Chaz broke into my thoughts. “Jenny-Poo, we’re not done yet.” My eyes followed him as he pranced over to my closet and opened it. Hanging from the hook was an exquisite long lace veil. I recognized it immediately. It was the one Blake’s grandma had worn in that photo I’d once admired.
“Grandma insisted you wear it,” my mother said brightly as Chaz adjusted it over my head. It trailed along the carpet.
“Oh, Jen, you look like a princess,” gushed Libby, who once again was going to be my maid of honor. “Take a look at yourself.”
Grabbing my hand, she led me to a full-length standing mirror in the corner of my small room.
I let out a little gasp as I stared at my reflection. My mother stood behind me and I could see her eyes watering in the glass.
“Oh, my little girl.”
I spun around and gave her another hug. “Oh, Mom. I love you so much.”
And then, I hugged Libby and Chaz again.
“No tears!” chastised Chaz. “They’ll ruin your complexion.”
“One last thing, darling,” said my mother, dipping her hand into the pocket of her suit jacket.
“What’s that?” I asked, eyeing a scrap of blue lace that looked very old.
“Something borrowed. Something blue. It’s the garter I wore when I married your father. It belonged to your late grandmother.”
My Irish grandmother, Maeve. A woman I’d heard much about but had sadly never met. I was close to losing it as I lifted my gown. My mother held it up as I slid the treasured heirloom up my silk-clad leg. Her eyes wandered to my wrists.
“Honey, I meant to ask you, what are those unusual bracelets you’re wearing?”
I glanced at the shiny cuffs as I continued to inch the garter up my leg.
On one, the words “My tiger” were engraved; on the other, “You. Are. Mine.”
I replied to my mom. “Oh, just some jewelry Blake wanted me to wear for our nuptials.”
My Blake! At this moment, there was no happier or luckier girl in the world than me.
Chapter 27
Blake
I’ll never forget the expression on my tiger’s face as she stepped into her backyard on the arm of her proud, beaming father. She stopped dead in her tracks and her jaw dropped to the snow-covered ground.
That’s right…snow in July. With the help of my mother and her new party planner, Jeffrey, I had magically transformed the McCoys’ backyard into a winter wonderland. A snow machine was making snow and a fine layer dusted the lawn. While Jen was getting ready, I’d helped my nephews and Vera’s son, Josh, finish building the snowman. He looked just like the snowman Jen and I had built that first Christmas together. We were getting married under a chuppah covered with snow white flowers on the very spot where we’d created our snow angel. Mr. Snowman, wearing a black bowtie and tall hat, was sharing the best man spotlight with my bud, Jaime, who stood next to Libby, Jen’s maid of honor. Seats had been arranged for our guests, who I’d flown in on the Conquest Broadcasting jet, and there was also a white baby grand piano. Sitting at it was Roberta Flack herself—yes, I’d flown her in—playing and singing our song.
As the songstress tenderly sang “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” my cock flexed and my heart melted as I beheld my beautiful bride, her eyes glistening with joyous tears. The earth moved beneath my feet as she slowly approached me, her gaze never leaving mine. I was giving her the wedding she always wanted. The wedding she deserved. The wedding we would remember forever.
Mr. Peace, Love, and Happiness was officiating. Yup, Reverend Dooby. Under a slightly overcast sky, I took my tiger in my arms, and we exchanged our vows. To put each other’s needs before our own and to never stop loving each other in good times or bad times. She recited a sonnet while I recited a poem I’d composed. With snowflakes dancing all around us, I lifted her veil and tugged her head back by her ponytail. I held that pretty face in my gaze for a long hot beat and then kissed her the way I had the first time. That very first time I’d seen her face and my life had changed forever. As my mouth consumed hers in a passionate, all-consuming kiss, the sun broke through the clouds. Our snow angel was watching.
Chapter 28
Jennifer
That man.
As I stood on the balcony of the private villa Blake had rented and watched the sun set into the cerulean Tahitian sea, I couldn’t stop reliving my wedding. They say the third time’s a charm, but I would marry that man again and again. The beautiful memories whirled around in my head as the soft sound of the surf resounded in my ears.
Blake had given me the wedding every girl dreamed of. A celebration of love shared by the special people in our lives. I recited the Shakespearean sonnet and he composed a poem. Just for me. Okay, so he stole the first line from another Blake—“Tiger, tiger, burning bright”—but the rest of it was totally original. And so, so moving. The words were still dancing in my head. He compared me to a star and told me he loved me close up and from afar. And then he said I gave him direction and guiding light. “Until death do us part. My heart is yours; yours mine whatever our plight.” He would totally always love me.
And then we said our “I do’s” and he kissed me deeply, passionately. Just like that very first kiss that had started it all. When I danced in his arms to Roberta Flack’s soulful rendition of “For the First Time in Forever” from my favorite movie, Frozen, my heart swelled with happiness, and then I danced in the arms of my dad to the singer’s moving rendition of “The Wind Beneath My Wings.” Yes, my other forever hero. I melted in his arms too.
Both my dad and Blake’s gave awesome speeches that brought laughter as well as tears. And heartfelt, often hilarious toasts abounded. Everyone had an outrageous story to tell about Blake. My man was a very naughty boy. And I loved him all the more for it. One, in particular, tickled my heart. Jaime’s. He ended it by toasting me: “To the woman who taught Blake Burns that his cock is connected to his heart.” Everyone roared with laughter while a blushing Blake kissed me again.
I got a little drunk and sang “Roar” to Blake while Roberta belted the piano. Soon after, Libby caught my bouquet of fresh flowers picked right from our backyard, and Chaz caught my garter. But there was going to be another wedding before theirs. Over champagne and my mom’s delicious homemade buttercream wedding cake, Grandma made a toast to her Blakela and Bubala shtupping in good health forever and then an announcement. She and Luigi were stopping off in Vegas on their way back to LA and getting married shmarried. Cheers erupted! YAY for Grandma!
After Grandma’s announcement, Blake stole me away from the festivities, and we fucked our brains out in my childhood bedroom; the dress stayed put, and under the layers of tulle and lace, I came a multitude of glorious times.
Soon afterward, we reboarded the private plane. Though no longer blindfolded, I still had no idea where we were going. Blake still refused to tell me. And it was dark. Yet had it been daylight, I still wouldn’t know because I didn’t spend much time gazing out the window. My face was either buried between Blake’s thighs or hovering over a chair cushion while he rammed into me from behind. And in between fucking our brains out, I slept dreamily in his arms in an in-flight bed made for royalty.
I returned to the moment. As the South Seas sun disappeared into the ocean like a ball of fire, a warm breath tickled my neck and a sultry voice swept me out of my delicious memories. Blake. My husband.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
I felt something hard and cold drape around my neck. I looked down and gasped. Circling my throat was a strand of lustrous beads that hung down past my breasts. They were iridescent green—almost the color of my eyes—and had a pavé diamond clasp. I spun around. Leaning against the balcony, I soaked in my breathtaking man. Shirtless, he was wearing a pair of white sweats that hung sexily low on his hips and skimmed his perfect pelvic V. The tropical breeze ruffled his tousled hair and that dazzling smile lit his gorgeous sun-kissed face. I cupped my palms over his broad sculpted
shoulders and searched his ocean-blue eyes.
“Blake, Christmas is not for another five months. What is this?” Whatever this exquisite necklace was, it was mega-expensive.
He adjusted the strand. “They’re Tahitian peacock green pearls—the rarest of all. I was going to give them to you last Christmas but—”
His voice trailed off, but before he could say another word, I crushed my lips against his. “Oh Blake, they’re so beautiful. I love you so much,” I gushed after breaking away.
With a yank of a string, he pulled off my bikini top. My breasts quivered under his lustful gaze. Grasping the rope of pearls, he began to slowly circle them around my nipples. At the erotic, cold touch of them, my buds hardened, and a hot rush of tingles blossomed in my core. Goose bumps spread across my flesh while wetness pooled between my legs.
“I want a proper thank you, Mrs. Burns,” he purred, now squeezing together my breasts with the strand. My eyes shot down. A big bulge dominated his sweats. Obviously, the pearls were multi-functional. My new piece of jewelry was his new toy.
As his mouth melted into mine, I slid down his sweats and then my bikini bottom. Fisting his wondrous cock, I glided it inside me.
“That’s better.” He winked as he began to pound me.
By the following morning, his cock had been many places. And so had my pearls.
Mrs. Burns had a lot to look forward to. Our honeymoon had just begun.
Epilogue
Blake
Christmas, Five Years Later
“Merry Christmas, tiger,” I said brightly after planting a loud wake-up kiss on my wife’s warm lips. My gaze stayed on her as she fluttered opened her eyelids. She looked like an angel, her mouth parted slightly, her porcelain skin flawless, her lustrous hair fanned out like wings, and her eyes dreamy.
She smiled. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
After five years of marriage, Jen had not converted to Judaism. But she had taken some courses at our family synagogue and was even studying Hebrew so she could read the prayers with me. And she’d become, thanks to Grandma’s mentoring, a wonderful Jewish cook—even able to make a Chanukah brisket as good as hers. The arrangement we had worked for both of us, and best of all, we celebrated all the holidays we’d each grown up with. I had to admit Christmas was my favorite.
Jen sat up slowly. Her still sleepy eyes glanced down at my hand. “What’s that you’re holding?”
A fiendish grin spread across my face. “It’s one of your Christmas presents,” I replied, handing her the small gift-wrapped box. A sparkling green bow topped the shiny red paper.
Carefully, she plucked off the bow and then tore off the wrapping. Excitement danced in her eyes as she beheld the black velvet box beneath.
“Come on, open it,” I urged. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face. This was a good one. God’s former gift to women was a genius when it came to giving gifts. Call me the gift that keeps on giving.
“Okay,” she murmured, snapping open the lid. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the iridescent pink ring.
“Is this a piece of jewelry?” she asked, her tone perplexed. She lifted the ring out of the box and put it on her middle finger. I must say it went very nicely with the pink tourmaline heart-pendant necklace I’d given her our very first Christmas together. Except it was a little big. Okay very big. That’s because it was made for something super big. My cock.
I slipped the ring off her finger. “Baby, it’s a toy for you. A piece of jewelry for me. A cock ring.”
Her brows shot up. “A cock ring?”
Despite my giving her a battery-operated sex toy every Christmas (my little tradition), she was still so naïve it was adorable. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it’s going to make me bigger and more powerful.”
“But, Blake, you don’t need to be any bigger or more powerful.”
“Trust me, baby, every man can use a little extra something. And you’re just going to love the attached vibrating heart bullet.”
I’d done a lot of research looking for the perfect battery-operated accessory. Trust me, I was not the one-size-fits-all type of guy. The cock ring I’d finally found was made of a soft, stretchy material. It could expand as I expanded. Nice—totally worth the exorbitant price unless it was false advertising. I shoved the duvet down and there he was—Mr. Burns—commando and at attention, ready for playtime in our favorite playground. I’d woken up, as usual, with a mighty boner.
“Put the ring on me, tiger.”
Wordlessly, she took the ring from me and slipped it over my enormous erection. Her innocent green eyes met mine, begging for further instruction.
“Now slide it down to the base.”
Responsively, she edged it down with her deft fingers until it was right where I wanted it. It felt good—not too loose, not too tight. I flicked on the vibrator. The soft buzz sounded in my ears as I sat back on my elbows and flexed my knees.
“Sit on me, baby, facing the mirror.” In my extensive research, I’d learned that reverse cowgirl was the ideal position for maximizing the benefits of this little toy. It happened to be one of our favorite positions. And this magical toy was only going to make it better.
Guiding my cock into her, she did as bid. I had a bird’s eye view of her sweet ass and the beautiful curve of her back. Man, that delicious pair of dimples where the two met was so damn sexy. They fucking turned me on.
I began to thrust in and out of her, picking up speed with each long, hard stroke. I could feel my cock getting bigger, as if that was possible, swelling to epic proportions. A super-erection! My breathing grew shallow and I was working up a sweat. My buzzing cock was making me buzz everywhere. Jen reached her hands back and placed them firmly on my hipbones to hold on. This was one hell of a ride.
“Oh, Blake,” she cried out, arching back her head. “This is amazing.”
Watching the two of us fuck in the mirror, I couldn’t agree more. Besides being so hot and wet, she was taking my cock to the hilt. I felt the tip pounding her womb with each powerful thrust—for sure hitting her magic spot—while the vibrating bullet attachment stimulated her clit. I always went many rounds, but my, I meant her, new toy was sustaining my erection beyond belief. Holy shit! This toy was the bomb. Seriously, I’d give it ten stars on Amazon if I could. As my tiger began to whimper on the brink of an epic orgasm, a loud knock-knock-knock sounded at the door. Shit.
“Mommy, Daddy! Wakey up! I wanna see if Santa came and left me pwesents.”
The other love of my life. Our adorable three-and-a-half-year-old…Leo. My heart melted at the sound of his sweet little raspy voice.
“Coming, sweetie pie,” shouted Jennifer. “And so is Daddy.” Oh, fuck were we. On the next hard thrust, she convulsed all around me while I exploded like a stick of dynamite. Playtime was over. Time to unbig myself. Next activity. I couldn’t wait to open presents under our Christmas tree. To see my little man’s expression as he unwrapped his, and that of my tiger when she saw what I had in store for her. Ho! Ho! Ho!
Our majestic Christmas tree sat in the bay window of our large living room. Almost ceiling high, it was decorated with many of the ornaments Jennifer had collected as a child. We’d picked out the tree together with Leo and had decorated it over cookies and hot chocolate. Leo loved helping hang the ornaments as much as he loved helping light our Chanukah candles.
Right after Leo—named after my grandpa, Leonard—was born, I sold my Wilshire Corridor condo and found our dream house right on the beautiful, coveted street across from the Santa Monica Stairs where Jen and I worked out every weekend. While it was hardly the size of my parents’ palatial estate (something neither Jen nor I wanted), it was stately and spacious and reminded Jennifer of some of the large houses in Boise she’d grown up around. There was a big grassy backyard, a gated pool, and a guest house where Jen’s parents stayed whenever they visited. Which was often. In fact, they were occupying it right now. Barely dawn, I was sure they’d be here late
r in the morning to share our Christmas festivities. Most Christmases, we traveled to Boise and Sun Valley, but this time, we needed to stay close to home. Just in case…So, Jen’s parents, never wanting to miss a Christmas with their beloved grandson, came to LA.
“Oh boy, Daddy! Looky at what Santa got me!” Leo squealed as he tore apart a huge box wrapped with whimsical snowman paper and a big bow. He could barely hold the package in his little hands. “Combat Wombats!”
“Wow!” I winked. “You must have been a really good boy.” Yours truly, Santa, had cleaned out the entire section of these bestselling toys. I’d bought him everything from action figures to the motorized Wombatmobile, which he could actually sit in and drive down the street.
Leo smiled broadly, his two cute dimples bracketing his mouth just like mine. “Will you play with me, Daddy?”
God, I loved that last word. And the way he said it. DAD-dee. And I loved being that man. I told him for sure after breakfast. Leo gleefully opened the rest of his presents—okay, I was spoiling the kid, but what the hell—and then Jennifer and I exchanged ours. She handed me mine first. It was monstrous and quite heavy. I carefully tore apart the exquisite metallic wrapping. At the sight of what was beneath, my eyes grew wide and my heart smiled. It was a framed oil portrait of Leo and me. I fucking loved it.
“Tiger, I love it,” I said, forcing myself not to say the f-word in front of Leo. I smacked my lips against hers. Leo was too busy playing with his new toys to notice.
Jen smiled warmly and brushed her hand through my hair. “I want you to hang it in your new office.”
That was a great idea. At the age of thirty-five, I was now the head of Conquest Broadcasting. I’d inherited my retired father’s expansive top floor office suite and had more wall space than I knew what do with. I knew exactly where I was going to hang it. Right by the entrance so I could look at it all day. I gently set the painting down on the antique rug. Now, it was my turn to give Jen her present. I handed her a small Christmassy shopping bag to which I’d attached a large SpongeBob “Merry Christmas” balloon.
THAT MAN: The Wedding Story Page 25