Freed (Bound Duet Book 2)

by Stephie Walls

  He watched me talk to her with his arm wrapped securely around my waist. She assured me the resort could handle the planning if that was what I preferred. The only choice I had to make was whether to hold the ceremony in the chapel, on the beach, or at the end of a pier.

  Pier.

  Brett chuckled when I practically screamed my impulsive response. She showed both of us where to meet her and gave us separate times to prevent us from seeing each other. And with that, we planned our wedding.

  The bellhop took our bags to our room while we waited, and when we finished with Cindy, she gave us our keys. When I opened the door to the room, I took a deep breath—it was exquisite. The first floor had a walk out directly onto the sandy beach. All I could see through the windows was miles of endless blue from the water to the sky, different shades from light to majestic. I felt like I’d been transported to the castle in Aladdin. The huge four-poster mahogany bed was ornate, but the mounds of fabric draped from the tops of the posts made it appear royal. They jewel tones were warm and inviting, and I’d lost myself in the tranquility of the space.

  As the door shut behind us, Brett twisted to face me. He took my waist in his hands and pulled me to him. My gaze ascended to his fantastically green eyes that stood more than half a foot above me.

  “Is it bad luck to have sex before the wedding on the wedding day?” I asked coyly, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

  “I don’t think Emily Post addressed that in her etiquette books, but if you want to tempt fate, I’m game.”

  Our lips united in a leisurely tangle as we relished the feel of each other. As each minute ticked by, and we got closer to the wedding, I wanted to be as connected to him as possible. Even if that meant physically. He explored my body as though he’d never felt it before. Deliberate in his expedition, not an inch of my skin went untouched. My body burned for him, but he refused to allow me to pursue him; this was all about me and my gratification—demonstrating his intent to care for me for eternity. His actions told me clearly, he’d never intentionally miss anything I needed, would always pay homage to the intricate details, and be deliberate in his moves. Time seemed suspended as he perused my skin, lavishing kisses and trailing his lips down my body from my head to the tips of my toes; he was thorough. His breath on my cheek was warm and humid. I opened my eyes to his, our hips came together in one languid move before he eased himself into me, wrapping my leg around the small of his back.

  His movements were sure and steady; each forward motion intent on delivering pleasure to my core. Our hips rocked together, undulating like the waves, bringing me to the very crest before my orgasm crashed through my body, and his rolled in behind.

  Neither of us spoke as we laid on the bed. He held me while I rested my head on his chest, drawing lazy circles in the sparse hair that dotted his pecs. He stroked my head amorously as I listened to the methodical rhythm of his heart. Even that beat was alluring, the tick mesmerizing. I daydreamt of what life with him would be like: marriage, the possibility of babies, family—everything. I realized, we had never discussed children, and suddenly, I couldn’t deter my mind from the irrational need to have that discussion immediately—as though my life depended on the answer.

  “Hey, Brett….”

  “Yea, babe?”

  “Do you want to have kids?” I heard the hesitation in my voice. I couldn’t help but wonder what he must have thought about me asking such a monumental question just hours before we were supposed to walk down the aisle.

  He shifted to enable himself to see my face. Tilting my chin up, he looked me in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. “What has you wondering about children?”

  “I was just lying here thinking about our future and realized it’s not a topic we’ve discussed. I just wondered what your thoughts are?”

  His eyes danced with excitement, and the gold flecks sparkled as he spoke. “I absolutely want children with you. I want as many as you want to have. If that’s one, I’m okay with that, but if it’s four, I’d be happy with that, too. Next to being your husband, there is nothing in life I want more than to be the father of your children.” Stroking my hair, he gave me a soft smile. “What about you? Do you want children?”

  He knew about Cole and how I struggled with the decision to keep him, and then how devastating the miscarriage had been, but beyond that, I’d never verbalized my desire to have a large family one day. My confusion with Cole was never rooted in my desire; it was fueled by my situation.

  “Definitely. I want a huge family, but I don’t want to be old when we start to have babies. I want to be active with them, spend time with them.”

  With a tight squeeze, he rolled me on top of his stomach, so my face was perched mere inches from his. “We can start trying as soon as you’re ready.”

  “We might want to get married first. You realize the ceremony starts in a little over an hour?”

  He swatted my butt before getting up. “Then I guess we both need to get dressed, don’t we?”

  My heart beat with excitement that caused an anxious feeling in my stomach like butterflies. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face or contain what I was feeling. I needed to express with my mouth what my brain was forcing into my heart. Grabbing Brett by the waist, I craned my neck to look him in the eyes. “I love you more than you can imagine, Brett. Thank you for all of this.” Tears ran down my cheeks, but for once in my life, I wasn’t ashamed to let someone see them fall.

  “Annie, I would give you the moon if you asked for it.”

  ~

  Brett left the room long before I finished getting dressed; damn, he looked dashing in his tuxedo: impeccably groomed, not a single hair out of place, clean-shaven, and his eyes were bright as he told me he would meet me at the altar.

  Chills ran across my skin as I swooned for the man whose last name I was about to take. I watched the door close behind him and prepared myself to meet my destiny.

  With one final glance in the mirror, I was pleased with my reflection. Lynn had shown me how to style my hair in a twisted formal up-do. Large, voluptuous curls hung conspicuously in random places softening the overall look, and little tendrils caressed my face in a delicate embrace. I kept the makeup light, highlighting my eyes and cheekbones, and finished my face with a natural matte lipstick. The dress Brett had picked out was even more perfect today with the sun cascading through the windows than it had been in the shop when I’d tried it on. The dress glimmered and twinkled with each movement, almost giving it life. It seemed surreal not to have anyone here with us, but strangely à propos. My feet slid into the dainty heels, and I left the room to meet Cindy.

  Once I found my way back to the lobby, the girl who had checked us in still stood at the front desk. She spat her drink out when she saw me walk toward her.

  “Wow! That dress is phenomenal. I can’t believe how different you look!”

  “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” I winked at her and continued toward the room Cindy instructed me to meet her in. She was already there waiting when I arrived and had taken Brett to the minister. Her smile was radiant when she caught sight of me.

  “Wow!” She breathed out the word as she walked around me in a circle taking in the details.

  A girl could get used to all of this attention.

  Cindy presented me with a bouquet of small pink calla lilies wrapped in white satin ribbon. Tears rushed my eyes.

  When I dared meet her stare, she admitted, “I cheated. I peeked at your dress when the bellhop was taking it to your room before I met with you. I hope you like it.”

  Afraid to speak in fear of my voice croaking, I nodded my approval. She touched at my eyes with a tissue to keep my mascara from running before giving me a brief description of what would take place.

  Nothing would have prepared me to see him standing at the end of a gazebo-covered pier that crossed over a white sandy beach and stretched out into crystal blue water. I saw him before he saw me and allowed myself a moment to take it a
ll in. He held his hands clasped in front of him with his eyes set intently on where I’d make my appearance. My breath caught in my throat for just an instant.

  Cindy’s hand on my arm grounded me once again. “He’s stunning and completely smitten with you; you’re a lucky girl. I can’t wait for him to see you!”

  I simply stared at the man who would be my husband shortly after I reached the end of that pier.

  “Are you ready, or do you need a minute?”

  “I’m good.” My response was mechanical sounding like I was on autopilot.

  She giggled at me as though she’d seen this same scenario a thousand times before but never thought the magic got old.

  “Remember, he won’t see you until you come around the corner. Once you hit that point, the violin will play until you reach his side. The minister will tell you what to do from there.” She stood by my side until I took that first step.

  I didn’t know if she watched the ceremony or not. I never looked back—my future was in front of me. My focus remained on putting one foot in front of the other to ensure my heels didn’t get stuck between the boards on the dock. It never dawned on me that there would be people on the beach, curious onlookers who suddenly made me self-conscious.

  The slight breeze in the air was just enough to keep me from being consumed by the heat but not enough to cause my dress to fly sideways or my hair to fall apart. The moment Brett glimpsed me, his stoic gaze became intent, and the only thing that remained visible was his joyful smile. The violin played when I came around the corner, “Pachelbel’s Canon,” and my joy overrode my anxiety and nervousness. I never noticed all the people standing around after I locked eyes with Brett. The world faded, and the only thing remaining in my vision was the path to him. As I approached the end of the pier, he stepped forward and took my hand to walk the final few steps with me.

  We stopped just shy of the minister, Brett leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You look like an angel.” His voice strained as he tried to maintain his composure.

  The minister completed the fastest wedding ceremony in history in seven minutes flat. When we both said “I do” and exchanged rings, it was surreal. I kept thinking any moment I would wake from this dream. And the kiss took that dream from PG to X-rated. We knew none of the witnesses to our ceremony, and I’d all but forgotten we even had any when Brett laid the most sensual kiss on me. There was no peck. When the minister pronounced us husband and wife, Brett went all out. The intensity caused catcalls, cheering, and clapping from the crowd of onlookers.

  I had just become Annie Ryann.

  Brett laced his fingers with mine and kissed the top of my hand before placing it on his arm to escort his wife down the pier. My face hurt from the smile that lingered through the ovation and back into the hotel.

  He didn’t look around to see who might be nearby, he hadn’t bothered to even pull me into a quiet nook. Brett let go of my fingers to cup my face in his hands. Gazing into my eyes, searching them with a smile, he bent down and took my lips, sliding a hand deep into my up-pulled hair. His lids slipped shut when he sealed our mouths together in an aching kiss. When he finally broke away, his chest heaved, and he was short of breath. His forehead tipped to mine, connecting with me intimately. He enabled me to feel him, see his soul through his eyes, and sense the life his breath provided.

  “Mrs. Ryann, you are the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. I can’t believe you consented to be my wife. I love you.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself. I love you, too, babe.”

  He was the epitome of man, virile and masculine, everything about him gorgeous, strong, and confident—and he was mine.

  “Would you like to accompany me to the lounge for cocktails and dancing?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Cindy appeared like a thief in the night coming from the shadows. She’d likely caught every intimate moment we’d shared, but she never made her presence known until the right opportunity had presented itself. She escorted us to the lounge just outside the restaurant. I hadn’t caught the name, but the only thing I was interested in was the jazz band playing that would allow me to be in my husband’s arms all night. He took me to the dance floor, but before he embraced me, he turned me in a long slow circle, getting the full effect of the dress. He stopped at the back, staring for an impossibly long time, before turning me back to his front.

  “Annie, this dress, on you, is sinfully sexy. You look absolutely edible.”

  It was hard not to notice the onlookers when we first took the floor, but as with everything Brett did, he was a fantastic dancer, and I got lost in the moves. I knew he could grind; he’d proven that at Wild Wings what seemed like an eternity ago. But this was traditional, classic ballroom dancing. He moved like a dream, floating across the floor with me tucked into him protectively.

  We talked and laughed about nothing and everything, just savoring the moments. Somewhere in the background, a photographer was taking pictures. And I knew we’d have memories to share with our friends and family. There was nothing in the world for us to do but enjoy each other. When the band finally took a break, we reluctantly moved to a dining table where we munched on appetizers of pepper shrimp, marinated marlin, and a grilled veggie and goat cheese tower. We skipped entrees and went straight to dessert—Pineapple Upside Down Cake with rum sauce. It was superb as was the conversation.

  My heart felt so full, I thought my chest might explode with the overwhelming love and devotion I felt for this man. With the candlelight fading and the evening winding down, we polished off dessert. I wasn’t ready to end the most perfect day, and I didn’t want to take off my dress or lose sight of Brett in a tuxedo. If I could have found a way to make time stand still for just a fraction of eternity, I would have done so in the moments following—down on the beach, walking hand in hand with the straps of my heels dangling from my fingertips.

  Brett stopped, dug his feet into the sand, and scooped me up in his arms. “As much as I have enjoyed spending the evening dancing, eating, and walking on the beach in the moonlight, I’ve restrained myself as long as I can endure.” He never lost his composure, but he was on the verge.

  Laughing, I asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sweetheart, this dress is sinfully gorgeous, and I have adored seeing you in it, but I want to see you out of it. I want my wife naked in a luxurious bed, wanting me as much as I do her.” Without a response, he carried me back up the beach, steering a straight path to our room. He ignored all the well-wishes from other guests along with the questioning stares from the staff. Brett was a man on a mission.

  With my lips pressed against his ear, I teased him as he stalked toward our marriage bed. “First, I want it nice and slow, so we consummate our marriage in love. Then, I want you to fuck the hell out of me because I need you pounding me while I scream your name so loud the people next to us will call the front desk to complain. After that, my body is yours to abuse as you see fit.”

  He growled at me. The man freaking growled—instantly turned on, I was desperate to reach the room.

  The time he spent taking my dress off was agonizing—he could have ripped the damn thing to shreds for all I cared. I wasn’t wearing it again, and I wanted him all over me. The warmth of his skin, his girth, the way his lips caressed my skin—I needed Brett. Now.

  He refused to hurry; he hung my dress on a hanger, allowed me to remove his tuxedo, and then situated it nicely in the garment bag. We both stood naked as the day was long, staring at each other, lost in love and lust. Brett did exactly what I’d asked. He adored every part of my body, consummating our marriage in love, a passionate exchange that was soul searing, and euphoric. The way our bodies moved together as one unit solidified our bond. It was beautiful and everything I wanted, and more than I anticipated—it was perfection.

  And then he abused my body, in all the ways he could think of. He was careful to keep me with him mentally, not to let me escape into a wor
ld of reminders or dark memories. He cherished me even as he punished me, and I loved every minute. I don’t remember how many ways or how many times he brought me to the brink, or pushed me over the side—all I remembered was collapsing—with my husband in sated bliss.

  Chapter Four—Brett

  She’d held out on me for over a year, but the reward was well worth the wait—Annie was insatiable. We fooled around; she kept me taken care of and interested, but always escorted me out the door when things got too heavy. Initially, I hadn’t known the specifics, but I knew the issues ran deep and then add Gray’s shit show to her life and there was no way she wouldn’t have needed time. The more I got to know her, the more of her life she let me in on, the more surprised I became when she finally did let me in. I knew she was inexperienced in terms of the number of players in her game, but we never discussed the intricacies of how she involved herself in the sport or the depth of her playbook. I got a hint, glimpsed it the night she moaned after I spanked her. Expecting her to jump, or possibly even yell, the cry of pleasure was a shock, and I sure as hell didn’t know a woman could soak her panties with a smack on the ass.

  Our honeymoon was a period of exploration for me, primarily a silent one. Annie and I had just begun to share in each other physically, with no restrictions, so we were just trying things as they came to my mind. I’d spent a lot of time researching possibilities on the plane here. I was that guy—the one who researched, planned, and plotted just about every move I made, including sex. Neither Annie nor I were spontaneous people—hence our eloping being so out of character for both of us. I didn’t need pictures or diagrams but rather seeds to plant ideas I could nurture and grow. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe I’d be excited about hitting a woman, but when my hand stung from the contact of my wife’s ass, and I saw that red-hot imprint of my hand glowing on her skin—her near orgasm was erotic in a way I wasn’t aware was possible. That red mark on her tight cheek followed by the heat from the strike was empowering. There were a couple of other elements Annie seemed to lean toward that weren’t in my repertoire prior to this week, but I would make sure I was a virtuoso by the time we left here.