by Lane Hayes
“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…”
We held eye contact while I sang. Occasionally he swiped at the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. This belonged to him. To us. But on the most important day of our lives as a newly married couple, it seemed appropriate to share it with the people who mattered to us. This song had always been a touchstone of sorts for us. A signal that something new and incredibly special had begun.
Part 7-
Here’s the thing about our wedding.…We spent months of planning and a ridiculous amount of money for something we could have accomplished within fifteen minutes at City Hall for less than fifty bucks, because we wanted to create a memory and share it with the people we loved. We maximized our moment in every way possible. We chose a gorgeous venue at a stately historic manor with views overlooking the Potomac. The reception was held in an elegant ballroom with ginormous crystal chandeliers, antique mirrors, and landscape artwork from the nineteenth century. The tables were decked with votive candles and tall, slender vases filled with orchids and roses tumbling onto white linen tablecloths.
Aaron insisted on a sophisticated sit-down dinner. The food was amazing, and the toasts were entertaining. Jay, Curt, and Sean had the room in hysterics with highly embellished stories of past exploits. Our parents and some work associates chimed in with heartfelt well-wishes too. The atmosphere was warm and inclusive. There may have been two hundred guests, but somehow the evening felt intimate. The guitarist who’d played during our ceremony serenaded us during dinner until the deejay took over. And except for a brief break from the dance floor to cut the cake and give another round of toasts, we danced nonstop.
My feet were killing me by the time our limo arrived to whisk us to an exclusive hotel in town where we were escorted to the honeymoon suite. Jay had dropped off an overnight bag for us earlier, so we didn’t have to do anything but show up. We were traveling light anyway. The plan was to meet a few friends and family members for brunch before going home to grab our luggage. Then we’d head to the airport to catch our flight to Puerto Rico in the afternoon.
But the last thing I wanted to think about was what came next when we finally closed the door behind the chatty bellman. I kicked off my shoes and turned just as Aaron popped open a bottle of champagne.
“More champagne?”
“Matty, there’s no such thing as too much bubbly on your wedding day.” He handed me a flute, then tapped his glass against mine. “To us.”
“To us.”
I sipped the sparkly wine, then set my flute on the table at the same time he did and slipped my arm around his waist. Aaron caressed my face and smiled as he started working the long row of buttons on my shirt.
“I think that was the most perfect day ever. Thank you,” he said, pulling the fabric from my trousers and pushing my shirt over my shoulders.
“It was incredible. But I should thank you.”
“We did it together.”
I threaded my fingers through his hair, then sealed my mouth over his, licking his lips until he let me inside. The kiss was sweet and unhurried. And after a manic and emotional day, it felt like heaven.
Our lips fused as we slowly undressed each other. We took our time unbuttoning, unbuckling, and unzipping, letting the anticipation build. I hooked my fingers under his boxer briefs and squeezed his ass before shoving the fabric out of the way. Aaron groaned when I traced his crack and pulled his cheeks apart to massage his hole. He gyrated against me, grinding his rigid cock against my upper thigh. When I bent my knees to adjust for our height difference, he took the hint and stroked us together with a firm grip, twisting his wrist the way I liked it. He kept a languid pace until I bucked my hips in a quest for more friction.
“Bed,” I commanded in a raspy voice.
Aaron nodded, then furrowed his brow and glanced around the spacious suite as though just noticing his surroundings. “We aren’t home. Shit. Do you have lube?”
“Well, not on me,” I joked, kicking my tuxedo trousers aside and gesturing at my naked body.
“Very funny. Did you pack any?”
“You always pack it. Check our bag.” I pulled back the duvet and climbed onto the king-sized bed. I was so fucking tired, I was almost afraid to lay my head on the pillow. I propped myself on my elbows and watched Aaron frantically dig through the bag Jay had dropped off earlier.
“I can’t find it.” He set his hands on his hips and bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Where else would I put it?”
“Aar…”
“I remembered every fucking thing on my list but lube. How is that possible? On our wedding night, no less!” He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration and stared into space.
“Aar, come here.”
“Do not suggest saliva. We tried that once and it hurt,” he griped.
“We could always call room service,” I suggested, tucking one arm behind my head and stroking myself with my free hand.
Aaron let out a reluctant half laugh. “Hello, I’d like to order a sundae and a bottle of lube.”
I chuckled at his affectation. “Check your wallet. Sometimes you carry those little packets.”
“Good call.”
He sifted through his wallet and held up a small packet triumphantly. “Ta-da! Matty, you’re a genius.”
“I have my moments,” I quipped as he handed me the tiny sample of lube. “There isn’t much in here.”
“It’s all we have.” He flopped into bed and curled beside me, throwing his arm across my chest and tangling his legs with mine. Poor guy was exhausted.
“Hmm. Roll over on your stomach.”
He promptly obeyed, lowering his hand to stroke himself as he lifted his ass in invitation. I crawled between his thighs and reached for the lube while I rubbed my thumb over his entrance. Fuck, that was hot. The contrast of his olive skin against the white sheets and the curve of his perfect ass. I dropped the lube quickly and bent to lick him. Aaron gasped in surprise and pleasure. Then he swayed his hips in a silent request for more. I pumped my own cock as I worked him over, pausing to suck his balls before returning to his sweet hole. When I flicked my tongue over the sensitive skin and pushed a finger inside, he went a little crazy.
“Oh fuck, Matty.”
I kept a steady tempo, doing as much as I could at once. I used my hands to jack us simultaneously while I tongue-fucked him. A tingle of pleasure tripped up my spine, but I didn’t want to come like this. I slapped his ass, then kneeled back to open the lube, dripping it over my cock and on my fingers. Then I slipped one finger inside him followed quickly by a second.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes. Fuck me. Please.”
I lined my dick at his entrance and pushed and holy fuck, I swore I saw stars. I took my time, inching my way slowly in spite of his pleas for harder, faster, more. I wanted us to savor this moment. I wanted to make love to my husband. To physically show him I meant every word of every vow I spoke today. I caressed his sides and kissed his shoulder and finally began to move. He was so tight and beautiful and fuck, he felt amazing. I could have done this all night long.
Aaron reached for my neck. He craned to kiss me while I rocked my hips in a steady, even motion. When he pulled his knees under him, I disengaged and gave him room to roll onto his back. I laughed when he spread his legs wide and made a funny face. Then I dove on top of him and thrust inside. Aaron wrapped himself around me, pulling me in as he lifted his hips. And all semblance of control fled. I shifted my weight on my elbows and stared deep into his eyes and let go.
I pistoned my hips, relentlessly fucking him. Aaron jacked himself, pulling me close as he thrust his tongue in my mouth. It wasn’t long before the momentum built and we couldn’t hold on. He threw his head back and cried my name as his release hit him. I gathered him to me, buried my face in his neck, and moved like thunder until an intense wave of pleasure pulled me under, then sent me flying.
I couldn’t stop shaking.
I collapsed on top of him and bucked my hips over and over while Aaron held me close, smoothing the hair from my forehead and whispering in my ear. When the haze cleared, I looked down and brushed my nose against his, drinking in the sight of my husband beneath me.
“What did you say?” I asked, bending to nibble on his lower lip.
“I said I love you and I love what we did today. This is the best day of my life,” he whispered.
I was too overcome to say anything right away, so I nodded in agreement and kissed him.
“Me too, Aar. I can’t wait to grow old with you. I mean, I’m not in a hurry to get old or anything but…”
Aaron snickered. “I know what you mean, Matty.”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Yes. You love me too,” he singsonged.
“So fucking much. You know…I meant everything I said today, Aar. The readings, the poems, the love songs. All of it. Even the corny stuff. I’m just so happy you’re mine. I love you, baby. I’m ready for the next chapter.”
“Me too, Matty.”
Everything he felt was in his eyes. Love, friendship, pride, joy, and hope. Today was incredibly special, but we both knew it was a beginning. We’d come a long way in five years, but there was so much more we wanted to accomplish. Yet somehow I knew we’d do it all. One chapter at a time.
9
Better Than Beginnings
“When I think about the future, I want you in mine.”— Better Than Good
Aaron-
My heart thumped in my chest, my pulse raced, and my mouth felt as if I’d swallowed a handful of cotton balls. And could anyone blame me? An unexpected summons to the editor in chief’s office was never a good thing. Marsha was a well-dressed tyrant who got off on torturing her staff. Seniority, education, and a superior sense of style might impress her one day and mean absolutely nothing the next. It was impossible to gauge her moods and frankly, I was getting too old for this bullshit.
I licked my bottom lip, then reached into my man bag for a tube of gloss. I perched on the edge of my chair and applied it liberally as I commanded Siri to call my husband.
“Hey, baby,” Matty answered. His deep voice moved through me, instantly calming me.
Sort of.
“Help. I’m about to get canned. Or worse. Marsha hated my last spread. The colors were wrong, the models were hideous, the lighting was off, and don’t even ask about the clothes.” I sighed, casting a wary glance through the window dividing my office from the main floor.
“What was wrong with the clothes?” he asked, picking up his cue like a pro.
“Nothing. They were genius.”
“Is there any chance you’re freaking out about nothing?”
“Definitely,” I admitted. “But she’s been looking at me funny lately. The way she does before she’s preparing to chop off someone’s head. Sort of sinister but gleeful at the same time. Like Cruella De Vil. Or RuPaul when he has to let a subpar queen go home. If Marsha tells me to sashay away, I may lose my mind.”
Matt snickered. “Aar, relax. You’re smart and talented and well-respected and—”
“You’re my husband, you have to say nice things about me. I snuck it into the vows, remember?”
“No, but it’s easy to say nice things about you. For example…did I tell you I like your new underwear?” he purred.
I grinned and shook my head, though the gesture was lost in the connection. “I don’t think those qualify as underwear. They’re more of an abbreviated fishnet stocking, but thank you.”
“No. Thank you. That was so damn sexy when you got down on—fuck, hang on a sec.” Matt spoke to someone on the other end of the line in a businesslike tone, then released a deep breath. “I gotta run. I have a meeting in five minutes.”
“Okay. I love you. Wish me luck. If you come home and find me in the dark with Rosalía blaring, don’t worry…it’s just a temporary state that may require alcohol.”
“Got it. Hey, Aar?”
“Hmm?”
“You have nothing to worry about. Literally nothing. I mean it. We have money in the bank and—”
“For a house and a surrogate and a dog and rainy days, Matty. Not to live on.” I hopped to my feet and paced to my window. I said a quick prayer in Spanish before sitting on the ledge. “I hate stressing about money.”
“Then don’t do it. I told you we’re fine, and I meant it. Trust me, baby.”
“I do. I’m just afraid I’m about to get eaten alive.”
Matt chuckled lightly. “No one eats you but me.”
I barked a quick laugh. “Nasty! I love it. Tell me more.”
“No way. I’m not walking into a meeting with the partners sportin’ wood. Pull up your designer socks and go get her. I’ll see you tonight. Do you want me to pick up anything from the store on my way home?”
“Tequila?”
“Aar…”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m fine. I’ve got this. And I don’t know what I’m making for dinner, so don’t worry about going to the market.”
“Text me if you think of something. Oh, hey, I almost forgot to tell you…Curt called to remind me about Seth’s art show. I think it’s this weekend.”
“Yes. It’s Saturday. I RSVP’d.”
“All right. Cool.”
“I love you, Matty.”
“Love you too.”
I stood abruptly, shoved my cell into my pocket, and turned to check my hair in the small mirror hanging next to the built-in bookshelf on the back wall in my office. The shelves were stacked with fashion periodicals and coffee-table books featuring the most prominent names in the business. But I cleared a special space front and center for a few personal keepsakes. I smiled at the photo of Matt and me on our wedding day. We wore matching tuxes and ridiculously huge grins. Matty was easily five inches taller, with dark-blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and broad shoulders. And damn, he looked hot as fuck in a tuxedo. Or in nothing at all, I mused, tracing his silhouette in the photo.
Our wedding day was pure magic. All the months of meticulous planning and preparation had resulted in the most beautiful day—maybe the best day ever. I couldn’t believe we’d been married for over a year and a half already. In some ways it felt like just yesterday, but it also felt like we’d known each other forever.
I had close to zero time to spare, but for some reason, I picked up the small frame beside our wedding photo and smiled at the picture of us at the Tidal Basin in front of the Jefferson Memorial. It was a copy of the original one we kept on our bedside table. This was one of my favorites, and I’d insisted on a couple of reproductions. Not because it captured my best angle—trust me, it didn’t. My hair was blowing sideways, and I looked winded from the pedal-boat competition, but this one was special. It was the first picture we’d ever taken together. We weren’t an official couple back then. We were still trying to figure each other out. But this photo felt like a fortune-telling of sorts. Even though we’d had no way of knowing we’d each met our forever person, we both looked so damn happy. Like puzzle pieces…complete opposites, yet a perfect fit.
I loved Matt more than I’d ever thought it was possible to love another human being. And I trusted him implicitly. I knew he was right. I could lose my job today and yes, it would suck, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And hiding in my office wasn’t going to make a summons from the queen—I mean, the editor in chief—go away. So, I set the photo down, squared my shoulders, and headed for the door.
Marsha’s corner office was heavily guarded by two fabulous assistants and one scary secretary who I secretly thought kind of liked me. I waved at Adrian and Ella at their desks in the main lobby and signaled that I had a meeting with the boss before entering the inner sanctum. I paused in front of Dora’s desk and opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.
“You’re late,” she said, glancing over the top of her bubblegum-pink reading glasses. The frames should have clashed horribly with her orange sweater, b
ut Dora’s shock of white hair toned both hues and gave the older woman a hip vibe I knew was essential to her boss. Marsha didn’t do tacky.
“Don’t tell on me. It’s been a day,” I whispered conspiratorially. “By the way, you look amazing. That sweater is divine. I can’t pull off any shade of tangerine without being mistaken for an extra in Orange Is the New Black. And not a cute one.”
Dora pushed away from her desk and grinned. “You’re a charmer. Does it work every time?”
“Sadly, no.” I made a production of straightening my collar as I inclined my head. “Is she ready for me?”
“One moment.” Dora held up her forefinger, then strode toward the giant wood door separating our editor in chief from her lowly subjects. She knocked sharply before opening the door and announcing, “Aaron Mendez-Sullivan is here.”
I wiped my clammy palms on my suit pants when I heard Marsha’s muffled acknowledgment. Dora stepped back and gestured for me to enter.
“Thank you, Dora. Wish me luck.”
I pasted a smile on my face as I sailed into the enormous office. I had a love-hate relationship with this space. On one hand, it was beautifully furnished and boasted insane views of the Potomac from the wall of windows on two corners. The huge table in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves was laden with fabric swatches, magazines, and oversized photo layouts. I spied my most recent spread among the chaos and gave myself a mental high five. That was one of my best efforts ever. Page after page of clean lines, gorgeous cutting-edge fashion, striking models, and a lush backdrop. We’d published that editorial last month and everyone loved it. Even Marsha. At least I thought she did.