Attainment (temptation)

by K. M. Golland

  Standing my ground and waiting for the cake to make contact with my face, I refuse to remove my stare from hers. She stops directly in front of me, now only mere centimetres away, her eyes searing me with lust. Then, like the tempting seductress that she is, she lifts her hand and licks the cake off her fingers...slowly.

  “Mmm,” she moans quietly. “This cake and cream is the best I’ve ever had.”

  I watch her sexually devour her cream filled digits with her tongue. Fuck! Why are we in a room full of fucking people right now?

  “Mrs. Clark,” I warn, my voice now gravelly from the lack of moisture that Alexis so easily strips me of.

  “Yes?” she mumbles, swallowing her cake and smiling at me victoriously.

  “I fucking love you,” I whisper aggressively, grabbing her neck and pressing her cake-smeared mouth to mine, the taste of her mixing with the vanilla sponge and cream.

  The room breaks into applause, Tash’s wolf whistle dominating the sounds that follow, Nate also voicing his opinion that our cake-mushed kiss is ‘gross’.

  I couldn’t care less though, wanting nothing more than to taste my wife, and considering I am not currently in a position to taste other parts of her body, I am more than happy to continue tasting her mouth.

  * * *

  As the evening progresses, Alexis switches between mingling with our guests and occupying the dance floor. I, on the other hand, switch between the mingling and watching her.

  Alexis, Nate, Charli, and Brayden, are all dancing in a circle, encouraging Brayden to bring his moves, moves he got from me. I especially like to take responsibility for the little hip and slide action he is currently performing. I let out a laugh and take a swig of my beer.

  “Little tacker dances like his uncle,” Jake says proudly, snapping me out of my loving gaze.

  I raise my eyebrow at him. “You dance?”

  “I put Patrick Swayze to shame.”

  Coughing then choking on my beer, I call his bluff. “Bullshit! You look like you have two left feet.”

  “Don’t bait me, Clark. I wouldn’t want to show you up on your big day.”

  This time I laugh loudly. “Not gonna happen, Jakey Snakey,” I taunt him, Jakey Snakey being Alexis’ pet name for her brother, the same pet name Brayden now uses for his uncle. And a pet name I know Jake hates.

  He slams his beer down on the nearest table. “I fucking warned you,” he smiles, then takes off toward the band. I watch with curiosity as he says something to Simon—the lead singer.

  Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of drums in “Need You Tonight” by INXS sound throughout the room. Alexis and Jen’s heads both prick up like meerkats, spotting Jake head toward the centre of the dance floor. The smile that then spreads across my wife’s face indicates she knows what is about to happen.

  Jen wolf-whistles and shouts, “Lexi, get over here.”

  Squealing, Alexis meets my eyes and gives Brayden a gentle push on the bum, steering him toward me. And, without further encouragement, he launches himself in my direction at full speed. I swear to God, one and a half year-olds do not know how to walk. Run...yes, walk...no.

  I gather him up and throw him into the air before catching him again, the sound leaving his mouth as he soars above my head the best fucking sound in the world—I could listen to my son giggle 24/7.

  “What are Mummy, Aunty Jen, and Uncle Snakey up to?” I ask as I walk closer to the dance floor which is now circled by our family and friends.

  “Sssssss, snake,” Brayden hisses.

  I laugh. “Yes, snakes go hiss.”

  He screws his face up all serious like. “Woof, woof. Grrrr.”

  “Are you a cat?” I enquire.

  Brayden bursts into laughter and playfully slaps me on the forehead. “Sill-ee Dadda. Bayden a dog.”

  “Ohh...of course you are,” I fake my stupidity as I kiss him on the cheek.

  Lifting my head to look above everyone else’s, I spot Alexis and Jen performing simultaneous dance moves as Jake dances his way around the inside of the circle. I have to admit, he isn’t bad, sliding when the lyrics suggest, then moving quite raw when the lyrics suggest that.

  Johanna—Jake’s girlfriend of two years—snorts and giggles as he drags her out into the centre of the circle. Then, lifting his eyebrow up at me in a watch-this-you-motherfucker kind of way, he swings Johanna’s arms around his neck and starts dirty dancing with her—Patrick Swayze style. I shake my head then salute him. Cocky prick!

  * * *

  After the speeches are said, the bouquet tossed and caught by Carly, and Alexis’ electric blue garter is removed by my teeth, I can quite happily admit that I’ve had enough. I now want nothing more than to have Alexis all to myself. I want to spend the next 18 hours—that it approximately takes to fly to Paris—buried deep inside her, underneath her, on top of her, and wrapped around her.

  I can’t wait. She is going to flip when she finds out where we are going, but as per usual, she will not find out until we are there. Part of the fun is going to be teasing and taunting her, and if I’m lucky she will put up a fight. A fight I look forward to winning.

  Now eagerly wanting to wrap up our celebrations and jet off to France, I search the room for my bride, finding her sitting with her girlfriends. I head in her direction.

  Tash and Jade’s expressions as I approach the table have me a little confused, Tash with a shit-eating grin, and Jade, appearing to contemplate whether or not to jump off a cliff. But it’s Carly’s expression of not so subtly indicating Alexis cease her words by performing a slash-of-the-throat gesture that has me concerned the most.

  “I hope he doesn’t want to divorce me when—” Alexis says, stopping mid-sentence as I come to a halt right behind her. “Shit! He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” she stutters.

  “Why would I divorce you?” I whisper into her ear as I wrap my arms around her? “I’ve only just married you.”

  She stiffens in my arms, making my unease heighten.

  “I...I...I did something yesterday, and I’m not sure if you’ll like it or not. You may file for divorce.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

  “What did you do?” I ask, not really caring what she did. There’s no way in hell I’d want a divorce. I’ve waited three years to make her my wife.

  “I can’t tell you, it will have to wait until later.”

  I spin her around to face me. “I will never divorce you, Mrs. Clark, so give me your worst.”

  “It’s really not that bad. Well, I don’t think it is. You might, though. And if you do...well—” she starts to stutter nervously again, so I lean in and kiss her, cutting off her babbling words.

  “Shhh,” I whisper against her lips as I break our kiss. “We can talk about it later, but for now I want to take my wife on a plane and have her scream her husband’s name over and over.”

  “Mmmm, anything you say you incredibly sexy husband.”

  Opening her eyes as if she has just awoken from a trance, she pulls away from me, her mouth wide, her expression embarrassed. I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Shit! I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did,” I explain. “Come on. Let’s say our goodbyes.”

  Pulling her to my side where she fits perfectly snug under my arm, she rests her head against my shoulder as we walk.

  “I’m going to miss the kids. I hope Brayden will be okay staying with Mum and Dad.”

  “He’ll be fine,” I reassure her, squeezing a little tighter, when truth be told, I have the same uncertainties.

  We both take a seat at our table, and Alexis puts her arms out for Brayden who is sitting on Graeme’s lap. “Give Mummy a big cuddle, BB,” she mumbles into his neck as they bear-hug each other.

  I automatically clench both my fists together, that being a natural reaction to the annoying nickname. But unfortunately, due to underestimating her ability to pull one over on me—and as it stands at this point in time—that bloody ni
ckname is not going anywhere.

  “You be a good boy for Nanny and Poppa, and Mummy and Daddy will see you in a couple of weeks, okay?”

  “He’ll be fine, Darling. Poppa has some ‘farmy stuff’ we can do to keep us busy, don’t we, Bray?” Graeme explains, using his code for farm slavery.

  “I am not cleaning out the chicken coop again. That was disgusting!” Charli complains.

  “I’ll mow the lawns,” Nate pipes in, knowing that particular job comes with driving the ride-on mower.

  Graeme laughs. “See, they’ll be fine. Go and enjoy yourselves.”

  We hug all three kids and say goodbye before walking through a guard of honour.

  * * *

  “Are you gonna tell me where are we going yet?” Alexis asks as she unlatches her seat belt when Paul—the captain of the plane—informs us we can do so.

  Following suit, I remove my belt and stand up. “No. You’ll find out when we get there.”

  “Fine, I won’t tell you my surprise then,” she pouts with a smile.

  I offer her my hand and pull her up, flush with my chest.

  “Thank you,” she says like a stubborn child and then turns her back to me. I follow closely behind as she walks toward the bedroom, and even though she is clearly shitty due to my refusal to disclose our location, her leading me to our bed is evidence she still wants to make love. I smirk at her cuteness and then place my hand at the top of her arse, firmly guiding her.

  She instantly pulls away and winces, side stepping from me and displaying an expression of discomfort.

  “What’s wrong, Hunny?” I ask while reaching for her hand.

  “Nothing,” she responds with a fake smile, now stepping backward toward the room.

  “Alexis, why did you just flinch when I touched you?”

  “Bryce, where are we going?” she answers my question with a question, frustration in her tone.

  Her defiance sparks a surging level of adrenaline to course through my body and, together with my increasing need to make love as husband and wife, has me stalking her predatorily while displaying a hungry expression.

  Noticing my lascivious prowl, she backs herself into the room, inevitably jailing herself. “Bryce...” she says with less conviction. “...tell me where we are going.”

  I shake my head from side to side, slam the bedroom door behind me then remove the space between us.

  Now holding her body against the wall with my own, I pose my question again, deliberately breaking it down for her. “Why,” I whisper into her ear. “Did,” I say, breathing into her neck “You,” I growl, as I lick the tops of her cleavage. “Flinch?” I ask as I spin her around and splay her hands against the wall.

  Her fingers claw into the panels as I press my erection against her arse. “Where are we going?” she probes again, still persistently holding her own.

  Her fight has me hard as a fucking rock. “Fine, have it your way,” I advise, as I slowly unzip the back of her dress.

  Alexis changed out of her wedding gown right before we left for the airport, her attire now a red mid-length strapless number.

  I finish undoing the zipper and begin to peel the dress from her body when she stops me. “Bryce, wait!” Sucking in a breath, she turns her head to the side and closes her eyes as she exhales. “I love you.”

  By this point, I have a pretty good idea of what she has done, and to tell you the truth, I’m fucking excited to see exactly what she chose. “Hunny,” I say as I remove her dress completely, letting it fall to the ground, “I love you, too.”

  Taking a step backward, I spot the freshly inked area at the base of her back. It looks a little raw. Dropping to my knees, and now face-level with her tattoo, I take in the scripted name and picture.

  “Brylexis,” I read aloud, as I trace the letters without touching the mark.

  Under our name is a picture of a star.

  “Do you like it?” she asks, clearly hesitant.

  “Yes,” I hiss. Do I fucking like it? I more than fucking like it. It’s one of the sexiest things she has ever worn.

  She breathes out as her body relaxes. “Oh thank God!”

  Gripping her arse cheeks with both my hands, I lean forward and trail my tongue around the area, prompting her to tense up again and suck in another breath.

  “I love it,” I growl.

  Alexis widens her stance just a little, and that slight opening of her legs—an invitation to deepen my exploration—sets a fire within me. I can’t help myself and grip her G-string, tearing it apart before nipping and biting at her soft rear.

  “Oh, God, Bryce,” she moans.

  “Turn around,” I demand, my tone not one to be argued with.

  Slowly, she does as she told, and even though I love her tenacity at times, her submission is also just as pleasing.

  Now staring at her naked flesh before me, I wet my lips in preparation for her taste, fervently anticipating our union.

  “Foot,” I request, keeping my eyes on her moist pussy.

  She obliges and lifts her heeled foot, placing it on my knee. While I remove her shoe, I trail my tongue up and down her leg, tantalising every nerve ending I possibly can.

  “Other one,” I demand, repeating the same action.

  With her shoes discarded, I lean forward and lash her clit with my tongue then trail it up her abdomen, in between her breasts until I’m at her mouth. I bend down, slide my arm behind her thighs, and lift her into my arms.

  “Where are we going, Mr. Clark?”

  “To the bed, Mrs. Clark.”

  Almost instantly, I feel my bottom lip between her teeth as she holds onto it, stretching it slightly and taking it with her while pulling away from my face. Her eyes display a mischievous retribution as she lets go, the feeling both mildly uncomfortable, yet erotic.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she says with a slightly annoyed tone.

  “I know nothing of which you speak.”

  “I hate you.”

  “You love me.”

  “No, I don’t. Not right now.”

  Laying her down on the bed, I climb over the top of her and look deep into crystal clear blue eyes that reveal her inner most feelings—when I pay attention to them, they never lie.

  “Not right now?” I question, leaning forward to tenderly kiss her lips.

  Pulling away from her perfectly, fucking, kissable lips, I wait for her answer.

  “No,” she answers, her response obviously artificial.

  I swipe her peaked nipple with my tongue before sucking on it, deliciously. “How about now?” I prompt.

  “Uh ah,” she answers on an intake of air.

  “Hmmm. No?” I mumble as I switch breasts only to tweak with my fingertips the wet hard nipple I just abandoned.

  Trailing my tongue further down her stomach, I dip it into her bellybutton as I pass, then comfortably position myself between her legs. I smile victoriously as I take in the sight before me, seeing just how turned-on she is—the proof is in the pussy.

  Her entrance glistens with aroused moisture, the view parching my mouth. I swallow heavily and drag my finger along her clit, circulating my motion. “How ‘bout now?”

  Her back bows, affording me a stunning view of her chest, but she still refuses to give in.

  Having had enough of this game, I go in for the kill, hungrily devouring between her legs. I lash at her clit with my tongue while sliding two fingers into pussy, moving them in a ‘come hither’ motion.

  “Oh Bryce,” she moans, her sultry sound eliciting a reverberating groan from within me.

  “Do you love me now?” I growl, still pressing my lips to her wet clit.

  “Yes...yes I always love you, every second of the day,” she admits, her voice rising along with her pending climax.

  Satisfied pleasure rushes through me when hearing her say those words. They never get old; I never tire of hearing her say them. Now feeling overly fucking thrilled with her with surrender, I su
ck her clit into my mouth, knowing this will tip her over the edge, and then wait for her body to relax as she comes back down to earth.

  I sit up on my knees, my cock heavy with desire, desire I want nothing more than to release into my wife. “Come here,” I say, taking her hand and lifting her to her knees.

  She looks down at my erection, and a pleased appreciation washes over her face. It’s the best fucking expression imaginable. Nothing tops the look she gives me when she admires my cock.

  Scooting forward on her knees, she takes me in her hand, squeezing my base and dragging her hand to the tip. Her milking action is rewarded when a bead forms on my crown. “Taste it,” I suggest, knowing that she wants to.

  She smiles and sticks out her tongue then leans forward and slides it along my sensitive head. I jerk with pleasure. She pumps once more in the hope for another bead and is rewarded when yet again one appears.

  “Fuck, Hunny. Come here.” I pull her close and lift her up, impaling her on my shaft, both of us moaning in succession. I seize her arse with my hands and lift her up and down, thrusting with passionate dedication over and over.

  She cries out with exertion as she reaches another climax, the sheer carnality of her scream a fucking pleasure to watch. The way her head falls back under the weight of physical pleasure and mental emotion, rewards me for my efforts. I release one hand from her hip and clasp the back of her head, bringing it back to mine. Then, delving my tongue deep into her mouth, I expel my own orgasm.

  We both collapse on the bed, thoroughly sated and fucked, and that wonderful feeling of attainment gratifyingly washes through me. After seconds of catching our breath, I tug her to my side, and she comfortably rests her head on my chest.

  Gently, I kiss her on the head. “So, how does it feel to be Mrs. Clark?”

  “Perfect,” she replies then hugs me tight.