppose.”

  “Thank you for today, Max. I don’t know if I’ve said that yet. Or enough.”

  “No, babe, thank you.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m just glad I get to keep you forever.”

  “I mean it.” I caught his gaze. “You didn’t have to invite my parents or make your mom get ready with me or any of that. I appreciate it.”

  His eyes crinkled with warmth. “I’m glad you liked it. I tried to invite Lance, but he didn’t show for some reason.”

  I laughed and punched him in the arm. “You scoundrel.”

  “Your scoundrel,” he corrected.

  And my scoundrel he was and would always be. A scoundrel who wore business suits, but occasionally threw punches, who was completely inappropriate in the workplace, but always seemed to do the right thing.

  A scoundrel who stole my heart with an easy smile and a bucketful of innuendo.

  My scoundrel.

  Chapter 34

  Max

  I was beginning to see the appeal of weddings. I already saw the appeal of marriage, and would never regret the vows I made today. Weddings, on the other hand, had always seemed a concept that was a bit over the top to me. They were expensive and seemed pointless for anything other than overindulging and rubbing one’s wealth in the face of another. But, I’d never been to a wedding quite like my own, so filled with love and happiness. The ones I went to were usually dull affairs with society people I had no interest in, and who had even less interest in each other.

  But this, this was perfection.

  The lights, the atmosphere, the beautiful blushing bride. I wished I could relive it over and over again.

  But if I relived it over and over again, I would never get to the real fun part of the evening, which was where we were headed now.

  “I swear to God, Max, if you drop me on my wedding day I will spend the rest of my life making yours a living hell.”

  I hefted Emma further up into my arms, making a show of nearly losing my hold on her. In truth, she weighed next to nothing, and it would take one hell of a plot twist for me to drop her. I liked teasing her though.

  “I’d like to see you try,” I commented, grinning down at her as we made our way down the hallway.

  She glared back sourly at me. “Don’t test me.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  I’d insisted on carrying her the entire way up to our hotel suite, even though she’d said it was only necessary for me to carry her over the threshold. But, as far as I was concerned, it was go big or go home.

  We reached the door and I adjusted my grip while I pulled the key card out of my back pocket. She hummed her displeasure at the jostling. I just laughed.

  The door swung open and I stepped through, depositing her safely on the ground once we were inside. She adjusted her dress, smoothing out the creases.

  “I wouldn’t bother with that,” I said, pressing the door closed. “I’m about to rip that off you.”

  “No ripping!” Her eyes widened, “It’s a Pnina Tornai.”

  I stalked toward her, smirking. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “It means you can’t rip it!”

  I grabbed her shoulders and spun her so her back was to me, running my fingers down the line of pearl buttons holding her dress together. She shivered.

  “Cold, baby?”

  Emma shook her head, glancing back over her shoulder at me. I stared deep into her eyes as I undid the first button with care. Then the second. I went down the entire back, going through God only knew how many buttons until the dress gaped open to reveal her smooth back.

  The graceful curve of her neck called to me, and I couldn’t resist it any longer. I dove down and sucked on her throat, pulling her back hard against my chest and letting my hands roam along the lacy bodice of the dress.

  “I missed you,” I murmured.

  “I missed you too.”

  I nibbled on her neck as I pulled the shoulders down, easing the dress off until it slid to the floor with a quiet whoosh. She was wearing nothing but a white lace bra and panties underneath, and it was so hot my cock instantly stiffened. I turned her in my arms and held her at a distance while my eyes hungrily devoured the image like a tasty morsel.

  “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

  Her face lit up. “I would say you’ve never looked more handsome, but I think your look could be improved by the removal of a piece of clothing or two.”

  “Who am I to deny a request from my wife?”

  I slid out of my tuxedo jacket and let it fall to the floor. Emma watched me with interest as I moved down the buttons of my shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of my pants once I reached the bottom, so that it fell loose and open.

  “That’s a bit better,” she teased, strutting toward me like a fantasy come to life.

  Her fingers slipped under my shirt and guided it down my arms until it joined the jacket on the floor. My skin prickled from her touch, and I found myself unable to move. I watched her as she traced each of my muscles with her fingertips, loving how the gold band on her left hand winked in the light.

  I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold back before I devoured her. Those sumptuous breasts spilled over the cups of her bra, beckoning me. There was something so virginal, yet sexy about the white lace lingerie.

  Emma leaned forward and pressed her hot lips to my nipple, nibbling on the sensitive flesh. I groaned, shaking, and gripped her by the hips to draw her close. She kissed up my chest, to my collarbone, which was as far as she could reach unaided, and looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

  A growl rippled from my throat. I’d reached my breaking point.

  I fisted her hair in my hand and tipped her head back, covering her mouth with mine and taking her in a dominant, bruising kiss. She moaned and curved against me, pressing those delicious mounds flat against my chest.

  Her mouth was sweet with wine. I plunged my tongue inside and explored, holding her head in place. She wouldn’t have struggled anyway, but I wanted to know that if I held her here, I could keep he here forever—pressed up against me with her lips desperately mashing against my own.

  Planning this wedding had been stressful. The whole time I kept wondering if it was all in vain, if I’d get everything in place only for her to reject me at the last minute. I wouldn’t have blamed her either, considering that most weddings were preceded by an engagement, not a kidnapping. The relief that surged through me when I got the call from Willow letting me know that everything was on was nothing compared to the relief I felt at having her in my arms again and knowing I wasn’t going to lose her this time. We were on the same page. So deliciously on the same page.

  “I love you,” I said against her lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She nibbled my lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. “More and more with every second.”

  I chuckled, moving one hand to her plump rear and squeezing. “Let’s keep that momentum going.”

  The honeymoon suite was a gigantic suite of rooms overlooking the Hudson. It was elegantly furnished, with the centerpiece being a California king size bed laid covered in white Egyptian cotton sheets with an impossibly high thread count. I began to push Emma back in this direction, never letting our mouths separate for even a second.

  We reached the bed and I pushed her g
ently down onto it while I undid my pants and slipped out of them. My cock throbbed with need, and I took great pleasure in knowing that I’d get to have her a multitude of ways before the night was through.

  Emma looked so perfect, lying against white bedspread, her pale skin faintly flushed around her breasts and cheeks. The whole wedding would’ve been worth it just for this moment.

  I pulled off my boxers and released my hard length, which Emma’s eyes immediately swung to. She bit her lip as I groaned.

  “Go further up the bed,” I commanded. “I want lots of space.”

  She grinned at my request and scooted up the bedspread, anxiously awaiting my next command. She was always so compliant, so willing. It was enough to drive a man insane with lust.

  I climbed across the sheets, parting her thighs and settling between them to grind my cock against her mound as I kissed her. Her panties were deliciously damp, and I parted her folds with my fingers to test her wetness.

  “Fuck, baby,” I moaned, nibbling on her neck. “I don’t know if I’ll last. You feel so fucking good.”

  “We’ve got all night,” she said, mirroring my thoughts. Goddamn I loved this woman.

  I reached under her back with my free hand and unclipped her bra, tossing it to the side. Her tits jiggled enticingly and I bent my head to feast on them while I probed her heat, stroking her clit with a circular motion that sent her hips bucking off the bed. I drew one taut nipple into my mouth, rolling it between my teeth, then released it to move onto the next. Emma’s breaths were coming heavy now, and I could tell from the way her nails clawed into my back that she was in ecstasy. Fuck, I was in ecstasy too. Her pussy was my heaven.

  “God, I’m like a firework about to go off,” she groaned. “I haven’t masturbated or anything since we broke up.”

  “Seriously?” I grinned up at her, swirling my thumb faster. She squirmed.

  “I just wasn’t in the mood,” she panted.

  “And how in the mood are you feeling right now?” I blew cold air over her nipples. The points hardened even further.

  “Please get your cock in me! Holy hell does that feel good.”