Face the Music

by Salsbury, JB

  I pull her hand from my neck, cradling it in mine, and we head out to find all the guests have formed two rows with a path between them that leads to a black stretch limo. We walk hand-in-hand through the cheers of our guests and a canopy of bubbles. At the door of the vehicle is Bethany, holding Elliot’s hand.

  I kneel and hug my daughter, bringing my lips to her ear. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. Bethany let me eat two pieces of cake and she said we’re going to stay up all night watching Disney movies.” The last word is filtered through a yawn.

  I pull back, hold her hands, and get her eyes. They sparkle with exhaustion and fading enthusiasm. “Be good for Aunt Bethany and Uncle Jes.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I will, Dad. You’re only going to be gone for a night. I’m not a baby.”

  “I know.” I try not to frown, because looking at her in her white lace dress, her hair curled and with blush on her cheeks, she looks closer to twelve than going on seven. “Call me if you need me.”

  “No need,” Bethany says. “She’ll be fine.”

  I look up at my sister-in-law, then I stand and give her a quick hug. “Thank you.”

  She smiles at me before her eyes shift to Elliot, who’s now in the arms of a kneeling Ashleigh.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Ash says before kissing Elliot’s forehead. “Don’t be too good for Bethany.” She winks. “Keep her and Jes on their toes, all right?”

  Elliot winks back. “I will.” She throws her arms around Ashleigh again. “I love you.”

  My heart shatters into a million pieces. When Ashleigh closes her eyes, nuzzles into Elliot’s hair, and says, “I love you more,” all the pieces of my heart rejoin in a bond that feels stronger than ever.

  Ashleigh

  I kiss Elliot for the millionth time, then slip into the back of the limo, watching my new husband crawl in behind me. He has ditched his coat so I can better see the swell of his muscles through his thin shirt and have an unobstructed view of his round ass. He settles in next to me, and the moment the driver closes the back door, I’m on him.

  My hands in his hair, I pull his mouth to mine. He chuckles but gives zero resistance. He tastes like sweet cake and champagne. His tongue is hot and greedy as he licks into my mouth, his hands gripping my hips and hauling me easily into his lap. I love how his size and strength make me feel small.

  I settle on his lap and find him hard under my ass, but he’s been hard for weeks now. I’ve never seen a man with such iron-clad control of his sexual drive. I always thought getting straight from first base to a home run was the best, most effective way to approach sex, but Ben has taught me there’s beauty in waiting. Romance in delayed gratification. Exercising self-control in the heat of kissing has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the buildup is now a steaming train headed downhill with the promise of multiple earth-shattering orgasms.

  The limo lurches to a stop.

  I pull my lips from Ben’s and smile when he chases them down for one last kiss. “Are we here?”

  “Fastest limo ride in the history of wedding nights,” Ben mumbles as he sits me back down beside him and fixes the buttons on his shirt.

  Did I unbutton his shirt? My cheeks heat and I straighten the bodice of my dress that became twisted in the madness of our kiss.

  The door opens, and Ben snags my hand to help me out on shaky legs. I smile, a little embarrassed at how off-center I feel from simply kissing. If one thing can be said of the month plus since Ben’s and my reconciliation, we’ve mastered kissing. I’ve learned he’s sensitive on his neck just inches below his ears and he loves it when I suck, bite, and lick him there. He goes nuts when I suck his bottom lip or use his thumb to mimic the blow job I can’t wait to give him on our first night of wedded bliss. I need to taste him.

  It’s nearly black outside except for the light thrown from the fire pit in front of a small, modern house.

  “Where are we?” I ask. I watch through the glass walls the limo driver carries our bags in and places them on a bench at the foot of a king-sized bed.

  Ben’s arms come around me, and his lips find my neck. “I didn’t want to share my new wife with anyone tonight. Not even hotel staff. I want you alone and secluded.”

  I look around into the dark desert and see nothing but night, the nearest lights miles away. “I can even see stars up here.”

  With my chin tilted up, Ben takes advantage and kisses my throat. “We’re in the middle of five acres of private land, completely alone. We don’t even have to wear clothes if we don’t want to.”

  “Mr. Langley, is there anything else you need?” The limo driver politely averts his eyes as Ben pulls his mouth back from my neck to answer.

  “No. Thank you.”

  He nods. “Chef has prepared your meals. They’re in the refrigerator. Text me if you need anything.”

  And with that, he’s gone.

  Ben and I kiss under the stars until we’re grasping at each other’s clothes.

  “Can’t wait anymore.” In one powerful sweep, he scoops me off my feet. He stomps up the concrete pathway to the open door of the bedroom and gently sets me back on my feet. His eyes frantically search my face, an unspoken question as I watch his control slip.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  I snag my overnight bag and lock myself in the bathroom that’s surprisingly spacious for such a modest-sized home. There’s a tile shower, bathtub big enough for two, a large sink and vanity, and plenty of fluffy white towels. I take a minute to sniff the bath oils, lotions, and soaps.

  I peel my wedding gown down my body and drape it over the sink, then I unhook my strapless bra and slip off my panties. Ben would be excited to see me in anything, but I really want to make tonight special. I dig out the silk bag filled with the lingerie I purchased for our first night together, all black straps and lace. I opted for black over white, although I’m not entirely sure why. It takes a few minutes to get dressed, and after making sure everything is on correctly and in place, I stare at myself in the mirror and suck in a breath.

  Unease prickles against my skin.

  What if he hates it?

  What if he wants to see me in something more virginal?

  Nothing I can do about that now.

  I wipe some of the makeup off my face, shake out my hair, and head back to the bedroom. When I open the door, I find Ben with his shirt off, his pants open, and his feet bare. I hold my breath and wait for his response.

  His eyes grow wide and his jaw falls open.

  I lean a shoulder on the doorway, feeling a swell of confidence. The rest of it, I fake. “I’ll take your stunned silence as approval.”

  His mouth gapes, and I’m drawn to the more-than-obvious swelling behind his zipper. “Ash…” The way he says my name is half whisper, half groan. “You…” He swallows hard, his gaze seeming to argue about which part of me to settle on. “I don’t know what…” He shoves a hand through his hair, his gaze finally settling on my eyes.

  “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He laughs but quickly sobers as his eyes make another pass from my tits to my hips, to between my legs and back. I decide sexually torturing my husband is too fun, so I step farther into the room and do a slow turn.

  “Oh fuck…” He moans.

  I wiggle my butt and peer over my shoulder. “So you’re saying this’ll do?”

  When his eyes snap to mine, there’s no longer shock and appreciation in his gaze. There’s fire. Uncontrolled. Burning. Desire.

  He circles around to the edge of the bed, but rather than come to me, he sits. His legs are wide and showcase an impressive tent behind his open fly and black boxer briefs that reaches to his belly button. I lick my lips.

  “Come here.” Not a gentle request, but a barking command.

  The sound rolls over my bare skin, making me quiver. I walk toward him with a gentle sway in my hips and stop between his thighs. He doesn’t touch m
e but leans in, nostrils flared. He breathes me in. Such a simple, seemingly unsexy thing to do, yet so animalistic, it makes me moan.

  I don’t wait for his next command. Instead I drop to my knees between his open feet. My chest heaves with excitement as I slide my hands up his pant legs, over his knees and his tense, muscular thighs to the waistband of his briefs. Before taking them off, I rub my thumb up his length to the tip that’s already seeping through the cotton.

  He tilts his head and studies me curiously before dropping his chin and watching my thumb rub back and forth. No longer able to hold himself up, he puts his palms to the bed behind him and thrusts his hips forward, a gentle request for more. His six-pack abs tighten, and his chest expands and contracts at a rapid pace.

  “I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long.” I watch him watching me, his lips parted, his eyebrows pinched together. He’s the most perfect man I’ve ever known and I’m wearing his ring. I own his body, his moans, every gasp of pleasure, it’s all mine, but to think I own his heart? That knowledge gives me a thrill and makes me bolder. I lean in and lick him over the wet fabric. The saltiness makes my mouth water for more.

  “Ash, baby, I’m—”

  “Shhh…” I smile as much as I’m able but find it difficult with the burning need in my chest and between my legs. “Up.”

  He lifts his hips so I can slip his pants and briefs down his legs, and I move a little so he can kick them aside.

  I’ve been up close and personal with a lot of dicks in my life, but I have a hard time recalling the details of any of them as I stare at the thick length of Ben. I must stare at it for too long, because he hooks me around the neck and pulls my face close to his, covers my mouth with his, and kisses me hard. To give him a sample of what’s to come, I suck his tongue into my mouth, swirl my tongue around the tip, and lick up the underside.

  “Yes,” he groans and releases me.

  I settle between his legs and take his length in my fist. I can’t put it off a second longer. With one move, I have my beloved husband to the back of my throat.

  His hips come off the bed with a groaned curse, and even with a full mouth, I grin.

  “You’ll be the death of me,” he says between panted breaths.

  I don’t answer, but death by blow jobs doesn’t sound like a bad way to go. I treat Ben to all my best tricks, and judging by his gasps and moans and the frequency of curse words that fall from his lips, I feel as though I should win some kind of medal for oral skills. His hands are braced behind him and I know he’s close, but I’m not ready for this to be over. I pull my mouth off him and sit tall between his legs. Leaning forward, I brush my nipples against the tip of his dick. The sensation coaxes a hum of pleasure from my throat. I reach for his hands, and he finds my mouth and kisses me, sucking his own salt from my tongue and groaning.

  “I taste good on your tongue.” His eyes search mine as I bring his hands to my head. “I want more.”

  “Keep your hands in my hair. Show me how you like it.” I don’t move until he applies a gentle pressure, bringing my head back between his legs.

  When I don’t open my mouth, he growls. “Take me in your throat.”

  I smirk before I do what he asks.

  “Put your hands on my shaft and squeeze hard.”

  I do, and he grips my hair tighter. My eyes fall shut and I hum around him in approval. I’ve always loved it a little rough.

  “Harder, baby—yeah, like that.” He rocks his hips forward while holding my head in place, taking control of his own pleasure. “Use your tongue—yeah… ohh yes, like that.”

  His breath comes in pants, his hips punching forward. He knocks the back of my throat and makes my mouth water, coating him.

  “I love you, Ashleigh. I love you so much.” His voice trembles. “Don’t stop.”

  Ben

  I’m having an out-of-body experience.

  I can’t feel my arms or my legs or anything except for what Ashleigh is doing between my legs. Has all the blood drained from my brain to my hard-on, because I don’t even know my own name. I have no control over my body other than the rhythmic roll of my hips. I only know that I’m about to have an orgasm I’m afraid my beautiful wife might choke on.

  Tension coils at the base of my spine. My hands shake. “Ash, babe.” She doesn’t listen, but the suction of her mouth becomes tighter. “No, don’t. I’m about to—”

  She squeezes her fist around me, cutting off my words, and as if she pressed a big red button, I explode. I release her head to brace myself on the bed or I’m liable to fall off of it as wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through me. Stars dance behind my eyes, the room spins, and I can’t feel my head, as if it popped right off to float miles into the universe.

  My body falls back. At first I assume my arms must’ve given out, but when Ashleigh crawls on top of me, I realize she shoved me back and I gave zero resistance. Her bright blond hair comes into view, along with her even brighter smile. I don’t know what I expected the end to be like—maybe her cheeks blown-up, lips pinched together as she makes a mad dash to the bathroom to spit. Her pretty white teeth and peaceful smile with pink, swollen lips was not how I thought these things ended.

  “Hey.” Her smile brightens.

  I can’t piece together a coherent sentence, so I mimic her with a “Hey,” but it comes out rough and barely audible.

  She straddles my hips. The friction of lace against my bare body works like a herding call to my blood as it rallies and returns between my legs. I study her towering over me. Her golden-tan skin, smooth, soft, and supple, encased in what looks more like artwork than underwear. Black straps crisscross her torso as if she’d been artfully tied up to her neck, down her chest, with strategically placed scraps of lace that barely cover her nipples. The bondage continues down her stomach and around her back and her hips. There’s more lace between her legs, but where panties usually cover is bare. Crotchless. Assless. Sexy and a little dangerous and one hundred percent Ashleigh.

  I clear my throat and run my hands in soothing strokes up her thighs. “You look incredible.”

  “You like?” She runs her hand with pink-tipped nails between her breasts. “Consider it your wedding gift.”

  “Can I look forward to similar gifts for anniversaries, birthdays, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving—”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “There’s plenty more where this came from.” She falls forward, her chest pressed to mine, and we kiss.

  Lazy, slow, and so full of love, our tongues work together, and soon she’s rubbing against me. I flip her to her back and crawl between her legs. The room is silent except the crackle from the fire just outside the open doors. I’m so happy Ashleigh likes this place. It took me weeks to find something private and secluded so we could be as free and as loud as we want.

  I kiss down her throat and suck her nipples through the tiny lace triangles. Her back arches off the bed, and her nails scrape along my back. I never knew pain could intensify pleasure, but the throbbing between my legs at every prick of her nails is undeniable. I run my lips down her stomach and settle between her legs. I lick her inner thigh and gaze upon her, legs spread wide, naked and open to me. My wife. Mine. Only mine.

  Then I kiss her.

  I know how she likes to be kissed, so I use my teeth, my tongue, and pull at her with my lips just as I do when I kiss her mouth. I had forgotten how hot it is to give a woman pleasure, or maybe Ashleigh just feels pleasure deeper than most. For a moment, I wonder which one of us will orgasm first. She answers that question when she sits up, grips my head, and presses me deeper between her legs. I groan at her assertiveness, her parted lips, and when she throws her head back, I sink my tongue inside her to feel the rush of her release on my tongue.

  In that moment, I’m struck by two things.

  One, I’m the luckiest man in the world.

  Two, I want to make a baby with my wife.

  Not tonight, but I add it to the list of things I�
�d like to talk to her about. I never imagined I’d remarry after I lost Maggie. I sure didn’t think I’d ever again subject myself to the fear that comes along with having a pregnant wife. But here I am wanting to see her body swollen with a life I put inside her. Slow down, Ben. After all, we haven’t even made love yet.

  I crawl up her body. She kisses me long, slow, and deep, seeming to savor the taste of herself from my mouth.

  I’m hard again. Shocker. But she’s still coming down to earth, so I move to roll off of her—only to have her lock her legs around my hips.

  I brace my weight on my elbows and smile. “Eager.”

  She looks at me with bright blue eyes and flushed cheeks. “You have no idea.”

  “I have a pretty good idea.” I prop myself up a little and look down between us. “I don’t know how to get this thing off you.”

  She rolls her hips, pressing her nakedness to mine. “No need. Crotchless.”

  I look down at her and catch a flicker of insecurity in her gaze. I get the sense that this sexy outfit isn’t only for my enjoyment. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it, but I’m sensing she’d feel exposed if I removed it. That’s the thing about Ashleigh and her sexy clothes. Sometimes she wears them like armor. To push away and turn off people she knows will reject her anyway.

  I love the way Ashleigh dresses. I wouldn’t change a single thing about the woman I’ve fallen in love with. But when I make love to her for the first time, I don’t want any of her armor between us, not a single strip of fabric.

  I push back to my knees. When I see her there on the white comforter, her long, lean legs open, all those delicious curves wrapped in black straps that beg to be pulled on and used to hold her down or hold her up, I fantasize about the fun we’ll have in the future.

  But not tonight.

  “Sit up,” I say.

  “What? Why? I’m telling you, all you have to do is—”

  “Ash, baby, sit up.”

  Her eyes flicker with unease, but she sits up anyway. I crawl around her to her back and search for the clasps. I sweep her hair aside and kiss her shoulder once, twice, three times until the tension in her muscles releases. I unhook the clasp behind her neck, and she inhales and tenses.