Mr. & Mrs. Wright: A BWWM Romance (Wright Brothers Series Book 2)

by Stevens, Camilla

  “Ugh! I’m sooooo bored!” he groaned, slouching on one of the couches in the Groom’s suite.

  There had been a lot of bribery involved just to get him to go along with the whole idea of being in the wedding. They’d set up an entire PlayStation on the TV of the suite for him, but he’d long since got tired of playing. Since then, he’d spent the entire morning moaning and groaning. Thankfully, he’d been matched up with the stunning, and terrifically no-nonsense Martina, who had the miraculous ability to keep him in line.

  “I’m back!” Michael called out, valiantly holding the bottle of whiskey up victoriously. And not a moment too soon.

  “Thank god!” groaned Alex

  “Perfect,” said Cleveland jumping out of his chair to grab some glasses.

  “That bad, huh?” Michael said, looking around the room and ending up homing in on one groomsman, or rather groomsboy, in particular.

  “I think I deserve some too,” complained the 18 year old River, shooting an annoyed look at Chauncey.

  Michael, Alex and Cleveland looked at one another conspiratorially. Finally, they decided to give the kid a break. It was Wright tradition after all.

  “Now, no telling the Mrs.” Michael warned, holding the glass high over River’s head. At 6’4” he had only 2 inches on the boy, but it was enough.

  “That includes the future Mrs.!” Alex added.

  “Yeah, yeah,” River said, rolling his eyes, motioning for the glass already.

  Finally Michael handed him the glass and, stupidly, the boy shot it down his throat in one shot.

  “Whoa!” Alex exclaimed.

  “That is a $1000 bottle of whiskey, River!” Michael said angrily.

  Cleveland just laughed as he sipped on his and watched the boy cough and sputter as the amber liquid burned a path down to his belly.

  “I want some!” Chauncey yelled, not particularly loving being left out.

  All four men looked at him with annoyance.

  “Knock, knock!”

  Everyone turned at the overly chirpy voice as Sydney Wright entered the suite without waiting for a response.

  “Oh, look at my little Alex!” she said, practically teary eyed.

  Alex would have been embarrassed by the usual coddling talk from his mother…if not for the ridiculous dress she had on. The most one could say was that it matched the black and white theme of the wedding. It was a strapless white number with black, beaded leaves embroidered across the edging. And there were plenty of edges on this dress: the plunging neckline, the cut outs on the sides, down the alarmingly high slit showing off one leg. There was some sort of zig-zag thing happening in back as well, which left little to the imagination. Even Chauncey was momentarily stunned into silence as the woman bounced across the room on platform heels. He certainly wasn’t the only one.

  “I just wanted to pop in and give my little Alex a hug before his big day.” She grabbed Alex in a snuggling hug, after which he followed River’s lead and downed his entire glass of whiskey.

  Michael, River and Cleveland watched on in embarrassed silence.

  “Now, does my boy need any last minute advice from his mommy?”

  “No,” Alex said curtly. Then, taking stock of the hurt look on her face, he sighed and said, “thanks for coming to check up on me Mom, it means a lot.”

  That was enough to appease her and she reached out to hug him again, planting a firm kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain.

  After she left, he turned to Michael and wordlessly held out his glass. Despite his earlier promises to London and his mother, Michael didn’t hesitate to add another shot of whiskey to the glass.

  * * *

  “So, it’s your last chance to back out,” Brooklyn said.

  Her father chuckled. “Well, I’ve already got one Wright, I might as well take on another.”

  Brooklyn smiled, shaking her head. Everybody knew how much he secretly liked the Wright brothers. The father? Well, that was still a bone of contention.

  “By the way, I wanted to thank you again for the dress.”

  He looked down at it with admiration. “I know it’s a bit much and you probably feel—”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, shushing him. She looked down at her dress. It was ornate, and over the top, and made her feel like a princess, and...she found herself loving it more and more.

  “Well at least it goes with purple,” Frank said, looking up at the streaks in her hair with consternation.

  Brooklyn laughed. “You didn’t think I’d go through this wedding without irking you at least a little bit, did you?”

  Even Frank had to laugh at that. “No, I guess not sweetheart.”

  He looked at her hair again. “You know, I’m actually starting to kind of like it.”

  Brooklyn grabbed her bouquet of pink tulips and took a deep breath. “So, ready?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said, reaching around to pull the long veil over her face. He offered his arm to her and she took it with one trembling hand.

  “Don’t be nervous sweetheart,” he said, noticing the tremor. “Just focus on Alex when you get out there.”

  She nodded and took another breath. Her heart stopped as she heard the sounds of the Wedding March, signaling her and her father’s entrance.

  Every bit of doubt and nervousness was erased as she took her first steps down the aisle on the arm of her father. The huge crowd of faces disappeared into a blur as she looked straight ahead toward the altar. There was Alex, a huge grin on his face under the canopy of faux trees, with their white leaves and tiny pink flowers that instantly conjured fond memories of Paris in springtime, with its cherry blossoms in all their glory. Paris was their city, the city where he’d declared his love for her. The city where she had fallen absolutely in love with him.

  In that moment, the entire wedding, as ostentatious as it was, made sense. It incorporated every aspect of their lives together. New York, the city where they had first had their dubious introduction to one another. Paris, the city where they had first voiced their love for one another. The craziness of being tied to public figures. Now they were getting their happy ending, and everyone was here to witness it.

  As she neared Alex, she could see the same thoughts shining through on his face.

  As much as she abhorred the paternalistic nature of the rite, it seemed more than appropriate when Reverend Holt asked “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” At that very moment, it was important that her father, as much as the two of them had butted heads, be firm in his acceptance of Alex as a member of their family.

  “I do,” Frank Jefferson said without any hint of doubt. When he turned to her with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes, lifting her veil and kissing her lovingly on her forehead, she knew that this wedding couldn’t have been more perfect. Her father was not letting go of her, he was accepting the man she loved into the fold.

  She looked up at her father’s proud expression and couldn’t stop herself from reaching up on tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. The tear that she caught before he surreptitiously wiped it away was all the confirmation that she needed to know that this was exactly how it should be.

  Brooklyn turned to Alex, taking a step toward her new life, a life with the man who was to be hers forever. He had the same smirk she’d seen on his face the first time she met him sitting in the stands of Madison Square Garden, only this time, the smirk said to her “Let’s do this, babe.”

  Ride or die.

  * * *

  If the wedding ceremony had been ornate, the reception on the rooftop was outright extravagant. But could a Wright-Jefferson wedding be anything but?

  The tree canopy theme had been extended to the interior such that the entire ceiling seemed to be made of intertwined branches with white leaves and cherry blossoms. It was like stepping into an enchanted forest. The wedding planner had even managed to incorporate the pink tulips as each table had a centerpiece with a base of white orchid
s out of which a tall vase holding a spray of pink tulips rose.

  The cake was its own masterpiece, having taken themes directly from Brooklyn’s own work, with geometric patterns overlaying soft hues that were vaguely reminiscent of a Paris morning.

  Side tables were covered in artistically placed hors d'oeuvres of various cuisines: Thai shrimp lettuce wraps; French Pork Rillettes on toast; American hamburger sliders; Japanese sushi. Brooklyn and Alex wondered how anyone would have room for the actual dinner being served. The dessert table and cocktails were no less varied, or limited in amounts. Two cocktails in particular were requested, Petit Morts and Happy Endings.

  Brooklyn had changed out of her actual wedding dress and into a dress with a similar beaded and jeweled bodice. The main difference was that it had a skirt she could actually dance in with her father (Isn’t She Lovely, Stevie Wonder) and her new husband (An absurdly fun crowd pleaser that they’d rehearsed forever to The One That I Want from the movie Grease).

  * * *

  “Thank you so much for coming Mrs...?”

  “Wentmore,” Alex whispered in her ear.

  Brooklyn looked longingly at the barely touched fillet mignon, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus on her plate. The reception had been a whirlwind of dancing, cake cutting, speech giving (Michael’s Best Man speech was particularly endearing), meeting, greeting and all around exhaustion. Now she just wanted to rest her feet, drink champagne and most of all, eat!

  “Mrs. Wentmore,” she said, her face plastered with the same plastic smile she’d had on so long today she was afraid it would become permanent.

  Behind Mrs. Wentmore was a long line of people whose names and faces she couldn’t place if you’d held a gun to her head. Perhaps it was the hunger. She hadn’t even been able to grab something off the various tempting hors d’oeuvres tables scattered throughout the reception area, and now she was growing increasingly cranky.

  As Mrs. Wentmore walked off, Brooklyn braced herself and planted the same plastic smile on her face for the next in line. Maybe one of them could actually give her a chance to take at least one lousy bite of her steak that was getting increasingly cold.

  “Actually,” Alex said, stopping the man who approached before he could even open his mouth. “I have to take my Bride away to handle something. We’ll be right back.”

  Brooklyn blinked in surprise as Alex took her hand and led her out of her seat. She gathered the skirt of her reception dress as he quickly made his way to the outer edges of the room, around toward the exit. The DJ was starting to do his thing and there had been enough drinks to go around by now that the party was in full effect. Thus, not too many people were aware of their hasty escape.

  “Where are we going? I didn’t even get to eat,” she protested.

  “I know,” he said, almost breaking into a jog as they reached the foyer where the elevators were located. Once there he pressed the down button and then turned to her.

  “Trust me,” he said with a wink.

  Brooklyn broke out into a grin. “What are you up to Mr. Wright?”

  “Do you trust me, Mrs. Wright?” he said, leaning in to whisper, “Yes or no?”

  She chuckled and whispered back just as the elevator doors opened, “Yes.”

  They entered and when another couple tried to enter as well, Alex stopped them. “Sorry, private party,” he said, as they backed off with confused expressions.

  “Please tell me you didn’t pull me away from my food to make out with me in the elevator,” Brooklyn said.

  “Well, no, but now that you mention it,” he said, his hand hovering over the Stop button.

  “Alex!” Brooklyn laughed, slapping him on the chest.

  He laughed with her and pulled her in for a hug. “I’ve got something better than sex waiting for you,” he promised.

  “Better than sex?” Brooklyn asked. “Now my interest is officially piqued.”

  The doors opened and he led her down the hallway where the Bride and Groom’s suites were. She didn’t say a word, trusting him as he led her back to the Groom’s suite.

  “Once I saw how crazy our folks were getting with this wedding, I had a feeling that we’d need a chance to get away from the circus.”

  He slid his key card into the door and opened it. He led her to the table where there were several dishes arranged, each with silver lids on top. In the middle was a bucket of ice holding a bottle of champagne.

  “I also figured there wouldn’t be much time to eat, so I planned ahead.”

  “Oh my god, Alex,” she said looking at the table, her mouth watering at the smells alone, “You are, hands down, the most perfect husband ever.”

  “I know,” he said pompously, then laughed a she slapped him on the arm.

  Brooklyn greedily pulled the lids off to see each plate had a few selections from the hors d’oeuvres tables: Crab beignets; wild mushroom and goat cheese tarts; scallops wrapped with proscuitto; potato pancakes with lox. It went on and on. She didn’t even know where to begin.

  He had even pulled a few bags of flavored popcorn from the popcorn station.

  Brooklyn immediately dived in, shoving a stuffed cherry tomato into her mouth.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, girl,” Alex said. “Can we at least toast to our nuptials first?”

  She laughed, her mouth full, as he popped the cork off and poured them both a glass.

  “To the girl with the dark lipstick, who left her mark on my face...and my heart, from the first moment I kissed her.”

  Brooklyn thought back to the night they met and felt herself getting a bit teary-eyed. She brought her glass up to him.

  “To the boy who stole my seat,” she lifted one eyebrow, “a kiss and,” there was a catch in her throat, “my heart.” By the time she finished her own toast, she actually was crying. She quickly sipped her champagne then leaned in to grab Alex and kiss him on the mouth.

  His arms came up around her and he brought her in closer. That was when Brooklyn felt a different type of hunger growing in Alex...pressed right against the bodice of her dress. She smiled into his lips and pressed herself closer, feeling the same hunger growing in her.

  She pulled away from him and gave him a seductive smile. “As much as I want to get the consummation of this marriage going, I’d actually like to consume some food first.”

  Alex reached down and grabbed a beignet and popped it into her mouth. “There, now chew quickly,” he said, grinning.

  She quickly chewed as he grabbed her arm and led her over to the bedroom. She swallowed and stopped him. “No time, Alex. And if you think I’m getting out of this dress only to get back into it, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  She led him back to the couch and pushed him down. “First of all, you have to acknowledge the very expensive and very special panties I bought for tonight.”

  She scrunched the front of her dress up her legs until there was enough to grab and lift completely away, revealing the lacy, white, bikini panties she had on.

  “Beautiful, gorgeous, spectacular...now take them off,” he said, reaching down to unzip his own fly.

  She laughed and slid them down her legs as Alex’s eager eyes followed them. He already had his cock out and was stroking it lightly by the time she straddled him. She replaced his hand with her own and moaned as she slid it inside of her.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes. “That feels so good, husband.”

  She opened her eyes and looked down at him. “Call me by my name,” she said.

  “Brooklyn Wright,” he said, concentrating hard on her face as she rode him.

  “More,” she said, increasing her speed as the feeling of him inside her began to work its magic.

  “Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Brooklyn Wright. Mrs. Alex Wright.” He muttered, feeling his own body start to hit the edge.

  She dug her hands into his shoulders as she closed her eyes with a smile. “Fuck yeah, I’m Mrs. Alex Wright. I belong to you.”

  “That’s right. All mine,
forever and ever, and…” he could feel his balls start to tighten

  “Ever,” she breathed, unfolding into a moan as she climaxed at the same time as her husband.

  * * *

  They ran down the hallway to the elevators, hand in hand, giggling like a couple of teenagers trying to make curfew. Once in the elevators, they were on each other again, kissing and running their hands over each other.

  The doors opened and they pulled apart guiltily, even though there was no one standing there. By the time they re-entered the reception hall, their faces were flushed and bright with the little detour they’d taken in the night’s events.

  Brooklyn became completely flustered when they ran right smack into Eleanor Ashton. She was too stunned to utter a word. Fortunately, Mrs. Ashton was more than willing to express her thoughts without too much input from Brooklyn.

  “Well, there you are,” Eleanor said looking down at her with a wry grin. “I’ve been trying to get a word with you all night. I can’t understand how it is we’ve never met before now. I actually own a piece from your Paris 2 Series.

  “Of course, I’ve had my eye on a certain piece from the Paris 1 collection, that a certain collector has been rather stubborn about.” She gave Alex a scolding twist of the lips.

  “Well, the piece is rather special to him,” he said in response. He placed an arm around Brooklyn’s shoulder and looked down at her. “It reminds him of a very special Paris morning.”

  Brooklyn smiled, thinking about the Paris at Dawn piece hanging in their loft.

  Eleanor simply smiled and gave a small, rueful shake of the head. “At any rate,” she said, turning her attention back to Brooklyn, “I know it’s long overdue, but I also have to apologize for the actions of my goddaughter, Brianna. Her mother and I were very close. I have no idea where she went so wrong. At any rate it was perfectly shameful, and frankly, so were the actions of Manix Gallery. No gallery that turns on its own artist like that should be in business. They should have known I would never use my influence in such a way, no matter what Brianna said.”