Mr. Beautiful

by R. K. Lilley

  "Get up there," I told her with a smile. "Heels off," I added, when she started to move.

  She bit her lip and did it.

  I looked up at her once she was up there, gauging the position.

  I moved to stand on the footstool, then motioned her to me, until she was close enough that I could lean forward and kiss her naval, tonguing the piercing there.

  "Will your wedding dress be too thin to hide nipple clamps?"

  "Yes," she gasped.

  "Hmm, okay, I'll work around it," I said, then pulled off her thong with my teeth.

  I threw her leg over my shoulder, gripped her ass in both hands, and went to town on her pussy, eating her out, feasting on her sweet pink flesh.

  I used my tongue to move the little barbell against her clit as I shoved my fingers into her, finger fucking her right to the brink.

  When she was close, I took my mouth away, ripped my fingers out, and shrugged her leg off my shoulder.

  I held my arms up to her. She leaned unsteadily into them. I lifted her down.

  I took off my slacks. There was a long narrow bench along one of the walls, and I pulled it out. One of its sides was much taller than the other, and I leaned back on it. It was meant for putting on boots, but it had other, better uses as well.

  I put my arms behind my head and looked at her. "Straddle me," I ordered.

  She straddled me easily with those long legs of hers. The bench made for easy access cowgirl.

  I gripped her hips and looked up into her face as she rubbed her pussy over my broad tip.

  She still had on the lacy white bra, and I left it on. It was transparent enough that I could see her pebbled nipples pushing tightly against the material.

  "Give me your mouth," I commanded.

  She leaned forward, brushing her lips over mine softly.

  I parted her lips, pushing my tongue inside. My hands moved from her hips to cup her face as I pushed up into her.

  She moaned into my mouth. I held still like that, not moving my hips as I held her impaled and kissed her, over and over.

  "We need to discuss some wedding details," I told her between kisses.

  She groaned, and it wasn't with pleasure.

  I pulled away, hands going back to her hips, eyes on her face. I lifted her slowly up and down my thick shaft, setting a pace meant to tease more than satisfy. And her tightness, and my thickness, made it so each drag in and out held a little slice of torture.

  I quickened the pace, surging up into her harder, filling and withdrawing, time and again, but never enough.

  I stopped abruptly, hands going up into her hair. I dragged her down for another series of long, drugging kisses.

  She groaned loudly as my tongue parted her lips, thrusting inside. I kissed her, not moving inside of her, until she was on the brink.

  I tore my mouth away, gripping her ass, and slowly began to move my hips, leisurely thrusts.

  I quickened my pace, driving in more forcefully, but only for a short time.

  I stopped, grabbed the back of her neck, and dragged her down for another deep, branding kiss.

  I repeated the teasing process, time and again.

  I was moving her slowly up and down my shaft when she cried out suddenly, "Is this a punishment?"

  "No," I said surprising myself. "Just a bit of sweet torture. Savoring the bliss, love. Have I told you how much I love it when I catch you playing wedding dress up, oh bride of mine?"

  She almost smiled, but I'd put her in a state of rapturous agony, and it was more of a pained grimace.

  I groaned. I could feel my balls tightening up, my body long since wanting to come, but instead I lifted her off me.

  She cried out a protest, and I shot her a warning glance as I stood.

  Hooking a finger in her collar, I pulled her from the closet to the bedroom.

  I told her to stand still by the bedpost and went to the toy dresser.

  Her lacy white thigh-highs were driving me wild, and I barely took my eyes off her to reach for restraints.

  I cuffed her arms up above her head, attaching them to a hook high up on the bedpost.

  I filled one hand with a plump tit, the other with her straining neck, rubbing my broad tip against her slick entrance. With a groan I surged into her, moving fast and rough this time, fucking her with purpose.

  I squeezed her neck when she started to come, exerting just enough pressure to enhance her pleasure as she found her release.

  I followed with a groan, leaning down to bite the tendon in her neck.

  Later, over dinner, I told her about Tristan's request.

  She looked as conflicted as I felt.

  "Danika won't like it," she said simply. "We can't do it unless she agrees to it."

  "I'll talk to her."

  She made a face. "I can . . . if you want me to."

  I laughed, couldn't quite hide a smile. We both knew how much she'd hate the task. I didn't like it much either, but of course I'd do it, to spare her having to.

  Danika took it much better than I expected, quickly making a point to reassure me that she could play nice and wouldn't cause any drama at the wedding.

  "Even if you have to sit next to him?" I asked carefully, feeling like I was walking through a field of land mines.

  We were at the casino. I'd called her up to the office during working hours, because it seemed like something I should tell her about in person.

  She took a deep breath, but then nodded, not even looking upset about it. "That's fine."

  "Even if you have to walk with him in the wedding?"

  "It's fine. I'm fine with it, James. If I can't be nice to one person for one day, your wedding day, then what kind of a friend would I be?"

  I was hugely relieved. I'd been expecting the worst.

  "Thank you," I told her sincerely.

  "Don't mention it," she said with a smile, shocking the hell out of me, and went back to work.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  MY SIN AND MY TEMPLE

  Stephan's speech at our wedding reception seemed tailor made to make me embarrass myself. It was short, but packed a hell of a punch, one aimed right at me.

  "I think everyone here knows that I'd do just about anything for Bianca," he began, giving her a soft smile.

  "And it's no secret that I can be a little overprotective where she's concerned. I don't think anyone will call bullshit on me when I say she's someone I'd be happy to take a bullet for."

  Several laughs for that. Their story was well known among our friends.

  "It's also no secret that I think she's the most wonderful woman on earth. Best girl in the world, as far as I'm concerned."

  He turned to face me. "I never thought I'd find someone that was worthy of her. I always figured, if she finally found a guy she liked, I'd have to put up with it, but I just assumed I wouldn't like him. Who could ever love her as much as she deserved to be loved, as much as I loved her? Who could live up to that? Who on earth could possibly be good enough for my Bianca? And then she met James. A man so perfect for her, so good for her."

  That got to me, and I found myself blinking rapidly.

  "That I never could have seen it coming," he continued. "I'll admit it wasn't all that smooth right from the start. We had some hurdles to overcome." He grinned. "I might have tried to choke him out."

  Laughs broke out.

  "But it was only the one time."

  More laughs. He waited for them to quiet, smiling all the while.

  "Bianca and I have a friendship that not everyone can understand, steeped in years of history that make it incapable for us to be apart from each other for any length of time.

  "And something that always worried me, even more than worrying I'd hate the guy she ended up with, was the idea, the near certainty that he wouldn't understand or tolerate what Bianca and I mean to each other."

  He spoke directly to me, his eyes bright. "But I needn't have worried. You are just the person that she needed in her life, for
so many reasons. Thank you for seeing the same thing in me. Thank you for never trying to diminish what she and I are to each other. Thank you so much for never questioning, never complaining about this package deal you got."

  I nodded at him, eyes suspiciously moist.

  He raised his glass to me. "Welcome to the family, brother."

  I tucked Bianca's body into mine, kissing her temple, then nuzzling my face into her soft, white blonde hair as we danced. I'd intended to behave myself for a few more hours, or a few more songs, at least. Really, I had. But it was useless.

  I spoke into her ear, "Are you wet?"

  Her step faltered. I'd clearly caught her off guard.

  "I'm going to take you into the woods and ravish you. I'm going to bind you, claim you, brand every inch of you as mine. Mine."

  I heard her breath stutter in and out unsteadily, waited a beat for it to steady, still dancing with her, a slow sway to the music.

  "I have the perfect spot," I added. "It's a bit of a walk, but we need some distance."

  I let her process that before I added, "This won't be quiet."

  I could feel her trembling.

  I smiled into her hair.

  I didn't make our excuses to anyone. It was our wedding, and we'd be back because one thing was certain, we wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

  I simply walked off the dance floor, slipped away from the party, and pulled her into the woods.

  I'd set a lantern out for us in a spot on the trail that led from the reception tents to the house. There was enough moonlight for me to see the trail, but not much else. I'd be finding the lantern by memory, since I'd hidden it here unlit.

  We were nearly to it when I heard a noise that had me stopping in my tracks.

  I pressed Bianca to me, putting my hand over her mouth.

  "Shh," I breathed in her ear.

  There it was again, a soft voice in the dark, one that I recognized.

  "Tristan," Danika said softly.

  A short ways up the path, I could make out the shadow of a couple embracing.

  A few beats later, the sounds of lips clashing drifted to us, followed by some unmistakably passionate moans.

  "Holy shit," I whispered in Bianca's ear.

  She didn't answer. She couldn't. I still had my hand over her mouth.

  I started inching toward the spot with my lantern, figuring at this rate, if we didn't leave, we'd soon be hearing them having sex.

  Danika started whimpering loudly, and it wasn't from pain.

  Tristan moaned almost as loudly.

  More, louder whimpers, another deep-throated, desperate moan.

  I inched a little closer to the lantern.

  One of their shadows seemed to climb the other, and they began to move away.

  Tristan had picked her up and carried her off. Like a fucking caveman. I covered my mouth with my free hand to stifle a laugh.

  Bianca started struggling against my hold, and I took my hand from her mouth.

  "Was that Danika . . . with Tristan? Were they . . . ?" Bianca paused for a long moment, clearly at a loss. "What on earth was that?"

  "That was about damn time is what that was."

  "You approve of that? Them hooking up?"

  "Wholeheartedly."

  "Well, I don't think I do. He hurt her. Badly. I'm team Danika on this one."

  I sighed. "He did. But people change. He won't hurt her like that again. I'm certain of it."

  "So you're team Tristan, then?"

  I pulled her against me in the dark, finding and kissing the tip of her nose. And copping a feel. "I'm team happily ever after, love. And as impossible as it seems now, those two won't be happy with anyone but each other."

  She made a disbelieving noise. "I think you're wrong."

  "Well, only time will tell."

  "I think we should stop them. Danika will regret that later."

  I started walking, tugging her with me. "I think not. We're not interfering."

  "That's not what you said when Tristan rigged the seating in his favor. You were all for interfering then."

  I smiled in the dark, and knew she could hear it in my voice when I spoke. "Team happily ever after, love."

  I snagged an arm around her waist and started tugging her again.

  I found the hidden lantern, lit it, and headed into the woods, away from the house and the reception. There was no trail, but I knew the way.

  We walked for about five minutes in silence before we came to a clearing. The sound of a nearby creek and our progress through the brush was the only noise that accompanied us.

  "Stay there," I told her, and lit four torches I'd driven into the ground earlier.

  The clearing was small, surrounded by a tight circle of trees. I'd chosen the area because it was secluded, and one of the trees had branches that were just the right height and strength for what I planned.

  Everything was already laid out: Spreader bar with white leather ankle cuffs, an armbinder that had been designed to match her wedding dress, a white riding crop.

  I grabbed the armbinder. It was a conical, single glove sheath that hugged her arms from her fingertips to just above her elbows.

  I tugged her to stand under a strong low-hanging branch, pulled her arms behind her back, and began to bind them tightly together.

  "You planned this out rather meticulously," she pointed out breathlessly.

  I smiled down at her, a wry twist of my mouth. "Are you surprised?"

  She laughed, a joyful sound. "I shouldn't be."

  "While you were off getting hair and makeup done for the wedding, I was planning bondage and debauchery in the woods."

  She let out another happy laugh. It rang out loudly.

  I pulled her arms up high behind, and strung her from the tree with a strict strappado—a position that stretched her into helplessness.

  I pushed the riding crop into her mouth, making her bite down on it, and left it there. It was not meant for spanking, not tonight. Tonight it had other uses.

  A dark, heavy anticipation pumped through my body, making me throb.

  I circled her.

  I kneeled behind her, getting under her long skirt, spreader bar at the ready. I softly kissed the back of each lithe stocking-covered leg, then swiftly strapped and buckled her ankles into the contraption, spreading her legs far apart to do so.

  I dragged the skirt of her dress up and pressed hard against her from behind. I didn't take anything off, just pulled my heavy erection out, pushed her panties to the side, grabbed each end of the crop, pulling it out of her mouth and dragging it down flush against her hips, using it as a handle with both of my hands, taking some of the pressure off her shoulders in this position, and started fucking her hard.

  She was already sopping the second I made contact with her, but it wasn't a smooth ride. It was jerky, frenzied, and quick. I jarred into her at a pace meant to take her over the edge, and myself in the process, the tight press inside of her squeezing and sucking at me with each desperate thrust.

  I hit the end of her, poured my seed into her womb as she clenched and milked me with her own orgasm, and started again.

  I took her arms down, used the armbinder to fasten her arms in front of her now, and rigged them up above her head, pulling them high and securing them there.

  I released her from the spreader, straightened, wrapped her legs around my waist, and shoved into her again.

  I gripped a hand in her hair, the other cupping her cheek, and stared into her eyes as I took her again.

  I went much longer this time, rutting in her for long minutes, lost in her eyes. They were pale windows to her soul, and I saw straight to it, with no impediments. It was the most intimate joining.

  She was my sin and my temple. I both worshipped and defiled there. Gloried and desecrated. Revered and debased.

  In her, I'd found my own earthly paradise.

  "You're mine, Mrs. Cavendish," I told her, voice full of wonder.

  "Yes," she brea
thed, "yes, Mr. Cavendish, and you're mine."

  I arched my back and came, eyes never leaving her.

  I fucked her, made love to her, again and again, cock marking her as mine, filling her with my semen, greedy in the claiming and the taking.

  Eventually, I relented and led her, with mussed hair, a wrinkled gown, and on unsteady legs back to our celebration, hand in hand, sated and content.

  I felt so complete, so content in my bones, so lucky.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  MY PARADISE

  The honeymoon was tailor fit to my own personal idea paradise.

  Five days. No staff. Not a soul but us on an island that belonged to me.

  She was not allowed clothes, not even at meals.

  I lost myself in her softness. Completely and forever.

  We wallowed in each other, for days, the perfect celebration of our union.

  The first day was a delight of the senses, and I reveled in her body until she was beyond begging for mercy.

  At one point she went limp. I'd gotten carried away, and she'd fainted.

  I panicked a bit, but got her to rouse and sat her up, so relieved and remorseful that I shook with it.

  "My apologies. I forgot myself. Are you okay?"

  She said she was.

  I let her rest.

  The second day we slept, got up once to eat, I lazily got her off with my tongue, and we slept some more.

  Day three we walked along the beach for hours, spilling all of our secrets and dancing naked along the sand. It was a joyful outpouring of our souls, one of the most memorable and profound days of my life.

  We made love on the beach and got sand in some interesting places.

  We went out into the water, our naked forms joined together as the cool water lapped against us. I held her for hours like that, watching the sea and the sky and marveling at the wonder of life.

  The fourth day we walked to a hidden lagoon. We spent the day swimming and lazing away the hours.

  The fifth day we barely left the bedroom.

  I left her sleeping for but five minutes, to get us cups of water, and came back starved for her, as though we'd been apart for days instead of minutes.