“That wasn’t a punishment, and neither is this. Be good.”
“All right.” I whined my last answer, but it didn’t do any good.
It gave me an idea, though, and I needed Carl to help me pull it off. Cricket would probably kill me when she found out I had let him in on her little secret, but it would be worth it.
Meanwhile, I sneaked in what I could. I’d cop a feel when she got near me, and get lightly punched for my efforts. I was beginning to worry my girl had done a one-eighty on her enjoyment of sex, until the night I sneaked up behind her while she was washing up pans in the kitchen and staring out the window into the darkness. I trapped her between the sink and my erection and pressed it against her.
When she turned, she pressed back as she wound her arms around my neck and kissed me like she was about to give in. My hopes for something that night were crushed when she whispered, “Good try, and I can hardly wait. But we will wait.” Shit.
Still, I kept trying, and had the satisfaction of knowing she wanted it as badly as I did. And she had the upper hand, being able to evade my grasp when the kisses became too deep and the feelings too intense to ignore.
At last, the day came. Her parents and siblings showed up in a rental car after flying into Cheyenne and driving the rest of the way. We’d invited them all to stay with us, but they preferred a hotel, so we’d made reservations at the best in town.
For all the fuss, you’d have thought there were going to be five-hundred guests.
In fact, there were very few. Cricket’s college roommate, who served as her maid of honor, our families, a few of Mom’s friends and some of Carl’s best customers, and a handful of my high school buddies who’d stayed in touch once in a while. No Dust Devils, thank God.
We weren’t a fairytale and royalty kind of couple, so we held the wedding under a canopy in the local park, where I’d have even sidewalks to get to the altar – which was simply a table covered with a white cloth. Even so, when I saw Cricket in her form-fitting white gown, I could have believed in fairytales. She was more beautiful than ever, with a radiant face, and a bouquet that she carried in the crook of one arm catching the sunlight and reflecting the pinks and corals of the blooms back onto her face.
When she and her dad started down the aisle between a few rows of chairs, I almost had to laugh. The dress was so tight to the knees that she couldn’t move her upper legs. There was some kind of dust-ruffle thing that flared out from the knees, and she kicked it forward with each delicate, knees-down step she took. Under it, she wore a pair of pink flip-flops with what looked like fake jewels on them.
I was in a daze for the rest of the ceremony, until the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride.”
Since she’d stayed out of my reach for the past two weeks so I couldn’t get past the no sex rule, I had a lot of catching up to do. I kissed her passionately until catcalls of ‘get a room’ started. We turned to face our guests, and the officiant said, “I give you Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Hayes.”
I started down the aisle, taking only one long step before she pulled back on my arm. “I can’t take big steps,” she whispered, just as the recessional music started. I turned my head back to look at her, taking those little baby steps to catch up, when she recognized the song and her mouth dropped open. “This…”
“Shh, baby. I made a little switch.”
Her face burned as the lyrics of ‘Sugar’, by Maroon 5 registered. “I’m gonna get you for this!”
By then, the younger guests had gotten the joke and were laughing hard. Cricket hadn’t seen the last surprise I had in store for her, though.
Cricket
Every bride has to overcome the mood swings of her wedding day. On the one hand, it’s magical, no matter how prosaic. I hadn’t ever been one to dream of a formal wedding with a ballroom reception and a classical orchestra for dancing. In fact, I’d included a few jokes of my own, like the flip-flops I knew would only be visible to Zach, his best man, and the officiant.
I thought he was done with his after I vetoed ‘Roll Me Away’ for our recessional music despite the fact it was a good song and one of his favorites. I got his meaning that the lyrics were apt, all except the last verse where the girl leaves her motorcycle man and goes home. That didn’t fit and I refused to have it.
After ‘Sugar’s’ lyrics sunk in, I was mortified at first, and then when everyone else started laughing at the joke, I had to laugh too.
“I’m gonna get you for that.”
“Blame your mom. She agreed to it.”
“Zach! You did not tell her…”
“Hell, yes, I told her. I had to, to make her understand why.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Next time you won’t…”
“There won’t be a next time, buster. I don’t plan to leave you.”
“Oh, yeah.” The wonder on his face as he said it with evident surprise touched me. But I had a burning question.
“So what’s the deal, having our wedding night at your mom’s house? I thought you’d want to get me where we can cut loose.” The look I gave him from under my lashes was meant to be seductive.
“You mean where you can scream as loud as you want when I give you multiple orgasms.”
Thank God he’d lowered his voice, so he didn’t say that loud enough for the guests we were passing at the time to hear.
I laughed. “Okay, yeah, that.”
“Don’t worry. I talked Carl into taking Mom to a hotel. That way, we’ve got the house to ourselves, and we won’t be disturbing people in the rooms next to us.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? The most beautiful woman in the world is officially mine, now, which is a great confidence booster.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
By then, we’d made our way into the tent where food was set up for the reception. Because of my little steps, Zach had no need for his cane, but it was waiting for him at the table where we sat down and let someone else bring us plates.
In twos and threes, our few guests came to congratulate Zach and kiss me on the cheek, so we had to stop with the racy innuendo, but my heart wouldn’t stop fluttering at the thought I’d soon be back in Zach’s arms to consummate our marriage.
Hours later, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, making sure I looked as beautiful for him as I could. I wore a translucent white nightgown that would slip easily down my body when he pushed the straps down my arms. My nipples and neatly-trimmed thatch showed through the delicate fabric enticingly. My hair was down around my shoulders, the way he liked it, and on my feet, my last little joke, the pink flip-flops with fake diamonds.
I called through the closed bedroom door to my new husband, “Are you ready?”
“More than,” he replied. I opened the door and glided in with my best sultry walk…and stopped in my tracks with my jaw dropped. My gorgeous, sexy, well-endowed man lay in the center of the bed, fully erect, with a swing of obvious intent hanging just above him from the ceiling brace that used to hold the trapeze.
“Oh, my God! How did you do that?”
“You mean this?” he said, thrusting his impressive erection upward. “All I have to do is think of you and that happens.”
“No, you… No. The thing that you’re pointing at with that beautiful and delicious-looking cock. How’d you get that up there?”
“Really? That’s what we’re talking about right now? Come here, woman. My beautiful and delicious-looking cock is ready for action and starved for the same.”
How could I resist such an elegant invitation? I slipped my own straps from my nightgown and walked right out of it, my eyes on the prize. After paying suitable homage, beginning with a kiss on the very tip of him and nearly getting lost in my own lust to lick, suck and swirl my tongue around him, I moved up his body for a kiss, and whispered, “Is that fully functional?”
“What, the swing? Yeah. Shall we test it?”
/>
“I can’t wait.”
Like our wedding, our wedding night turned out to be out of the ordinary, with some awkwardness as I climbed into the apparatus and then had no control at all over my movements.
Zach teased me by touching me lightly everywhere, even those places I wanted him to fill and fill hard. As he sat up, leaning comfortably against the raised head of the hospital bed, he grabbed my ass and brought my pussy to his lips, driving me to a toe-curling frenzy. For the first time, I understood truly letting go in an orgasm, as I had no choice. When it became too intense and I would have pushed him away for respite, I couldn’t do anything but beg, “Please, please, please,” in a chant that just made him redouble his efforts. He didn’t stop until I really did scream, a long wail of helpless pleasure.
And then he swung me over his erect shaft and pulled me down as we both watched it disappearing into me. The swing was made so my legs were splayed wide, and I couldn’t bring them closer, so my pussy was on full display to his avid look. He thrust upward while pulling me down sharply.
The slight give in the swing’s straps stretched and then pulled me back up, so he only had to pull down, and I was lost in the sensations of his cock sliding in and out. In a moment, I stopped watching our bodies where we were joined, and started watching his face instead.
Rapture was in his strained features, until his eyes met mine, and I saw pure love there. Then he went back to watching us while I watched him. Before long, his thrusts grew more rapid and deeper, while his face took on a primal grimace that only relaxed when he’d pumped his full load into me. It was a privilege and a revelation to have that view, and I soon realized that swing would give us hours of pleasure.
It was bad, I knew, that I gave a brief thought to my old college boyfriend on my wedding night, but I couldn’t help comparing the vanilla sex we’d have had to the adventure I’d had leading to this moment, and the worlds still left to explore with my sexy, funny, no-longer bad boy husband.
When he softened and I lost the warmth of him in my exposed depths, I demanded to be released, and once in his arms I snuggled close. “I’ll bet you thought that would be a good trick to play on me,” I murmured to him.
“Furthest thing from my mind. By the way, that was awesome!”
“Yeah, it was. We’ll have to make sure we can use it wherever we live once we move.”
“You liked that, did you?”
“You know it.”
“So you’re not mad that I had to get Carl to help me install it?”
“You what!”
THE END
My Bad Boy Biker Page 19