Brody replies, “Aye,brathair.”
A few minutes later, Leith is still staring at me. He knows good and damn well I don’t want to be touched right now. He orders the virtual assistant, “Turn on the alarm.”
“Alarming, secure. Inhabitants include Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie and Mia MacKenzie.”
He reaches out to me, and the same tune as before with Erika is playing in my head while I step away. “Is she in love with you, Leith?”
“Nae!”
“Then what?”
My husband chuckles softly. “Ye’re easy tofeckwith, hen. Now, do I allow Erika to get away with her antics? Huh? Nae, Chevelle. I shut her thefeckdown.”
In a silent rage, I assess the situation for a moment. After a few beats, I demand an answer. “Is she your best friend? Who else do you know that snuck off and got married?”
An elopement was not part of our plan, nor was our backyard wedding abrupt. There were changes to our plans, but there was no sneaking. Leith pulled out all the stops during his grad year while attending MIT. Those two years were trying times. With him in Massachusetts, I settled on a job at Michie’s. Leith came home anytime he wasn’t asleep, in class, or didn’t have a final to prepare for.
His proposal was priceless. Leith was on break, and we took a chartered jet back to his school because he wanted me at his side until the very second that he had to return to classes. Instead, the jet took us to a private bed and breakfast in Michigan on the lake. Crying happy tears, I said yes during his proposal.
Leith and I saved for a wedding. But his family ties were my constant insecurity—that bastard Brody MacKenzie most of all. He was always trying to pull Leith back to him and away from me. His big brother’s antics caused me to call it off, leaving Leith devastated, and my stubborn heart shattered.
A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Leith was over the moon. Thus, the backyard wedding. Contrary to Erika’s opinion, it was a spontaneous, beautiful affair, not a sneak.
“I didna marryye for yer childbearing hips, Chevelle. Or yer ‘I’m angry frown.’” Leith plants a kiss on my lips, pinning me in his arms. I look deep into his eyes, drowning in the sincerity of them. “I married my best friend. Am I wrong, hen?”
“No, because I married my best friend too.” My eyes twinkle.
“Good. I’ve worked up an appetite.”
Hypnotized, I melt in his arms as he carries me to the bedroom and out onto the balcony.
“Ye’re in trouble, hen.”
Chewing my lip, I reply, “I’ll apologize after you dish out my punishment.”
He sits, his slacks unbuttoned, with me straddled over his huge cock. As I laugh, he continues to say words I never understand or need to. I flush hot, reveling in being the center of his attention.
My dress shreds down the center. I screech, “Leith!”
“Do ye know the trouble ye’re in, lass?” His mouth presses against my neck, leaving a frenzy of sparks as his lips work their way to my breasts. Leith’s calloused fingers knead the flesh of my ass in his strong hands. The other hand grips the back of my neck, and his mouth has worked its way back up my jaw. When he hovers over my mouth, I gasp, burning in need.
“Chevelle, say ‘Please kiss me.’ ”
“Kiss me, Leith. A thousand times, please,” I beg.
In a tone I’ll never question, Leith demands, “Nae. Earn my smooches.”
In agony, I can hardly think, let alone speak. I snake my hands between us and grip his enormous cock like a stick shift. My thumb settles at the precum along the meaty head of it. “You wanna play dirty, baby. I can too.” My palm gives his dick a leisurely stroke while I zero in on his lips.
With a devilish smile, Leith turns his face away. “Nae, I said ye had to earn it, hen.”
I groan. There’s something about my husband denying me the taste of his lips when we make love. His eyes have grown dark, leaving my body in agony.
“Leith, may I feel your dick throbbing in my mouth? Then will you consent to a kiss?”
“I just might.”
“Hmmm,” I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip, “maybe I want your cum more than a kiss.”