by Jolie Day
Their bedroom, on the other hand, was a deep, passionate red.
“Our place,” Lauren sighed, leaning against her boyfriend’s chest.
“Yeah,” Marc agreed. “But I feel as if we’re forgetting something?”
“Oh yeah?” Lauren asked. “What’s that?”
Without saying a word, Marc reached down and lifted Lauren into his arms, bridal-style, and carried her out to their stoop while she giggled, her legs kicking in excitement as her arms held onto his shoulders for dear life.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed, still giggling madly.
“What does it look like?” Marc retorted. “I’m walking you across the threshold.”
“That’s only for married couples,” Lauren snorted as he set her back on her feet.
“Oh,” Marc said, scratching the back of his neck. “I keep forgetting things today, don’t I?”
“What?” Lauren asked, her brows furrowing as Marc reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box and fell to one knee in front of her. “What?” she gasped, her eyes going wide as she stared down at him.
“Lauren Stanton,” he said. “We didn’t meet in the most conventional way possible, I know that.” He grinned up at her. “But not all of the great loves start conventionally, don’t you agree?” She nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “So,” he continued, “I figured since we’re starting our life together now, we might as well make it official.” He opened up the box to reveal a shining sapphire ring. “Will you marry me?”
A million thoughts ran through Lauren’s mind in the half a second it took for her to respond. Loudest was the voice that reminded her that she’d only known him for six months. But that didn’t seem to matter when he was down on his knee like that, looking up at her like she was everything in the world. And he was everything in hers.
Well, him and Emma, just a few feet away, sleeping in her new bed.
When she opened her mouth, Lauren couldn’t think of anything else to say except “Yes!”
Marc jumped to his feet and wrapped her up in his arms, slanting his lips over hers as he lifted her up and spun her around until she was shrieking into his mouth. When he placed her back on her feet, Marc slid the ring onto Lauren’s finger and then pulled her in again, slamming the door closed with her body, before carrying her to the nearby couch and laying her down to ravage her body.
Needless to say, no unpacking got done that day.
*****
They were married the following July, on the first anniversary of when they met, at the beach house. Lauren was barefoot as she walked down the aisle, holding onto Sheriff McNally’s arm, in his dress uniform. Her dress was lightweight and she had a ribbon the same shade of blue as Marc Kelly’s eyes tied around her waist, the skirt fluttering around her knees. Her hair—which she had dyed back to its natural brown—fell in loose waves around her shoulders.
Marc was dressed just as casually. He, too, was barefoot, with dress pants and a button-down shirt open to reveal the tattoos on his chest. His hair had grown again and was almost as long as it had been on the day they met. His clear blue eyes rivaled ocean and sky as he gazed at his fiancée’s form, walking down the aisle toward him. There was something predatory in his gaze that gave Lauren chills and caused heat to pool between her legs when she thought about their wedding night.
At the end of the aisle, she kissed the sheriff’s cheek and turned to her mother, who was wheelchair-bound, leaning down to press her lips to her forehead. There were tears in her mother’s eyes as she stroked Lauren’s cheek and squeezed her hand, before letting her go to stand before the man she loved and all of their friends and family.
One man stuck out to her. He was dressed in navy blues, his blonde hair freshly cut down to an inch of perfectly straight hair. He had deep green eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. She could see a tattoo on the side of his neck, peeking out under the crisp white collar. His smile was almost as charming as Marc’s and just as white. She locked eyes with him for a moment and he gave her a curt nod and she could practically feel the tension when he locked eyes with Marc. It wasn’t bad or negative in any way, but there was some challenge there; some kind of history that the two had.
Lauren wondered if this was the old college buddy that Marc had told her about. The one that had decided to go into the navy instead of Quantico. She remembered her fiancé telling her about how they’d always tried to one-up each other all throughout their classes. His name was…Cooper? Cody? It was something like that.
She turned back to her future husband and felt herself melt at the heat in his eyes.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister started, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Special Agent Marc Kelly and Dr. Lauren Stanley Stanton. If there is anybody who objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
For a split-second, Lauren was genuinely terrified that she would look out into the aisle and see her ex-husband coming toward her, his hands already outstretched for her neck, that crazed smile on his lips as he choked her, here, in front of all of her friends.
She snapped out of her daze when she felt a squeeze of her fingers and blinked to see into the clear blue eyes of Marc Kelly; her fiancé, her protector, her everything. He had a look on his face that told her he could practically read her mind at that very second. That everything was going to be alright from here on in.
She smiled back and relaxed when there was only silence around them. Not even a cricket or a seagull made a peep. It was as if they just knew; these two were meant to be together.
“Very well,” the minister said. “Let’s begin then, shall we?” Both Lauren and Marc nodded. He chuckled. “Do you, Marc Kelly, take this woman to be your wife? To love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Marc said, looking straight into Lauren’s eyes.
“Good,” the minister said. “Now take this ring,” he held up the ring they’d chosen together and handed it to Marc, “and slide it onto Lauren’s finger as a token of this bond.”
Marc took the ring and Lauren offered him her finger, which was already heavy with her sapphire engagement ring, sliding it one and whispering a small vow that only she could hear.
“No matter what.”
A tear leaked from the corner of Lauren’s eye and she hastily swiped it away, before turning to the minister and listening to him ask her the same question. She waited impatiently until she could finally say “I do” and slide the other ring onto Marc’s finger.
“No matter what,” she husked, her voice breaking just slightly.
Marc gave her a lopsided grin and leaned forward.
“Wait one minute there,” the minister chastised, making the audience laugh. He cleared his throat. “By the power vested in me,” he said, “by the State of Rhode Island, I now pronounce you Man and Wife. You may now kiss the bride. Well, go on!” More laughter as Marc pulled Lauren against his chest and applause and cheers as their lips connected in a feverish kiss. Lauren couldn’t stop smiling, which caused their teeth to clash, but neither of them seemed to care.
They were finally where they were meant to be.
*****
Lauren couldn’t stop looking at her body in the full-length mirror of the hotel room bathroom. She was bare-naked, staring at all the lines that ran along her body. Stretch marks and scars, both old and new, mingled on the surface of her skin, painting a picture of her life.
Some of the scars that Jack had given her were now covered up by ink, starting at just below her breasts and billowing out across her abdomen. She’d gotten the tattoo a few weeks ago and it was still odd to have the knowledge that it would never wash off of her body, that it held a permanent spot against her heart. It was fitting, though, for it to be there forever.
It was of a canary, being freed from her too-small cage. Her yellow wings were outstretched to their full length, her head held up in victory as she esc
aped the confines of the metal cage, which had broken around her. In her eyes was a fierce resilience. The detail in her feathers made Lauren feel as if she could reach down and feel them. The tattoo artist had done such a good job.
Marc hadn’t seen it yet. She had fed him some story about waiting for their wedding night, able to convince him that it would make it that much more passionate and good; that they would wake the entire city with their screams. Marc had been completely impatient—and so, honestly, had Lauren—but he’d waited. Nothing more than heavy petting and make out sessions for him. Lauren had taken a few late shifts at the hospital so she wouldn’t have to explain why she winced every time she stretched her body in bed while the tattoo scabbed over and healed.
Now it was time for the unveiling and she was, understandably, nervous. Not because she was afraid of what Marc might think of her new ink. She knew that he would love it and he would likely convince her to get more.
But her last wedding night had ended with her in pain. And it was ridiculous, she knew, to think that Marc would ever hurt her the way Jack had, but there was still something keeping her in this room, looking at her naked form. He had seen all her scars before, had traced her stretch marks with his tongue, had licked food from her chubby rolls…but rarely had that happened in the light.
She wondered if he would still find her as beautiful as he did a year ago.
There was only one way to find out.
Unlike her previous wedding night, Lauren didn’t have any fancy lingerie for Marc to rip apart. She didn’t want anything hiding her gift for him. She wanted to be bare for him.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the bathroom, still hiding herself behind it. “Are you ready?” she called out to her husband (her husband).
“Baby, I was born ready!” Marc growled in response. She could hear his impatience and it sent a shiver down her spine. She took another deep breath and placed one foot down on the carpet outside the bathroom. She heard Marc’s groan and smirked a little bit, inching her body slowly into his view. She kept her back turned toward him, sticking out her ass and shaking her hips for him a little bit, before stepping out into the open and baring herself to him, completely.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence as Marc gaped up at her, his eyes wide as they stuck to the center of her chest. This time, however, his attention was not on her heavy breasts. Instead, she could tell that his gaze was on the canary and the broken cage, his eyes drinking in every tiny detail; from the way the bars of the cage hid her scars, to the outspread wings that looked as if they were holding up her breasts, to the date beneath the picture.
He stood up, just as naked as she was, and walked toward her, his eyes still focused on the tattoo. Once he reached her, Marc fell to his knees to get a better look at the date, his eyebrows furrowed as he considered it.
“What does this mean?” he asked, looking up at her.
“It’s the date I was freed,” she told him, her hand brushing his over the tattoo on her chest. “The day he was finally sent away,” she explained further. “The day that we were free to be together. The day you saved me.” Tears were in her eyes now and Marc quickly rose, taking her cheeks into his rough, calloused hands and pressing his lips gently to hers.
“I love you,” he said, pulling back. It wasn’t the first time he had said the words to her, but every time she heard them from his lips, Lauren’s heart sang a little happy song and she felt like dancing.
“I love you, too,” she replied, trying not to choke on the tears clogging her throat. They were joyful tears, though; happier than she ever thought she was capable of.
Marc lifted her, for the millionth time—though it felt like the first—and carried her to the bed, sitting her down on the edge of the mattress. His lips left her, raining kisses down on her cheeks, her eyelids, her chin, her nose, her neck, her collarbones…
He moved down her body, covering every inch of her shoulders with his lips and tongue and teeth, before reaching her breasts and taking each peak into his mouth, sucking gently like he was worshipping at the altar of her body. Lauren moaned and felt herself become impossibly wet as she ran her finger through his hair, which was still spiky with the gel he’d put into it for the wedding. She had since mussed it, so now it was sticking up, making him look wild—like a tatted-up Tarzan.
Marc continued to move down her body, his lips tracing the lines of her tattoo. This time he pointedly ignored her other scars. He pressed a particularly long kiss over the date below the cage and nudged the place with his nose before moving on. Lauren’s legs spread of their own accord as Marc circled her bellybutton with his tongue, causing her fingers to clench in his hair, pulling at the short strands and encouraging him to continue down to where she needed him the most. He didn’t waste much time in getting there.
Marc’s tongue plunged into her with little to no warning and caused Lauren to let out a light shriek. She could feel the cockiness of his grin against her clit and she slapped his shoulder, but moaned as he continued his ministrations with the flat of his tongue over her. He stroked her clit once, twice, three times before plunging it inside her again and Lauren pulled her hands out of his hair, clenching them instead in the sheets on the bed. She threw her head back and slung her legs over his shoulder, gyrating up into his face in encouragement, muttering his name like a prayer on her lips.
She felt his arms band around her thighs, trying their best to keep her still, but she couldn’t stop moving. She was practically sobbing at this point, shouting out to the heavens as he brought her to brand-new heights that it seemed they had never traveled to together. His tongue wreaked havoc on her entire body, entering her and exiting her with such skill that she was certain he must have taken classes in it or taught classes or…oh, something that would explain this level of skill that he had. He was playing her body like a finely tuned guitar and she needed some kind of explanation for it.
As she reached her peak, Lauren’s vision went completely white and she swore, for a quick second, that she saw the pearly gates and felt the softness of clouds at her back. But when she came back to herself, she was lying on the sinfully soft hotel bed with Marc looming above her, a smile on his lips as he situated himself—and the heavy hardness that she could feel swollen against her clit—between her legs. She must have been giving him such a goofy smile in return, but she didn’t care one iota.
“That was…wow,” she sighed.
“Looks like you were right,” Marc replied; “waiting does make the heart grow fonder. And the nether regions.”
Lauren snorted and willed her arm to slap his shoulder, but it felt too heavy right then. He was lucky, she thought wryly.
Marc leaned down, pressing his lips to hers again, and sinking his tongue into her mouth so that it would mingle with her own. Lauren moaned and spread her legs wider until she could feel his shaft against her slit. She ground her hips into his, rubbing her wetness up and down his hardness, taking so much pleasure in the way he moaned and groaned and growled—oh how she loved it when he growled at her. It reminded her how much of an animal he was and yet how gentle he was still capable of being despite that.
When he bit her tongue, she nearly passed out. There was apparently no room for gentle tonight.
“Tell me what you want,” Marc growled into her mouth. Lauren could barely speak. She mewled, trying to make him understand, but he shook his head. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“Fuck me!” Lauren gasped, still grinding against him, feeling him grow ever harder against her clit. “Oh fuck, Marc,” she sobbed. “Please. I need you so bad.”
“Are you ready for me, baby?” he growled. It was another demand.
“Yes!” Lauren cried out. “I am so ready for you, baby. Please, Marc. Please…”
Without another word, Marc sunk into her, going so deep on the first try that Lauren was certain that they were no longer two separate individuals, but one entity, occupying the same space at the same time. It
was physically impossible, she knew, but she was more than willing to believe it at that second.
Her arms raised, finally, and her nails planted themselves firmly on his back, scratching down and making him hiss out in a combination of pain and pleasure. She raised her legs and crossed them at the small of his back, encouraging him to move hard and fast inside her, feeling herself stretch around him and letting out moans and groans that matched his. The bed creaked beneath them and for a second Lauren worried that they might break the frame or the mattress or…
Oh, who the hell cared?
Marc’s hips pistoned into her, forcing her closer and closer to that edge, the knot in the pit of her stomach coiling tighter and tighter and tighter until…
“I’m coming!” Lauren shrieked, her nails digging into his back. “Oh fuck! Marc!”
“Lauren!” he roared, releasing inside of her with a few hard pumps of his hips. “Fuck!”
Lauren saw heaven for the second time and floated back to earth to find herself trapped beneath her husband’s body and not caring for a second. He was like a blanket on top of her, keeping her warm and safe and secure. He would never try to cage her or subdue her. He would only love her; only protect her.
No matter what.
THE END
Since taking leave from the Navy, Carter’s life has gone in a completely different direction, bringing him to Los Angeles at the exact same time and in the same place as a mysterious woman with long dark hair and curves that would fit perfectly in his hands. From the second they lock eyes, the electricity between them is impossible to deny, but Carter doesn’t have time to waste with the Navy pulling him in one direction and his bike pulling him in the other. Even if he can’t seem to stop running into this woman he only knows as ‘Liz’. Will he be able to resist the urge to take her to bed again and make a choice about where he wants to go?
Find out in the next romance novel. Available soon! Visit and follow Jolie Day's author page on Amazon. Don’t miss out on Jolie’s exclusive updates and exclusive books. Sign up at: www.jolieday.gr8.com.
