Royally Duched Up: (Duched #3)

by Xavier Neal

  Brie quickly shakes her head. “Not at all. I love the idea that she’s here with us.”

  Between the blinding spotlight and camera flashes it’s impossible to look at the faces of those watching. Thankful to have our public moment still maintain a shred of privacy, I pull her in closer, which is when she rests her face gently on my chest. Love overwhelms my system and I lean down to rest my head against hers. My eyes shut and the serene swaying allows us to slip away into our own sacred haven.

  Much sooner than either of us like, the song fades, and another begins. Dean Martin’s voice fills our ears again as “You’re Nobody Til Somebody Loves You” echoes throughout the room. At that moment, Brie lifts her head, eyes dancing with an idea I can’t quite read. Rather than explain it, she slips out of my reach, rushes to grab her mother, and drags her over. Without explaining herself, she scurries off, grabs my father, and links hands with him to dance. I immediately follow suit offering my new mother in law my hand.

  Once we’re moving to the music, she states, “Thank you for this dance, Kellan.”

  With sincerity, I smile. “Anytime, Mrs. Sanders.”

  “Please get in the habit of calling me Brandy.”

  “Alright.” I give her a polite nod. “Brandy.”

  The two of us continue to move to the rhythm, allowing me to catch the growing joy in my father’s expression.

  I’m sure this choice of music is reminding him of my mother. I just hope he continues to swim in the love from the memories as opposed to letting it lead him to drown once more. Last thing we need is him a silent, suffering mess. Weddings are meant to be joyous occasions. That’s all I’m trying to make it for my family. New and old.

  “Beautiful choice of music by the way. Both of these songs.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Feels a little outdated in comparison to the song you had the wedding party walk down the aisle too.”

  “My mother was a huge Dean Martin fan. And…while she couldn’t be here, I didn’t want her to be excluded, so I figured this would be the best way to have her presence felt.” I grin. “She loved to dance. To move. To force my father to do the same.”

  Brandy lightly snickers. “Oh Charles is the same way. He hates dancing. Probably relieved he wasn’t dragged out here.”

  We exchange another laugh.

  I love to dance. It’s Kristopher who shares my father’s distaste for it. They’re both just so stiff sans alcohol. We all know I’ve got the suave genes. Just happened to inherit them from my father and my mother.

  “Kellan, I know you have your own family,” she begins cautiously, the song almost finished. “But I want you to know that if you ever need anything…motherly, that I’m here for you. Not that I think you do! Not that I think that’s my role now or that I need to fill in her space or that you don’t already have someone to fill in her space-”

  This is where Brie gets her adorable rambling from.

  “But I just…I want you to know, I am one more option if you ever need it.”

  The song ends and I lift her hand to my lips to place a kiss on the back. Afterwards, I state, “It is an honor to have the privilege extended to me, Brandy. I will not take it or your daughter for granted.”

  She smiles briefly, but another round of tears kills it quickly.

  I swear it’s like a faucet no one can fix…

  Thankfully the D.J. speaks preventing me from having to provide more than a comforting side hug. He announces dinner is now available and everyone is welcomed once more to the dance floor. I usher Brandy back towards her husband, grab my brilliant bride by the hand, and lead her to our table where we will be served.

  Perk of being the bride and groom…

  The large round table in the corner, closest to the balcony door, is the only one covered with a blue table cloth and blue bows on the chairs. All the others are covered with gray ones helping emphasize the difference. Brie and I sit in the two spaces where our engraved champagne glasses are, while our families congregate accordingly in the seats beside us. To my left are Kristopher, Soph, Hugh, Dana, and my father. To Brie’s right are Jovi, Merrick, Candice, Brandy, and her father who is sitting directly next to mine.

  Conversations casually begin and end in such a flawless cycle it feels as if we’ve done this hundreds of times. Unable to prevent myself from smiling wider over the level of comfort we all have around one another; I do so, and slide an arm around the back of Brie’s chair.

  The moment the plate of food is placed in front of her, she snaps her head at me. “This isn’t steak awe pwarve.”

  “Au poivre,” I correct immediately. “I don’t know what awe prwarve is but it doesn’t sound appetizing.”

  Her elbow bumps into my ribs and I let a small laugh escape. “Seriously. I thought we were having steak…steak and mashed potatoes.”

  “This seemed more fitting.”

  Brie smirks, lifts the miniature burger, and begins an unnecessary inspection.

  Just as I roll my eyes Kristopher asks, “What are you doing?”

  “She’s checking to make sure it only contains the basics,” I answer on her behalf. Afterwards I turn my attention back to where she’s lifting the bun. “You can take a breath, Shirley Holmes. There is only meat, cheese, and mustard on what they brought you.”

  Despite my statement she continues to check. “That’s what you said when we went to that one place after the nightmare brunch and then I was ambushed by cream of corn sauce.”

  “Sweet chipotle mayo.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Far from it,” our argument ignites laughter around the table.

  “There was a crunch to it! It crunched like corn.”

  “It did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Wow,” Candice interrupts. “You two really still do that?”

  “All the time,” Soph and Kristopher snicker together.

  A blush and chuckle hits us both.

  I imagine it’ll only get worse when we have children. God, I love the idea of her having my child…

  Brie finally has a bite, which is when I explain, “Those are from The Silver Tap Pub.”

  She hums her approval and continues to chew.

  “As are the chips-”

  “Fries.”

  Without hesitation I shake my head.

  Between bites of the second one, she asks. “How did you get them to cater for us on New Year’s Eve?”

  “I have my ways, love.”

  Her faces falls to a sarcastic expression.

  “Can’t reveal all my tricks.”

  Brie rolls her eyes causing me to laugh again.

  The conversation picks up among the table again and I lift my pint up to my lips, eyes still glued to my beautiful, pleased, bride.

  What? No! It’s not creepy to stare at her while she’s eating. I’m just…sweetly watching the woman I’m fortunate enough to spend the rest of my life with. There’s nothing wrong with that.

  Brie playfully kicks me under the table. “Stop gawking at me.”

  “I’m lovingly leering.”

  “You’re stalkerly staring.”

  “I don’t think it’s stalking when it’s your wife.”

  Rather than rebut, she lets a smile slide onto her face.

  The shift of demeanor forces me to cautiously question, “Why are you suddenly grinning? Are you plotting to use my jacket as your personal napkin already? It’s early, might I remind you.”

  “You said wife…”

  My expression instantly matches hers. “I did…”

  She drops her elbow onto the table and leans her face into her open palm. “I love that.”

  Her elation over just the title reverberates throughout my entire body. I take her left hand, place a kiss on the back of it, and agree, “I do as well.”

  Brie longingly looks at me in complete silence. The love and adoration swirling in her bright brown gaze swells my heart as well as my cock.

  What!
She looks unbelievably irresistible when she beams at me like that. Like I’m her whole world. Like I’m the center of her universe and she can’t breathe without me…Fuck. Would it be wrong to bail on our own wedding before we even cut the cake?

  I do my best to nonchalantly adjust myself under the table. A playful poke escapes, “Now who’s stalkingly staring at whom?”

  She snickers and sticks her tongue out at me. After I reach for one of the chips on her plate, she grabs another miniature burger, and states, “You know this wedding is perfect, right?”

  Relieved to hear her say it out loud, I reply, “I tried.”

  “But now you’re in mega trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “Because how are you gonna top this?”

  The bite of chip almost gets wedged in my throat. “Top this? Why would I need to top this?”

  “Let’s assume I don’t strangle you with your own tie-”

  “Or you keel over from clogged arteries.” I nod my head at the next burger moving towards her mouth. “Seriously, Love. How many of those have you had?”

  “Not enough to make up for living like a zebra new to zoo life for basically the past week.” She sucks the mustard off her thumb and the desire to call it an early night arises again. “Let’s say we make it to celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary. How the hell are you going to outdo yourself?”

  “First of all, the only thing stopping us from making it to 50 would be death.” When she smiles I dip my chip in the ketchup and answer, “And I’ll figure something out. After all, I did this in a matter of weeks. Imagine what I can do with years.”

  My cocky response receives a smirk, a nod of agreement, and vicious chomp of my chip.

  We share another hearty laugh proceeded swiftly by a sweet kiss.

  The remainder of the evening continues as smoothly as the beginning. After cutting the cake to Dean Martin’s “Kick In The Head” and unpredicted champagne toasts from both of our fathers, we dance to an odd mix of music including songs from The Rolling Stones, The Goo Goo Dolls, and Usher.

  I will never be able to listen to ‘There Goes My Baby’ the same way again. You thought my Uncle Fredrick and Aunt Elizabeth were handsy at our engagement party? Ha. Seeing them drunkenly slow grind took it to an entirely new level. Watching my cousin pout throughout it did offer solace to the slightly awkward situation.

  Brie and I gather at the head of the parted crowd ready to send us off once we’ve shared our midnight kiss. With locked hands and eyes, we participate loudly in the countdown from ten, inching our faces closer with every number. Impatient as always, I gently tug her to me, capturing her lips before the clock can command it. Our tongues swirl together, signing and sealing the first moment in the new year of marriage. The idea much like saying the words, fills me with pride and the movements of my kiss fill with fervor. Brie whimpers softly in response catching the attention of my cock.

  Unfortunately, there’s a small bump against my body and I break the kiss. My head whips around to see Kristopher beaming an obnoxiously brotherly grin. In a lowered tone, he suggests, “Why don’t you take that back to your honeymoon suite?”

  I give him a quick nod. “Is everything-”

  “Done.”

  Tell me you didn’t think I would plan an amazing wedding, but a shitty honeymoon night…Where is the faith?

  With a smile bigger than ever, I turn back around to my wife. “Ready?”

  Brie bites her bottom lip in my favorite way at the same time she nods.

  I stifle down another groan, angle us towards the waiting crowd, and lift our hands in the air to announce our departure. Everyone lifts their bubble wands to their lips and begins blowing. The two of us stroll underneath with similar smiles plastered on our faces.

  All of a sudden, she gasps when one pops on her arms. The reaction I was hoping for jumps onto her face. “They’re paint bubbles!”

  “Is that a problem?”

  A small chuckle escapes as she pulls us to a complete stop. Another bubble pops, this time on her gown, leaving a blue residue behind. “They’re gonna die my dress!”

  “That’s the point love.”

  Her eyes follow a few that crash onto me. With a little giggle, she motions her head at my suit. “And you’re totally okay with your one of a kind designer suit being covered in paint?”

  I lift her hand to my lips. After a soft kiss, I reply, “Absolutely.”

  She lets a small awe fall free while more and more paint bubbles rain down on us. Flashes from the photographers act as reminders our final moments are being captured and the desire to sweep her off of her feet becomes unbearable.

  We’re talking literally sweeping her off her feet like they do in the movies to cross the threshold. Between you and me it is one of those things I actually have been looking forward to doing.

  By the time we’ve finally managed to arrive at the penthouse honeymoon suite of The Frost Luxury Hotel, our desperations for one another have reached new mutually insatiable heights. Her makeup is slightly smeared. My hair is ruffled from where she’s been feverishly yanking me closer. Our lips are swollen from stolen nips. Outside our room Brie’s hand starts to descend down the front of my pants for my stiff cock. Before she has the opportunity to grab me, I swiftly swoop her into my arms.

  Her eyes fall into mine. “You’re seriously going to do this?”

  “You’re seriously going to ask that when you’re already in my arms?”

  “You can still change your mind.”

  “I’m fine, Love.”

  “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Come on, Kellan. Between me and the ninety pounds of tulle they stole from a company of ballerinas, I know I’m not exactly light.”

  “And I’m not exactly bench pressing you,” my argument is met with a smirk. “Though, on record, I could if I wanted too.” I prevent her from countering with a command, “Open the door.”

  Brie slightly shakes her head, but does as requested.

  Quickly, I cross the threshold with her nestled in my arms and theatrically announce, “Honey, we’re home!”

  Brie’s fit of giddy giggles ignites mine. I do my best to continue to move us the direction of the bedroom, but we’re shaking so hard from our laughter over the ridiculous overdramatic action, we have to pause halfway through the living room.

  That was pretty awful, wasn’t it?

  Eventually our snickers die down and I return to the mission literally at hand. With a small push from my foot the French doors to the bedroom swing open revealing the last jaw dropping surprise of the night.

  Well…almost the last.

  The gasp is proceeded with her wiggling out of my grip back onto her feet. I linger in the doorway and watch as she admires the vases of long stem roses around the room. Her attention drifts to the champagne, strawberries, and whip cream chilling by the foot of the bed before she notices the rose petal path that leads to the Jacuzzi bath tub located in the corner of the room behind thin glass doors. Inside is another bottle of champagne, candles lit, and a spectacular view of the city through a window. For another silent minute she soaks in the additional details declaring this is more than just the average honeymoon. There’s a fresh sketch pad and pencils by the door that leads to the balcony. Edible body paints beside the bed. An array of popcorns, candies, and classic movies for us to go through between sex sessions.

  Her body will definitely need points of recuperation after what I plan to do to it for hours. We haven’t had sex since her bloody birthday. This wait was so much worse than when we were apart. Having her literally within my reach yet not being able to touch her in ways that I have more or less become addicted to felt like we were testing some sort of modern warfare tactic on how to break the enemy’s spirit. I swear, if I knew what the information was I would’ve given it up for one taste of her after the first day. Half a day. Alright two hours….Don’t judge.

  Bri
e finally faces me once more. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

  With a casual shrug, I slowly approach. “I ask myself the same question about you every time you look at me…”

  She softly sighs and reaches out for me. “Make love to me, Mr. Kenningston?”

  There’s no hesitation in my response. “Absolutely, Mrs. Kenningston.”

  Our fingers lightly touch and a shudder races through my body. My eyes roam slowly across her paint covered mocha skin instantly making my hands jealous they aren’t caressing it yet. Unlike my verbal agreement just seconds ago, there’s reluctance in my actions to undress her. To ruin the perfect package she presented herself in for me.