Stockholm Surrender
Page 18
I acknowledged him with a smile then allowed Trinny to fold back my veil and take my bouquet. She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek then touched the spot to ensure no lipstick had been left. I was glad I’d told her everything. Her constant support and nonjudgmental friendship was incredibly precious and had, at times, in the last few busy weeks, been my only grip on sanity.
The reverend gave a brief welcome speech to the congregation, talked about the sanctity of marriage, then opened his prayer book.
“Who gives this woman to be wed?” he asked and looked expectantly at Dad.
Dad unhooked my arm from his and I realized how much I’d been physically leaning on him. He straightened out my arm, holding my small hand in his large one, and very gently he placed it in the reverend’s hand. “I do,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
Reverend Alan smiled and as his warm fingers pressed into my palm, I watched mesmerized as he placed my hand in Ty’s. It was as if life had become slow motion. Seeing Dad pass me over, in such an honest, trusting way, through the hands of a man of God to Ty, the man who he, Dad, feared the most, created a twist in my guts and my heart thudded violently.
A rush of heat rose up my chest, pricked at my underarms and temples. I struggled to focus, my French-manicured nails blurred, my knees weakened. I opened my mouth and pulled in a breath, watched the altar and the reverend sway then merge as one fuzz of color.
Ty shot his arm around my waist. “Hey, baby, you feeling okay?”
His long, strong body was against mine, holding me up, supporting me. I looked into his face. He creased his brow and stared down at me, and in that moment it all became clear. It didn’t matter how we’d met, what the circumstances. That was all in the past, our past. The truth was here, now, in the present. He loved me, I loved him, and like Dad said, I knew Ty would die before he let anyone hurt me.
I nodded. “Yes, fine, just a little warm.”
“You need a break?” he asked with a worried frown.
“No, no, I’m fine, just, don’t let me go.”
“I won’t,” he whispered. “Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”
The rest of the ceremony went without hiccup, and once at The Dorchester Hotel, our champagne reception ran smoothly. Ty’s parents and two of his aunts and uncles had flown in from Perth, and seeing our family and friends getting on so well was a delight.
I couldn’t stop touching my thin platinum wedding ring. It was so beautiful and meant so much. It made me Ty’s wife, Ty’s possession, and when the time came for our first dance I melted into him, sliding my hands up the muscles of his back and rejoicing in being able to dance with him the way I truly wanted to. No more pretense, we were who we were. Man and wife. A married couple.
The hours flew by, just like people said they would as I’d planned the big day. I managed to speak to everyone and felt my cheeks would surely drop off they were so tired from smiling.
Eventually I could put off the need to use the bathroom no longer. As I put my hand on the ornate gold door handle to exit the reception room, Phil rested his fingers on my shoulder.
“Congratulations,” he said with a warm smile.
“Thank you.”
“I told you people who are meant to be together are drawn to one another.”
“You were right.” I pushed open the door.
He narrowed his eyes and settled his sharp gaze on me. “I usually am, Penny, I usually am.”
There was a moment of silent deliberation between us. Then I gave a quick, polite smile and slipped from the elegant room. If Phil had known there was more to Ty and me, he’d never said anything, and what did it matter now? We were married, we would be together forever.
After quickly using the bathroom, I walked swiftly back along the deserted corridor, anxious not to miss a moment of my special day and keen to get back to Ty.
Suddenly a hand clamped over my mouth. A big, hard, determined hand and I was tipped backward, tugged into a dark cupboard. The door slammed with a heavy clunk.
I wriggled and writhed, huffed and puffed, yanked at the palm over my face.
“Shh, I just want to steal the bride away for a couple of minutes.” The hand left my mouth and a hard body pinned me up against the wall.
“Ty,” I said. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” There was mischievous mirth in his tone.
I looped my hands around his neck. “Is this how it’s always going to be?”
“If you mean unpredictable, exciting, spontaneous, then yeah, baby, that’s exactly what being married to me is going to be like, but I thought you knew that.”
“Of course, it’s one of the many things I love about you.”
“And your ass in that dress is one of the many things I love about you.” He slid his hands down my waist and groped my butt through the thin, slippery material. “It’s so sexy. I didn’t think wedding dresses were supposed to be this sexy, but bloody hell, this has been making me hard all day. All this silky white material wrapped around your body. God, I hope your underwear is white too.”
“Might be.” I giggled as he pressed a steely erection against my hip. “But you’ll have to wait until later to find out for sure.”
“Oh yeah. You reckon?”
I gasped as he dragged up my dress, pulling it all the way from my ankles right up to my waist. The material sat like a rucked belt, exposing my white satin thong and letting cool air waft around my thighs. “Ty, think of the creases. I’ve got to go back in there.”
“No, sorry, my mind isn’t into worrying about girly stuff like that.” He glanced down, spotted the white strip of material covering my pussy, then his mouth found mine. He probed his tongue in and I tasted champagne and strawberries, desire and, the most delicious flavor of all, Ty.
The kiss intensified and thoughts of creases flew from my mind. I just wanted him, I needed him.
Now.
It seemed he felt the same.
“I’m going to consummate our marriage, here, this very minute,” he murmured, kissing over my cheek and pulling aside the thin strip of material that made up my gusset.
“You are?” I fumbled with the button and zipper on his pants.
“Yeah, and later, in that big room we’ve got booked upstairs, I’m going to tie you up, tie your arms and legs to each thick post of that fancy bed and show you what a great time you’re going to have every night for the rest of your life.”
“Sounds fun, I can’t wait for the rest of my life.” I wrapped my hand around his hard, heavy shaft at the same time as he plunged his fingers into my pussy.
We both groaned, kissed again, hard and urgently, and then he was there, poised for penetration.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he moaned, pushing the tip of his cock into my entrance. “Every time I fuck you it just gets better.”
“I know,” I said, thinking back to the very first time in the outback. I’d been his hostage, his prisoner, he’d made me fly high. He was still making me fly high.
As my new husband rammed his cock to the hilt, I squeezed my eyes shut and surrendered myself to him. I’d always been his, I always would be. He’d stolen my heart and seduced my soul.
Just as well the feelings had turned out to be mutual.
About the Author
Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking farmland, she allows her imagination to run free and revels in being able to use the written word as an outlet for her creativity. Lily’s stories are made up of colorful characters traveling on everyone’s favorite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t romantic, sexy and exciting, it won’t be written, at least not by this author.
Lily welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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