Soul

by Audrey Carlan

  “Gillian, Colin is our house handler. He will be taking care of everything that is the Bantry home. He lives with his wife in the guest house off the side of the property, down the path.”

  Colin smiles and removes the two metal covers over our plates. “Sir, Ma’am, for this evening we have a special filet mignon, with a garlic buttered potato, fresh vegetables from your garden, in a special sauce me better half prepares on special occasions.”

  “Your wife cooked this meal?”

  The man beams with pride, his chest puffing out. “Yes Ma’am. My Rebecca is a master chef. She will make all your meals while you’re in Bantry. She looks forward to meeting you.”

  “As I do her, thank you, Colin. Please give her my compliments.”

  He nods and leans back. “Will there be anything else, sir?” he asks Chase.

  “You’ve set the dessert and utensils over there,” Chase points to a side of the tent I hadn’t seen.

  Colin nods. “Yes, Sir. And I hope you don’t mind, my wife found a lovely topper. Please consider it as our gift to you. We look forward to getting to know your family through many years to come.”

  Chase stands and puts out a hand and shakes it. Then he claps Colin on the shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you, my good man. That will be all until tomorrow’s breakfast. Please have Rebecca prepare it in the sun room but not too early.” He grins and smiles wide. I blush. So does Colin before he clears his throat and holds back a smirk.

  He bows toward me. “I hope your first night as man and wife is everything you hope. We shall see you in the morning. I will take my leave.”

  “Thank you Colin, everything is perfect. Please share my thanks with the missus.”

  He nods and walks out.

  Instead of eating, I hop up and rush over to the table with a cake on it. Chase laughs at my enthusiasm but comes up to hold me from behind. A small, two-tiered cake sits on the table. It’s white with intricate swirls and Celtic symbols weaving through it. At the very top sits a ceramic heart with two hands holding it with a crown on top.

  “It’s a Claddagh.” I touch the cool ceramic.

  Chase holds me close. “What does it mean?”

  I grip his arms around my waist pressing into his front. “It’s a traditional Irish symbol. It represents love, loyalty, and friendship. The hands are meant to represent our friendship, the heart our love, and the crown represents our unending loyalty to one another.

  “Then it’s perfect.”

  I turn in his arms and hug him close. “It is. Everything about today is perfect. Thank you for giving me my dream wedding. And all of this, I couldn’t imagine better.”

  He kisses my forehead, then my lips softly. “Me either. Now let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

  I grin and he leads me back to the table. The steak is mouthwatering tender, the potatoes seasoned to perfection and the veggies crisp and delicious dipped into the special glaze Colin’s wife made. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

  Chase chews and nods. He takes a long swallow of his champagne. “It is. Maybe we can get Colin and Rebecca to come back to San Francisco with us.”

  My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. “You’d get rid of Bentley?”

  Chase laughs and sits back in his chair. “No, but I’d love to challenge him.”

  I shake my head and we spend our dinner chit chatting about our wedding, the church, the town and how beautiful it is here.

  Every so often I see Chase spinning the ring around his finger with his thumb.

  “Does it make you uncomfortable to wear a ring?” I ask sipping the yummiest bubbly in the world. As a matter of fact, it’s making me a wee bit tipsy.

  “Not even a little. Surprisingly, I like its weight there. Knowing I’m married to you, it’s very grounding.”

  Not being able to be away from him anymore, I stand and make my way to his side of the table and plop into his lap.

  “Was that seat no longer working for you?” He leans forward then starts to lay kisses all over my neck.

  “This one is far more comfortable.” I press my fingers into the layers of his hair at the back of his head. His mouth trails down my neck and down to where my breasts are pushing up at the sweetheart neckline of my gown.

  Chase groans against my breasts. “You know Gillian, when you entered that chapel I about swallowed my tongue. Seeing you in this dress, willingly walking toward me, choosing me as your husband,” he shakes his head and bites down on my breast. In response, a moan slips from my lips. “I’ll never know anything more enchanting than you. Baby, you have the power to destroy me.”

  With those words I slant my mouth over his and take him in a deep kiss. Our tongues slip and slide against one another for long moments until Chase stands. He turns me around, sweeps aside my long hair and unbuttons the two buttons holding the lace together at the top of my neck. The dress delicately sweeps down my curves into a puddle on the floor. I step out of it. Chase instantly picks it up and lays it over the chair I sat in while we ate.

  I turn around and stand there clad only in a pair of lace panties that curve around the edge of my hips and cut in deep along my ass. His eyes blaze with heat and hunger. My nipples become ridged and erect as the cool breeze of the ocean air tickles my bare skin.

  Chase’s nostrils flare and he sucks in a harsh breath. In what seems like the speed of light, he removes his tux jacket and bowtie. His belt is the next to go. I just stand watching him disrobe. It’s the most fascinating and thrilling experience to be standing almost completely naked while the man of every single one of my deepest fantasies removes his clothes. His pants open, and I can see his cock stretching the fabric. Then he moves to the top of his dress shirt and undoes each button. I watch, rapt with attention to this normally mundane task that has turned into one of the most lust-inducing performances I have ever seen.

  When his shirt is completely undone, he opens it revealing the hard slabs of thick muscle. His abdomen flexes and moves making me want to lick every inch of his exposed skin, and I plan to. He’s my husband now and I can do whatever I want.

  “I like the sound of that, baby,” he growls and it dawns on me that I said that last part out loud. “Like hearing you call me your husband.”

  I grin, slip my fingers into the sides of my flimsy panties about to push them down when he stops me.

  “Don’t. I want to remove my wife’s panties.” His eyes burn with a desire so bright he could blind me.

  His pants and boxer briefs drop to the floor in a heap. He kicks them to the side, not taking the care he took with my dress. We stand looking at one another for long minutes just looking, appreciating the raw desire filling the space around us.

  “I’ll never know beauty like you,” he whispers and it sounds like a prayer.

  “Yes you will. You see it when you look in the mirror every day.” I quip wanting him to know that I find him just as breathtaking.

  As if he’s moving in slow motion, he approaches me. When he gets close, one hand grasps the nape of my neck and the other my hip, and that’s when he slams our bodies together. He takes my mouth in a savage kiss, all lips, teeth, and tongue. He sucks my lips and tongue into his mouth over and over driving me insane with his carnal need to claim me.

  “Need to love you hard, this first time. Want you lost in me…in us.”

  I groan pulling my lips from his. “Yes. I want you, everything you have to give. It’s mine now.”

  He growls and leads me to the bed where I fly into a cloud of soft pillows. He lifts my legs, opens them wide and then his mouth is over the skimpy fabric of my panties. Licking me over the fabric, rubbing the texture against my clit. “Gonna soak these panties in us, then I’m going to take them off you and keep them with me. So that anytime I want, I can smell your sweet pussy from our wedding night.”

  “Jesus, Chase, the things you say…” I gasp when he bites down on my clit through the fabric, and I’m so wound up that’s all it takes.
I grip his hair in my hands and ride his face through my first orgasm. He doesn’t stop, biting and licking, destroying me with every pass at my sex until my orgasm settles. Like he promised moments ago, he pulls off the panties and sets them on the table near the bed.

  “Saving those,” he says before he places his mouth over my sex again and spears his tongue deep into my cleft. I jerk my hips up, but he holds them down. “Fuck! Your cream is so fucking good. Delicious. And. All. Fucking. Mine.” He holds my legs wide, using his thumbs to splay the petals of my center wider to accommodate him. I look down just as he presses his tongue deep then starts up this flicking motion inside me. It sends shivers of ecstasy rippling along the surface of my skin to the point that I’m panting.

  The pleasure is coming to the surface again. “Chase, baby, need you inside. I’m gonna come again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Chase

  “Chase, baby, need you inside. I’m gonna come again,” her voice sounds almost pained. I like that more than I’ll ever admit. Knowing my woman needs my cock in her, there’s something that digs deep into the roots of my manhood. Like a calling that only I can fill.

  I push her up the bed and bring her knees up high and wide. “Does my wife need my cock?”

  She moans and her head flies from side to side. “Chase…” she pleads and it’s the prettiest sound in the world.

  “Say it. Say you need your husband’s cock. Tell me how hard you want me to take you.” I growl and press just the tip of my dick to her clit, rolling my hips to give it a nice twirl.

  She gasps and lifts her hips for more. “I want…” she loses momentum, focusing on my dick pressing against her clit.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I chastise then place just the crown of my cock into the tight heat of her pussy. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear it.”

  “I-I want my husband to make love to me.”

  Those words, though they aren’t what I asked her to say, they are far more honest than I could have hoped for. I push her legs back farther, into her chest toward her underarms, holding her behind the knees, center my cock and enter her very slowly. The walls of her pussy cling to my dick as I glide in. When I’m balls deep, I stir my hips and her eyes fly open meeting mine. They are greener than the rolling hills of our Bantry estate.

  Pulling back, I come almost all the way out of her. She closes her eyes in bliss then opens them again, her mouth opens on a gasp when I slam home. This, making love to my wife, this is our home. When we’re joined it doesn’t matter where we are because as long as it’s the two of us, we’ll always be in the right place.

  “I love you, Gillian Davis,” I say closing my eyes and hammering into her over and over. She takes it. Hard. Soft. She always allows me to set the pace and take love from her body any way I need it.

  I grip her legs and pull them around my waist then lift her up. She hooks her feet behind my back, and I hold her around the back of her neck cupping her head so that I can kiss and plunge my tongue deep into her mouth. She moans, probably tasting herself. That always drives her lust to another height. Removing my hand from her head I grip her waist. The other arm I curl up her back and cup her shoulder, clamping her to me in an upright, seated position. She’s hung up on my cock, and when I heft her up and slam her back down she cries out, her pussy clamping around my cock like a vice.

  “Fuck,” she swears and that riles me up even more. My wife rarely swears and hearing it come out of her mouth means she’s losing control, she’s becoming lost in us. Exactly what I want.

  I slide her up my cock, then lift my hips at the same time I haul her down on me.

  “So hard,” she gasps. “So full…I can’t,” she clings to my shoulders, and I lean her back a bit, clamping my mouth around her turgid nipple and biting down. Her pussy becomes impossibly wetter gushing as I suck long and hard from her sweet tip. “Chase,” she warns with a little mewl, her body shaking with the effort to find release.

  I lean her back down on the bed and cover her body with mine. Intertwining our fingers together next to her head as I thrust deep with my cock and my tongue.

  When I pull back her eyes are open, glazed and teary. “My Chase, my love, my husband.” A tear slips down her cheek and I kiss it away, loving the taste of her happiness.

  “My Gillian, my love, my wife,” I repeat her words only geared toward her, clench her fingers tight, and with everything I have, I take my woman and myself over the edge in slow even thrusts. It wasn’t hard and fast, like I thought we needed; no, it was slow and beautiful. Making love to my wife on our wedding night was the single best sexual experience of my life. And I told her so.

  * * *

  Once I clean her up, I hand her a silk, cream-colored nightgown that comes to the middle of her thighs and a robe I have hanging on a rack in the corner of the tent. I slide on a pair of matching pajama pants.

  “Matching?” she says with a hint of a smug smile. She’s figured out that I like us looking united in all things, even if it’s bed clothing.

  “Got a problem with that?” I quirk my eyebrows up into a point. The one that dares her to say anything more about it.

  She shakes her head. “Nope, I like it.” She pulls on the nightie and robe then comes over and gives me a hug. “You realize you just rocked my world right?”

  I lick my lips still tasting her on my tongue. “Plan to for the rest of your life, baby.”

  She graces me with her sweet smile and then walks over to the cake. “Want to cut the cake and have more champagne in bed?” Her eyes light up as if she’s just seen the eighth wonder of the world.

  “Absolutely.”

  Sitting next to the stereo I spy the camera. I grab it up and take a picture of our wedding cake knowing this is something she’ll want to capture. Then I turn it on her and take a bunch of pictures.

  “Chase!” she scolds and stomps her little foot. “I’ve got sex hair!”

  I look around the camera, “I know,” I grin and hold it back up to her stunningly gorgeous face. She’s backlit by the ocean behind her. That red hair of hers is indeed looking very mussed and extremely sexy. Finally, she lets out a breath, looks at me and smirks. That’s the picture I’ll be printing and putting on my desk back at Davis Industries. I want to see that look on her face every day.

  “Okay, so traditionally, we cut the cake together, then serve it to one another.”

  I grab the knife and hand it to her. She holds it and then I cover her hand, and together, we cut our wedding cake. She cuts a giant piece, one I know she couldn’t possibly eat herself but don’t say anything. I’ll finish whatever she doesn’t.

  Once she’s got the cake on a plate she cuts two small squares and picks one up. “Now you grab yours. And don’t smash my face with it.” I think about it for a minute and then decide against rubbing it all over her face, mostly because I’ve got a better idea.

  We take a bite from each other’s fingers and the burst of lemon and vanilla is scrumptious against the pallet. “That’s really good,” she mumbles around another bite. I still have the sticky confection on my fingers. With my other hand I pull her close, undo her robe and let it fall to the floor. “I just got that on,” she pouts.

  With one finger I press down the shoulder strap of one side. Her large breast comes into view, and I wipe the remaining frosting from my fingers to her breast. She gasps when I lean forward and lick the sugary taste off her voluptuous tip. It tightens and elongates under the force of my suction.

  I pull back and lick my lips, slip her strap back up and look into her lusty gaze. “It’s better on you,” I offer.

  Her head tilts to the side. “Really?” She says then sticks her finger in the frosting, pulls back a dollop and smears into onto my nipple. Then she comes forward and brings her pink tongue over my flesh and goes to town. She sucks hard making sure she licks all around the flat disk. I groan holding her to me. She moves back, dunks her finger in the frosting again then spreads it on my other nippl
e repeating the action. Within seconds, my dick is hard, pressing into the satiny fabric between us.

  Again, she gets a large amount of frosting but this time she doesn’t put it on my chest. No, she drops to her knees, tugs down my pants and smears the white frosting all over the top of my dick. Before I can respond, her mouth is surrounding me and my hands are in her hair. She takes her time, licking off the frosting, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking me deep. Rivers of pleasure rip through my shaft, up my pelvis spreading low in my back. It curls there, the desire, the need to fuck her.

  I place my hands in her hair and grip tight at the base, pulling against the roots. She’s sucking so hard I have no choice but to thrust down her constrictive throat. Somehow she tips her head a certain way, relaxes her jaw and then I’m there, all the way down her throat. Quickly, I pull back and she protests with a whimper. I shove my dick back down her throat and she swallows, that muscle squeezes the crown of my sensitive dick so hard I can feel my balls getting hard and high, ready to shoot my release. “Baby, I’m going to come down your pretty throat. You suck me too good, make me weak.”

  Gillian moans around my cock and pulls against my hips. That’s her sign that she wants me to fuck her face. Gripping her head with both hands I begin a steady rhythm, of pressing deep into her throat, pulling back, letting her get used to it. She swallows every time I get to the end, and I’m losing it, her mouth is too soft, too hot, too exceptionally tight for words.

  “Fuck.” I thrust deep. “Woman.” Thrust. “You.” Thrust. “Own.” Thrust. “Me.” I hold my cock deep into her throat as my cum spills into her mouth, pumping in large spurts over and over until I’m shuddering with the effort to remain standing. Gillian swallows all of me, pulls back and licks my softening dick clean.

  “You’re right. The cake does taste even better paired with you.” Her innocent eyes are sparkling as I haul her back up into my arms and take her mouth.

  Finally, I pull back needing to catch my breath. “Christ woman, you’ll be the end of me.”