Only Trick (36 page)

“This is Colby. He’s taking a year off college to
find
himself.” Everyone laughs. “So if you see his ghost or twin, let us know.”

Colby rolls his hazel eyes, flipping his carefree, dark surfer hair off to the side. “Says the guy who’s
still
not been accepted to medical school.”

Declan shrugs. “I’m just struggling with a few classes that’s all.”

“Med school, huh?” I smile. “Let me know if you need help with anything. I was a physician’s assistant in Chicago.”

“Really? That’d be awesome. Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do for our wed—I mean,
ceremony
planner.”

Trick digs his fingers into my side showing his lack of appreciation for my mocking him. “Originally, I thought we’d make love tonight, but you seem to be asking for me to fuck you
hard
,” he whispers in my ear.

I hope the dark blanket of night covers my red face as everyone stares at us, probably thinking my doting husband just whispered sweet nothings into my ear. They have no idea he’s not always a gentleman.

“Ahem …” The guy next to Colby clears his throat.

“Sorry, dude. This is Wes. He’s a marine biology student and he’ll be here for the next few months to observe the whales, aka get college credit for surfing.”

Wes smacks Declan in the back of the head, and we laugh. “Nice to meet you and congratulations.” Wes is stocky with cropped blond hair, not the typical surfer look.

“Thanks.” Trick and I both smile.

“And last but definitely not least, this is Mallory, Colby’s girlfriend.”

“Fìancée.” She corrects him holding up her ring finger.

Declan rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you’ve had that ring for two years and still no wedding so I’m no longer sure it’s really an engagement ring.”

She sticks out a pouty lip and flips back her long dark hair revealing some serious silicon pouring out of her small halter top sundress, then elbows Colby in the gut. “We’d have a date set if a certain someone would hurry up and find himself. Anyway, Trick and I met this morning. I did yoga with him.”

I make a quick glance at Trick, who keeps an impassive look to her comment. Then I look to see if his eyes are tempted by the large
rack
. Just in case old habits die hard.
Yep
,
he’s staring.

I snuggle into him pretending to nuzzle his neck. “If you don’t stop gawking at her
rack,
the only thing you’ll be fucking tonight is your hand.” I smile at everyone as they look at us like we’re the poster couple for happily ever after, and we are … or we will be after we get a few things straight.

Trick’s fingers dig yet a little deeper into my side, but I don’t know why. I’m not the one staring.

“Well, we should let the newlyweds have some alone time,” Martin interrupts. “And it is a Wednesday so some of us have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Who might that be?” Declan jokes.

“Well, we really appreciate this. It was so kind of all of you to befriend us and make this such a special day. We should hangout this weekend or something … if you want.” I hate the never-been-accepted-school-girl insecurity that bleeds from me. They don’t know me and I have no reason to think they wouldn’t want to be friends, but my confidence has been beaten down too many times.

“Absolutely!” Declan replies. “We live right over there.” He points to the house down the beach a little ways. “Martin rents it out to my parents but they’re over in China for the next six months so we decided not to let a perfectly good beach house sit vacant.”

I nod and smile.

Everyone exchanges hugs and I hate the way I watch Trick to see how his body responds to Mallory and her cleavage. I was jealous and possessive when I thought he was gay. Marriage could push my limits past the boundaries of all reason.

As the small group trudges off through the sand we watch them in silence for a few long seconds; then Trick turns and pulls me into his arms. “Don’t.”

I lift my shoulders, avoiding eye contact.

“Mrs. Roth, look at me.”

I can’t hide my faint smile as I look up.

“Have you ever seen the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile?”

I laugh at the words I never imagined coming out of his mouth. “Yes, why?”

“Does it catch your attention when you see it?”

“Yes, why?”

“Is it because you wish you could drive it or you wish you had one?”

Another laugh and a head shake. “No.”

Trick jabs his thumb in the direction of our neighbor’s house. “That
rack
was the Wienermobile.” His hands slide to the zipper of my dress. I close my eyes as he drags it down with seductive patience, eliciting a flood of prickly goose bumps across my skin. “You, my sexy, beautiful wife … you are a Ducati.” My dress falls to the sand.

My heavy eyelids flutter open as his mouth claims my neck, his hands feathering down my arms. “A Ducati?”

“Mmm hmm.” He works the buttons of his shirt, letting his lips hold me submissive to his touch. “My bike is a Ducati.”

“You love your bike?”

“Very much.” He tosses his shirt to the side and my hands claim the tat-covered skin I crave. He’s so damn sexy; my body feels on the constant edge of convulsion just from the heat of his skin.

“More than me?”

Trick stills, his mouth a breath away from mine. He stares at my lips and then flits his eyes to mine.
A lip twitch
. “No.” He moves to capture my kiss, but I pull away.

“Oh my God! Did you have to think about it?”

In the darkness his teeth shine white. He grabs my waist, stealing my breath as he lifts me to him. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me to the house.

“You hesitated!” I clench his hair and tug it, making him look at me.

He tries to dip his head down to my neck.

“You hesitated!”

As he carries me up the stairs to our bedroom, I keep a firm grip on his hair.

“I married
you
.”

“Because they wouldn’t give you a marriage license to marry your stupid bike.”

Plopping me down on the bed, he straddles me. His face so close to mine our noses touch. “Now there’s no need for name calling, and I hesitated because I couldn’t believe you even asked.” He drops slow kisses on my face. “My bike makes me feel good about my hard work. It’s the nicest thing I’ve purchased with my own money.” He slides his hand behind my head. “
You
make me feel good about myself. You’re not my possession…” he presses his lips to mine, our tongues colliding in an explosion of need “…but I still want to possess … every … inch … of … you.”

I close my eyes. His mouth skims down my neck to my shoulder, across my collarbone, and down to my breast.

“Possess me …” I breathe out.

My husband …
dear God
 … my
husband
stands and removes the rest of his clothes and pulls off my lace panties. “I have the most beautiful
wife
.” Trick kisses the inside of my ankle and makes the moment an eternity … an infinity of love. Lips, breath, tongue, hands, and every other inch of his body worships mine like I’m his religion and this bed is our church. And I swear his love is God sent and his touch is a glimpse of Heaven here on Earth.

“Trick … it’s too much,” I plead as he brings me to the precipice over and over. Buried inside me, he drives me to ecstasy and then pulls out and tortures my sensitive nipples, my neck, my lips, and the occasional swipe of his tongue along my swollen sex. I am a feather’s touch away from orgasm or death … it could go either way at this point. The tangled sweaty mess of bed sheets has become typical of our love making that’s really a marathon or sexual torture, depending on the night.

He flips me so I’m on top of him, sweaty and dizzy with so much need I can barely sit up. Grabbing my hips he guides me until he’s lined up to my entrance, and then he brings me down onto him so hard we both cry out as I collapse onto his chest. Our mouths absorb our moans stirred by his last few deep strokes into me.

“S-so good…” I pant into his neck “…that was … so … good.”

“Agreed.” Trick chuckles with his hands still tangled in my hair. He rolls us to the side and grins. “Wife.”

I grin. “Husband.”

After long minutes of post-coital bliss, Trick rubs a few strands of my hair between his fingers with a glazed look in his eyes. “Why’d you say yes?”

I stare at my finger tracing the sanskrit on his abs. I’ve done it so many times every symbol has found its own etching in my mind. “Because you asked.”

He laughs. “But you didn’t have to say yes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“How’s that?” His muscles contract under my touch.

“Because anything else would have been a lie.” I glance up at him.

He nods. It’s subtle, but I see it. I’m attuned to a million little things about this man that I’m certain nobody else sees. Each little twitch, flinch, slow nod, or drawn out blink holds significance. These are the times I
feel
his thoughts. These undefined emotions mean so much.

“Why did you ask me to marry you?”

“I wanted you to know that I belong to you.” Leaning forward he kisses me.

The profoundness of his words steals my breath. He didn’t marry me to
take
anything; he did it to
give
me everything.

He yanks the knotted sheet loose and covers our naked bodies, pulling me closer until my nose finds home in its favorite spot at the crook of his neck.

“Goodnight, wife.”

“Goodnight, husband.”

O
ur sheer shades
invite nature’s alarm—the sun. I roll to nuzzle, but my nose finds nothing but pillow. There should be a law against waking up alone after your
marriage ceremony
night. I reach for the sheet that has drifted down my naked body, needing to erase the goose bumps from the chilly morning air.

“Leave it. I’m not done looking at your tits.”

I bolt up, of course grabbing the sheet and covering my
tits
. Trick smirks, handing me a glass of juice, then yanks the sheet away. My eyes rove across his body, stumbling over a bump of aggravation when they hit his exercise shorts.

“It’s our honeymoon. Why are you up and
dressed
?” I take a sip of juice.

He bends down, sucking the skin along my neck. “We’re going to yoga, then we’ll come back and I’ll work on getting my wife broken in good.”

I cough on my juice, half of it landing on his chest. He shakes his head while wiping it away with the sheet. Everything that comes out of his mouth is either words of romantic poetry or a dirty sailor beckoning his wench—rarely anything in between.

“Break me in?”

“Yes. But first we should get you limbered up. Come.” He waltzes out of the room like we just finished discussing our grocery list.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Maybe I do need to limber up. Trick woke me in the middle of the night with his head buried between my legs. I was convulsing in under sixty seconds. Then he plunged his steel cock in me and made a relentless sprint to his finish as well. Afterward he pressed a soft kiss to my lips and said one word, “wife,” before spooning me into his body and drifting off to sleep. I question if he was even awake. It felt like he was acting out a dream. Some people sleep walk or raid the refrigerator in their sleep; maybe Trick’s thing is going to be sleep sex—spontaneously waking in the night and pounding his wife.
Hmm …

*

Trick waits for
me with an extra towel and yoga mat. I fill my water bottle and step out into the cool morning breeze.

“Wife,” he says with his back to me.

“Husband.” I snuggle into his bare back, wrapping my arms around him.

He grabs my water and takes a swig. “Ready?”

I slide around to his front, lifting on my toes to kiss him. He denies me nothing, cupping the back of my head and holding me to his lips for a long kiss. “I’m going to embarrass you.”

He laughs. “Come.”

I follow him down the stairs to the beach where we head north.