Another growl, and then I’m obliterated.Pounded into the mattress without mercy, my little tits jolting and my mouth spread in an exhilarated grin. Guy braces one hand on the mattress beside my head, the other pinching my nipple before returning to my clit.
He rubs and pinches me there too. Even smacks me lightly, and god, I seestars.
I wrap around him as tight as I can possibly go, and I cling there as I fall apart. As my pussy pulses around his cock, and my heart lunges for him behind my rib cage. As I bare my teeth and screw my eyes shut andlosemyself, exploding into a thousand pieces.
Guy makes a wounded animal noise. Even in my haze, I make a mental note to tease him for that later.
Then he’s wedging as deep as he can go, spilling inside my body, and oh god, this is the happiest I’ve ever been.
Nerves prickle my belly when he finally pulls out, slow and careful, flopping to one side. But there’s no doubt in his green eyes. No regret. Only relief and primal satisfaction.
“So.” I pluck a feather out of his chest hair. My arm is all wobbly. “Um. What shall we do now? Should we find that dress?”
Guy waves a hand, his cheeks flushed and his pulse tapping in his throat. “Forget it. What’s another deposit? Let’s get room service in my suite. I haven’t eaten all day.”
I snort. “Guess my pussy doesn’t count.”
Guy grunts, reluctantly amused, and it’s so nice, lying there laughing. Catching our breath. When his hand snakes out, tangling our fingers together, I get the weirdest sense of deja vu.
We could have done this years ago. We could have done this a normal way.
I don’t care, though. Sometimes it’s about the journey.
Guy
Three years later
I watch my wife clamber onto the mechanical bull and shake my head, hiding a smile. Randy Mack’s in Vegas is not a traditional anniversary destination, but then Effie is not a traditional wife. She never has been.
She’s perfect. So utterly, unapologetically herself. And if she wants to ride some hideous mechanical bull, then that is what she’ll do. I will make it so.
The crowd seethes, buzzing with laughter, and I work my way across the fake barn floor, country music thumping through the speakers. The man is there with his camera, circling the bull to get all angles of Effie, and I let myself really smile.
Our son will love this. He and his mother are two matching daredevils.
“Guy!” She whoops my name, waving a glittery pink cowboy hat that she’s conjured from thin air. With her denim shorts and leather boots, her white shirt and cheeky grin, she looks the part. Half the men in this bar are staring, awestruck at her as she swings around, riding the bull with exhilarated grace.
Too bad. She’s mine. And when her ride finishes,I’mthe one lifting Effie down, my hands at her waist. She crams the pink hat onto my head, and of course I let her. I’d allow her anything.
“Will you have a go?”
Anything but that. “No, I don’t think so.” I steer her to the bar, hands clamped on her shoulders and my voice low in her ear. “But if you have any designs in mind for Count Tattular…”
Effie splutters, whirling around so fast she nearly trips over her own feet. She’s already flushed, her eyes shining so bright. “Are youserious?Oh my god. I need to find a napkin and pen.”
I grin, trailing her chaotic path to the bar, hands shoved in my pockets.
A small tattoo. Something easily hidden. I trust Effie. Even if it’s a funny one, it’ll be good.
And hey, if reckless tattoos are a mistake, then so are quickie Vegas weddings. So is screwing your boss, and trashing a hotel room, and flying home already making plans to move in together.
Look, I’m not saying it’s wise. No one could accuse either of us of being that.
But our bad decisions…
Well. They work out well in the end.
II