Calendar Girl 12 - December (11 page)

There was a fierceness in Wes’s body as he hovered over me. Clad only in his boxers and a T-Shirt, he lifted one strong arm and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the iron chest for my viewing pleasure. Not the chest. No, not that. I couldn’t win against the endless dips and lickable expanse of skin in front of me. It wasn’t possible. I’d traveled that road before. It was rocky, jagged, and filled with spikes that blew out my proverbial tires. Once I set my lips on that chest, on one single rock hard square of his abdomen…game fucking over.

You have the will of a warrior,
I reminded myself. I’d heard the phase on a commercial, or something I’d watched on TV, and repeated it over and over.

“Are you going to deny me what’s mine?” Wes said, placing both of his hands at the top of my tank. His fingers curled into the fabric, and with one quick rip, he shredded the cotton right down the center.

Holy Fuck.
You have the will of a warrior.

He leaned forward as I shook my head no. Words were not forthcoming. His warm mouth wrapped around one tight peak before he sucked long and so damn hard.

You have the will of a warrior.
“Wes…” I heard myself whisper.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave.” He lavished first one nipple and then the other with rough laps of his tongue and small nibbles of his teeth. While he tortured one tit, he plucked, rubbed, and twisted its mate until my hips were moving of their own accord. Seeking, reaching, trying to find something to relieve the extraordinary ache he’d started.

“Ugh. I can’t.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around his head and arching up into his mouth.

“Now, that’s my girl,” he growled and sucked as much of my breast into the heat of his mouth as he could. I encouraged him, moaning and holding him there. Wanting him to continue, keening for it.

Wes shifted a knee between my thighs and kicked out my right leg and then my left, inserting himself between my thighs. It was a move I’d become accustomed to after so many months of experiencing all the different ways my man made love to me. Tonight, he wanted to be close, as close as he could get. He plastered the length of his body along mine, as much of our skin touching as possible.

Without further delay, he lifted my hips and sunk his thick cock, balls-deep. I gasped, my pussy squeezing his length on impact. “Oh, God,” I cried out when he pulled back and crashed hard.

“Gonna love you like this for eternity, Mia.”

He retreated and thrust home. “Every day of my life…”

Retreat, followed by a firm lunge. “Without fail…you will be loved,” Wes promised and then picked up the pace.

I clung to Wes, whispered my vows of love and forever against his neck, his lips, his chest, whatever I could reach, until the pressure became too much. It started pulsing at my lower spine and spread out, the ribbons of heat trickling to each limb, making every nerve ending itch. He slammed his thick length into me, once, twice, three times, until the fire he’d set sparked, and I soared, going up in flames so bright, the fire blinded everything in its path.

Above me, Wes’s body was a fine machine of muscle and bone, every inch of him focused on the need before him, which was pounding as much pleasure into me as my body could take. And it took, and took, until he had me screaming out again. His lips muffled my second foray into bliss, tasting my desire for him. I bit down on his lips as his body tightened, every speck gripping onto me as though he’d fly away if he didn’t hold on for dear life. A few quick, hard pumps, and he ground down, crushing my knot of oversensitive nerves in the process, which sent a shimmer of pleasure through me one last time as he released into me.

Moments passed as we both breathed heavily against one another’s necks. It concerned me how fiercely he needed me. When his mom had suggested the idea earlier, he’d gone along with little resistance. Perhaps he’d never planned to follow through at all.

Pushing Wes’s face from my chest, I lifted his chin. His eyes immediately locked on mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice raspy and sated.

“I’m with you. Of course I’m okay,” he answered.

Good answer
, I thought, before shifting the few inches so I could kiss him slow and steady before pulling back. “Any particular reason for the break from tradition?”

He chuckled before pausing. His eyes were alight with mischief when he responded. “I actually stuck to tradition.”

I frowned. “How do you figure?”

“Well, there’s a tradition that says if you want to be with the one you love throughout the New Year, you must kiss her at the stroke of midnight.”

I glanced at the clock. It read 12:15. “But it’s already after midnight.”

He grinned. “Oh, I was kissing you at twelve. Right at the stroke of midnight, you were screaming not your first, but your second orgasm down my throat. I swallowed it down whole.”

“You’re twisted.” I shoved at him playfully, but he shifted just enough so that he was at my side.

He moved his hands over my body as though he were committing this moment to memory. “You ready for later today?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

He grinned so wide, seeing it almost hurt my heart. “Is that the real reason why you’re here? To make sure I wasn’t going to pull a
Runaway Bride
on you?” I asked, cuddling against his side.

“No, I’m confident in our love. I just didn’t feel the need to be away from you. We’ve had enough nights apart, don’t you think?”

I kissed him over his heart. “You’re right. We have had far too many of those. This is our tradition, kissing at midnight on New Year’s Eve and spending the night before our wedding in one another’s arms.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Now go to sleep. We’re busy tomorrow.” He winked and kissed me on my forehead.

T
he moment
you look into the eyes of the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with, it hits you. This is the last woman you are going to kiss. The last woman you will tumble with on a bed of cool sheets. The one female that will follow you through all the remaining days you have in this world. There is something so completely finite about that. Only it doesn’t feel final. It feels like a relief. Like you’ve worked for a million days straight and then finally realize you’ve reached your goal. This is the goal. This moment is the happy ending. For us both.

Mia. When she stepped onto the porch, her arm looped with her brother’s, everything slipped away…

The sound of the ocean waves…gone.

The guests watching a vision in white step barefooted down the stairs and start on the stone path…gone.

My sister standing at my side…gone.

The preacher…gone.

There was nothing but Mia. There will never be anything but Mia. She is my reason for existing. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her.

Her steps were measured, following along with music I could no longer hear. One long leg in front of the other. Her dress was simple elegance. Not unlike the woman. It had tiny straps that dipped into a V at her breasts, a cropping of crystals around the edges. I loved her figure. An hourglass shape with succulent curves. The dress dipped in at her small waist and flared out, billowing in the January breeze. The weather in Malibu was kind, giving us a perfectly beautiful, sunny seventy-six degrees on the most important day of our lives.

Her shoulders, arms, legs, and feet were bare. The only shocks of color were the ebony waves of her hair, the pink of her toes, and the red of her luscious lips. And of course, there were her eyes.

Friends of mine joked that it was Mia’s body that had me ass over a barrel, but it wasn’t. It was her eyes. The palest of green, like green amethyst if I had to choose a gemstone for reference.

Those eyes controlled me from day one, the very first time she shucked off her motorcycle helmet, and the sun hit those soulful orbs. I knew even then that she could be the end of me. What I didn’t know, though, was that she was also the beginning and the middle. I didn’t want to know a world that Mia wasn’t in. She made the dark days light, the hard days soft, and the great ones magnificent. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the woman who walked to me, ready to take me into her life as her husband. I could only hope to be all that she needed. Now, and every day to come.

“Do you Weston Channing, the third…” Mia mouthed “the third,” and I chuckled and then hid it by pretending to cough as the preacher continued.

“Behave,” I whispered loud enough so only she could hear.

She winked at me as the pastor got to my part.

I looked my girl right in the eyes and meant every word down to the tips of my toes as I responded, “I do.”

With that, she gifted me one of her huge smiles. The kind that isn’t planned or thought out. I lived for those unguarded, beatific smiles.

“Do you, Mia Saunders…” The preacher issued her vows, but it was all white noise. Until her mouth moved.

“I do,” she said, and licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one.

I wanted to rush the holy man to get to the good part. The part where he makes her mine. Legally.

As promised, we exchanged simple platinum wedding bands. Mia was not a woman who wanted to be soaking in diamonds. No, my girl wanted to live with the wind on her face and the speedometer climbing to frightening levels. As I was the type of man to give his woman what she wanted, and I wanted nothing more than to make her happy, her real wedding present was sitting in the driveway.

I went pricey with the MV Augusta FCC that she’d been drooling over. Yeah, I searched her internet history. Funny thing about this woman. You’d expect to see links to places like Victoria’s Secret and Bloomingdales, but not my girl. No, the majority of her searches were honeymoon destinations and motorcycle websites.

I grinned as the preacher kept babbling. My fingers twitched with anticipation as I held her hands, waiting for the part that would seal the deal for life.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

He no sooner got the words out than I had my girl’s cheeks in my hands and my mouth was devouring hers. She tasted of mint and champagne. Absolutely delicious. I slanted her head and licked into her mouth, taking her tongue for a ride. A soft moan left her as she melted into the kiss willingly, gripping my shoulders, holding me closer. I lived for that moment she gripped on tight. Proved that every kiss meant as much to her as it did to me.

I never wanted to let her go. The great thing about marrying the woman you love is the knowledge that you never have to.

Over the past year, alongside Mia and because of her influence, I, too, have learned to trust the journey. Only, when it comes right down to it, our journeys never truly end. Each day can be the start of a new one. A new life. With Mia, our family, and the friends she and I have made along the way…our journey has ultimately just begun.

T
he End
…kind of…Keep reading for a special “Where are they now?” bonus!

A
lec DuBois
—
The world renowned artist and filthy talking Frenchman is living in France, where his paintings continue to reign supreme in the art world. Alec is currently splitting his time between his two French femme fatales who simultaneously claim to be pregnant with his child(ren).

Hector and Tony Fasano—
Both men are doing well, living the American dream. They married shortly after Mia and Wes and hired a young college girl who agreed to be a surrogate, donating two eggs to be fertilized by sperm from each man so that they would both have a biological child. They put the young girl through school, and she is happily working for them at their company’s headquarters. The Fasano food brand hit the freezer section and has surpassed all other frozen meals as the leader in “frozen food that tastes good” as their tagline claims. Every Fasano is now a multi-millionaire, including Mama Fasano.

Mason and Rachel Murphy—
Mason and Rachel married as planned in a gargantuan wedding that
People Magazine
hailed as the
Wedding of the Century
. Mia stood up as one of the groomsmen, rocking a tuxedo like no other. Mace and Rach currently have three children who keep Rachel busy while her husband continues setting records in baseball. He’s been setting records for himself and the Red Sox ever since. He and his wife have designs on buying a team one day.

Tai and Amy Niko—
Had a lavish Hawaiian wedding complete with fire dancing, hula, and traditional Samoan flare. Amy has been spitting out mini-Tais ever since. After four boys, Amy was finally granted a blond haired, blue-eyed goddess they named
Natia,
a Samoan name, which literally translated means
hidden treasure
.

Warren and Kathleen Shipley—
Are spending their second act of life traveling the globe. Warren’s special project received critical acclaim over the years, providing resources to third world and war-torn countries around the world. He received the Humanitarian of the Year Award from American Red Cross for his efforts in charitable giving.

Aaron Shipley—
Was impeached by the House of Representatives and convicted in the Senate not long after his trouble with Mia. Having been cut off from his father’s money, Aaron took to embezzling large amounts from campaign contributors as well as promising favors to corporate conglomerates by way of Senate votes. He is currently serving time in a privately run federal minimum security prison up in Bakersfield, California.

Anton Santiago and Heather Renee—
Spent the last ten years topping every hip-hop chart known to the music industry. Together they now run
Lov-us Productions,
the most sought after record producer for pop and hip-hop records in the music industry. They both spend their days and nights working and raising their daughter they aptly named Fate. The two are, and will always be, best friends, which ultimately led them to the decision to have a child together before they were too old. This child was the product of in vitro fertilization. Both are happy to share a home with their daughter while they take turns playing the field.

Maxwell and Cyndi Cunningham—
Live in the same ranch in Texas with their five children. Unfortunately for Max, Jackson is the only boy, and Cyndi refused to have any more. They gave one girl Mia’s middle name and the other Madison’s. The fifth child they named after Cyndi’s mother. Max is as busy as ever running Cunningham Oil with his baby sister by his side.

Blaine Pintero—
And his team of merry enforcers are doing ten consecutive life sentences in a maximum security prison in Nevada for planting a bomb that killed ten people. Those ten lives were all drug dealers, sex traffickers, money launderers, and known murders with warrants out for their arrest. Really, it was a win-win.

Michael Saunders—
Never got over his wife leaving and finally divorcing him fifteen years later. He stayed in Vegas and holds a job as a janitor at a local bowling alley. Though he no longer gambles or borrows from loan sharks, he still spends most of his days in and out of AA programs. Mia and Madison have very little contact with their father at this time.

Dr. Drew Hoffman—
Is still a doctor to the stars in Hollywood, California and has been married and divorced six times.

Kathy Rowlinski—
Climbed the corporate ladder and now runs Century Productions as Chief Executive Officer, has a McMansion in Beverly Hills, and married her hot male assistant.

Kent and Meryl Banks—
Are living their lives as they always have been. Kent works out designs for modern cabins around the globe while his now legal wife, Meryl, paints and runs her gallery. They enjoy regular visits to Texas where they spend time doting on their grandchildren.

Millie Colgrove “Ms. Milan”—
Continues to run Exquisite Escorts. Her clientele is elite, and her girls known for being beautiful and discreet. Millie has been “dating” a distinguished gentleman who came to her originally as a client looking for a more mature woman. Instead of an escort, he pursued her. They've been going strong for several years. Millie refuses to call him anything other than her significant other as she believes labeling their relationship will jinx it.

Ginelle aka “Skank-a-lot-a-Puss”—
Runs an elite dance school that caters to celebrities and aspiring actors who need to learn the art of dance in downtown Los Angeles. She had made her way through several good and bad relationships until finally running into a man she couldn’t refuse, run away from, or hide from. Her life story is and always will be in a state of flux. But she’s happier than she’s ever been.

Madison and Matt Rains—
Madison finished her Doctorate and is lead scientist for Cunningham Oil. Matt and his parents run the Channing, Cunningham, and Rains farmland. Madison and her husband have a son named Mitchell and are currently expecting their second son. The child is yet to be named as the couple is squabbling about using another “M” name. Maddy wants to stick with tradition, and Matt wants to break it and start anew.

Wes and Mia Channing—
Our hero and heroine are living happily in Malibu during the school year and Texas during holiday breaks and six weeks of each summer. They have two children, a son they named Marshall Jackson and a daughter they named Madilyn Claire. Together, husband and wife write, produce, cast, and direct their own films. The last film they wrote and produced,
Calendar Girl
, became a box-office wonder, bringing in three hundred million in ticket sales the first week. The couple enjoy their days surfing, playing with their children, working on their newest film, and making love to the sound of the ocean under the cover of nightfall. Trusting the journey that brought them together, they now walk it side by side.

T
he REAL End
…