by A. S. Teague
Breccan moves in to the room behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. I place a hand on top of his and squeeze. “Did you do all of this?”
His lips brush my cheek. “You like?”
“The flowers are beautiful,” I tell him, looking at the dozens of bouquets. Each vase is a mix of colorful tropical flowers, beautiful both individually and together.
My gaze roams the room when I spot a box in the middle of the freshly-made bed. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the large rectangular package.
“That is your wedding gift,” he replies proudly.
I shift so that I can see his face. “But you already gave me a wedding gift.” Confused, I finger the necklace at my throat. A delicate chain rests against my skin, an emerald-cut opal, the size of a quarter, surrounded by diamonds resting at the end.
“Well, I guess you just get two wedding gifts then.” He kisses the end of my nose.
“Breccan, you shouldn’t have.” Guilt washes over me as I realize that he’s gone overboard with the gifts, like he always does. “I only got you the watch.”
He pulls the sleeve of his tux shirt back to admire the timepiece on his wrist. “Baby, this watch is the baddest thing I’ve ever seen.” He tears his attention away from his arm and looks into my eyes. “But you didn’t need to get me anything. Marrying me today was the only gift I needed.”
My lips tip up. “You’re so cheesy.”
He lifts a shoulder, “You like it.”
I giggle, “I do.” My gaze goes back to the package on the bed. “Can I open it now?” I ask eagerly. Even though he shouldn’t have gotten me another gift, I’m still dying to know what’s inside.
He dips his chin and I prance to the bed, wasting no time grabbing the box that’s tied with a huge bow. I pull the end of the ribbon and it slides off.
Taking the lid off the box, I toss it aside and paw through the tissue paper inside. When I finally get to the content of the box, my eyes widen while my heart slams in my chest.
With shaking hands, I pull the book from the box and stare at the cover.
The Adventures of the Amazing Connor O’Neil is written across the front in bright font, a caricature of Connor that we had made during a trip to Six Flags is printed beneath the title.
My mouth opens and closes, desperately seeking air while trying to find the right words to say to Breccan. Slowly, I lift my gaze to where he’s perched on the end of the bed, my eyes shimmering with tears.
His face bursts with pride and excitement.
With trembling fingers, I slowly slide the book from its protective plastic sleeve and carefully open the front cover.
The Adventures of the Amazing Connor O’Neil
Written by: Sidney O’Neil Carlisle
Illustrated by: Alex Lee
Dedication from Alex Lee: For the boy who never let his circumstances stop him from living his life.
I read the page over once more and then slowly flip through the rest of the book. Breccan lets me take my time, never once interrupting me while I read the comic I’d written last month.
When I reach the end, I gently slide it back in to the protective sleeve and finally speak. “How?”
Breccan’s face breaks in to a triumphant smile and he shrugs. “I know a guy.”
Incredulously, I ask. “Alex Lee? You know Alex Lee?”
He nods, still grinning. I’d like to say that I’m shocked that Breccan knows one of the most famous comic book artists of all time, but nothing he does surprises me anymore.
“Baby, your comic book was great, the stories and adventures hilarious. But the illustrations…” He trails off, not wanting to hurt my feelings, and I giggle.
I feign hurt and ask, “What was wrong with my stick figures?”
He laughs out loud and I join him, laughing until my cheeks hurt. When I finally catch my breath, he tells me. “I called him and asked if he would mind illustrating it for us, telling him Connor’s story. He agreed and I sent him your version. Which, by the way, I got back, so don’t worry.”
He answers the question that was on the tip of my tongue as if he was reading my mind.
“And there’s more.”
“More?”
“Yep. Alex loved the comic and Connor’s story. He’s going to write a comic with a character named after Connor and donate a portion of the proceeds to The Make-A-Wish Foundation in Connor’s honor.”
My hand flies to my mouth and I gasp. “Are you serious?”
When he nods in confirmation, I push the box aside, careful not to damage the precious comic and attempt to crawl to Breccan. My wedding dress gets in the way, the long layers of silk and lace impeding my progress. When I get tangled in the material, I lose my balance and slide off the bed, landing with an “Oomph”.
“Sidney? Are you okay?” Breccan asks alarmed.
The dress is over my head, so my voice is muffled when I ask, “How sexy is this?”
His deep voice is laced with humor as he replies, “Need any help?”
His hand wraps around my forearm and he pulls me to my feet, the dress falling back in to place. I place my free hand on his chest and stand on my toes, kissing the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and inhaling the scent of his cologne.
“This has been the most magical day of my life.”
Breccan wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, my arms going around him.
“It was an amazing day, wasn’t it, Mrs. Carlisle?”
A thrill shoots down my spine. I tilt my head back to look at his face and tell him wickedly, “You know, husband, I’d really love to show you just how much I loved it all.”
His hips press against mine and he growls, “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur a mere second before his lips crash to mine. I moan and my mouth opens, welcoming the slide of his tongue against mine.
Breccan’s hands roam my body, settling on the zipper at the back of my dress. With a quick motion, he unzips the gown and it falls, pooling around my feet.
Pulling away, his heated eyes take me in as I stand in front of him in my white lace panties and bra.
Breccan’s hands settle on my waist and he spins us, guiding me toward the bed until my knees hits the edge. I lay back as he sinks to his knees on the floor, his shoulders settling between my legs.
Desire pools in the pit of my belly as Breccan kisses along my inner thigh, his hands running along the outside of my legs, I moan in anticipation.
When he reaches his destination, he nuzzles my core, pressing kisses on the outside of my panties. His breath, warm on my core, causes me to shiver and the longer he teases me, the more desperate I become to feel his mouth on me, without the thin silk barrier.
“Breccan, please.”
He growls, the vibration only making my desire grow. “Who am I?” he asks, and he begins to slide my panties down my legs.
“My husband,” I moan.
“Fuck yeah, I am,” he growls again. “Tell your husband what you want.”
I lift my hips. “I need your mouth on me.”
Slowly, his tongue sweeps my pussy, and I cry out, “God, yes!”
With each stroke of his tongue, my orgasm builds. His hands slide up my body and when they reach my breasts, he pulls the cups of my bra down, rolling my nipples between his fingers.
The rough tug of my nipples coupled with his warm, soft tongue, send me over the edge, and with my eyes squeezed tight, my body quakes, the waves of my orgasm crashing over me. When it begins to wane, I lay spineless, my body feeling as though its floating.
With one more soft stroke of his tongue, Breccan stands and peels out of his tux. I push up on an elbow and enjoy the show, my eyes trying to take in every inch of his perfect body as he climbs on top of me.
Hooking an arm under me, he slides us up the bed until my head rests on the pillows. His gaze is soft as he studies my face, his hands framing my head.
Staring in to my eyes, he slowly slides
inside me, filling me completely with one smooth stroke.
My eyes flutter shut and my lips part at the welcome invasion.
“Open your eyes,” Breccan whispers.
My lids feel heavy, sated from the orgasm and the way he feels inside me, but I force them open and look in to his shining eyes.
Satisfied, he moves, slowly gliding in and out of me, his pace never quickening. One arm under my shoulders, he grasps my hip with the other, anchoring me beneath him. I wrap my legs around his waist and move with him, matching his rhythm.
In only a matter of moments, I feel another orgasm snowballing. His ragged breathing indicates he’s getting close too, and I lift my face to his, desperate to feel his lips.
His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue gliding against mine in tempo with his cock.
My second climax rips through me, and I cry out, moaning into Breccan’s mouth as he continues to kiss me. Moments later, he follows me, his own sounds of pleasure muffled by my mouth.
Stilling, he doesn’t pull out of me, but gives me his weight and I accept it, running my hands over his back.
His mouth at my ear, he whispers, “I fucking love you.”
My heart swells, so full of the love I feel for this man, I fear it may burst. I want to tell him that I love him too, that I will always love him, but there aren’t adequate words to describe my feelings for him. Instead, I flex my arms, squeezing him tightly and kiss the side of his head.
“And I love your honeypot.”
And just like that, my heart no longer feels like it’s going to burst. Sputtering, I ask, “Honeypot? What the heck is that?”
He licks the side of my ear and rolls his hips, his cock still inside me, “Your honeypot. Sweet spot, pussy, cunt. I fucking love it.”
Unlocking my legs from his waist, I push against his shoulders, fighting a smile, and groan, “God, you’re ridiculous. Get off me.”
Chuckling, he pushes up on his forearm and looks at my face, his eyes dancing, “You know you like it when I talk dirty to you.”
I roll my eyes, still pushing at his shoulders. There’s no way I could move him if I wanted to, but still, I try. “I said get off!”
He kisses my lips, but I refuse to kiss him back and keep my eyes open wide. He doesn’t close his either, staring at me as he continues trying to soften my lips with his. My mouth clamped tight, I tell him, “Mm-mm” and shake my head.
Giving up on kissing me, he smirks, “You better get used to it, baby. You married me. Now you and your honeypot are mine forever.”
“Oh, God. Does Costa Rica allow annulments?”
He furrows his brow. “On what grounds?”
“Fraud! I didn’t know I was marrying a Giglio.”
Breccan waggles his eyebrows and again rolls his hips. “Giglio, huh? I’ll show you a Giglio.” He begins thrusting his hips, his cock already hard again sliding in and out of me.
I give up on pushing him off me and this time, when he presses his lips to mine, I kiss him back, my mouth soft and pliant beneath his.
He tears his lips from mine and tells me triumphantly, “I knew my baby loved it when I fucked her honeypot.”
Giggling, I slap my hand over his mouth. “My sweet spot wants less talking, more fucking.”
His eyes darken and against my fingers, he says, “What my wife wants, she gets.”
Chapter Six
March
“I’m here.” Rebecca announces as she shuffles through the front door. For the first time since I’ve met her, she doesn’t look like she’s just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and colorful leggings, her hair’s piled on top of her head and there’s not a bit of make up on her gorgeous face. Her eyes are barely open and she rubs them, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, boy.” She turns back to me and says, “Prince didn’t want to get out of bed.”
I nod at her, “That makes two of us then.” Looking around her, I see the big dog lumbering up my front steps. “Come on, buddy,” I call out, and I swear, if dogs had fingers, he’d be giving me the middle one.
Once he pads inside, he goes to Breccan’s chair and flops in it, immediately going back to sleep.
“Asshole,” Rebecca mutters under her breath before dropping down on one end of my couch.
“Who’s an asshole?” Breccan sings, practically bouncing down the hall.
Rebecca eyes him suspiciously and then looks back at me. I lift my shoulders in response to her unasked question, and she turns her attention back to my husband.
“Are you on drugs?” she asks when he settles in to the couch beside her.
“High on life, Reb. High. On. Life,” he tells her, ruffling her hair. She swats at his hand and rolls her eyes.
“The only thing makes you high on life at six am is crack, Brec. Let’s get this over with,” Rebecca groans. “I can’t believe I’m about to watch ten Harry Potter movies. In a row. What a waste of a perfectly good weekend.”
“There are only eight movies,” I tell her, trying to be optimistic. The truth is, I would rather cut a pinky toe off than sit here for the next nineteen hours watching movies. “And if we use our time wisely, we should be able to watch them all today. So, you’ll still have tomorrow at least.”
“So, how long are each of the movies?” Breccan asks. “Like, an hour? I mean, that’s a lot of movies, they can’t be that long, right?”
“Uhh…” I cut my eyes away from his. “So, I read online that if we don’t watch the credits we can shave over an hour off the total time.” Nervously, I rearrange the cookies I’d made last night on the plate. “That’s where I got the suggestion to start early.”
“How long is this supposed to take, baby?” Breccan asks again.
I hold up the plate and wave it in his face. “Cookie?” Changing the subject, I tell him, “I made these just for you.”
A smirk on her sleepy face, Rebecca asks, “You didn’t tell him, did you? No wonder he’s so chipper.”
Groaning, Breccan grabs two cookies from the plate and hands one to Rebecca. “Now I’m afraid to know.”
I pick a cookie up and shove it in my mouth before answering, “Nineteen hours.”
Breccan’s mouth falls open and his head swings back and forth between Rebecca and I. “Nineteen fucking hours of wizards? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
I shake my head rapidly and offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry, honey.”
Breccan sighs heavily and then settles back in to the couch. “Let’s get this shit started then.”
Six hours later, we’ve gotten through the first two and a half movies when Rebecca pushes to her feet. “I need a break. Like, a long break. With wine.”
I grab at the remote, but Breccan beats me to it.
“What? No!” he argues. “We’re right in the middle of the best part!”
Rebecca puts her hands to her hips and narrows her eyes at Breccan, “My brain is turning to mush. Ten minutes won’t kill you. But I will if you don’t pause the damn movie!”
Breccan huffs, but pauses the movie.
I stand, giving my legs a much-needed stretch and follow Reb in to the kitchen. She’s pulled two glasses from the cabinet and is filling them, her back to me.
When she’s done, she turns, a glass in each hand, and I reach for one.
“Oh, no, these are both for me,” she informs me, an eyebrow arched. “If I’m going to survive this day, I need a little help.”
I chuckle at her over-the-top theatrics and slide past her to grab a glass for myself.
“So, tell me about Australia,” she chirps.
“Gah, where do I even begin?” I breathe, remembering the trip that we’d taken last month.
After the whirlwind that was planning our wedding, I told Breccan that I needed to slow down. The wedding had been perfect, our families there with us, and our honeymoon had been even better. But we were checking items off the bucket list at a rapid pace, and instead of enjoying it, all
I felt with each activity was dread.
The constant trips were exhausting, my work piling up at the office so that I felt like I was constantly drowning. But the biggest reason I needed to take a break was that we were nearing the end of the list. And it terrified me.
I wasn’t ready to be done.
Breccan didn’t understand, and we had our first big fight as a married couple just a month after our wedding. He’d planned a trip to Australia for Thanksgiving, trying to surprise me with it much like he did when we swam with dolphins. But this time, I refused to pack a bag and fly around the world on a moment’s notice.
Our fight was terrible, but I finally got through to him and we compromised. We would go to Australia after the new year, after we got through the anniversary of Connor’s death, and after we had a chance to get settled in to married life.
Breccan left the details of the trip up to me and I had a great time planning our first visit down under.
“How hot are the guys there? That’s all I really need to know.” Rebecca giggles, interrupting my thoughts. “You should have brought a boyfriend back for me, you know.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Breccan’s engrossed in his phone, so I lower my voice and tell her, “The surf instructor. Oh, my God, Reb, it was like he was carved from stone. And his accent. Jesus.”
Rebecca grins. “Did you fall off the surfboard on purpose?”
“Fuck, why didn’t I think of that?” I whisper. “Brec tried to get up on the board once before he gave up. He must have apologized a thousand times for leaving me alone, but really, I didn’t mind. Not. One. Bit.” I laugh, wagging my eyebrows.
“Dammit, Sid, you should have packed him in your suitcase and smuggled him back in to the country!”
I giggle again and take a swallow of my wine. It doesn’t taste as good as it usually does, so I put my glass down and tell Reb, “It’s too early for wine I think.”
She purses her lips together but doesn’t say anything as Breccan calls us from the other room.
“Sid, Reb, get in here.”
Groaning, I slide off the barstool I was perched on and shuffle back in to the living room. Rebecca trails in behind me and throws herself on the couch dramatically. “Okay, okay, we’re back. Start the damn movie. Only twelve more hours of torture to go.”