Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  “My bride,” he whispered, meeting her in the center of the room and gathering her hands. “You’re as lovely as a summer rain.”

  She couldn’t manage more than a smile, her nerves jangling like rampant church bells. The officiant, not at all related to the Catholic Church, stepped forward. “Shall we begin?”

  “Aye,” Frank said, holding her hand as they faced the mantle.

  “Love has brought the two of you here today, but marriage is not just about saying I love you today, but having a reason to say it every day, for the rest of your lives. Frank McCullough, as you look into Maureen’s eye, I ask that you always remember how you feel today. Maureen, I ask you the same.

  “May your union be blessed with countless good times, but know that there will also be stormy times, times of sadness as well as joy. May your love weather the good and the bad through all of your tomorrows.”

  Her fingers tightened around Frank’s as she tried to imagine the two of them years from now. Would they have a family? Perhaps be blessed with a son and a daughter? Or would it be just the two of them? It was overwhelming to imagine a home that did not yet exist or faces of children she’d yet to meet.

  “Frank, do you take Maureen as your wife to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, honor her, respect her, and keep her for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others to be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?”

  His fingers squeezed. “I do.”

  “Maureen, with this understanding, do you take Frank to be your lawful husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, honor him, respect him, and keep him for a better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others to be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

  Staring into his deep blue eyes she whispered, “I do.”

  “The rings.”

  The innkeeper placed a box on the pedestal holding the two bands they’d selected from the display, Frank’s a simple gold band, hers an Irish Claddagh.

  “The ring is an unbroken, never ending circle, symbolizing your undying love for one another.” He handed Frank the Claddagh. “Frank, place this ring on Maureen’s left ring finger, pointing the tip of the heart toward her wrist and repeat after me.”

  The band slid over her knuckle and Frank repeated after the officiant, his voice low and husky with implication. “This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my wife from this day forward. As this ring has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

  “Maureen, take this ring, place it on Frank’s left ring finger and repeat after me.”

  Her fingers trembled as she slid the ring over Frank’s thick finger. She repeated, possibly speaking quieter than she’d ever spoken. “This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my husband from this day forward. As this ring has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

  The officiant smiled and the innkeeper sighed happily, her hands clasped at her heart. “May the raindrops fall lightly on your shelter. May the soft winds refresh your souls. May the sunshine brighten your hearts. May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you. And may God enfold you in the mantle of His love.

  “Frank and Maureen, you have consented together in holy matrimony and pledged your vows together, exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to one another, and in accordance with the laws of the state of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. McCullough. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

  Laughter nervously bubbled out of her as Frank tugged her to him. “My wife,” he growled, before sealing his lips to hers.

  Rising on her toes, she wreathed her arms around his neck and took a deep breath of him. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. There would be no going back. Their course had been set. As much as she feared regretting her decision, everything inside of her fell into such a state of peaceful contentment she knew they’d made the right choice.

  “I love you, Maureen McCullough,” he whispered against her lips.

  “I love you too, Frank. I will for the rest of my days.”

  He growled, the sound full of pleased satisfaction. “Shall I carry you to our room?”

  The innkeeper poured two complimentary glasses of champagne and stepped out of the den. She grinned. “I’m eighteen now. I can have all the champagne I want.”

  “There’s a lot you can have now,” he said suggestively, shifting behind her as she reached for a glass.

  “Oh.” Her eyes went wide as she felt the hard edges of his body pressing into her softer curves.

  “I want to take my wife to bed.”

  “But it’s daytime.”

  “The better to see you, my love.”

  She guzzled the champagne without making a toast. “Can we do something first? You might think it’s silly, but it would mean a lot to me…”

  “What is it?”

  She turned to face him. “There’s a Catholic church around the corner. I’d like to stop in there for a moment, since we couldn’t have our ceremony blessed by a priest.” It was silly. She loved Frank and their marriage would be a good as any other, but part of her ached for that sacred blessing her sisters could claim.

  “Of course.” The pad of his thumb traced over her lips. “We’ll walk there now.”

  When they reached the church she was glad to find the doors unlocked. A few candles burned, but no one appeared to be present. Genuflecting at the front pew, she knelt and faced the Virgin Mary. Frank quietly kneeled beside her as she shut her eyes and prayed.

  She prayed for her family, her sisters, parents, and her new in-laws. She prayed for her father’s understanding and Frank’s honor. But most of all, she prayed for the strength she’d need in the years to come as she dedicated her heart and soul to being the best wife and mother she could be. When she finished, she whispered the Lord’s Prayer and made the sign of the cross.

  Frank claimed to be Catholic, but she assumed he’d lost his faith somewhere along the lines of losing his mother and father. She believed she could help him find it again and in time he and the church would be reunited. For now, she simply appreciated his understanding that her faith was an important part of her life and upbringing, something she intended to pass on to her own family one day.

  When they returned to the inn, the minister and innkeeper were absent. As they climbed the stairs she suddenly found herself wishing for more time, despite rushing toward this very moment since meeting Frank.

  “Do not be nervous, love,” he whispered, kissing her softly outside of their room.

  She nodded and gasped as he swept her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her across the threshold. Lowering her to her feet, he kissed her slowly, deeply, unraveling a great deal of her tension.

  She’d wished she’d had the money to purchase something sexy for their honeymoon, but aside from the cost of gas and the price of the room, minister, and rings, they barely had enough left to eat.

  Stepping back, she fidgeted. “I’ll need a moment to…there are things a girl must do.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  Grateful their suite had a bathroom, she shut herself inside and stared at her reflection. With a deep breath, she carefully unzipped her borrowed wedding gown and hung it on the hanger at the back of the door. Standing only in her bra and garters, she unbraided her hair, carefully collecting the sprigs of baby’s breath as a keepsake.

  As her red hair tumbled free, it crimped in flowing waves. She unclasped her bra and carefully stripped away her stockings. Swallowing, she stared at her nude reflection, wondering what Frank would think of her. He’d seen her breasts, but nothing more.

  She exhaled slowly and shut her eyes, recalling her sisters warning to get the first time over quickly so it could be pleasant for both of them.

  The door clicked as she turned the knob. Frank sat up on the bed. He’d remo
ved his shirt, tie, and cummerbund. The sight of his wide, muscled chest stole her breath.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he rasped, eyes wide as he came to stand before her. “It’s not right for a woman to be so stunning.”

  His hand brushed her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her breasts. “I’ll be askin’ that you take off your pants now, Frank.”

  He chuckled. “What did I do to deserve such a curious wife?”

  “It must have been something mighty good, because I’m as curious as a cat right now.” She reached for his pants and he quickly stepped back.

  “Whoa. Love, there’s a way to things. You can’t just go rushin’ in head first.”

  She frowned. “But we’re married now.”

  “Aye, and as your husband I plan to see to it that you enjoy your first time. If you don’t take your time it might hurt you.”

  “Oh, but Rosemarie said…”

  He shook his head and cupped her jaw. “Don’t mind what your sister said. Her marriage is her own, and we’ll be leaving them to it, expecting the same respect and privacy towards ours.”

  She understood his meaning. He didn’t want her sharing their personal details with her sisters, the wives of his closest friends. Having always confided in Colleen and Rosemarie, it seemed a difficult promise to keep. “Can I tell them if I liked it or not?”

  He chuckled. “So long as you tell me first. I’ll be ensurin’ you have nothing but rave reviews to take home to them.”

  “And what if—”

  He cut off her words with a kiss. “You talk too much, love.”

  Thoughts scattered, as she nodded in agreement.

  He kissed her again, but without haste. Every sweep of his tongue and touch of his hands had her body pulling tighter only to go lax in a rhythm that built and built. It was as if she were being lulled into a trance, her limbs loosening and her mind turning to some unrecognizably malleable home for her thoughts.

  The fierce instinct to move that fueled her waking hours changed shape into something soft and trusting. Frank lay her down on the bed, arranging her arms and legs in a way that pleased him. His mouth kissed over her hips and across her belly as it became difficult to stay still.

  Her body reached for his, her hips lifting slowly into him as her fingers curled into the sheets and her toes pointed. When his mouth closed over her nipple a sharp bolt of heated pleasure knifed through her and she moaned. His lips tightened as he pulled at the tip of her breast, his tongue teasing. Where had he learned to do such things? She decided not to think about it and told herself it was those informative magazines he read.

  His fingers spread over her abdomen as though holding her to the earth when everything inside of her seemed to want to fly away. His knuckle teased the soft red curls at her apex and she stiffened.

  “Relax, love. I won’t hurt you.”

  Could he make such a promise? She forced her limbs to relax as he nudged her thighs apart. His hand felt large between her legs, making her wonder how his body would fit there. His touch was soft, caressing and cajoling as he pet over her delicate folds.

  How strange to be touched so intimately. Tiny quivers of pleasure raced up her spine as caresses traced over especially sensitive spots. Her body seemed to open the longer he teased her there and suddenly there was an intrusive sensation.

  She stilled, breath tight in her lungs as he looked down at her. “Breath, love. It’s just my fingers.”

  She nodded, but didn’t breathe. Slipping his fingers over her sex, she shifted, growing accustomed to his gentle touch. What he was doing felt nice, but had her nerves jangling and her body trembling.

  He pressed a finger deeper and a slight mew slipped from her throat. Embarrassed, she looked away. He withdrew the digit and her relief was short lived as he pressed it back in, causing another gasped cry from her.

  “It’s okay, Maureen. People make noise when they make love. It turns me on to hear you.”

  Her breath left in a rush as he penetrated her again, her body now slick, relieving some of the friction. A breathy gasp passed her lips as he bent and kissed her shoulder, his mouth making its way over the slope of her breast to her nipple.

  His thumb crested a sensitive spot and she jerked, but his weight had become heavier, blanketing her. Shutting her eyes, she tried to make sense of what he was doing, imagining how his fingers could make her feel so many things.

  Her throat turned dry, every breath scratching in escape, forming a steady rhythm of moans and gasps. He fit another finger inside of her and the pressure was notable. Perspiration cooled her skin as she spread her legs to accommodate him.

  Kissing down her belly, the pace of his touch increased, pumping steadily inside of her as pressure built and built. Her lungs worked like billows, some internal flame heating to a scalding burn.

  Pressing her thighs wide, the soft tickle of his hair whispered over her belly as the wet glide of his tongue shocked her senses. Soft, delicate kisses rained over her sex as his fingers sunk deeper until finally she was certain the innkeeper could hear her cries.

  His fingers moved steadily while his tongue, so soft over her flesh, tormented some sensitive part of her and suddenly she was arching and crying in a manner she’d never heard or seen a woman behave. Clearly, this was wrong, but she couldn’t stop. Whatever he was doing to her was stronger than her force of will.

  Her heart pounded as her limbs shook, her entire body rocked as though little earthquakes were dancing about her skin. Her body became possessed by something dark and divinely addicting as he climbed over her.

  Every breath tasted like her first sampling of air. Though her eyes were closed, she saw so many bright colors, some she didn’t have names for. Her muscles, tight yet warm, stretched as the heat of his flesh burned against her inner thighs.

  Her body was loose and wanting, but as the blunt tip of his cock pressed between her folds she tensed, fears of pain jolting her back to reality. He gave her no time to panic as his hips jutted forward and he pierced her innocence.

  “Mother of Christ! You son of bitch!” she shouted as an ache spread deep within her. “You fucking impaled me.”

  His palms and fingers framed her face as his pleading blue eyes stared into her scowling glare. “I’m sorry, love. You’re so small. I tried to be gentle. It won’t hurt anymore. Take a moment to adjust.” His lips pressed to hers as he silently whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  She frowned and tried not to concentrate on the sensation of him deep inside of her. She was stuffed fuller than a Thanksgiving Turkey. “What on God’s green earth did your mother feed you? You’re enormous.”

  He laughed. “If you’re tryin’ to insult me, love, you’ve failed.”

  She shifted, but he was bigger than an ox and there was little she could do under the crush of his weight. “Well, do something before you suffocate me, you ox.”

  His eyes widened and he immediately lifted a great deal of his weight off of her. “Sorry.” He kissed her and his hips lifted.

  It was a lot to adjust to. As he slid in and out of her, taking much more pleasure from the act than her, she frowned and considered why she’d wanted this so much. They had to be doing something wrong.

  Suddenly she was thinking of Eve, the harlot, and blaming her for all this discomfort and then, as if there had never been any pain at all, her body reacted to something deep inside.

  Her head tipped back as he thrust deep and she gasped. The muscles of his chest glistened and twitched as he looked down at her. His gaze was heavy and dark with lust. She held onto his thick arms as he rocked into her, delicious friction building.

  “Is it better now, love?”

  She moaned. “Much.”

  His hips snapped forward, hard and deep as he filled her. Her back lifted, arching. “I love you, Maureen. So much I ache sometimes.”

  “I love you too. I know that ache.”

  He kissed her. Her breasts shook with each hard thrust. Her feet found footing in
the bedding and she lifted her body to him, meeting him halfway. His eyes shut as his jaw unhinged, a curse escaping his parted lips. She did it again and again, drawing vicarious pleasure from his.

  He reached between their bodies and touched her, a thousand volts of electricity sharpening her senses, ripping a breathless cry of pleasure from her throat. His fingers teased and strummed, rubbing rapidly as pressure built and suddenly she was falling. Falling through time, falling through space, she lost sight of who she was, knowing only in that moment that she belonged solely to this man.

  He trembled looking more vulnerable than she’d ever recalled seeing him and then his body slowly collapsed onto her, but this time she did not mind his weight. On the contrary, she relished it.

  “Maureen,” he sighed, using her name as if it were a prayer.

  Catching her breath, she ran an unsteady hand down his back, her senses slowly tripping back to her as her body thrummed with resonating pleasure. She sighed. “How often can we do that?”

  He chuckled and kissed her shoulder. “Aye, you’ll make a fine wife, minx.”

  “I have a healthy thirst for knowledge is all.”

  “Aye, a thirst for knowledge and a hardy appetite for fucking.”

  She smacked him in the back of the head. “Don’t be crass. It’s our wedding day. We’re making love.”

  He eased back and smiled at her, his hair a disheveled mess. “I thought we were making babies.”

  She gasped. “Do you think we did?”

  He shrugged and kissed her sweetly. “That depends on your body I suppose. There are ways for women to figure out when the best time to conceive is.”

  She smiled, her heart warming at the idea that she could soon be with child. “Let’s do it again,” she whispered, wanting to heighten their odds.

  He let out a hardy laugh. “A man needs a chance to catch his breath, woman.” He rolled to his side and his presence was immediately missed.

  Leaning up on an elbow, she smiled at him, her ear resting on her palm as she dragged a finger over his chest. “I think you’re rather sexy for a husband.”