A choker of cream colored pearls was clasped at her throat. Matching pearl stud earrings were fastened at her ears.
Her hair had been pulled up and back, then left to cascade down, in a tumble of curls, to the back of her neck. Strands of pearls were woven throughout her hair. More curls had been pulled forward to frame her face.
Her cheeks were lightly blushed and her lips looked like raspberry cream.
"God,” he whispered as he took a deep shuddering breath. “I don't deserve this."
"No. You don't,” she whispered in reply as she dropped her eyes. “You deserve much, much more."
"Damn!” His hand shot out, but gently lifted her chin. “You're much more than I deserve. Don't you ever doubt that,” he said fiercely. “And right now, I intend to carry you off and marry you before you can change your mind.
"Come on,” he growled, “before we're both late to our own wedding."
"Yes,” she smiled. “I doubt if your grandmother would ever forgive us after all the trouble she's gone to."
Charles was waiting at the entrance to whisk them off to the chapel.
When they arrived, Michael held her back a moment. Reaching into the front of the limo, he grabbed a large white box. Opening it up, he pulled out a modest bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath, trimmed with masses of ivory ribbon.
"Oh Michael!” she squealed. “They're absolutely perfect. I forgot all about flowers, I've been so excited. But what about you?"
Michael grinned and reached back in the limo, pulling out a small box this time. “For me. Help me put it on?"
Altheia pinned the single yellow rose with a sprig of baby's breath to his lapel. Patting his lapel smooth, she stepped back. “Last chance,” she said brightly.
"My only chance,” he answered gruffly. “All I'll ever need."
A half hour later, they emerged. Michael was a little shocked at how quick it went. But he had the certificate in his pocket ... signed, sealed and delivered. And he even had several pictures. Now she was his mate in the eyes of man as well as by the laws of nature.
"Well, Mrs. Lafayette, how about we go get this dinner celebration over with?” he asked. Then, leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “I can hardly wait for the consummation part that comes later.” His tongue slipped out to circle her ear with sensual promise.
Altheia blushed as a shiver of anticipation raced down her spine.
Dinner was a culinary delight. It began with chilled oysters, imported from New Orleans, thanks to his grandmother. Next was a veal consommé, followed by the main course ... rare roast prime rib of beef.
Michael was very hungry. All his fears were put to rest, now that she was his wife. Grandmere was right, these were his favorite foods and the champagne was Dom Perignom.
He wasn't sure he could eat any more, especially the traditional wedding cake. Sweets were never really his thing anyway. Relaxing after the main meal, he was about to ask Altheia if she wanted to pass on dessert when a familiar scent engulfed his senses. Sitting up, he turned as the waiter arrived with a silver coffee pot.
"Chicory!” Michael gasped, a smile wreathing his face. It had been years since he'd had chicory coffee. The waiter also brought a pitcher of steamed milk. Before he could recover from the surprise, another waiter arrived bearing a platter heaped with hot beignets, smothered with powder sugar. He couldn't help but laugh.
"I doubt if many people celebrate their wedding with beignets."
"Not many,” she agreed. “But then, we're not like many people.
"Oh,” she sighed, “just like New Orleans. They taste like a little bit of heaven."
Michael's eyes suddenly went dark with passion. “I'll bet you taste even better,” he whispered as he leaned close.
Altheia felt the flames start to flare up in the pit of her belly. “Why don't we have them wrap this up to go,” she said softly as her hand slid under the table and began to inch up his thigh.
Michael almost choked on the powdered sugar.
Tossing his napkin on the table, he stood, pulling Altheia up with him. Tugging her into his arms, he kissed her softly on the lips. “I think ‘soon’ has finally arrived. Unless you want to consummate this marriage right here on the table,” he said with a growl, “you'd better move that fanny now."
With a giggle, she turned and fled.
Turning back, he grabbed the bottle of champagne. A waiter rushed up and handed him two clean glasses and smiled.
Leaving the restaurant, Michael thought about the woman who would be waiting for him upstairs in their suite. Instantly his body responded. He felt himself stiffen and smiled. This time, he thought, there will be no stopping. Michael quickened his pace across the casino.
TWENTY-FOUR
Altheia flew back to the suite. She knew Michael wouldn't be long behind her. She wanted to be ready for him when he arrived.
She lucked out in catching the express elevator all by herself. Hopefully she had a few minutes head start before he reached her.
She kicked off her shoes in the foyer, tossed her dress across the balcony, and dropped her stockings on the first step. Halfway down, she discarded her bra. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she draped her panties on the railing. Racing into the dressing room, she pulled her negligee and gown from the drawer where she had hidden them and swiftly pulled them on. She decided to leave on her necklace, because it seemed decadent. She left the pearls wound in her hair, even though she knew they wouldn't stay long. She didn't have time to take them out anyway. She thought Michael would like the pleasure.
As she heard the door open, she ran across the bedroom and jumped into the bed.
Michael almost tripped over her shoes when he saw her dress. He grinned. Now he wouldn't have to worry about ripping it. When he saw her stockings, he reached down to pick them up. Soft silk; he imagined her skin was softer.
Pulling off his bow tie, he dropped it with the stockings. His jacket joined her bra. When he reached her panties, he was almost panting. Her scent still clung to the sheer piece of silk, inflaming his senses like an aphrodisiac. He lifted his head with a growl that rumbled deep in his chest. In seconds, the rest of his clothes were tossed on the floor.
For a moment, he stood there, his head up. Uncontrollable lust swept his body. His shaft was rigid with desire. Where was she? He needed her now.
Altheia,” he groaned. His head jerked. He could hear the sound of her brushing against the bedclothes and swiftly covered the distance to the side of the bed.
The bright lights from the Strip illuminated the room well enough to see her sprawled across the bed in some concoction of silk and lace. His, he thought. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side as he tried to keep his passion in control. This was their wedding night; he wanted to be gentle.
"Michael, I want you,” she whimpered as she stretched out her hand to him.
With a groan that came from his very soul, Michael dropped to his knees. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Burying his free hand in her hair, he dropped his head.
As his mouth ravished hers, his hand caressed her body through the silk gown she wore. She was soon moaning and writhing beneath him. With a growl, he rose up and ripped her gown off. Pulling her to the edge of the bed, he dropped back to his knees on the floor.
Nudging her knees apart, he ran his hands up her thighs. Parting the soft curls he found there, he began to stroke her with his fingers. She grew wet beneath his strokes, slick and hot. Her hips rose and fell in time to his touch. Her scent enticed him, his breath grew ragged.
His free hand grabbed her knee. Lifting it, he brought his lips to the silky skin. Running his tongue across her thigh intoxicated him. The saltiness flamed his thirst for this woman, his mate. His actions became frenzied. With tiny nips of his teeth and laps from his tongue, he moved up her thigh. Soon he reached his goal, her soft hair brushing his cheek. Growling, he placed her leg over his shoulder. Leaving her warmth, his other hand ran along her
inner thigh to clasp her other knee, lifting it to also drape his shoulder.
Raising his head, he stared. Her body writhed in helpless abandon in front of him. Whimpers and incoherent words poured from her lips. Lowering his head, he made a tentative sweep with his tongue. Her body jerked, as though lashed by a whip. She screamed his name. Her essence on his tongue pervaded his body, his shaft throbbing in response. With a groan, he dropped back to lash at her swollen flesh. She began to buck and writhe beneath him as if she was being touched by a live wire. Splaying his hands across her belly, he held her in place as her screams of ecstasy rang in his ears.
Sitting back, he smiled and stroked her thighs and belly, watching her descent from the heights of pleasure.
As she quieted beneath his caresses, his hands again began to move closer to the source of her heat. When he finally touched her there, she jerked against his hands and moaned softly. Gently he began to stroke. Slowly he entered her with his fingers. So hot ... so wet! He almost lost control. But somehow, he stifled the urge to take her. The night was still young. He intended to brand her as his. He wanted her to beg him to release her from the spiral of pleasure he intended to send her on.
As he thrust into her warmth, she started to move her hips up to meet him. She whimpered, his name falling from her lips, again and again. He could not tell if she was entreating him to cease or continue.
Suddenly she began to resist. “Michael, no,” she whimpered as her hands reached to push his away. “No more."
He captured her by her wrists and pulled her arms over her head, his fingers continuing their teasing strokes. She cried out as her body shook, her hips desperately trying to follow his fingers as they withdrew from her warmth, then accepting their return with a sigh of relief.
Soon she was again writhing uncontrollably and gasping for breath, his name now only a whispered sob on her lips.
Michael watched her passion-flushed face, listened to her cries of pleasure. So close, he thought. He wanted her pleasure again before taking his own.
"That's it, baby. Let it go,” he said between clenched teeth. He wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. “Fly for me,” he urged. His encouragement was all she needed.
She jerked, then stiffened against his hand. With a scream that pleased Michael in its abandonment, she flew to the heights of orgasmic bliss.
Before she could descend from the clouds, he rose swiftly and turned her to her knees. Clasping her hips, to steady her writhing body, he buried himself deep within her hot, spasming sheath. Michael froze, stunned by the heat of her body, enraptured by the aftershocks of her climax. His body shook with lust. Growling deep in his chest, he tightened his grip and began to thrust deeper in her enveloping warmth.
Altheia gasped in shock when Michael entered her. His entrance momentarily stopped her descent from the raptures he had urged upon her. And when he began to move within her, she felt herself begin to again spiral out of control. Meeting his thrusts, she strove to follow his path to ecstasy.
Michael was too overcome by his need to claim his mate in the only way he could. His rampant lust was now in control and he could no longer wait to find release. Her sheath clasped and rippled around him as she groaned in mindless abandon.
Suddenly he felt the tingling in his body, the numbness as the blood left his brain. All he knew was the woman writhing in front of him. All he could hear were her cries, pleading with him to give her release from this all encompassing pleasure. With a thrust that turned his spine to jelly, Michael groaned in ecstasy as his body found release.
Altheia felt him freeze and then groan as his hands held her fast to his body. She felt him begin to shake as he filled her body with his warmth. She was seduced into following him on his path to ecstasy.
Michael had surrendered to the call of the wild in his soul as he answered the need to join with his mate. In the eyes of man or beast, they were now joined forever.
With his lust assuaged, he moved to lie on the bed, pulling her contented body close to his. He savored her warmth. Her gradually quieting heartbeat mimicked his as her scent soothed his ragged nerves. With a sigh, he cuddled against her and they dozed in spent passion.
* * * *
It was still early when Altheia woke. Carefully she slipped out of his arms. Her heart swelled in contentment as she gazed on his slumbering form.
He lay with one arm drawn up under his head, the other now draped across his chest. With a sigh, she let him sleep, because she knew she wasn't finished with him yet tonight.
Silently leaving the bedroom, she found the phone and quietly called down to the restaurant where they had eaten dinner. A few minutes later, after sliding back the dead bolt on the service door off the pool area, she went to freshen up.
When she returned a short time later, she found the caterer's cart waiting near the bar. After relocking the door, she checked the contents of the cart.
Yes, she thought, everything is here. On the cart was a coffee pot containing chicory coffee, a smaller pot containing steamed milk, and in a chafing dish was a generous portion of warm beignets. Also present was a dish of powered sugar. She had felt bad that Michael had missed the dessert his grandmother had gone to so much trouble to arrange. She was glad the restaurant still had enough left for another serving. She smiled at the thought of how Michael was going to be surprised.
After pushing the cart next to the bed, Altheia started pouring equal amounts of coffee and milk into the two cups.
Rain, Michael thought. He listened contentedly, then turned further onto his stomach, trying to slip back to sleep.
Altheia admired his strong muscled physique from the rear. She was almost tempted to forget the dessert and climb back into bed with him, but she stifled the impulse. Later, she thought.
Taking a napkin, she waved it back and forth behind the coffee, trying to make the tantalizing aroma waft over him.
Michael felt a breeze against his bare back and shivered. Did he leave a window open, he wondered? Damn, he was going to have to get up and close it, he thought, as another shiver ran down his spine. He stretched, trying to find the energy to get up, and took a deep breath.
"Coffee?” he questioned his sleep impaired senses. Chicory, he smiled to himself. A nice dream, he thought. Then suddenly he blinked in remembrance. The wedding! Dinner! He sat up and turned toward the slight breeze.
"Altheia,” he whispered as he saw her standing in front of a serving cart holding a napkin. Memories of them together came flooding back. He could feel his body tighten in response.
"Hi,” she smiled. “I thought you might need some sustenance."
Michael finally looked down at the cart in front of her. “What's this?"
"Chicory coffee and,” she dramatically lifted the cover from the chafing dish, “beignets."
"Where did all this come from?” he wondered aloud.
"I have my ways,” she said as she stepped around the cart and slipped down onto his lap, lacing her arms around his neck.
The feel of her silk clad bottom against his groin made him harden instantly. His arms went around her enticing softness and he pulled her hard against his chest.
"Tell me about them,” he murmured against her ear, his hands running possessively over her abundant charms.
Shivering as her body responded to his caresses, she fought for the ability to pull away.
"Oh no,” she said breathlessly. “Dessert first."
"Yeah,” he groaned as he nibbled on her ear.
"Michael!” She somehow managed to pull herself out of his arms.
"Tease,” he accused. He lay back on his elbows, his rampant erection blatantly exposed in front of his hard, lean body.
Taking a long shaky breath, Altheia forced herself to remember how good it was going to be to wait. How much better the reward.
"Sit up,” she ordered. She picked up a cup of coffee and offered it to him. “You don't want me to spill it, do you?” she asked sweetly.
With
a groan, Michael complied. Sitting up against the headboard, he accepted the cup. Taking a sip of the aromatic brew, he sighed in contentment.
"I knew you'd like it,” she said softly.
"Yes, but you would have been much more satisfying."
"If you'd wanted more, you shouldn't have gone to sleep.” He looked at her with chagrin. Taking pity on him, she put several beignets on a plate, smothered them with powered sugar and sat on the bed in front of him. Holding one out to him, she said, “Open wide."
Powered sugar drifted down his chest like snow, dusting him all the way to his groin. Altheia watched its decent, licking her lips in anticipation. Tearing her eyes away, she continued to feed him, between taking tiny bites for herself.
Michael allowed her to feed him, occasionally capturing her fingers to lick them clean of sugar. Watching her sensuous lips as she nibbled kept him in a constant state of arousal.
After the fourth beignet, Altheia realized she no longer wanted to resist. Taking the cup from Michael, she set it back on the cart out of the way. Rising to her knees, she leaned forward and, taking his hands in hers, brought only her lips in contact with his. His groan of passion tingled in her throat. Pulling back, she licked some powdered sugar off his chin.
"Allow me,” she whispered seductively. She lowered her tongue to his chest.
Michael groaned as her warm tongue swept across his nipple. He could feel it harden beneath her touch. Flashes of lightning shot straight to his groin and his shaft throbbed in deprivation, his hips jerked unconsciously. Refusing to be hurried, she slowly licked the sugar from his chest. Meticulously she followed the path of powdered sugar down his body.
Michael couldn't prevent his body from shuddering beneath her tongue's caresses, heightening his anticipation. She did plan to get all the sugar, didn't she? All he wanted was to feel her tongue on him, cooling his heated flesh.
As Altheia knelt between his legs, she could feel Michael about to surrender his control to her. Sitting up, she gazed down at him, her eyes blazing with lust. He was having trouble breathing and his hands were clenched in fists beneath hers. His impassioned mind relayed her withdrawal and his eyes opened slowly.
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