by S. E. Hall
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
©2017 S.E. Hall
Cover Design: Designs by Dana Leah
Formatter: Ashley Suzanne
Thank you all!
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
Although I’ve asked her countless times and have never been crushed by an actual “no” — to which I’d laugh, then redden her curvy ass, because we both know she will be my wife one day — I am always devastatingly put-off with a lovingly said, but still infuriating to hear, “not yet,” or “soon.”
I want a teary-eyed, breathless yet resounding, “yes!” I’m tired of waiting. And everyone should know by now, especially my baby herself, that when it comes to Laney Jo Walker — I am far from a patient man. As far as you can possibly get. I’d bring in a minister to marry us while she slept if I could, but apparently there’s some ethical, legal, or both, bullshit rule that the bride and her witness must be cognitive, fancy word for “awake,” when vows are exchanged. I checked.
All our friends are either married, or engaged with set wedding dates. Every. Fucking. Couple. Except us. Eats my ass so damn bad when I think of the tuxes I’ve tried on and rehearsals I’ve endured, more times than a serial Polygamist, and there’s still not a ring on my Disney’s finger. Tests me to the very tempting point of wanting to abandon all sense of reason and just start punching shit.
“I’m ready.” Speaking of Disney… out she walks, stealing the breath I never seem to ever wholly get back where she’s concerned. “How do I look?”
“Exquisite, as always,” I let the awe in my voice go unchecked as I move toward her. “I love you in any color, you know this.” I haul her flush against me and brush her long, blonde hair off one side of her neck. “But there’s something especially captivating about you in red,” I hum upon the revealed flesh.
“Thank you,” she sighs, “for the compliment and the dress, I love it. But,” she gently pushes me away with a tiny snicker, “I’m starving, and I know you too well. You’re like a bull when you see red. So let’s hurry up and head to dinner before this dress is in shreds on the floor and my stomach starts growling louder than you will be if we stay.”
“As you wish,” I easily agree, far bigger plans at stake tonight, and escort her to dinner.
“It’s so beautiful here. Thank you again for bringing me.” Her tone is wispy, as though enchanted by the ambience and view; to which I’d have to agree.
I’d chosen Emerald Isle for our celebratory getaway, and standing here on the pier, under the moonlight, with the soft serenade of rippling water and the love of my life in my arms, only one other thing could complete my true happiness.
I release my hold on her to pull the box from the inside pocket of my jacket and bend to one knee. Gazing up at her, the moon’s iridescent glow casting a fitting halo around her, I send up a silent prayer that this will be the time I get my yes.
“Laney, baby, I know I’ve asked you—”
“Fifteen times,” she whispers her bemused interruption.
I laugh. “All right then. I know I’ve asked fifteen times, but I’m asking again. I don’t think I can live another day without your promise to be mine, forever. I need to know, more than my next breath, that I will have my beautiful, sexy, witty, strong, determined Disney by my side every day of my life. Will you please, finally, truly complete me, us, and agree to become my wife?”
The brimming tears in her eyes glisten, as if a reflection, in the night’s perfect lighting, and as only my baby can, she thinks not of the elegant gown she’s wearing and drops to her knees to join me. Classic Laney — decorum be damned. I love that about her.
She takes my free hand and lays it over her heart, her voice thick with emotion when she speaks the words that will eternally change my life. “I told you that once I’d accomplished all the goals I had for myself, that I had to do by myself, I’d marry you. I’ve graduated college, and have my dream coaching job now, both earned by me, my hard work. So Caveman, tonight, my answer is yes. I would love nothing more than to marry you.”
I hope she didn’t want to save the box, ‘cause in the delirium of my long-awaited fulfillment, I have no idea where I tossed that fucker once I pulled the ring out. I slide the white gold on her finger and try to say “thank you,” which comes out a feral growl of “mine” of its own instinctual volition, then hoist her in my arms and stand.
“Babe,” she giggles, “we didn’t kiss, take a picture or enjoy the moment. What are you doing?”
Besides practically running to our room? “Oh, I enjoyed the moment, immensely. And I’m damn sure gonna kiss ya. Everywhere. Do your picture thing later. You just agreed to marry me, baby. You’re lucky I’m taking you to the room first and not already fucking you right out in the open.”
“Such a brute,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck. “My brute. I love you, Dane.”
“Love you too, so damn much. Get the door,” I grunt, impatiently waiting as she keys us inside, then kick it closed behind us. “When?” I ask gruffly as I place her on her feet, trying to spare the dress I’d like to see her in again, but precariously close to saying “fuck it.”
“When what?” She turns for me… ah, zips down the side.
“Date. Wedding. When?” I hurriedly strip her down to… fuck, a black thong and garter set. So damn sexy. “These are staying on,” I grate out my command, running my fingers up her thighs, around the tops of the garters and finally, the lacy, inner edge of her panties. “God damn, baby. I hope you’re ready for me.”
She lets out a tiny squeal as I eagerly maneuver her to stand in front of the dresser. “Date, Laney. Tell me,” I demand, tugging my pants open and yanking them and my boxer briefs down.
“I, don’t know yet,” she stammers in shallow breaths, spreading her stance — bracing herself for the onslaught of what she knows is coming.
“One week. You decide by then, or I do. And it better be a date in the very near future. Hear me?”
“Hear you.”
“Good girl. Now, you want me, Laney?” I ask in rhetorical dominance, teasing my dick along and through her dripping wet pussy, panties pulled to the side.
She nods, arching her ass toward me. Not good enough. And she knows it.
With an authoritative hand and deep rumble in my chest, I push down on her back ‘til her juicy ass, my favorite part of her — a plump but muscled bubble-butt of perfection — is perched impossibly high in the air for me… and the panties are now ripped, out of my way. I squeeze and roll both firm cheeks in my hands, my cock swelling even more so from the intoxicatingly erotic, wet sounds of her desire.
“Yeah, my baby wants me bad, doesn’t she? Say it, you little tease. Tell me how you want it. Rough? You want my whole cock shoved in deep?” I push in just the tip and wait, achingly, for her to beg.
“Yes, Dane, please,” she pants, already clenching around me. “Love me, now.”
I clasp a firm grip on her hips and thrust forward, burying myself in her tight, wet heat with an animalistic roar. “Like that, baby? That how you want it?”
“Yeah,” she mewls, rocking her pelvis back and forth to take her pleasure.
I buck in counter-rhythm, slowly dragging my dick almost all the way out then sliding back in at her greedy pace. I love control, maniacally so, but damn it if it doesn’t drive me wild when she dances on my dick. Watching her ass bounce, hearing her throaty moans as she hungrily takes what’s hers, emboldened and raunchy by crazed ecstasy. My dirty girl, love her too.
Those unbelievable internal muscles of hers start to quiver around me, the tell-tale tremors of her building quake, and her breathing grows loud and ragged. “Fuck yes, give it to me.” I reach a hand down to her clit and manipulate the engorged little bud just how she likes.
“Dane,” she wails my name, pulsating around my cock as she coats it with her release, setting me off.
I lower myself over her back and slide my hands under her sweat-slickened body, grabbing both tits, encircling her in protection from my brutal force. “Your pussy’s begging,” I pound deeper, “for my come,” harder, “keep squeezing, baby, take it from me.” The dresser bangs against the wall, the bass to our cacophony of my gnarled groans and her sweet whimpers.
With a final, hoarse rumble, I burrow to her depths and come, long and hard… into my fiancé.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I’m a little surprised when the doorbell rings.
But when I open the door and a beaming, dizzyingly hyper Whitley pounces — I’m not a bit taken aback — she’s actually late… if you take into consideration who it is I’m marrying.
The one-week deadline to pick a date for the wedding Dane had imposed on me expired two days ago. Call me crazy, he did, but I need more than a week to return and settle back in from vacation and coordinate availability with everyone we know, not to mention a venue… but, my Caveman says a week, that’s what he means.
And now, he’s sent in the big gun — “Whitley Poppins Planner” — to take over. If anyone can throw together a wedding fast enough to please the persnickety Mr. Caveman Kendrick yet still make it glamorous and full of all the over-the-top fixings… it’s Whitley.
“Hey Whit, come on in.” I give her a very wide berth, to avoid possible injury.
“Hey! Aren’t you going to ask to what you owe the pleasure?” Oh no, she’s using her “head voice.”
“Nope.” I shut the door and turn to her with a stoic expression. “I am gonna ask if you’d like a drink. I’m thinking wine. Copious amounts. And maybe a Xanax? I’m sure I’ve got one around here somewhere. Lemme lift the couch cushions and check.”
“Oh, hush,” she waves a flitting hand and giggles. “So, let’s get started. Want me to set up at the kitchen table?”
“Set up?” Okay, now she’s stumped me… because while her purse may be large, it’s the only thing she’s holding, and really, how much whatever requires “setting up” could she possibly have in there? Then again, the other Poppins pulled a damn coat rack outta her bag.
“My stuff, hello? Weddings don’t just plan themselves, Laney.” She rolls her eyes, clearly disappointed in my ignorance. “It’s out in the car, I’ll go grab it.”
“I’ll go hunt down that Xanax,” I call after her, already doing that walk/shimmy/skip thing of hers out the door.
Rather than the narcotic, which very unfortunately I don’t really have, I find my phone and try to text as fast as I know Whitley’s gonna be moving.
Me: All this time, I thought you enjoyed having sex with me. Why didn’t you say something sooner?
Dane: Love fucking you, gonna do so tonight. After Whitley leaves. Funny though.
Me: Nope. You’re cut off. As long as I have to deal with Whitley’s hysterics, you will deal with your right hand.
“Almost ready,” Whitley chirps, dropping off a load of stuff on the table. “One more trip, be right back.”
“Uh huh,” I mutter, staring at my phone.
Dane: We’ll see about that.
Me: We sure will. I’m not kidding, mister! You went too far.
Dane: I told you, one week. You were amply warned. Deal with it, and be nice.
Me: I’m always nice!
Dane: To WHO?
“Okay, I’m ready!” Whitley squeals, piercing my eardrums… and drawing my attention.
Me: Cut. Off.
“Me too,” I force on a smile, turn my phone on vibrate and slowly drag my feet toward “Party Central.”
Two hours later, two, and I’ve had enough. My jaw aches from all the damn grinning I’ve been doing and if Whitley claps, patty-cakes or whatever the hell it is she’s doing, one more time, I’ll be left no choice but to break her hands. Bless her heart of gold; I truly adore her and she’s amazing, giving of her time to plan my wedding for me, but damn do I have a headache.
“Whit, can we please take a break? Have a glass of wine? You know this isn’t my thing and, well, sweetie, I’m about to lose my shit.”
“You go ahead, have some wine, but I have to keep a clear head. Look on the bright side, do you realize how much we’ve gotten accomplished?”
“A lot?” I venture a guess as I sprint to the fridge, tempted to chug straight from the bottle.
“Yes, a lot!” She laughs, then clears her throat and begins to reel off her checklist… again.
“We have a date, a beautiful venue booked, your suite and wedding party rooms reserved and your wedding song picked out. Now we just need to find your dress and you and Dane need to ask whomever you’ve chosen to be in your wedding party if they accept and let me know their roles.”
Precious Whitley… she’s trying to act unconcerned about that last item, but inside, she’s one, big swarm of cracked-out butterflies, biting her tongue, every breath labored with the anticipation of the question she hopes I’ll ask.
Of course I’m gonna ask; she’s Crew, one of my dearest friends.
“Whitley,” I drawl in taunt.
“Yes?” Her excitement’s unhidden and high-pitched.
“Would you please do me the honor of being my first, beautiful bridesmaid?”
“Oh my God, really?” She jumps from her chair, doing one helluva job feigning surprise, and runs over to hug me. No wine spilled in the process. “I’d love to, yes, yes! Thank you!”
“Thank you.” I hug her back… but it’s short-lived, because Whitley is Whitley… and simply must pull back to talk a mile a minute. “We have to pick out bridesmaid dresses, too! I know a great shop. I’m thinking a light blue or lavender.”
“Let’s wait ‘til all the girls have been asked and hopefully accepted, then we’ll all go together and decide on a style and color.” I laugh. Look at me with a plan.
Oh, don’t think I miss the twinkle of hidden agenda in her eyes. She’s gonna call ahead to that shop and make sure anything in colors she doesn’t like are pulled off the rack. Bet on that. I don’t care; after all she’s doing to help, I’m glad to let her have the small victory.
“Can you ask them now, invite them over, so I can book a private viewing session?”
“Um, I can call two of them, but I’ll ask the others in person. Soon, I promise.”
“Two’s a start.” She bobs her head. “Can you call them now?”
“Do I have any other choice?” I’m just teasing her, phone already in hand.
“I’ll make you a deal. Place the two calls, then we’ll be done for today.”
“Dialing right now, sista.”
Hayden, the wife of Parker Jones, my childhood friend, answers cheerfully.
“Hey Laney, how are you?”
“Good, you?”
“Great. Parker’s out in the field though, did you need to talk to him? I could give him a message.”
“Actually, I was calling you, to ask a very important question.”
“Okay, anything I can do, you know that.”
“Great, then you will be one of my bridesmaids?”
“For Heaven’s sakes, finally! You know I will.” Her voice wobbles with tears of joy. “I’m honored you thought of me. You just tell me when and where, girl! And Laney? Congratulations.”
�
��Thank you. Will you be bringing–”
“No! They’re staying at home with Grandma. Parker and I need a break.”
“Okay,” I laugh, “just checking. Who knows, maybe you guys can use the getaway to make three more.”
“Bite your tongue, Devil Woman,” she hisses.
“All right, only kidding. So Whit has your number, she’s the wedding planner extraordinaire. You know that drill, right? She’ll be in touch with all the details, okay?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”
I tell Whitley it’s a go on Hayden, she does the clappy/patty-cake thing again, then I make the next call to Samantha, the wife of Dane’s longtime friend Andy, whom he’d lost his relationship with for a while, but I know now that they’ve long-since reconciled, he’ll want to invite him. Plus, I once told Samantha she was “about to need Jesus” as I prepped to kick her ass, so another olive-branch couldn’t hurt.
Our conversation goes very much the same way, another yes, and I hang up feeling accomplished — actually participating a bit.
And as promised, Whitley’s satisfied with our progress and calls it a wrap for the day. I see her out, thanking her again and suggesting that she think about party-planning as a career since she’s spectacular at it and seems to really enjoy doing it, then fire off two texts — making lunch plans for tomorrow at the same place for two different times, with two different people.
I need to ask Emmett to be a bridesmaid, but to save any awkwardness or hurt feelings, I’m going to ask Bennett to be my Maid of Honor when it’s just the two of us.
Things are moving fast… but I’ve kept him waiting long enough.
I walk in the door, home from work, and have to stop and do a double-take… yeah, I'm in the right house. Which means, my little minx is still mad I sicced Whitley on her and a sinister scheme is afoot.