by Imani King
The wedding was a grander affair than I ever expected a wedding could be, and certainly turned out a lot fancier than we had been originally planning, but once Nicholas’ family got in on it, they kept showering us with gifts and ideas, and treating us to the next level up on whatever we chose... so everything was as sumptuous and elegant - and honestly? as fun - as possible.
It was full of my relatives and his as well. All of his brothers were there, except for Saint - he’s apparently the black sheep of the family, so I didn’t get to meet him, and everyone seemed to go a little bit quiet when I asked if he was coming or not. Nicholas said to set a place for him, but Christian, Rowan and Dylan were skeptical about it. I tried to forget about it, thinking I will meet him at some point, but up until the very last minute before the party ended, he hadn’t shown.
“Damn, Nick,” Rowan had said. “You may not be able to count on Saint, but you sure can count on me. You and Adisa have me behind you for the rest of our lives.” His smile was as infectious as his Texan drawl, the same one that slipped out occasionally from Nicholas if he had an extra glass of wine at dinner or if he was really tired. I grinned happily to meet these men who grew up with my Nicholas - their “Nick.” They’re such good men, the Corbett brothers, and I can’t help but wonder: whatever could Saint have done to become the bad boy of this upstanding and beautiful family? I might never know.
In any case, even though I wasn’t showing, I’m sure my dad cottoned on to the fact that I was pregnant at the time, or would have if he had given it any thought at all, but he never said a word. Just accepted the little ones being ‘born a little premature’ with complete and utter bliss, and took his job on as granddad with a new sense of purpose in life.
"Baby," he said to me with a huge smile when we first came home from the hospital, "you do good work." He held a baby in each arm, and grinned. “Twins! My lord. Twins!”
“Yes, I’ll say we do good work. I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with your boss,” I joked at the time.
But that’s what I did. I fell in love, and I fell hard.
And over a year later, I’m even more in love.
I shake myself out of my reverie and turn back to Chikae who still seems thoughtful, and nudge her with my elbow. “What you thinking about? Your birthday celebration?”
“I am now!” She grins, ready for this conversation at least as evidenced by her smile that stretches from ear to ear. “Are we going to do a dual celebration like last year?”
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
“Sure! Darius is a pain but I love him,” she says thoughtfully and I giggle. “He and I will always have each other, so we might as well celebrate our birthdays together.” Her eyes narrow suddenly. “As long as we each get our own cake!”
“Isn’t that what we did last year?” I ask. “Daddy was in the hospital so it was quite a hectic time.”
“Well yeah, Nicholas was the one who organized it, right?” She closes her eyes in recollection. “And he got the best cakes ever! Can he organize it again? Please Addy?”
“We’ll see hon,” I say, slightly put out that Chikae preferred Nicholas’ cakes from the best bakery in New York to my store bought mixes, but I can’t really blame her. Who can say no to real buttercream?
“And can I have a pony?”
This question comes out of nowhere, but after thinking about it a moment, why couldn’t she have one? We already have horses, and plenty of land. I remember dreaming of one when I was a little girl, and someone should have that dream come true! Why shouldn’t it be Chikae?
“We’ll see,” I say. “Don’t get your hopes up, but we can look into it!”
“I can't wait!” She bounces Addison up and down as she jiggles in excitement and he lets out a little squeal of delight, which in turn wakes up Nikki. It’s so obvious that there’s a definite twin bond between the two little ones. They love to stare at each other from their bassinets side by side, and just a squeal from one elicits the same from the other until they’re both giggling.
That in turn makes Chikae and I fall out laughing as well. “Addy, thanks for taking care of us,” she says suddenly.
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, realizing that it’s true. At first, it was hard, and I didn’t know if I could, but now I feel stronger than ever, and with my husband by my side, my heart bursts from all the love I feel. “You guys are great kids!” My vision blurs suddenly and I realize that I’m crying from happiness.
“Don’t cry, Addy, everything is going to be ok,” Chikae says. “Right Addison?” He makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a hiccup and my tears subside. “I know, baby,” I grin. “It’s just from being so happy.” Her head falls on my shoulder.
We hear the boys return, and Darius is talking excitedly about his birthday while Nicholas uh-huhs and mm-hms. He’s going to be such a great daddy. Not that he isn’t already, but as they grow I know he’s always going to be interested in them, there for them. And there for me.
* * *
That night, when Nicholas finally takes me in his arms, I’m already wet for him, excited to be with him, and ready for him to come inside, but he teases me. He’s drawing his tongue over my breasts, my hard nipples, sucking on them, nibbling, kissing. I’m bucking, squealing in delight, knowing we are in a circle of love and trust, and after so long, alone in our own beautiful house, my family safe and taken care of close by and the babies snug in their beds. I writhe against his body, yearning to pull him inside of me, but he tantalizes me with the head of his cock, just caressing me with it while he kisses my neck until I just can’t take it anymore.
“Come inside, baby,” I croon into his ear, squirming and pushing against him. “I need to feel you inside me now.
“Oh god Adisa, you make me so hot. You’re so sexy, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs back, his hand reaching around to grip my buttock, massaging the supple skin before leaning over me and plunging his lips into my delicate folds, licking me all over, sucking my clit while he enters me with his fingers. I feel the orgasm building and I can’t help but cry out as he tumbles me over the edge into a rippling climax that never seems to end. He expertly makes me come once, twice more, as I lose myself on the bed, moaning and breathing his name, my body convulsing in pleasure, eyes closed tight.
“Nicholas,” I tell him, as he comes up to lay beside me, on top of me, with me. “I love you so much...” And I do. I couldn’t love him more, really. My heart is full of him, and for so many reasons. The amazing lovemaking is only the icing on the cake. He’s helped me become a mother, a wife, he’s become part of my family. He’s given us a home, and hope, and happiness. He’s enabling me to follow my dreams once the kids are ready and in school, to study and become something more than I could ever achieve on my own. He’s truly more man than I could ever have imagined myself marrying, and in every way.
“I love you more.” He stares into my eyes as he opens my legs, and when he climbs on top of me he fills me over and over again with his hard length, breathing my name, moaning softly. We move together, achingly slowly, then faster, our breathing in time with our thrusts. He pulls me up and turns me over, and enters me from behind, the sound of his body slapping against my rear strangely arousing, and I cry out, as he fills me in ways I didn’t know I could be filled. His cock massages my walls, and I’m feeling sensations I didn’t know were possible. His hands grip my hips and he moves inside me, deeply, and I arch my back to let him in further. My feet wrap around his legs, drawing him closer and he bites my shoulder as I reach back to grasp his ass.
“Oh god Adisa, you’re so sexy, so amazingly beautiful,” He gasps, and starts bucking inside me, until his warm seed drips out of me in little pearlescent drops. “I love you,” he whispers as his hot breath warms my skin.
“And I love you, my Nicholas,” I answer, as my body goes through the last throes of orgasm.
Then we both collapse on the bed, spent and out of breath, exhilarated. Euphoric.
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Then I hear it: the sound of one of the babies crying, and soon the sound of both babies crying. Our eyes meet.
“We both go?” Nicholas asks, a crooked grin on his face.
“Sure, we’re in this together,” I say. “We’ll just keep taking it—”
“One day at a time.” We finish the sentence together, and I can feel my mother’s love and wisdom in the sentiment. I pull on a silk robe and he puts on some pj bottoms, and we go to get the babies. Settling down in the two adjacent chaises, we rock back and forth, and feed them their bottles as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“You’re the best, babe.” I say.
“You too. I love you,” he replies. And this is one day where everything finally feels wonderful. And I know whatever happens, we’ll face it together.
One day at a time.
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Also by Imani King
The Rock and Roll Romance, Reckless Love
Leopold
The breath hissed through Leopold’s closed teeth.
“Ooh, yeah… baby, that’s good. Do that. Right there.” Leo squirmed as he slowly pulled a hand through his shock of black hair, watching the girl’s head bobbing up and down. This one is good. Perhaps I’ll keep her around an extra night or two, he thought, as she circled the head with her tongue, and then silkily drew it down the knotty skin on the underside. He trembled with pleasure, letting his legs fall open a bit more. “Use your hands, babe. Yeah, like that. Mmm.”
His head fell back into the cushions of the soft leather couch. The drugs were starting to take effect and make everything seem almost melted and mixed together. Looking up at the ornate ceiling he saw so many lights, so many colors. It was as if the colors were part of the blowjob, in a way. He was fucking the colors, right in the mouth. He giggled to himself, and the girl, whatever her name was, paused and looked up, big cornflower-blue eyes wide with concern.
“Did I tell you to stop?” he said, a crooked grin slowly spreading across his face, before fading into the flawless lines of his soft lips. “Get back to it, girl.” The blonde eagerly and somehow dutifully wrapped her lips around him again, swirling her tongue like a dirty little windmill, making him shudder. The tingling ran all the way down to his feet, curling his toes. This uhh… whatever her name is, she’s a good girl.
He knew he was going to come. Briefly he wondered if he should warn her. Less mess if I go off right inside her but more fun if I do it on her face. But before he could decide, the colors lured his attention back, and he let go, somehow feeling the vibration of the kaleidoscope ceiling through his cock. His cock, the center of the free known universe. All else revolved around its glory. And now it would birth thousands of tiny stars into… whatever-her-name-is.
He came.
* * *
Bright morning light assaulted his closed eyes, and Leo tried to cover them with a forearm, accidentally hooking something with his elbow. There was a crash, and a glugging sound. One of the bottles spilling. Fuck.
He opened one eye, the excess light feeling like pin-pricks against his brain. Gazing across the monstrously large bed, he took in the utter disarray of what was usually a gorgeously appointed room. He rang for the help, each peal of the bell another attack. Pulling up his pants, he stumbled to the shower, stopping to dry heave over the toilet before regaining his debatable composure.
Leo leaned against the bathroom counter and looked at himself, disgusted with his reflection. He checked the color under his eyelid--pale--and stuck out his tongue-- coated.. It was one way he gauged his hangovers. Today’s was not as bad as some – ‘twas nothing a little time and a decent breakfast wouldn’t fix. He turned on the shower and stepped into the large, steamy space, stretching his arms over his head and letting the water wash over him. Images of the girls from last night crying out for him filled his mind, and he felt himself hardening again. One arm propping him up, he expertly brought himself to a shuddering orgasm.
Then shampoo, shit and shave and he was nearly ready to face the world.
Entering his chamber again, he happily noted that the servants had been in, order had silently been restored, and there was a silver service with hot breakfast waiting by the window. He poured a cup of tea. Goddamn I’d like to be back in California - or why not, Italy - and get a decent fucking cup of coffee.
Why not indeed. If it weren’t for this stupid wedding.
Despite his family’s wishes, or one could say, in order to spite them, Leo had spent half the last decade in the hills of L.A., alternating with New York. For a British boy of highly obscure nobility, this was tantamount to blasphemy. But Leo scorned tradition, the propriety to which his family preposterously clung, at least as he saw it. In fact, he could see tradition as the snare it was, clinging to the old ways now that the world was changing.
Still he enjoyed the money. That part was good, he thought, looking around the newly cleaned room, the breakfast tray, the view. He could spit on the floor and someone would clean it up. Not that he would, he wasn’t that sort of barbarian. Not usually anyway.
But he had his own fortune, besides. He thought back to the last concert Saturday. It was utter madness. His band, Origin of Species, was touring through Scandinavia and the arena was filled with blondes, the finest of which was that chick he brought back to the seven-star hotel. Of course, her friend offered herself too - she wasn’t bad either. It was so easy when the tour manager did all the dirty work. He could simply pick and choose just the right girl, or girls, to top off the evening. Like the right single-malt, or the right sports car. Still blondes weren’t really his type, but in Scandinavia there wasn’t that much choice.
He pulled the silver lid off of the plate. Proper English breakfast. Blimey.
“What I wouldn’t do for a burrito,” he said to himself, voice ringing out in the large room. “Or some huevos rancheros.” He’d have to have someone say something to the cook – maybe they could spice up their dreary menu. But there’s probably no point – I’m really not around here enough to bother. If it weren’t for this goddamned dreary wedding.
Jasmine
“Oh sure, Mrs. Peters, I’d be more than happy to help you out again,” said Jasmine, handing over the change from the meager market purchases her neighbor had wanted her to pick up. “I’ll be away for the big wedding performance, and a bit of a tour, but after that I’m around like usual if you need any more help.”
Mrs. Peters lifted up her glasses, revealing rheumy eyes. She scrutinized the returned coins, as she always did, before carefully handing Jasmine two quarters. A tip. Jasmine’s cheeks flamed, but she didn’t want to embarrass the old woman by refusing her money. She was doing her best just to be kind, not to profit a few pennies, and besides, Jasmine didn’t mind grabbing a few things for her when she went out. After all, it was no trouble – Mrs. Peters lived just down the stairs from her, and she did have to contend with the sound of Jasmine practicing the cello every day. Considering Mrs. Peters almost never left the apartment, the near-constant playing must be a bit of an imposition, but Mrs. Peters never complained. Thank heaven – I’ve really got to knuckle down for this wedding concert!
“You be careful over there,” Mrs. Peters muttered. The English are… chintzy.” She nodded knowingly at Jasmine.
Jasmine stifled a giggle, putting on a serious face.
Glass houses, she thought. Oh Mrs. Peters. “I will, thank you!” She said aloud and the door closed between them.
As she ran her hand up the smooth wooden banister on the way up the stairs, Jasmine mentally went over the details again. Plane was tomorrow at 3. A car would come to get them, and she would stay on the grounds of the mansion with her girls. She could hardly believe that her quartet was invited to play in England, at a wedding for an Earl, no less! It was too exciting.
It would be her first time out of the country. And a big deal for the quartet, who had organized a mini-tour to play a few concerts and then have a cou
ple days to enjoy themselves.
She quickly put away the few last groceries she had needed – just some things for dinner that night, and a bite in the morning – sparing an extra moment to take a big sniff of the small round of artisan bread she had treated herself to. She would have to eat it all tonight and tomorrow or freeze it – but she couldn’t help but splurge a little, thinking of the hefty paycheck the quartet would be getting for their concert.
Money was tight. Classical music didn’t always pay much. Good thing it only makes my life have purpose, she thought with a smile. Money isn’t everything.
Once the few things were put in their places, their nests, she sat down on the smooth wooden practice chair, carefully placed her cello pin into her favorite hole in the hardwood, and drew her bow across the strings. The first note rang out, focused, rich and dark, soaring over the small room; it took Jasmine with it. Her muscles melted into the sound, her body attuned to every particle of bow that vibrated the thick, metal string. It boded well for the hours of practice that would follow.
Downstairs, Mrs. Peters similarly melted into her chair, smiling, oblivious to the glorious sound above her. Her ears were nearly deaf, but it was her mouth that was pleased; she was content to enjoy the chocolate bar the nice young woman had included, unasked for, in the small grocery delivery.
What a nice young girl, the old woman thought. Wonder if she’ll ever get married.
CHAPTER THREE
Leopold
