by Pamela Ann
“Uh-huh.” Pfft, this machine wasn’t old. Emma sure as hell didn’t think so, especially not after last night’s activities. Thinking about it roared my body to life. Emma catered to everything I wanted. To this day, I couldn’t believe she was mine. She was perfect for me and I wouldn’t want anyone else as my wife other than her. Emma Anderson Cole.
So after Taylor left, I scoured the house looking for her, and when I finally found her on the garden patio, adjusting her freshly cut blooms from the garden nearby with Gus, I decided to join the cozy couple.
“Taylor’s taking me out tomorrow night. Dimitris is flying in. Do you know anything about what he has on the agenda?” I asked, petting Gus behind the ear.
“Nope. Not a clue, but that’s nice of him to fly out for your birthday. Since it’s an all boys’ shindig, you promise you won’t be naughty?” She was concentrating on cutting the stems before inserting them in the crystal vases on the table next to her without glancing my way.
She was crazy to ask this of me; I was married to her for Pete’s sake! “Yeah, ‘cause you know, I’m naughty all the damn time.” My sarcasm had been intended. Count on that.
She shrugged. “Just saying is all.” She managed to give me a small smile. “There’s a lot of beautiful women out there that are out to get you. I worry that I might not be enough later on…”
For months I had fought hard and even gave her up a few times because her happiness was the main focal point in my decisions. Even though each and every time it had gutted me alive, I had gone through with it all for her. It was always about her. Forever.
Moving behind her, I wrapped my arms around her neck, bending down to whisper into her ear. “One day, you’ll see how loyal I am. One day, you’ll witness how much I praise the ground you walk on, and I do hope and pray that you will see that no one owns me except you. I love you, wife.”
We still had issues to work on, and we were taking things one day at a time. Right now, I could see that her mind was clouded with all the problems we had tackled before. We were in a dark place, Emma and I, however we had come this far as a couple, as a family. We had our future to look forward to, and at the end of the day, as long as we had each other, I could get through whatever else life threw my way.
She sighed, kissing her nose with mine. “I read this book the other day and it left a mark somehow. It was about a guy who got his wife pregnant and ended up not touching her for months on end.” She shifted, slowly facing me as her blue eyes sparked with fire. “You won’t be like that again, right?” Her eyes sought mine, needing assurance. “The last time—when you didn’t touch me—that really broke me inside.”
There were a lot of things I regretted when we got married in the beginning. We got married hastily and did things out of order. I had been a broken, shattered excuse of a man. Then there was that whole Carter debacle. Trust issues… and the list kept on growing. I didn’t blame her for doubting me; I honestly applauded her for bringing this to my attention.
“I wanted you then, more than anything. Seeing you swollen with my baby was everything I had dreamt of, but I was angry then. I apologize for giving you the impression that I won’t be able to make love to you when you have my child. You must know, pregnant or not, I have this need for you. Constantly,” I tried to explain, reaching for her hand and entwining it with mine. “Whether it’s a physical, mental or emotional connection, I’ve always craved you, Emma.” Kissing her forehead, I breathed her in. Her scent washed over my senses, immediately calming me, always. “I have a lifetime to show you just how much. Never lose faith in me, that’s all I ask, moro mou.” My baby.
“I love you,” she whispered, seeking my lips.
“And I, you,” I promised.
The Birthday Cake
“Thanks for coming all the way here to celebrate with me. How was your flight?” I greeted the newcomer who had come straight from the airport to join us for dinner.
Dimitris gave me a quick embrace before patting my back hardily. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came here to be with Lindsey for Christmas and celebrate it with her family. It was the only way I could steal her away to spend New Years in Greece with my Papou and the rest.”
I smirked at his sarcastic, playful response.
“Carter joining?” I lightly inquired as he seated himself across from me while Taylor and his brother, Gaston, eyed us watchfully.
Dimitris gave me a straight look as he placed his napkin on his lap. “Still hate the man?”
At one point, I had wanted to kill him with my bare hands, but now that I was married to Emma, things had definitely shifted. “I don’t have the urge to kill him now, that’s for sure,” I joked. “I suppose I’m wondering how he’s been.”
“He’s… gutted. I doubt he’ll ever be the same. Lindsey’s words, not mine.” He shrugged, taking a careful sip of his wine that Gaston had handed over. “You did steal his fiancée.” The end of his lips lifted, amused. “But then again, I would’ve done the very same thing. Can’t blame you there, my friend.”
Great minds thought alike.
Pushing thoughts of Carter Mason aside, I focused on my friends.
As the night progressed, I was starting to worry. The second we’d entered the club, we had been greeted by a woman who had nipple pasties on and a barely-there thong in nude-colored mesh. If this was my bachelor party, I wouldn’t worry much since women were a theme in those things, but tonight wasn’t my bachelor party; that ship had sailed. So where was Taylor going with this?
“This ought to be interesting,” Dimitris murmured, nodding behind me with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Jesus!” I muttered when I saw what had gotten the Greek grinning like an idiot.
Taylor laughed. “Don’t be an old man; come on now.” He handed me a shot. “This is just the pre-party. The real show is through there.” He pointed at the dark, leather covered double doors to the right. “Ready to celebrate your old ass?”
“I most definitely am,” Gaston chirped, eyes busily scanning the ladies with only artistic paint on them and not a scrap of clothing.
Shit. After Emma’s insecurity and our talk yesterday, this birthday scene was going to haunt me, I just knew it.
Pulling my phone out, I quickly texted her.
Me: Baby, Taylor’s party—if any photos end up in the media—I just want you to know that I had no part of it. I promise. I apologize in advance if it does come out. You’re my one and only.
I kept staring at the screen, hoping she’d respond back, but after a few minutes without anything, I relented and inserted it back in my pocket.
“Scared of your little wife?” Dimitris grinned at me, knowing where my thoughts lay.
I gave Dimitris a cutting glance. Emma was a curvy, petite woman, but yes, I was petrified of the wrath she’d unleash if I pissed her off about this birthday party. This was not how I’d pictured my perfect Christmas with my wife; with her freezing me out. If that ever came about, I would murder Taylor and his wretched ideas in his sleep.
I was definitely not getting obliterated with cognac tonight, that was for sure. I didn’t want to make the wrong impression. I’d already had my fair share of gold-diggers selling “stories” to the media, I knew better than to make myself the main target.
“A little jealousy is healthy,” Dimitris shed some light on my thoughts. “I think,” he added, handing me another shot before we were led towards the doors by four ladies painted with what looked like a Vegas show girl’s attire.
“Tempted?” Gaston whispered, more to himself.
Not me. Not even an iota.
Gaston was single, but as for Taylor and Dimitris, I sure as hell hoped those two would behave. I knew how these things went, and most of them led to break-ups.
Two hours later, we had stripper poles, but there were no strippers because, hey, these women didn’t have a scrap of clothing to shed in the first place. Taylor invited most of the people I worked with from all the different fil
ms, and even Martin, my godfather, came by for an hour to join in the fun.
The party was raging, and when the lights cut off, darkening the entire place, silence fell until a spotlight came on, focusing on the small stage before us without the faux strippers on it.
A massive birthday cake came out, being rolled towards me. Oh, Hell! What were these friends of mine thinking? I thought with alarm. Just because I was married didn’t mean I was lacking fun in the bedroom. I was about to reprimand Taylor for being distasteful in his choice of a celebratory event when the massive cake came to a halt a few feet ahead of me. Then, the top end opened and out came… Emma. What the fuck?!
Dressed in a black lace bustier.
Over the knee black boots.
Lace garter belt.
With an itty-bitty panty on.
“Damn.” Gaston blew out a whistle as did the rest of the room.
Cornflower blue eyes annihilated me before her face lit up with a smile; the one that blinded a lot of men, including myself.
“Happy birthday to you,” she sang, stepping off the large cake from the stairs on the side, sensually strutting and singing towards me, Marilyn Monroe style.
She looked… I gulped, frozen in my spot because the woman before me looked like a mirage, and I fucking didn’t want this end.
This was every man’s fantasy; making sure the world knew that she was mine and mine alone, and all they could do was gawk and drool, not much else.
She was right before me, performing for me, dancing so seductively that I barely breathed at all because I was astounded. Taylor definitely could make a birthday man happy.
And when she dipped low, swaying her hips from side to side, biting her lip at me… seductive and irresistible all the goddamned time… “Jesus mother fucking Christ! Hell,” I cursed, repeatedly.
The time started ticking.
Was it time for my present and to devour my cake?
Loving You
“Not so fast!” I pulled her against me, stopping her from going anywhere.
“Oh, it’s you, my birthday boy!” she greeted, kissing me lightly on the lips. “I’m just going to get dressed and go home.” She gestured towards a door, which I was guessing she was using as her dressing room. “Now go celebrate with your buddies and have fun. I’ll see you in bed.”
She was about to excuse herself from me, but I had other plans. Birthday plans. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I plucked her barely-clad ass up and carried her over my shoulder, rushing towards the dressing room. With one hand, I opened the door and hastily scanned my surroundings before I strode over to the washed-out leather couch and placed her there.
Instead of asking what the hell I was doing, Emma was staring at me with expectation; looking like the ultimate temptation as she pouted with her eyes dilated and ready for command. Oh, she definitely knew what was coming. In fact, if my gut was telling me the truth, my wife had orchestrated this; quite perfectly, might I add.
“Did you really expect to come out on stage dressed like this… dance like Salome, and expect me to leave you be so I could get back to a party with my guys? Don’t you know me at all, Emma?” I rasped out, eyeing her, thinking of all the ways I could ravage her. “You can’t tease a man—a man so heedlessly in love with his woman—and walk away thinking that I could go on as if nothing’s happened. You see, my love, I want my birthday kiss, and those heated looks you were throwing at me during your show, thinking whatever you thought of doing to me while you bit your lips so suggestively… it’s driven my imagination to exhaustion.”
“Oh, poor you,” she cooed, pouting as she readjusted the top of her bustier, making her breasts shake. When I saw how those creamy globes jiggled, in my slightly inebriated state, I was ready to rock and fucking roll in a heartbeat.
“Come to me,” she commanded, and I did as she directed. “Closer, Bass.” Her face was level with my pants, targeted in on one particular area. “That’s my baby.”
She beamed before she slowly lifted her eyes as her hands got busy unbuckling my pants and pulling them down. When they dropped to the floor, my boxer briefs came second. My manhood stood hard and proud, saluting its goddess.
“I think I should blow the candle first, don’t you think?” Her shapely brow rose as she licked her lips before her hot tongue curled around the crown of the mushroomed head, twirling it in rapid haste, teasing.
“How do you want it, babe? Hard and deep? Tight and swirly? Take your pick.”
Fuck, this woman was beyond out of control, and I fucking loved every kinky part of her. She was just as hungry as I was.
“Deep throat.” I barely got the words out ‘cause I was too intoxicated with anticipation. Emma gave out-of-this-world-porn-like blowjobs and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She was fucking fantastic.
“Deeper,” I grunted out when she started taking me into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.
Her warm, moist tongue was busy circling around my girth as she slowly took more of me. I urged on until I saw saliva start dripping out the sides of her lips. I took hold of her hair right behind her scalp, bunching it as if it were in a ponytail, as I gently thrust my hips, fucking her mouth. Her lips pressed hard around my shaft so each impact was superbly tight and precise. It didn’t take long until I came, screaming like I was dying; dying from pleasure.
Panting heavily, I barely had my breath before Emma stood up and shoved me on the couch, ready for the next phase. “My turn to be pleased, Bass Cole.” She straddled my lap, pushed her panties to the side and lowered herself onto my soaked shaft. “Sit back, relax and let me do all the work, birthday boy.”
So she did.
One thing I learned that night was that Emma relived her fantasy. And I bet in her wildest dreams, the real reenactment was nothing close to what she had imagined. It was even better.
Our First Christmas as Mister & Missus
When Christmas Eve came, Emma and the caterers were busy in the kitchen, prepping and tasting all the food to be served. I was left to take care of the table setting and whatever else my wife asked me to do. I was excited with the whole thing; getting friends and family together to celebrate this occasion meant something to me. This was our first Christmas as a man and wife, and I wanted to do this right. Emma, on the other hand, was scuttling about, worried and stressed because this was her first official dinner party.
We were hosting, yes, but with the same people we saw and got together with often. I didn’t see the need to stress out about the dinner table napkins. Alas, she was adamant, however, so I aimed to please.
Most of the time during preparation, I would end up watching her move around, talk to other people. I saw how her smile would light up her face, and each and every time it did, my heart would skip a beat. Her genuine personality and inner beauty always caught me off guard because, every time I left home to work and be surrounded by so many fake people, I was beyond grateful that I’d found someone real; someone who wasn’t enamored by publicity and fame.
Most of all, I was lucky to have a wife who placed me high above all. I was her main priority. I simply couldn’t ask for anything else. Though at times, I caught her with that sad, far-away look in her eyes, I hoped that someday she would recover from the loss of Angela and her guilt of losing our baby.
Her recovery would take time, but no matter how long that took, I would always be here, by her side, holding her hand and ready to face whatever demons she needed to confront.
Right before the guests arrived, we had just finished getting ready and were on our way downstairs when I stopped her, reaching out the moment we took our last step on our descent down the stairs. “Hey, hey—wait.”
She spun around and looked at me, frowning. “Bass, I have to check on the ham,” she protested, ready to sprint back to the kitchen.
“Look at me, Emma.” Lifting her face to mine, I searched her eyes, needing her to relax and breathe for a second. “Even if that ham turns
out to be burnt, I just want you to know that we’re all going to have fun and enjoy tonight because we’re with our loved ones. Take a step back and let the caterers do their jobs.” She was about to protest, but I cut her off. “Nothing will go wrong, trust me.” I kissed her forehead. “Now, can I get you something to drink? Champagne, perhaps?”
“Yes, thank you. Actually, I’ll have sparkling water with a slice of lemon, please.” I left her in the living room area where the Christmas tree was lit up before I fetched her drink.
One of the main things I had noticed with my wife as of late was that she took everything too seriously. The fun-loving woman was submerged somewhere, and at times, I could get that floating back in the surface.
All I wanted this Christmas was Emma; her happiness was my main priority. I just needed to find the right answer—that essential ingredient—that would put everything back together, then all would be well again.
When the guests finally started arriving and Emma was surrounded by her parents and her friends, she was once again my carefree woman.
Love was what she needed. Laughter, too. It was simple, and yet, sometimes we overlooked the simplest and the most vital, important things in life.
After all our guests left for the evening, a small yawn came from me at the same time I pulled my wife from behind. “Let’s get close to the fireplace. All I want right now is to just spend time with you and savor each of your kisses.”
“I’d love that.”
Seated on our sofa with Emma’s head resting on my lap, I stroked her hair while staring at the fire dancing before us. I barely heard her call my name, lost in the peaceful moment.
“Bass?”
“Mmm?” I responded, absentmindedly.
Her eyes never left the fire as she asked me, “How do feel about having a baby again?”
