by Claire Adams
“I love you, Mrs. Sinclair,” I whispered softly against her ear, and then kissed her temple.
“I love you too, Mr. Roberts,” she said with a slight giggle.
“Yeah right, so you hope.”
“How about this? We can both hyphenate. Roberts-Sinclair?”
“I really should have listened to you about that prenup, huh?” I joked, knowing that if that was what she wanted, she would have it. My name wasn’t nearly as important to me as she was. I had vowed to dedicate my life to making her happy, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
“Okay, we can be Mr. and Mrs. Roberts-Sinclair,” I said, after teasing her for a little bit longer. “Does that make you happy?”
“So, so happy,” she said and hugged me tighter. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair.”
We continued to dance into the evening, as the Christmas lights took over the wedding lights and everything was joyful and perfect. The music slowly took the form of Christmas music, as everyone danced delightedly, a little buzzed from all the champagne and wine, celebrating this extra-special occasion. Soon enough, I found myself dancing with my mother, then Aria’s mother, and then both of them at the same time.
After some wine got in their system, the two ladies found it surprisingly easy to get along, even bonding over the music of their times, which I specifically requested the DJ to play.
I danced with Stacey as Aria waltzed away happily with Nick, who seemed to have gotten emotional after seeing one of his best friends enjoy the best night of her life. He treated her much like an older brother. Aria didn’t have any siblings, and it was nice to know she had made her own family through the course of her life. Stacey, who had gotten humorously drunk, was saying some really random and funny things as we danced together.
“You know, Aria and I once went skinny dipping in our neighbor’s pool when we were 14,” she said giggling, while continuing to sip her champagne. “And I don’t think I am supposed to tell you this, so keep it to yourself. I hope I can trust you now that we are friends.”
“We are?” I inquired. It was nice knowing that I would now have close friends. People that looked out for you and enjoyed your company without any particular occasion to do so. It had been a long, long time since I had experienced friendship in that manner, and I was looking forward to this new phase of my life.
“You know, for a brilliant billionaire, you aren’t very smart,” Stacey said pointedly. “You got Fiona Davis to plan Nick and my wedding, without us so much as asking, and more importantly, you just married our best friend. And you still have to ask if we are friends? Maybe Aria didn’t make the best decision marrying you after all.” She shook her head.
“Since we are friends,” I said jovially. “I feel comfortable saying that if you repeat those words ever again, I will stab you with a dagger.”
“Do you even own a dagger?” She looked at me quizzically. “Because I do. Let me know if you ever need to borrow it. It will give much more weight to your threats, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Sure, I will gladly borrow it so that I can threaten you with it next time you call me that. For someone who calls us friends, you seem to have an awfully difficult time referring to me by anything but Mr. Sinclair.”
“Fine, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair then.” She giggled some more.
“Seriously, how do you girls find time to exchange news at such rapid speed? It has barely been half an hour since Aria and I made a decision to go with that hyphenated last name and I can swear on my favorite car that the two of you haven’t even been a foot within each other since, considering everyone has been dancing the whole time.”
“We have our ways.” Stacey said and shrugged as the Christmas carol ended. “You will get used to it soon enough. Now, dance with your wife, I think the party is about to come to an end.”
The final song was a perfect representation of the wedding and Christmas, as Mariah Carey sang “All I Want for Christmas is You,” just as Nick and I switched partners and Aria was back in my eager arms.
“Your friend is quite funny,” I said, starting to move with her. “And rather intoxicated, I believe.”
“She should be. I would never forgive her for being sober at my wedding. I don’t plan to be sober at hers!”
“You guys have the strangest friendship,” I said, screwing my nose. “Although, I suppose you develop a very special kind of bond after skinny dipping at a neighbor’s pool when you were 14. Wow, now that I think of it, that was only six years ago.”
“I am pretty sure you weren’t supposed to tell me you knew about this,” Aria said scornfully. “If you want to be friends with Stacey, you better learn how to keep her secrets.”
“That sounds like way too much work,” I joked. “I think I am fine without the friendship. I’m joking,” I added when she looked at me with almost murderous rage. “I really like your friends.”
“Good,” she said sharply and went back to placing her chin on my shoulders. “Now, on to some important things. You know what all I want for Christmas is?” She looked at me with a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Me?” I suggested. “That is what the song says, anyway.”
“I want to secretly disappear from our wedding reception and make our way into your hotel room. Then I want you to rip my wedding dress – and by that I mean carefully remove it from my body because if there is a single actual rip on it, I will have to kill you – and make love to me until we are both so tired we can no longer perform basic human functions, such as breathing.”
I got so hard that I had to employ all the strength I could muster to not fuck her right there with all of our friends and family watching.
“I’ll go first, through the back door,” I said quickly. “If someone asks, I am going to the bathroom. You should use the front door so we don’t raise any eyebrows. Just say you need some air. It’s pretty busy in here, people should understand.”
She burst out laughing. “We don’t have to plan so hard, baby,” she said. I couldn’t remember her ever having used that term of endearment before, and somehow it had the effect of making me harder than before. All I wanted for Christmas was to fuck her as my wife for the first time. “I am sure people will understand that as newlyweds, we cannot wait to take each other’s clothes off. Of course, we don’t have to tell them for the sake of not embarrassing them, and ourselves, but it is kind of understood. There is no need to play 007 here.”
“Alright,” I said, breaking off as the song ended. “The thought of my mother knowing what we are off to do makes me uncomfortable. The thought of your mother too, but since she has already heard more than she should have, she happens to be the least of my concern. I think my way is safer. I agreed to change my name, now you must agree to this little request. And hurry, because I don’t want to fuck you in the limo and make Ned uncomfortable. So the sooner we get to the hotel, the better.”
“I’ll see you in five minutes, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair,” she said, and kissed me hard on the mouth before turning on her heel and walking away.
Chapter Nine
Aria
As the champagne had started to wear off by the time we reached Zayden’s hotel room, I started to feel rather nervous and I couldn’t figure out why. We had done this repeatedly countless times. There was nothing different about this time, was there?
Except there was.
We were married this time, and it made a whole world of difference. I sat down on the bed with my legs crossed, a meaningless feat since my wedding dress covered up to my ankles. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was trying to accomplish here.
When Zayden got back inside with two fresh glasses of champagne in his hands, the look in his eyes was radically different from that during the wedding ceremony. He looked hungry, ravenous, and excited. My feelings matched the look in his eyes as I longed to get out of this 20,000 dollar dress and devour him.
“Hey,” he said, sitting next to me and handing me one of the glasses. “You should drink this.”
; “I don’t need to,” I said, taking it from his hand and placing it on the bedside table.
“Well, it might help,” Zayden said, devouring his own glass in one giant gulp.
As soon as he was done, it was like a heat wave had suddenly attacked our hotel room. He dragged me by my hands and took me into our private hot tub. Then, he placed his lips on mine firmly and his mouth urged me to open my own. His tongue met my longing mouth and explored every inch of it as I grasped on to him like this was the last moment of us ever being alive. My hand found its way to the cusp of his pants, and I gasped by how hard I had made him. Soon enough we were so wrapped up in each other that I couldn’t quite tell where his body began and mine ended. We made out while standing by the hot tub– just like teenagers who couldn’t take their hands off each other – for almost half an hour, desperately and passionately, before he broke off first.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, panting.
“We need to get you out of that elaborate wedding dress. I could rip it off your body, of course, but not long ago I was threatened with my life if I did that. Plus, we should get into this hot tub. The water must be fantastic right now.”
I stood up and turned around. “Gently. It’s all yours.”
He approached my back and ran his fingers through the bare skin, visible in my sleeveless gown. He leaned down and kissed every inch of the skin, running his warm tongue against my cool, willing bodice. After continuing the torture for a while, Zayden slowly unzipped the back of my dress and unhooked my bra almost simultaneously. His tongue ran down the back of my spine, as his hands slowly worked towards sliding the dress off my body. Before long, I stood in front of him with only my white lacy wedding panties on, while he undressed himself.
Throwing me into the warm tub, he began to kiss my neck, sending all kinds of shudders down my spine. He worked his way from my neck, licking and sucking, down towards my breasts, as the water made my mind numb. His mouth found room for my throbbing nipples and his hand cupped me through my panties.
He stopped.
“Not yet, Aria. You are not allowed to come yet,” he said sternly. He lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the hot tub and covered his face around my panties. “You smell just like my wife.”
“That might be because I am,” I said in a raspy voice. It was difficult to be clever when my whole body was screaming to be fucked.
“Uh-huh,” Zayden moaned, apparently not even hearing me.
He ran his tongue over me through my panties, and then something took over him. He ripped them with his teeth and dove into me, his mouth completely encapsulating my pussy. I heard him moan, “Oh, Aria” against me, as he sucked and licked harder and harder on my clit, making me forget the whole entire world around me. He continued sucking and licking for the longest time, stopping every time I would nearly climax.
He finally said the words I was hoping to hear, “Come for me. Make it hard, Aria. I want to taste every bit of you coming in my mouth for the first time as my wife.”
He slid his tongue deep inside me, moving it in and out while the top of his lips still rubbed against my clit. It must have been seconds before I exploded violently into his mouth, trembling from the sheer intensity of the sensation. I was shaking for over a full minute, but Zayden did not stop his exploration and continued to work his way inside me. He thrust his tongue as fast as he could so that within minutes, I felt another surge of eruption bubble inside me and grabbed every inch of his hair as a second orgasm followed the first one with equal intensity.
---
I didn’t know how we made it back into the room and onto the big, plush bed. We were entangled in each other once more, and I wasn’t sure I could take it any longer.
Finally, he looked at me completely naked. His cock was pointing at me in anticipation and he said, “As much as I would like for your mouth to devour my cock right now, I don’t think I can take another minute of this torture and I will probably come within seconds, delaying our opportunity to fuck as a married couple right away. So,” he said and held me tight by my arms, pushing me flat against the bed. “I am just going to,” he said every word with great emphasis. “Fuck you,” he finished, sliding himself right through me while his mouth found its way to my neck.
The feeling of him inside me – my husband, who I had just married – was so overwhelming; I almost had another orgasm on the spot. But I wanted to match his climax, so I did everything in my power to stop my body from reacting to its natural tendency. Instead, I moved with him as he fucked me, every thrust harder and deeper than the last, hitting me in all the right places. I fucked him back with all my might until both of us couldn’t take it any longer ,and we both exploded with what I was certain was the most intense climax either of us had ever experienced.
“I love you, Mrs. Roberts-Sinclair,” my husband said to me a few minutes later, after we made love as a married couple for the first time in what was to become a lifetime.
“I love you too, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair,” I said, the happiest I had ever been in my life, before passing out into the arms that had become the most comfortable place for me in the world.
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THE FIGHT
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Fenton
The bells and buzzes of the slot machines reminded me of the game shows my mother used to watch. Not that she ever had time to sit and watch television. It was the soundtrack to dinner, dishes, laundry – all the things a single mother did when she got home from a double shift. There were no jackpots or double bonuses for my mother. There were no giant checks or sudden floods of gold coins. I thought about the charity ward at the hospital, with those same game shows on the tiny television mounted in the corner. The casino floor depressed me.
Then, as always, I thought of my father – how he could decide one day that he could walk away and never look back. He must not have had a conscience or a spine. It took hard work to have a family, and harder work to keep it. Maybe they were too young when they started, too poor. All I knew was I would never be him. I'd take the punches he taught me to throw and I would fight my way to the top.
I stopped at the video poker machines and turned around. The damned casino was a maze. I was supposed to be near the entrance, not halfway to the wedding chapel. It was unreal how every row of flashing screens funneled me toward food, alcohol, or matrimony. I peered over the rows but could see no clear path, except toward the Vegas-style altar. Neon lights, stereo bells, and a worn aisle that used to be white.
I spun back the way I had come and saw a flood of powder blue and white. A wedding party in retro tuxes and wide, fluffy skirts blocked the way. They paused to have a picture taken with an Elvis impersonator, too short and swarthy. While the groom hooked his lip up and pointed to the sky, his groomsmen padlocked a fake iron ball to his ankle.
They were too young, but maybe the groom had money. Or maybe her daddy had a bank account she could access during the lean times. Or maybe I was witnessing the makings of yet another divorce statistic. She laughed, swatted away the groomsmen, and held up the ball and chain like a trophy. Cameras flashed again and the happy couple laughed. He sneaked in a quick kiss and she smiled against his lips, her bouquet of cheap carnations crushed between them.
"Oh my God! You're that fighter! The one on the poster in the elevator, and the lobby, and the giant billboard outside," the bride cried as she escaped her groom's embrace.
"The one you've been drooling all over," a bridesmaid sai
d.
"We all have," another bridesmaid smiled.
Fluffy skirts surrounded me. The bride grabbed my arm and wriggled as close as her double-fluffed white dress allowed. "Fenton Morris," she said.
"His eyes are as blue as the posters," the shortest bridesmaid said.
"Don't let me keep you from your happy day," I said.
"Come on, Trish, our turn's in 10 minutes," the groom said.
"Yeah, Trish, don't be late on my account." I gave the arm she had looped through mine a squeeze. "What would your husband say if he saw us together?"
"Technically, I am still single," Trish said.
Her groom looked me over and swallowed hard. Then, he remembered his posse of groomsmen. "Don't make me fight him for you, honey."
"Oooh, that would make a great picture!" Trish let go of my arm and clapped.
Her husband-to-be took a ridiculous stance. I could have knocked him flat without taking a step. Trish threw her hands up in mock terror. I gave in and held a fist near my smile long enough for the camera to flash.
"Thanks, man. Good luck in the big fight," the groom said.
I decided the hell with navigating the impossible casino floor. The next bank of slot machines led me to a bar. I ordered before I sat down.
"On the house, Mr. Morris," the bartender slid me a beer.
"Suite comp?" I asked.
"Personal opinion," the bartender said. "I'm not a big fan of that Mario Peretti. Too much show and not enough fight."
"Thanks," I said. "All I want is the fight."
"Exactly why you've gotten this far this fast. No hype, no branding, no flash. Just fast combinations and a killer instinct." The bartender poured us both a shot of whiskey.
"Suppose you see a lot of fights working here," I said.
"Almost makes it worth it." He leaned his elbows on the bar and scanned the crowd.
A man with a fanny pack had broken from his bus group to grab a quick drink. The umbrella poked his eye as he tipped it back. A couple with matching rotund waistlines perused the happy-hour specials. A clump of young men ordered too much and drank too fast, about to lose all the cash they brought in just one night.