by Alex Grayson
“Sugar, I’m gonna blow. Babe, oh God, not gonna last.”
She moans against my cock on a downward glide and I feel her finger pressing in on my back hole. My body tenses as she pulls on her upward motion, and when she starts to move back down, I can feel the tip of her finger pressing into me from behind. My body immediately tenses for just a second or two and by the time she has me fully planted deep in her throat, my balls draw up and I shoot down her throat.
“Holy fuck! Goddamn, Dee Dee, I love that mouth of yours. Take it all motherfucker I can’t stop. Yeah, baby.”
Dee Dee slows down her motion and gently cleans me off before popping off my dick. I’m spent, feeling like I ran a marathon. Shit, my heart is literally pounding out of my chest.
“Sugar, I have no fuckin’ words for what just happened. I need a minute or two to catch my breath.”
She slowly stands up, grabbing my hand, pulling me out of the bathroom and onto the bed. We cuddle close and the last thing I remember before passing out is her soft words.
“Des, love you, baby. Thanks for this trip, you will never know how much it means to me.”
I pull her closer and drift off to sleep.
Later that day, after our massages, we walk around the property. I even surprised Dee Dee with a carriage ride through the park of the hotel. I’ve got to say it was beautiful. We had a nice lunch with some wine and just enjoyed our time together. When we got back to the room, we took a short nap then a long-ass shower. I gave back to my woman for the earlier blow job, and if the nail marks on my shoulders are anything to go by, she appreciated my efforts.
Dinner was out of this world. The restaurant had to be close to or even a five star. From the first moment we entered until we were done with dessert, it totally blew our minds. Never knew food could taste so good. Dee Dee had some kind of pasta dish while I had a steak. We tried each other’s, and holy shit, I would drive back again just to go to the restaurant; it was that good. The appetizers, soup, and salad were outstanding. And holy shit the desserts—as Dee Dee stated—they were orgasmic.
We sat in the lounge for a bit after dinner then hit the small casino on the property. Damn, we were on a roll, literally. Dee Dee won almost six hundred dollars on a slot machine and I didn’t do too bad on the tables, coming out ahead close to a grand. Shit, it will help pay for this weekend.
When we finally made it back to the room, we slowly took each other’s clothes off and made love. We didn’t rush and just let the mood take over. Watching Dee Dee lose control and feeling her body react to mine was a feeling I will never take for granted. After I cleaned up my woman, turned out the light, and pulled her close, I realized how much we needed this weekend. Life can get so overwhelming and day-to-day chaotic. We needed to reconnect on this level so we know how lucky we are to have what we have.
“Dee Dee, thank you for trusting me enough with this weekend. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I love ya, darlin’.”
“Des, this has been a perfect weekend. You surprised the crap out of me in a good way. I am blessed in so many ways. My biggest blessing is having you in my and my kids’ lives. I love ya too.”
“My Sugar, that’s all we need. Our love built on a solid relationship with our family included. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.”
With that, holding each other tight, we drift into a peaceful sleep knowing we can handle anything that comes our way. Together.
About DM
DM lives in Northwest Indiana with the love of her life. Having been an obsessed reader since childhood, she finally, after much support from her hubby, took the steps to start writing professionally.
If she’s not writing or reading, her ass is usually found either on my 2004 Harley Dyna next to her man on his 2011 Harley or puttering in the garden and flower beds around their home.
Sometimes she’s just relaxing on the back deck with our their pits laying at her feet, enjoying the sun & chimes as their indoor cats look out. There are also multiple strays living in their garage, as they are both nuts about animals. Let me clarify - NUTS.
Visit her at www.dmearl.com
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Vows That Bind Us
A Beautiful White Lies Short Story
KL Clare
Will needs marriage vows, and I need him, so we’ll celebrate our union with a beautiful wedding in England. The lies will keep for a few more days.
I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.
—Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
1
Ellie
Wedding Eve
My smile was rather devious as I peered over my shoulder into the full-length mirror to examine my backside. Will paced on the opposite side of the door to my dressing room, his heavy footsteps commanding submission from the timeworn floorboards in our bedroom.
It was the day before our wedding, and the desire to give every part of myself to Will had defeated anxiety and fear, forcing the fiends in my head to yield for a short time.
I was no longer afraid to be his wife. He was the one I’d waited for, and binding myself to him filled me with something new, something warm and joyful. Contentment overwhelmed me in the same way bliss consumed me when we made love and his soul filled mine.
Despite the hell our families had gone through—the deaths, the heartbreaking losses—we were happy. I was about to marry my protector, the man who had saved not only my life but my heart and my soul as well. William Richard Hastings was my everything.
“There’s one small gap here,” Jess said, pushing her little finger into the back of my gown to show the seamstress. She met my gaze in the mirror and grinned. “His eyes will never leave your ass, Ells. Try not to walk in front of him if you can help it.”
We giggled like we were in high school again in Stonington, our small Connecticut hometown. My best friend gripped my waist to steady me on top of the fitting platform as I slipped my feet back into the stilettos for the seamstress.
“We’ll let him have his fun with it at the reception,” I said. “I designed this one for him.”
Jess playfully swatted my behind. “No kidding.”
Will’s mother, Mary Hastings, had insisted that nothing less than two gowns would do for our traditional English wedding, so I’d sketched a classic, embroidered ball gown for the ceremony and reserved the unconventional design that I’d already drawn for later. Will had commissioned a well-known fashion designer in London to help me refine the details and ultimately bring both of my drawings to life.
The dress for the reception was a vintage-inspired white lace gown with a deeply cut bodice and an open back with a skirt that fell into a train that swept gracefully from the hem. The band at the dropped waist and the long sleeves were fashioned of the same antique lace but were unlined, while the skirt and bodice were lined in white silk. Slight ruching along the hips created a snug fit on my backside.
Will’s knuckles rapped on the door again. “Elle, how much longer? Come with me to the church for the final inspection so the contractor can be dismissed.”
We had decided to be married in a private ceremony on the Hastings estate, where we were happiest, though it meant declining the Crown’s thoughtful invitation to wed at St. George’s Chapel in London. Our guest list wasn’t meager by any means—it was longer each time Mary and the wedding planner placed it in front of me for approval—but it was limited to people who held some significance for the family. Will and I wanted our day to be as intimate as possible. We wanted to know that between the two of us, we would recognize the faces present on our special day. No strangers. No twice-removed acquaintances.
Across the meadow, beyond a grove of near lifeless wintering t
rees, was a chapel built of the same native stone as the lavish mansion where we now lived. Eastridge was Will’s family home, an eighteenth-century country estate in South East England. The house was perched high on the ridge of an old seaside town located along the coast of the English Channel. The quaint little church nestled deep inside the property had been neglected for decades, so Will had hired a contractor to supervise a full restoration.
The new steeple lantern would be lit for the first time that evening and burn for the next few nights through Christmas, and it would be visible from the town below, Will had told me earlier in the week.
“The bishop will arrive soon,” he said through the door. “Baby, do you hear me? I won’t see him without you, goddammit.”
“Give me five more minutes,” I called back. “Your mother will manage the bishop until everyone gathers for dinner. Leave it to her.”
The bishop of Chichester had agreed to perform the ceremony on our terms. Although he seemed to be a congenial man who, like me, had spent years studying art history, I still sensed some level of disapproval over our decision to marry at Eastridge.
Mary patted my arm and excused herself from the dressing room. “He’ll come in for you, dear, if you don’t hurry along. My son is not pleased with my direction to keep his distance from you tonight.”
“Your what?”
“He must stay with his brothers tonight. Lissie and Jessica will stay here with you to free up a few more guest rooms,” she said over her shoulder as she pushed through the door without allowing Will to see inside.
Right then a twinge of anxiety turned over in my stomach. Will and I hadn’t spent a night apart since he’d been shot two months before. He’d taken an assassin’s bullet meant for me that day. Our obsessive behaviors with one another had intensified after our near misses with death, and we had clung to each other, body and soul, every night since.
“Thank you. It’s perfect,” I told the seamstress after she placed the final stitch. I stepped down from the platform, and as she unfastened my gown, I twisted my ruby and diamond engagement ring from side to side on my finger.
Jess placed her hand over mine for a moment before helping me into my robe. “Mary means well. She doesn’t realize what she’s asking. I know you don’t want to let her down, but go with your gut on this. If you’re not ready to be separated from him, then we’ll make sure you’re not separated. Talk to her.”
I nodded. “I’ve given way and trusted her with the details of the wedding, but I can’t give her this. The reality is, if I’m to be whole tomorrow, I need him tonight. I hope she understands. Maybe there’s some sort of compromise.”
“Since when is Will a compromising man? When he sees that you’re uncomfortable with it, that’ll be the end of it. You know that.” She lifted my chin, and her eyes were filled with the kind of love a sister would reveal. “Back to happy, Ells. We win today. Anxiety loses.”
“We win,” I repeated.
Will turned the doorknob, pausing only to announce that he was coming in, and my heart leaped at the sound of his deep, rasping voice.
I found my smile and pointed as he opened the door.
“I’m getting married, Jess—to that magnificent man.”
Will and I stepped out of the estate’s Land Rover and walked hand in hand along the granite pavers that led through a grove of large trees to an iron gate that secured the church. Crisp, briny winds blew in from the west and stirred my longing for the sea. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, and twilight was quickly becoming dusk. The steeple lamp was burning, providing plenty of light for us to see our way to the little stone building beyond the gate.
We passed through patches of winter-flowering heather and dormant grass, and a young tree with bare branches caught my attention. It was as if the tree had been planted with intent in the precise location in which it now stood.
“It’s a wishing tree,” Will said, catching the question on my face. “Guests will hang ribbons on the branches that represent their wishes for our marriage . . . and probably for Lissie and for our future children. It’s a resilient oak species, chosen because it’ll remain long after we’re gone.”
“That’s really beautiful.”
“It’s an old custom from Ireland. Mum’s mother was Irish,” he said.
“Are she and Mrs. Bates related?”
“I believe they’re second or third cousins.”
I squeezed his hand. “Well, I love them both for the tree. It’s a lovely sentiment, and—”
The nightfall surrounding us was abruptly illuminated with thousands of strings of bright white Christmas lights. I spun around on my toes to take in the fantasy. The lights were strung on every tree for as far as I could see. Sparkling trees lined the trail we had just walked, their old branches reaching out over the pathway to create a canopy of lights.
Will took me into his arms, and we laughed and twirled around our secluded wonderland. Neither of us said a word. We just laughed as we waltzed across the church garden beneath the evening sky for a couple of minutes.
Our dance ended as he pulled my hand to his warm lips and kissed it.
“You did this,” I finally said, searching his pleased smile. “This is what you’ve been up to with your brothers. Who else helped? It must have taken a small army to pull this off.”
He drew me in closer and placed a soft kiss on my mouth. “As it happens, it did.”
His security team had pitched in.
“I guess it’s a good thing you have one.”
My breath combined with his, and we fell into a hungry, passionate kiss. He broke first. We panted to catch our breath, little white clouds puffing from between our lips.
“Listen to me, Elle. I need to say this now. I won’t risk missing the opportunity tomorrow. I need you to know . . . need you to show me that you understand.”
“Go ahead,” I whispered. “Time, here and now, belongs to us.”
Will dropped his eyes and his chin for a moment. It was the gesture that he reserved for me alone. A slight bow of his head to signal his unconditional devotion.
“There is nothing that means more to me than what you said this morning in the shower, that you want this marriage . . . that you want to be my wife. Nothing is more important—not my money, the company, nor this estate.” He hesitated, cursing under his breath.
I touched his face, dragged my nails through his golden scruff.
“Christ. I can’t find the words. I would give up everything for you. Every last fucking penny. Agreeing to marry me is one thing, and I would have accepted that as quite enough because I can’t live without you. What I mean to say, Elle, is that you made me the happiest man alive when you shared how much you want this marriage, how much you want me.”
Tears blurred my vision, distorting the sight of his beautiful blue eyes—stormy eyes that were busy blinking away their own unshed tears. My throat tightened, and I choked back a sob. I knew what he was about to say, and it broke my heart each time he said the words.
“Don’t say it. Not today,” I said, shaking my head.
“It’s the truth. I don’t deserve you, my angel.”
“You didn’t choose your past, Will, it was forced on you. You’re a good man. Someday you’ll see what I see.” Several of my tears escaped. He caught them with his thumbs. “I was scared, but I never doubted your commitment. You’re the man I want to love as my husband for the rest of my life.”
Our lips met, and his tender kiss left me breathless again. It pained me to look away from the restrained desire in his eyes, but I needed to hear the thunder of his beating heart and feel the warmth of his breath on my hair. I lowered my head to his chest.
“I’ll never hurt you, Elle. I would die first,” he whispered.
2
Ellie
Christmas Even
Will returned to our adult breakfast for family and overnight guests with two white business envelopes and a beautifully wrapped package tucked be
neath his arm. A courier had hand-delivered the items to Eastridge from his office in London. We’d been about to fill our plates at the buffet when security announced the messenger’s arrival. Will slipped one of the envelopes onto the empty plate before me. “You’ll want to see this one, baby.”
The handsome smile on his face and the authority in his eyes confirmed that he’d been successful in making another of my wedding wishes come true. I didn’t need to open the envelope to know what it was. I handed it back to him with a kiss to his cheek, and in turn, he passed the envelopes to Mrs. Bates for safekeeping.
The adoption order was final.
“Call her to the dining room,” I said. “Tell her. Tell everyone.”
Will raised his voice and called out to the great hall for our seven-year-old niece, now our daughter. “Lissie, come here to me.”
When Lissie came through the doorway, followed by the entourage of little girls she was entertaining, he stood and pulled out my chair so that I could get to my feet beside him.
“Is it time for the wedding?” Lissie asked Will. Their eyes met, and her small hand burrowed into his. Her excitement was unmistakable.
“Not yet, princess. Your auntie and I received good news this morning, and we want to share it with you. Do you remember our conversation about the adoption?”