Charity's Passion (29 page)

My warrior aches to swallow his fingers again, needing something squeeze on.

Justin moves behind me and I expect him to lower his hardness into me now and fuck me like an animal on all fours. I'm ready for that; I want it. Let my gorgeous man take me and burry his huge, thick cock into my heat.

Only that’s not what he does. Instead he growls at me, "Hold yourself up." And suddenly he grabs me by my thighs and lifts me nearly into a hand stand, lifting me and setting me down on his magnificent tool. My starving labia devour it inch by inch until the root of him crushes against me, all of his manhood finally deep inside as I release the ecstasy in a loud, satisfying scream.

I can't move; I can't help myself or him. And that's his point. If I even move a hand I will crash to the floor face first. All I can do now it's be fucked—hard!

Justin takes long, glorious thrusts with his hips, letting me feel his hardness draw back to its swollen tip and then go lunging forward, riding the pleasure spots within me until it feels like there's no more room left for him.

"Take me Justin!"

I ignore the blood flooding to my head, letting the dizziness be a part of it. It feels like a dream where I'm being ravaged by my hero.

His hips go faster, slamming the base of him against my soaked vulva in wet, smacking sounds that turn me on even more as he drills me. The warrior inside me prepares her battle cry under the rising, thumping pulse of my impending orgasm.

"Oh fuck! Take me—I'm cumming Justin!"

Like a fucking machine, he doesn't falter at all. His solid body slams against me in my helpless position of dangling off his unbreakable lust.

Withdraw and thrust.

Withdraw and thrust.

Filling my convulsing canal to its brink; stretching my inner walls with spectacular precision.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

Justin lets out a huge, bear-like roar, unable to stand another moment of my climax without releasing his own.

He pulls his engorged rod out to its enormous tip, pausing only to build his strength, and then he's obliterating me, drilling through my clamped tight tunnel as if my vaginal muscles have no strength to resist him.

My wails of ecstasy fill the night as my god of lust takes me.

I feel Justin quivering behind me as his cock pumps every wet drop of cum out of me, drilling through every finishing convulsion of my now spent orgasm.

Finally he lifts me off his large shaft and lowers me to the floor. The blood flows back into my body and then all I can feel is the throbbing of my well fucked pussy and the curl of my grateful smile.

Justin sees my satisfaction and grins proudly. "That's how I want your face to look for the rest of your life," he says quietly.

"How does it look?"

"It looks like you doesn't have a worry in the world, like you just came, hard, and have nothing else to do for now."

"Yeah," I admit, "that's pretty much it."

I hear him laughing as he steps into the dark bathroom. Seconds later he emerges with a towel, kneels down, and runs it through the wetness between my legs. He folds it to a clean, dry side, and places it there for me to finish if he hasn't gotten it all.

We lay there long enough to catch our breath.

"So what are we going to do with the rest of our night now that we're up and on nocturnal time?" I joke.

"Absolutely nothing. We been going and going, and I just want to do nothing for a change."

"That sounds wonderful," I say, standing up and tossing the towel back into the bathroom.

"It will give you time to tell me all about this wedding we're going to have," Justin says as he leads me back towards our bedroom. "Just because it's going to be soon, doesn't mean it can't be as beautiful as you want it to be."

"I still can't believe we're getting married in two months. Really, I don't know where to start."

"Let's pick a place. There's no point in anything else if we don't have a place to host it at."

"This is true," I agree, sliding back into our bed with him. "But I don't even know all the possible places in New York yet; I haven't been here long enough."

"I have a suggestion; something I think you might love. It's a bit over the top, and I know you like intimate, but it has that too."

That he's put some thought into this shows me just how much he truly loves me, and if I like his idea, if he knows me that well, I'll probably cry.

"Tell me," I ask eagerly.

He suddenly looks proud and extremely nervous all at once. The great JP; reduced to a facial tick and a quiver in his voice.

"How do you feel about the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park where I first confessed to you that I'm in love with you? Guests can take gondola rides, and we can bring them in on the horse-drawn carriages?"

Not a word comes out of my mouth.

For the first time I've seen—Justin looks terrified.

"It's elegant and simple, sentimental, but still fit for the elite guests that will have to be there," he says, pleading his case as if he has to.

I don't mean to make him nervous; there are just no words for how perfect it is. My eyes glass over with tears. "Justin—that's amazing."

Relief washes over him in his next breath.

"They do weddings there? You're sure this can happen?" I ask, still stunned.

"This is New York, for the right price you can get anything. They host events there all the time. I'll get it booked in the morning," he says confidently.

"I hope it's available."

Justin looks at me in the darkness with a smile. "It's ours, available or not—I'll make it available for you
."

"
F
or two weeks we've been in complete wedding mode and more than ever I'm understanding that what Justin wants—Justin gets. If I make a suggestion, he makes it happen within a phone call or two."

Lena laughs at me while she eats the sandwich from the cafe we're seated at. "Did you expect anything less? That man adores you; he'll give you whatever you ask for. Right now he's like George Baily, ready to lasso the moon and drag it down to Earth for you."

There she goes again with that unexpected softness and sentimentality. An "
It's A Wonderful Life
" reference from a woman having trouble remembering that she no longer needs to carry at least one gun and one knife at all times.

Nope, no irony there.

"He wants you to have everything you desire, especially on your wedding day."

"And he's doing it," I say with a smile. "He's really wonderful. The reception is booked at the Boathouse and the menu is set. We went together and did a tasting last week; we had a disagreement about the fish, but I won that."

Lena laughs again, "Of course you did." That makes me laugh with her. "You're not using a party planner to help with all this?"

"Justin tried to get me to agree to one, but no fucking way. That's not how I grew up picturing my wedding day; it's going to be all mine, my sweat and blood."

Okay, maybe it's a little silly of me to associate planning the happiest day of my life with blood and sweat, especially to Lena after what her and Justin have been doing all these years, even after my short taste of it. But that's in the past now. They've transitioned the Panther group over to Garrett and Malcolm in the recent days. It wasn't a surprise to anyone, it's been months in the making, but with Marker gone, it's official.

They are breathing again, Lena and Justin. She's told me it's like the first breaths of air after a decade of suffocation. It's just a little more obvious in Lena than Justin, but if you look, you can see it; their smiles are wider, eyes brighter, and they're more human than they've ever been.

I love it.

"On my wedding day I'm going to be proud of myself for everything that we've put into it."

"Is there anything you need me to help with? What do you have done so far?" Lena asks.

"We have the gondoliers and the horse carriages reserved. Yesterday we confirmed the photographer; before that we signed a band and a DJ—"

"What about flowers?" Lena interjects.

"Still working on that. Designing the invitations has been taking up all the rest of our time—they have to go out in the next day or so and even then it's too late."

"We can have the flowers done in an hour," she says. "C'mon." She rolls up the paper wrapper from her sandwich.

"Where are we going?" I ask, hurrying up to throw the last bite of mine into my mouth and roll up my garbage.

She doesn't even wait for me. She leans over the curb with her petty red silk Georgette Fierra blouse blowing in the breeze as she hails a cab. And one pulls over before I'm done tossing everything in the trash.

"Let's go," she calls, climbing in the back and making me run to her.

"Where the hell are we going?" I demand through my bubbly laughter.

"My cousin’s floral shop. I don't have much of my family around anymore, but my cousin and I are close, and I don't want you going anywhere else. Text Justin, tell him well be an hour or so; tell him I'm taking you too my cousin—he'll know."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?"

Lena shrugs absently as she calls her cousin and tells her we're on our way.

It's a nice store, not really any different than any other florist that I've been to, but her cousin Marissa's friendliness makes a difference. Her pretty smile brightens the place up, but before you see that you'll hear her sweet voice drifting around the space. She sings as she works, and her voice is simply beautiful and it raises your spirit before you know it will happen.

When I tell her that, her dark face blushes modestly.

We start with the guys. "The men are always the easiest," Marissa says. "And once you finish that you'll have some momentum behind you to finish."

"That sounds good to me," I agree, having no contradictory experience.

"So, any preference?" Lena asks.

I shake my head, "Something simple and elegant; fit for a man and pretty enough for the woman he'll be standing with."

"I know exactly what you want. It's very common, but that's because it works so well." Marissa lifts a book from under the counter and places it in front of us. She shuffles the pages in a hurry, knowing exactly what she's trying to get to. "Here: simple, handsome, and elegant."

I'm looking at it and it's perfect. A single white rose with a couple greens. I'm nodding before the words can come out.

"For the best man and any dads or grandfathers, I add just a hint of baby's breath so that they stand out and I make a beautiful wrist corsage just like them for any grandmothers."

"What about the groom?" I ask with a wide, giddy smile.

Marissa smiles and flips the page and points. It's a matching piece, but with three roses bundled tightly together in a triangle.

I know Justin will love it, but if he doesn't, he'll still wear it for me.

"Yeah, I can tell from her face that's the one," Lena says. "She's all lit up, as if she's not pretty enough already the bitch."

I don't argue with her; I'm lost in my thoughts as I imagine Justin waiting for me at the altar.

Marissa grins and waits for my attention to return. "See, the guys are easy. Now," she starts, adding seriousness to her tone, "don't think about the wedding, don't thing about anything; just tell me—what's your favorite flower?"

"Calla lilies," I blurt out quickly. "I've always loved them.

"I do too," Marissa agrees. Suddenly her smile widens. "I have something really beautiful to show you." She brings up another book from under the counter while she hums a beautiful little tune. Two pages in, she finds a picture that melts me. "These are for the girls."

Three calla lilies bundled in a triangle just like the groom's roses, and simple greens, nothing but elegance.

My hand goes to my chest. "They’re stunning."

"Wait until you see the matching bride’s bouquet," Marissa says almost cautiously as she turns the page.

My hand moves from my chest to my quivering mouth as I try to hold in the tears. "Absolutely beautiful," I say with my voice unable to fully form.

"There are half a dozen calla lilies surrounded by a dozen white roses on a thin bed of green. I can tie them in white, blue for your something blue, or get me a swatch of the bridesmaids dress and I will dye the ribbon to match, you just let me know."

I nod, still not finding my voice.

Lena lays a comforting arm around my lower back. I see her smile and wink at Marissa, who is very proud of herself and her work—as she should be.

Once I'm able to regain myself, we choose flowers for the church, the entrance to the Boathouse, and the centerpieces. When we walk out, the wedding flowers are done. Of course, I still have the two hardest things to do; finish the invitations, and get the dresses—including my own—but it feels great to have yet another thing off the list.