by Ashlee Price
“Thanks, Daddy… for everything,” she whispered, lacing her fingers in between his as an usher opened the doors wide. She gasped in wonderment. There white satin streamers, wide set, hanging from around the room, all meeting at the chandelier just above the altar. There was a long white rug with flower petals sprinkled along the entire length. Everyone was on their feet looking at her, but her eyes were focused on Tanner. He stood up there in a navy blue tux with half the fire department on one side of the aisle and Hannah front and center among the bridesmaids on the other.
When it came time to say their vows, Jenna was up first. As she held his hands, she spoke to him as if there were no one else in the room.
“Tanner Devlin, you were the first boy to tell me you loved me. You were the first to propose to me, twice. You were the first person to make my heart feel what love was supposed to feel like. So today on this day, I share yet another first with you. My first day as your wife is my most joyous day ever. I couldn’t and wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life, creating more firsts, with anyone else. I’ll love you always and forever, Tanner Devlin.”
Tanner cleared his throat. “Jenna Marie Ferris, you are by far the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and I mean that as a compliment. With everything you’ve been through, you’ve made room to love me even when I’m being a bit stubborn myself. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Our love is knowing. There aren’t too many things that I have to guess when it comes to how you’re feeling. I guess that’s part of the beauty of sharing so many firsts together. So on this day, my first day as your husband, I take on this role with honor and respect to protect our family and our first love with all of me. I’ll love you always and forever, Jenna Ferris.”
The reception was every bit as perfect as the ceremony, but the train ride to South Carolina the next day was exhausting. By the time they arrived at their hotel in Myrtle Beach, it was the middle of the night. Somehow, though, none of that mattered as they finally walked into their room to begin their honeymoon.
“Mrs. Devlin,” Tanner practically glowed as he bent over to kiss her tenderly on the forehead, “how does it feel to be right on the beach with a view as spectacular as this?”
He whipped open the chiffon curtains to reveal a bright moon reflecting off the water. Palm trees swayed in silhouette, but it was still pitch black outside. Jenna giggled as she slid out of her clothes and under the sheets behind him.
“Come on, Mr. Devlin,” she beckoned, “I have something better for you to look at.”
Undressed and newlywed was certainly the best way to enjoy a luxuriously soft mattress. With tender kisses, they worked their passion into a frenzy of urges that needed to be satiated. Their bodies pressed together with a familiar feeling but an all-new vigor as their union was made official. Every stroke into her tight walls made Tanner wish they’d stayed together since high school. But what was life without a few obstacles, tragedies, heartaches, and—most importantly—lessons?
Jenna’s moans travelled around the room as Tanner filled her with every inch of himself. It was so much like her dream that she glanced toward the door just to make sure there was no Brandy barging in. Tanner moved her chin slightly with his finger, bringing her eyes to his. “You seem distracted.”
She shook her head no, trying to avoid his gaze. But Tanner wasn’t upset. “I know it’s been a long day, especially in your condition, so let me remind you of how much I love to please my wife.”
Jenna felt him pull out of her as he moved off of the bed. He grabbed her by the ankles and slid her toward the edge. His tongue tasted her folds and his fingers slipped inside of her, and with every flicking motion she thought less and less about the dream and more and more about the erogenous bliss she was sinking into. Her body squirmed as she closed in on her climax, but Tanner just kept licking away at her furiously until she screamed out in ecstasy.
Her thighs trembled as he came up, leaving a trail of kisses from her waist up to her nipples. He squeezed, pinched and suckled on them while his hand continued to play between her legs, keeping her moist and ready for him to enter her once again.
“Are you ready for something special, Mrs. Devlin?”
“Always, Mr. Devlin,” she replied with a salacious grin.
Tanner stood up and pulled her off the bed and out to the balcony. Urging her to the railing, he bent her over it and pushed into her from behind under the brightness of the moon.
“What if someone sees us?” she whispered.
“So what!” he exclaimed, leaning forward for a kiss that drew all of her attention and anxiety into him. Their mouths moved along with their bodies. Rolling his hips, Tanner gripped Jenna around her belly and sent his other hand searching between her legs as he continued to drive in and out of her. His movements became more deliberate and intense as he pleasured her with his hand and with himself. As she began to orgasm around him he made one last, slow thrust to release himself, and they came together under the moon and stars.
Hurrying back inside, they plopped down on the bed, barely able to move as they panted and settled into each other’s arms.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you, Jenna?” Tanner asked with a wide smile and sweat dripping down his temple.
“Of course I do. You love me enough not to drop me while making love to me on a seventh-floor balcony, and I love you just enough to do that outside, as long as it’s dark enough,” she chuckled.
He pulled her in close to him with a soft kiss to her cheek. “I have something to give you.”
Tanner began rummaging through the bag he’d left by the side of the bed. Jenna was curious to see what he was retrieving, but the envelope he brought out was a familiar one. The handwriting was on stationery she thought she’d read through a hundred times already. Her heart sank. It wasn’t ready to break on the first night of her honeymoon.
“Here, your dad said it’s the last letter. He told me to give it to you only after we’ve enjoyed our day and are ready to rest.”
She tore open the envelope, which had obviously been resealed, to see a folded piece of paper inside.
March 2016
Dearest Jenna Marie,
Your father and I are beyond proud of you. The strong and beautiful woman you’re becoming is a testament to what you’ve been through. Being sick is the easy part; watching me be sick and still having hope takes an amount of strength I hadn’t any idea you possessed in that twenty-something-year-old body. With a heart of gold, and a stubbornness to rival Black Jack Pershing, you’re sure to make a lasting contribution to this life and the Ferris legacy.
My sweet Jenna Marie, be kind to your father. He’s going to be lost without me for a while, but he’ll get over it. He always does if you just give him time and listen. As for you, you will be okay. I just know you will. And when you feel like you’re not, call that handsome Tanner kid. He knows exactly who you are, and I wish for you to hold onto that particular friendship tight. The compassion in that young man’s heart is as big as your stubborn ego, and you two bring balance to each other.
When you’re ready to find a husband, remember that word, compassion. For it complements love better than any other trait. You want him to be as honest as your dad, and as generous with his money as Gram. I wish I could be there when Daddy walks you down that aisle, and I wish I could be there for the birth of your first child. I’m going to miss so much while I’m gone, but nothing will make me prouder than who you are right now. Look out for each other. Protect each other. Let the love of your hearts burn bright. I will love you always and forever.
Goodbye,
Mom
~The End~
Bossman’s List
A Billionaire Christmas Office Romance
By Ashlee Price
Prologue
I rode him hard, grinding my hips down on him, jamming his stiff prick into me from below, hot and thick, as the darkness of midnight swirled around us. My body felt like it was acting on its own, a second
being with its own brain, its own desires, its own means of getting what it wanted. I leaned forward, fingers splayed over each one of his hairy thighs just above the knees while I dropped down harder, barely able to take him all the way in.
What am I doing? I had to ask myself. I don’t do this kind of thing. This isn’t me, this isn’t Sheryl Francis.
I turned to look back, spine straining as my hips bobbed, my blonde hair falling over my blue eyes. Can’t make out his face, I heard my own voice echo in the back of my mind. Gotta see his face.
It was only then that I realized I wasn’t even sure who it was. The room was dark, and I wasn’t even sure if it was my own. The fixtures and pictures were blurred and hard to make out in the deep shadows. The thrill of it struck me hard, question mark curling in my crotch, my brain swimming with possibilities crashing like waves against my inner walls.
Is this it? I asked myself, suddenly more interested in myself than my lover. Is it finally going to happen? Please, God, please let it happen. My own begging voice turned me on, cracking with helplessness and brimming with hope and craving. Please, please, please… finally make me come!
I ground down harder, up and down and in circular motions, a lump rising in my throat. My fingers clawed into his muscular thighs, tightening under my grip. He bucked hard, pushing me up like some great Brahma bull trying to throw me. But I held on. Neither of us wanted to be separated from the other. We only wanted to get closer. He fought to push himself all the way into me, and I struggled to wrap my body around him, shaking and pounding and grinding and bucking, the bed straining beneath us, springs crying out for mercy.
I wanted to speak, but the words got caught in my throat as my breath huffed out and my head fell forward in helpless resignation, hair damp with my sweat and falling in stringy sheets over my face. I could feel it coming, that mythical explosion I’d never managed to set off, a tripwire no man had stumbled upon despite feverish searching.
It felt like it was rising in me, the way it had so many times before, but it remained the tickling promise of something grand, something incredible, something still beyond my reach.
And my lover seemed to know it. He wanted me to come, he wanted to be the one to make it happen, and I wanted to beg him to be the one, the man I’d been waiting for, the man of my dreams.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t come, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe.
My lover knew these things too, and his strong arms reached up from beneath and behind me, hands finding the back of one of my thighs, pulling it up as the other hand eased me around until my palms and knees were flat against the mattress. He knelt behind me, his amazing meat still deep inside me, and the twist and wrench as we changed positions was almost enough to send me over the edge.
Almost.
He thrust his hips in a back-and-forth piston pounding behind me, deeper than before, my splayed legs giving him more access, deeper thrusts pushing the blood faster in my veins as my sweat glands struggled to keep up.
He shook his hips occasionally to interrupt his rhythm, which only got faster after every frantic shake. Shake and pound, thrusting hard and deep. My fingers dug into the bed sheets, already damp and curling around my trembling fists.
“You like that?” he asked. At least that’s what I thought I heard him say. His voice wasn’t clear, wasn’t recognizable over my own heated panting. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t, so I settled for huffing and nodding instead. I did like it. I liked it a lot.
But not quite enough.
My legs splayed wider, knees sliding on the bed sheets, body sinking lower as he railed me, every bit of his effort and attention fixed on the same spot as my own: that mysterious curl in my loins, rising and expanding but refusing to burst, contracting and recoiling back into my most secret recesses. No, I wanted scream at my elusive orgasm, don’t you do it again, don’t you run away from me!
But even if I couldn’t put words to my needs, my lover seemed to understand. And he was ready to take measures I’d never expected. The slap came hard and quick, a lightning bolt of stinging pain shooting up my body with the crack of his palm against my left butt cheek. The second slap was even harder, the effect even greater. His strong fingers kneaded my ass, hard and soothing, and my nerves trembled under his commanding grip.
Another slap filled the room with that crisp snap. I sucked in a gasp while he kneaded even harder, my muscles tensing and relaxing, my whole body shaking with that strike and the next, each punctuated with hard squeezes which nearly made my knees buckle.
My lover rasped, “You been a bad girl?” My ears twitched to hear his voice, but I still couldn’t place it. My ears and my ass were still ringing with those hard slaps when yet another came fast and sharp to derail my train of thought. There was no deducing anything, no thinking about him or myself or anything else.
Except one thing.
His other hand reached out from behind me, grabbing my hair and closing around those sweat-damp locks in a fist, his gentle power easing my head back with just the slightest pull. My skull rang out with a slight electric charge, manageable and even desirable pain shooting straight into my brain, ringing in my ears. A bit further back and my spine arched, hips curling upward, ass ready for another hard crack from that big, flat palm, fingers digging in for another deep massage.
Thwack!
My orgasm started to roil inside of me. I knew it was going to happen. Another few strikes and there’d be no turning back.
Thwack!
My walls pressed together, taught and tight, clamping down on that delicious dick railing my pussy. His hands were slapping my ass and pulling my hair, stinging, hitting me from both ends, top to bottom, meeting somewhere in the middle. My stomach rolled, my lungs cramped, my pelvis shuddered.
So close, I heard my own inner voice reassure me, so… so close… so… so….
My spine clicked and popped as he pulled my head back just a bit further, another hard slap punctuating a harder, deeper pump, each one registering in the back of my head while the rest of my body pushed and pulled in response to his pummeling prick. My teeth clenched, my eyes clamped shut… and that orgasm slithered away, just out of reach.
No, I wanted to cry out, no, come back, damn you… come back!
My lover wasn’t ready to let my climax escape my clenched grip any more than I was. He flipped me over and my back hit the sheets, legs swinging around under his certain grip as he deftly manipulated my body to be just where we both wanted it to be. I looked up at him, finally able to see his face, bathed in a shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window. His hair was long, casting a shadow over his features. But he was not a man I knew, or at least not as I knew him.
Is this somebody I know as I wish he was, as I’d want him to be? No, nobody I know, nobody who could possibly exist; a fever dream, a figment of my imagination.
There was no more time for reason or wonder, no room for doubt or concern. My body was fractured, squeezing out the last of its strength to corner that climax and force it out of hiding. But the more I searched, the more I struggled, the more I realized how futile it was.
“C’mon, baby,” my lover growled, his voice still strange to my ears, foreign, “you can do it, I know you can!”
I shook my head. “No,” I rasped out, “I… I can’t… I… I can’t!”
He eased my legs up, knees to my breasts, shifting up and forward and driving me even harder, and suddenly my body was collapsing around him like an old house whose occupants still remained hidden within. Crack and crash, slap and pump and clench and curl, I fell apart under those twin wrecking balls, my walls crumbling, clouds of dust rising up around us.
And I disappeared in the wreckage.
***
My eyes shot open, unfocused, as my mind swam to place itself. Spine stiff, arms at my sides, I looked around in a pitch of urgent confusion. My little Brooklyn bedroom surrounded me, familiar photos of my parents on the walls, souvenirs of my life back in O
regon. I sighed, perspiration trickling down between my breasts as I dropped my head back onto the damp pillow.
Just a dream, I told myself yet again. Countless midnight disappointments such as this had lined up to tell the story of my life, if it could be called that. Just a dream, and this damn dream never comes true!
Chapter 1
The hot water poured over my body, slowly bringing me back to life. I was exhausted from my fitful night’s sleep and the lusty dream that was still dominating my imagination. The water ran down my breasts, washing the film of night sweat from the pert, proud mounds of my womanhood. I’d blossomed in my teens, developing a tight gymnast’s body with strong legs that were womanly and inviting and the subject of fantasy for countless schoolboys and schoolgirls in my classes, plus teachers and coaches and my martial arts instructor. But those people were all in my past, and at twenty-three I still didn’t know what my future would hold.
I looked myself over in the bathroom mirror as I applied just the slightest bit of makeup. I would never brag about myself—because I wasn’t so sure there was all that much to brag about—but I wasn’t complaining about the gifts I’d received, either. Boys had always liked me, found me pretty; with the big blue eyes and button nose, I had a body a lot of girls envied. I’d always wished I was a bit taller, but I also considered myself lucky to have ten fingers and ten toes.
I put on one of my better business suits, a gray skirt and jacket with a white peasant blouse and stockings. Grabbing a heavy Eddie Bauer coat to protect myself from the New York winter’s chill, I headed out into the living room of the little Brooklyn apartment I shared with Ricardo Tellez.
Must still be asleep, I reasoned. It was easy to imagine the night of rave dancing and ecstasy he’d enjoyed. He’d earned it, as far as I was concerned. If it hadn’t been for Ricardo, I’m not sure I ever would have survived my first few months in New York, let alone the following year. He’d befriended me when I was alone and vulnerable, taught me things I needed to know about life in the Big Apple. And I was so grateful for his friendship, his protection, that I couldn’t stand to tell him how sad I thought it was that he raved every night, slept all day, and didn’t get nearly as much work as his photographic skills deserved. I’d gotten him what I could through Alister Fashions’ Powerplay magazine, but he’d need more.