More Than Words: Kissed By A Muse #3

by S. K Munt

  Leigh moaned and thrust her little hips against his lap. ‘Countless! He was really- oh!’

  Ryan twisted her clit again gently between his fingers and she writhed. ‘Better than me?’ he demanded hotly.

  ‘No! Oh god Ryan NO!’

  He spanked her again, and then moved back to her clit. ‘Really? Who was? Christian Grey? Gilbert Blythe?’

  ‘No one, I swear! Well there was this boat scene in this mermaid book with a guy named Tristan but that was before you I-’

  Ryan spanked her again and then pulled her up onto his lap, thrusting up and into her and feeling high when she threw her head back and began to rock urgently on him. ‘Come for me,’ he whispered, snapping the catch on her bra and watching the sexy little number slide down and catch in her elbows. ‘Come for me so I know there’s not going to be any ‘after’ leading man in this pretty little head of yours.’

  Leigh went off on his lap and Ryan quickly followed wondering how she’d gotten it into her head that he was the fantasy and not she.

  Leigh

  It was tempting to spend the remainder of the afternoon sleeping in Ryan’s arms in their exquisite hotel room, but Ryan was eager to get them to the chapel, seemingly afraid that the gods would throw some awful obstacle in their path if they chanced catching a show or something first. She’d noticed that Ryan was superstitious like that, always endeavoring to do things in a way that would keep some invisible force happy. He’d gotten her into his bed and he was thrilled with that, but he was afraid of breaking his word, lest it led to her breaking some word to him. He didn’t ignore homeless people- every time he bent and gave them change, even if it was late at night in some dark alley, even if the person stank of methylated spirits- Ryan would hand them a twenty and tell Leigh that it was all he could do not to bring them home, as Imogen had cared for him, because that could have very easily been him. It was the same with buskers- he always stopped to listen and clap and throw them change, regardless of how woeful they were, and as they walked through Caesars and came upon a section of slot machines, a despairing look lengthened his features, and he whispered to her that he didn’t understand how people could expect to be granted more money by throwing theirs away.

  He was earnest and thoughtful, and Leigh couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been religious in his former life.

  She got ready in the bathroom as the sun began to set, humming along to the music video station Ryan was playing, wondering how his voice would sound doing Aerosmith’s ‘I don’t want to miss a thing’ and grinning to know he’d nail it. She didn’t have a wedding trousseau or anything like that ready, but she had the white minidress she’d bought the night before and as she slipped it on in the foggy bathroom, she knew that it was exactly right to marry her sexy musician in.

  It was short and pure white, constructed like a corset at the top, with a flirty skirt and a ruffled hem at the bottom. It pushed up her breasts and pulled in her waist perfectly, but the skirt flared slightly instead of clinging to her backside, making the garment more romantic and playful than trashy. The entire thing was made from white lace and lined with skin-colored chiffon, so the boning showed through and created the illusion of nudity beneath, but kept her covered. It was the prettiest thing she’d ever owned and she’d known that she had to have it the moment she saw it, but she considered herself lucky that she had the wedding as an excuse to wear it now- because she honestly couldn’t conceive of another occasion in which it would have been appropriate. It was too skimpy for any sort of ball, too white for a cocktail party and too dressy for a race day- it was a Vegas wedding dress, and as she rolled a pair of sheer stockings up her legs and stepped into her silver heels, she wondered if maybe Ryan was onto something as far as actions and reactions went. Had she bought the dress, hoping he’d see her in it, and see a musician’s wife? Or had she bought it because the fates had known that she’d end up in need of a wedding dress?

  Leigh was suddenly impatient to get out of the bathroom and on with her life, but she was a woman with wet hair wanting to impress the love of her life, and so she plugged in the hairdryer and tapped her foot impatiently while she circulated it around her head. When it was dry enough, she plugged in her curling iron and decided to fake a fancy hairstyle, sweeping her hair to one side and pinning it over one shoulder, before twisting the hot iron through the ends quickly forming rushed but natural looking waves. She used a few more pins to isolate a few curls around the left side of her face, sweeping it across her forehead to the side as well, then set it with hairspray. When her hair was done, she rushed the make-up, popping in her contacts without hesitation and applying only the most natural foundation, blush and powder to her skin. She was so glad that Ryan had managed to toss in most of her necessities while packing her trunk, (though he’d left out every single book, which made her feel strange) but he’d only grabbed her smallest make-up purse so even if she’d wanted to glam herself up, she didn’t have the palettes to do so. She lined her upper lashes, smudged a pale greeny-gold shadow across her lid and then twirled her mascara wand up, trying to lift her lashes and pouting when she still only looked half as lash-endowed as her gorgeous fiancé after. Sighing, she applied a blush-colored lipstick, smeared gloss over it and then poked her favorite pearl earrings into her ears, for they were the only ones she had rattling around in the bottom of her handbag.

  By the time she was done, she was so impatient to see Ryan- feeling desolate from having being separated from him by a closed door for an hour- that her heart was thumping in her throat. She flicked off the curling wand as an afterthought and stepped out into the living room, stuffing her lip gloss into her white hand bag- and froze when he rose from the couch looking like he’d fallen from heaven and landed in Armani.

  ‘Holy shit!’ There was nothing lady-like or blushing-bride about the way she greeted her fiancé, and with November Rain playing in the background, she supposed that was okay. In a white tailored dress shirt with black leather jeans, polished shoes and a loose black tie, he looked absolutely dashing- taller, leaner, fitter and darker than ever before, and her stockings weren’t supportive enough to keep her knees from weakening at the sight of him. ‘You look amazing!’

  Ryan was staring at her- just staring. He didn’t move, he didn’t breathe he didn’t blink. His eyes swept down, then up, then down again, and as though he wanted to give her a heart attack from insecurity, he wiped his hair back from his brow and frowned deeply, looking disconcerted beyond measure. ‘That- that dress…’ he swallowed and looked up at her. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to make it through a fifteen minute wedding ceremony with you wearing that dress?’

  Leigh chanced a step toward him. ‘How do you expect to make it past me and out the door in that suit?’

  Ryan lifted his thumb to his lip and bit it gently, and that gesture made Leigh’s heart melt because she knew from experience that he only did that when he was feeling nervous. ‘I have to shave yet,’ he said quietly, his eyes sparkling. ‘But you like?’ Leigh nodded- big slow appreciative nods, and he lowered his thumb. ‘Phew.’ He adjusted the cuffs rolled gently beneath his elbows and blushed. ‘I kept the sleeves here so I wouldn’t get stuck again...’

  Leigh giggled. ‘If you’re not ready to run out the door- you probably shouldn’t point out how easy it’s going to be for me to strip you.’ She cocked her head to the side, taking in the sexy shadow lining his jaw. ‘I sort of like the unkempt look though…’ she stepped closer. ‘Can I touch it?’

  But Ryan stepped to the side, catching her shoulders and moving her in a circle while he stepped toward the bathroom. ‘Nuh-uh. You have that look in your eye.’

  ‘What look?’ she asked innocently.

  He grinned and stepped back, reaching for the bathroom door. ‘Mine. Only right now you’re way prettier than me, so if you pounce- I haven’t got a prayer.’

  Leigh giggled and smacked his butt before the door closed and then locked between them, blushing furiously to know that sh
e’d become predatory over night. She walked toward the edge of the bed and sat on the bedspread, which was still rumpled from their love-making earlier, and tried to position herself so that she wouldn’t rumple herself as much while she waited.

  A funny feeling travelled up her spine then, something she couldn’t classify as fear, but an emotion, which felt slightly unsettling all the same. She glanced up at the television and frowned to see a rock star’s bride in a sexy white tutu dress, lay out in a coffin, and her heart seized. She pulled her iPad onto her lap and bit her lip- it was November twenty-ninth, and though the day had been bright before, she glanced out the window now, her senses picking up on shadows, and saw that the fading sunset was more grey than golden. Was it going to rain?

  Leigh shivered and reached for the remote, telling herself that she was being silly and that the depressing rock music video had nothing but a coincidence, but when she flicked to MTV, was taken aback to see the clip for Pearl Jam’s Last Kiss playing.

  I don’t hear that song for five years outside of my iPod, now I hear it played in two days? What does that even mean? Is the universe telling me I’m going to die or something?

  Leigh almost laughed. Almost. She flicked up another channel, and almost fell off the edge of the bed to hear Alanis Morissette busting a lung over the irony of rainy wedding days. She growled and flicked wildly through the in-room stations, until she recognised a familiar face and flipped back, sighing in relief to see Rachael McAdams embrace Eric Bana on the screen. It wasn’t the Notebook, and it was still a depressing romance- but at least she didn’t have to worry about the irony of time travel working its way into her life. Feeling emotionally drained, Leigh leaned back on her hands and watched the screen flashback to a shot of him as an adult, and his partner as a small child, meeting in a field, but just as it got to one of her favorite parts, the screen switched to a commercial for toilet paper with a small puppy and a baby with a bare butt, and Leigh rolled her eyes. Two hundred cable channels- and she’d only managed to find something decent on a free to air network!

  Leigh’s iPad flashed and she glanced at it, wondering why she was getting so many notifications, even though she hadn’t been online in over twenty-four hours. She picked it up and scrolled down the lock screen, laughing. That WAS why she was getting so many notifications. Not only had a bunch of people commented on her lack of info, but also she had a heap of private inboxes as well on Facebook and from her e-mail account. One from Bruce, asking if she was okay and he hoped she didn’t mind his interference, and three from a guy she didn’t recognize, until she peered down at the profile pic and realised it was the cute gay guy who’d been asking about her stuff the morning before.

  LM: Hey seriously girlie- you’re in Australia? Queensland right? Me too! Look I’m going to level with you… I’ve just spent the whole day following your fan fiction trail, and I think we need to talk.

  LM: What… no excitement at all? Hello! I’m an agent! A LITERARY agent and I like your writing! This is the part where you tell me that you’ve been working on an epic for years and I’m going to love it.

  L.M: Miss Dallas Hone I am not very good at seducing women, but you’re actually hurting my feelings here. Write me back PLEASE, I think we could make beautiful literature together!

  Leigh’s mouth fell open. He’d read her ridiculous fan fiction stories and thought she had something?

  No wonder he’s so desperate for a response, this guy is clearly yet to back a winning horse, if he finds my crap impressive!

  Leigh stared down at the iPad, trying to tell herself that she wasn’t excited or even mildly intrigued by the proposition the mysterious ‘LM’ was making, but she couldn’t make herself type a flat-out no to the enthusiastic guy.

  I’ll think of an Indie or two who could use some exposure and write him back later, mentioning them. If he likes my blog, he must value my opinion right? Even if I don’t have a story to sell of my own, I sure know an author or two who are bankable!

  The movie came back on and Leigh put down her iPad. Who cared if she sank her blog from lack of use? She was about to marry someone rich anyway who’d be able to support her two book a day habit!

  When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, he did so while still nervously toying with his tie. He wanted to keep it loose, because it looked more laid-back and him that way, but he felt like he had a little old lady stowed away in his brain who was shaking her finger at him and lecturing him about tie-etiquette on wedding days. He was about to ask Leigh’s opinion, but stopped still when he saw that his beautiful little swan was bawling her eyes out and batting at her face with a Kleenex.

  ‘Stupid!’ She scolded no one gently, moving to the other eye. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid…’

  Ryan crossed to her quickly, alarmed not only by her tears, but the thunderheads amassing in the heavy sky outside their window. ‘Hey…’ he knelt at her feet, plucking another tissue from the box on her lap. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she whispered, her voice breaking as she pointed to the screen. ‘I’m just watching The Time Traveller’s Wife and…’

  ‘Ohh…’ he glanced at Eric Bana on the screen, and then back at Leigh. ‘Yeah, that’s a sad movie. I think I teared up at the end.’

  ‘It wasn’t that!’ She sniffled and dabbed at her nose, giving him a mournful look. ‘There was an ad about a little boy buying his busy father’s time… some sort of Christian outreach things and it was- was-’ she wailed, dropping her face into hands. ‘Sad.’

  Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Oh Honey…’ he rubbed the warm, bare skin across her shoulders. ‘Do you miss your dad?’

  Leigh nodded miserably. ‘He should be here… shouldn’t he?’

  Ryan felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach. He lifted her face and stared into her watery eyes, which were all the more beautiful for the sheen of saltwater glossing them. ‘He’ll give you away when we do this right baby, I swear. But he’s not going to give you away at all to the guy who deflowered you without making an honest woman out of you first. And if you get pregnant well… I assume they can count?’’

  ‘It’s not just that…’ she sighed and looked down at the balled-up tissue clenched in her tiny little fingers. ‘I think it’s the giving away part that’s bugging me. My parents depend on me to be their Honey, I was already contemplating moving away to get some distance from them before this happened, and that was making me feel guilty. But now, if I move away and start a life with you, and have kids on another continent…’

  ‘We can live wherever you like,’ he whispered to her, lifting her to her feet. ‘We can take them with us, or stay two blocks away there.’

  Leigh dabbed at her nose again. ‘Really?’

  Ryan nodded. ‘I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. We can buy a house there and one here. We can have it all, my love.’ He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, feeling like his swelling heart was going to burst. Leigh was right- there was just something about her that made him want to protect her for always and from everything, so he couldn’t imagine how protective her parents were of their cherished little girl.

  ‘No one can have it all,’ she whispered to him, smoothing down his tie. ‘I love you for trying so hard Ryan, but I really don’t think you should keep making such huge promises to me- not until you have your own mind back. What if you remember that your heart belongs to Alaska?’

  Ryan snorted. ‘I’m sure I’ll get over it, if it does.’

  Leigh bit her lip. ‘What if you find out that you already gave away your heart to someone else, and don’t want me anymore? God what if you’re married?’

  Ryan smiled crookedly at her, though the thought had crossed his mind. ‘Then it’s a good thing I’ll have two fake names and citizenship on three different continents, eh? No one can play hide and seek like I can, and you’re small enough to fit in most overhead compartments...’

  Leigh laughed. She didn’t believe him, but she laughed. Without saying another wo
rd, Ryan tugged on her hand, and led her out the door. He didn’t want to stand around and hypothesize about the likelihood of having another wife- he wanted her to be his, and the gods themselves wouldn’t prevent him from keeping his word to her.

  FOURTEEN

  They didn’t go straight to the wedding chapel. First, Ryan took Leigh through the forum shops, telling her that as beautiful as she looked, her outfit wasn’t quite ‘right’ yet, and he needed to find her something to make their wedding day as fairytale as it could be, given the dubious circumstances. Besides, they had two hours to kill before they needed to show up at Doo Wop Diner for their ceremony anyway.

  Leigh was usually happy to oblige him, but she baulked at the door of Swarovski, shaking her head. ‘Ryan I can’t afford anything in there!’

  ‘I know. Therefore, I am showing off hardcore by buying you… something blue!’ Grinning, Ryan tugged her to a display case and tapped on the glass, as an obnoxious musician with cash to spare would in such a fancy shop. ‘Excuse me miss! I want the jeweled thong please-’ he glanced at Leigh and winked before turning back to the dazed looking shop girl. ‘Size: ‘Holy hell am I one lucky bastard!’

  Leigh clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a mortified squeal, but the cashier grinned and sauntered over- eyes full of Ryan. ‘Wedding night, I assume?’

  Ryan pulled Leigh to his side, thwarting her efforts to back out of the room like he was performing a heist. ‘Sure is. This is my Honeybee, Honey-Leigh.’

  Honey wished the earth would open up and swallow her, and she vowed to be the one doing the spanking the next time they were behind a closed door. He was playing up the rock star, shotgun-wedding, ridiculous-couple angle just to make her squirm, and Leigh knew that like a Chinese finger trap, the harder she tried to work her way out of the situation, the tighter he’d hold her.