We enter the cabin from walking Knox and our parents out and Ridge simply says, “Out.”
“Ridge!” I smack his chest.
He grabs my arm before I can pull it away and pulls me to him. “I want some time with my wife.”
“I don’t know, man. I thought we could hang out, maybe play some cards or something,” Kent teases him.
“Yeah, you know, celebrate your nuptials and whatnot,” Seth adds.
Mark and Dawn are curled up in a chair laughing. Reagan is in another and Tyler is sitting on the floor, leaned back against the chair leg. They haven’t come out and said there’s something going on, but any fool could see that there is. Not to mention Tyler’s calmed down a lot. He only has eyes for Reagan, although I’ll give him an A for effort in trying to hide that little detail from his best friend.
“Really? You fuckers wait until the day you get married. Payback’s a bitch,” Ridge pouts.
That has everyone laughing. Tyler and Mark stand, taking his words to heart I’m sure. They both seem to be ideal candidates for the next in line for holy matrimony. Seth and Kent stand to leave as well. Each of the guys gives me bear hugs and kisses on the cheek, which has Ridge growling at them. I also hug each of the girls, as does Ridge after the manly handshake/hug/pat on the back thing he does with the guys.
The door is barely shut when he bends and lifts me in his arms. “Now the real party begins, Mrs. Beckett.” He kisses my temple and carries me off to the bedroom.
It’s fitting to consummate our marriage in the same place we first made love. That’s how I knew getting married here was the right choice. It’s where we became one for the first time, and where we’ll continue with the next phase of our future.
I can’t get her to the bedroom fast enough, having barely held it together all night. I wanted to share this with our family and friends, but what I really wanted—what I needed—was to make love to my wife.
My wife.
She’s mine. Forever, she’s mine.
I carry her to the bedroom and set her on her feet next to the bed. Although we planned this wedding in less than a month, Kendall was able to find a dress that’s kept my cock hard since the moment I first saw her in it. It’s form-fitting like a glove around her curves and short, showing off those long legs of hers. And although she’s a vision in it, I want it gone. I want to slowly peel it from her body and sink into her. The image of her today, when she appeared before me, will be one I will take with me to the grave. The moment she became my wife.
“You take my fucking breath away, Mrs. Beckett,” I say, running my lips over her bare shoulders.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Beckett.”
“Turn for me, baby.” She does as I ask, and I stop her once her back is to me. She left her long hair down, so I sweep it to the side over her shoulder and kiss the nape of her neck. I trail my lips down her back until I reach the zipper. Time to go.
I slide it down. “Arms up, sweet girl,” I say next to her ear. She complies and the dress falls to the floor. My mouth drops open when I see nothing but a white lace thong. “Mrs. Beckett, if I had known that was all you had on under that sinful dress, I would’ve kicked our guests out as soon as we said ‘I do.’”
She chuckles. “Surprise.” She turns to face me and I take in the beauty that is my wife, sweeping my eyes over every inch of her. When I reach the thong, my chest tightens as I see ‘Mrs. Beckett’ stitched into them in lavender—her favorite color, our wedding color, marking her as mine. I had intended to rip them from her body, but not now. I need these, not only as a memento of this day, this moment, but I like to see her labeled as mine. I make a mental note to find out where she got them and get her more.
Mrs. Beckett.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she says as she begins to unbutton my shirt. I grip the sides and tear it open; I need her, and this is taking way too long. She laughs as buttons flutter across the hardwood floor. She pushes the shirt off my shoulders as I unbutton my khaki pants and let them slide to the floor. Pulling my arms out of my sleeves and tossing the shirt behind me, she kneels before me and slides my boxer briefs down. When I kick them off, she looks up at me, blue eyes blazing with love as she takes the tip of my cock into her mouth. Reaching out, I have to grab ahold of the dresser to keep from falling on my ass. This woman.
“Not like this,” I say as I feel myself getting closer, chasing the release that her warm mouth is pulling from me. “Not tonight. I need to be inside you.” She slowly releases me with a pop and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I almost lose my shit at the sight of her.
My wife.
“On the bed,” I tell her. She doesn’t hesitate as she turns and climbs onto the big four-poster bed, her ass swinging, tempting the hell out of me. I follow after her and nip her right cheek.
“Gah!” She laughs.
Will it always be this way? Will we always be able to laugh in the bedroom? Will she always feel like what’s keeping me centered? I sure as hell hope so. I will fight like hell every day to make sure of it.
She falls to her back, reaching out to run her fingers through my hair. She loves it, and I keep it a little longer for that purpose—whatever my girl wants.
I bend down and kiss her. “I love you, Mrs. Beckett,” I say, slowly pushing into her.
“Love you too,” she breathes as she takes all of me.
I lock my eyes on hers and slowly make love to my wife. I didn’t think that this, being inside her, could ever feel better than all the times before, but it does. This time, it’s different; I can’t explain it, but I feel it. The way our bodies are joined as one, the way her back arches off the bed, her feet digging into my ass, her nails digging into my back. Her eyes, those baby blues that hold my stare as I continue to thrust in and out of her. It’s all different, better, and I’m rocked to my core.