This is a miracle. It’s like being killed and brought back to life. I collapse onto the bed, using the last of my energy to throw my body to the side so I don’t bury her into the mattress.
“Oh, Jack,” she says, her voice filled with wonder.
“I know.” My own throat is raw from my shouting. “It’s a fucking trip.” I clutch her close. “It’s a good thing we waited this long. If we had done this when we were teens, I would have embarrassed myself and ruined sex for you forever.”
“I doubt it.” She snuggles into my side. “You’ve always put me first. I don’t think it would’ve mattered what age we were at. You would’ve made it good for me.”
“I like your confidence, but I don’t share it.” Things happen for a reason. I’m guessing that we didn’t discover our true feelings until today because we both weren’t ready. The important thing is that we’re together and that we’ll stay that way for the rest of our long, glorious lives.
I drop a kiss on her forehead. She shivers a tiny bit. I fish around for a blanket with my foot. Finding one, I flip it upward and catch it with my hand, drawing it over her nude body. She snuggles close. Mentally, I review my calendar.
“I’ve got court on Monday, but I should be done by two. Should we meet at two thirty?”
“For what?” she mumbles.
Crap. My girl is falling asleep. This won’t do. We have business to take care of first. I jostle her lightly.
“What is it?” She blinks slow, like a satisfied kitten drunk on milk.
A smug smile stretches across my mouth. I put that look of utter contentment on her face. I did that. My dick and ego swell proportionally. I bend down to give her a kiss but stop when I recall that I have a serious issue to discuss. First things, first. I clear my throat. “Do you have something going on at two thirty on Monday?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good. Meet me at the clerk’s office at two thirty.”
“But why?” Furrowed lines appear on her forehead. “Do I have a hearing? Did I forget to file something?”
“No. We’re getting married.” I chalk up her slowness to orgasm-induced lethargy.
She bolts upright, the sheet falling away to expose a pair of world-class tits that have bruise marks all around them. I lick my lips in satisfaction. I treated those babies right.
“Married?” she squeaks.
“Well, yeah, didn’t you once say you wanted to be a May bride because that was the best time to take a vacation?”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not. We’ve got one Monday left in May and we might as well put it to good use.” I reach out and pinch a flattened nipple. It puckers instantly and my mouth starts to water.
Daphne bats my hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you wanted to be a May bride because May’s the best time for honeymoons. The weather is good everywhere. Not too hot and not too cold.” I lean forward and kiss the ripe nipple. It hardens.
“Jack, I can’t think when you’re licking me. I don’t remember this.”
I throw myself onto my back and lace my fingers behind my head so I don’t use them to maul Daphne. “When you were eighteen, you had a Pinterest board and you planned your wedding on it. You had yellow bridesmaid’s dresses. It was at a small white church with a steeple. Your dress was off-white with a see-through veil. Basically, it was Wendy’s wedding only yours was actually nice looking and hers looked like something a high school prom committee would be embarrassed of.”
Daphne’s jaw drops. “The Pinterest board I made when I was eighteen?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I do. I’m just…astonished that you do.”
I pull a hand away from my head so I can trace it down her naked spine. I count the individual protrusions in my head as my finger bounces over the bones. “How could I forget?” The things that are important to her are important to me.
Daphne drops down to her side, snugging her lithe, warm body against mine. My cock stupidly stirs. The damned thing is rubbed raw from all the fucking, but it can’t stop getting excited each time Daphne so much as breathes in my direction.