Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) (41 page)

And that necklace, the one that belonged to her mom, draws my eye straight to her chest. That dress. Fuck, that dress. It hugs every inch of her from her chest to her knees then it juts with an elegant flare.

Don't know much about clothes, but I do know that dress was made for her.

Fuck is her figure on display. For a second, my thoughts get dirty—gonna have a hell of a time stripping her out of that dress—then they bounce back.

She's a fucking angel.

My angel.

My bride.

I can feel my cheeks at my ears. I've never smiled this wide before. Certainly haven't done it for this long. She has that same wide, goofy smile.

As fucking perfect as that dress is, my eyes fix on hers. All the love in the air passes between us. With my next breath, I exhale my nerves and inhale her excitement.

She's there. At the altar. Her father kisses her on the cheek. Then he's sitting down and she's standing opposite me.

I take her hands.

She's still staring at me. I'm still staring at her. The officiant is saying something to introduce us, but it's not registering.

There's nothing in the world but Jess.

The officiant is saying my name. He's looking at me. "Peter has prepared his own vows."

Dammit, I'm blushing. Mom must have put the man up to calling me by my full name.

Jess squeezes my hands a little tighter. She's enjoying my blushing. Can't say I have cause for complaint.

Hope I memorized this as well as I thought I did.

I focus every ounce of my attention on Jess. "My entire life, there have only been a few things I've wanted. Mostly, I've wanted to make music. Everything else felt peripheral. But then I met you. And you blow everything out of the water. I want you in a way I've never wanted anything. I can't promise you that life will be easy. I know it's going to be hard sometimes. But I can promise that, whatever happens, I'll be there, by your side. I'll hold your hand through every challenge. I'll celebrate every victory with you. I promise I'll make you laugh every day. I promise to show you the world, and to let you show me the world back. Mostly, I promise to live every day to the fullest, with you by my side. Whatever life has in store for us, I know I want you as my partner."

She mouths
I love you
.

I mouth it back.

The officiant turns to her. "Jessica."

This time, she blushes. Nobody calls her Jessica.

She looks to the ground for a moment, then her eyes are on me. "I'm not good at memorizing things, and this dress doesn't have pockets, so this is a little shorter."

The crowd laughs.

She squeezes my hands. "You make me feel like I can take on the world. I want to make you feel like that too. I promise to do whatever I can to make you feel like you're soaring. I promise to hold your hand through thick and thin. Pete, you bring out the best in me. I promise to do everything I can to bring out the best in you too."

She sighs with relief.

The officiant turns to me. "Peter Steele, do you take Jessica James to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Tom hands the rings to the officiant. Then the officiant is handing me the ring.

I slide it on Jess's finger. "I do."

He turns to her. "Do you, Jessica James, take Peter Steele to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

She smiles as she slides the ring onto my finger. "I do."

"You may now kiss."

I kiss her.

I kiss her like her lips are oxygen. Because they are. She's my oxygen. She's my everything.

And now, she's my wife.

***

A
fter an hour of pictures, we join the cocktail and cake reception. Without booze, the drinks are mostly sugar water, but nobody is complaining.

The coordinator turns on the music and announces our first dance. "This will be Pete and Jess's first dance as husband and wife."

Billy Joel flows through the speakers.

Jess turns bright red. Her eyes meet mine. "You didn't."

"I did."

She laughs as she slides her arms around my waist. It's hard slow dancing to
Piano Man
, but we make it work. It's especially hard telling my hands not to roam over every inch of her—that fucking dress is divine—but I keep things chaste.

The song switches to another Billy Joel hit,
We Didn't Start the Fire
. Then someone is tapping me on the shoulder.

Jess's dad. "Can I cut in, Son?"

"Of course."

Her eyes catch mine. She mouths,
You did this?

I nod.

She smiles at me. Then she's dancing with her father. I hang back enough for all the guys to congratulate me. I appreciate the sentiment, but my attention is still on Jess.

My angel.

My wife.

Fuck, it's unreal.

This time, the song switches to
Happy Together
by The Turtles. The officiant rolls out our cake.

Jess claps her hands together. "Already?"

"Why wait?" I slide my arm around her waist. This time, I allow my hand a moment to soak in the curve of her hip. God damn, that dress. I love it so much I'll have to restrain myself from tearing it off.

Everyone gathers around the cake. There's another round of congratulations and everything was beautiful and all that shit about how we're a perfect couple.

It all blurs into white noise. Jess still has all my attention. Her expression is still blissful.

She looks at the cake curiously.

I lean in to whisper, "It's carrot. Because you love vegetables."

She laughs. "I'm not sure cake ever counts as a vegetable."

"Sure it does."

She cuts one side of the slice. I cut the other. Together, we scoop the slide onto a ceramic plate. There are already two forks laid out for us.

We each cut off a bite of cake then we hook our arms and we feed each other the dessert.

It's good cake. Sweet, rich. It tastes like carrot, spice, and cream cheese.

She smiles. "Okay, I like vegetable cake."

"I know, baby."

"You know everything?"

"No." I lean in to whisper, "But I know a hell of a lot about what you like."

––––––––

J
ess

The world goes quiet as the elevator doors press together. The silence is bliss. Weddings are exhausting.

"You tired, baby?" Pete slides his arms around my waist. In one swift movement, he pins me to the elevator wall. His lips go to my ear. "You can't sleep until I'm done with you."

Despite my total lack of energy- "I have no plans to sleep tonight."

He chuckles. "You don't think I'll wear you out?"

I have no doubt he'll wear me out, but it's more fun to tease him back.

In my towering heels, I'm almost as tall as he is. I press my cheek against his, reveling in the feel of skin on skin as I bring my lips to his ear.

Damn, what was I about to say? His skin feels good against mine. It's distracting. Right now, all these clothes are in the way of more skin on skin contact. He's in his suit. I'm in my wedding dress.

It still doesn't feel real. I hold my left hand so my ring can catch the light. There's my engagement ring, and under it, my wedding band.

"We're married," I whisper.

"We are." He presses his lips to my neck.

"You're my husband."

He kisses his way to my shoulder. "You're my wife."

"Fuck, this is the best dirty talk I've ever heard. Say something filthy."

"Want to lay my wife on the bed and pry her legs apart, so I can taste her cunt."

"Yes." Damn, I'm on fire. "Do it again."

He sinks his teeth into my skin. Soft at first then harder. "Been waiting to bite you until you were my wife."

"Mmm." I reach for something to steady me as he presses his hips against mine. The dress is a thick fabric. I can't feel any of the angles of his body. Only the weight of it. Only the sharpness of his teeth, the softness of his lips and tongue. "You didn't want to give me a hickey."

"Yeah." He sucks on my neck. "You look like an angel."

"Aren't angels asexual?"

"They have immortal bodies. Doesn't mean they can't fuck like rabbits." He drags his lips up my neck and over my chin. Then he's kissing me hard. "You look fucking divine." He slides his hands over my hips and ass. "Most beautiful bride in the history of the world."

The elevator dings as we arrive at our floor. Thank God. I need us out of these clothes.

I need my husband naked.

I need my husband inside me.

God damn, those words are marvelous.

Pete slides his hand around my waist and leads me down the hallway. We pass a group of college girls decked in cocktail dresses and heels.

They squeal, "Congratulations!" as they pass without a single word about celebrity.

"For once, I get all the attention," I say.

"You can keep it. Just keep that dress. We can go out as newlyweds every week." He gives me a long, slow once-over. "Fuck going out. We'll stay in as newlyweds."

The man is wise.

He stops in front of a corner room. I do a quick scan of the hallway. There are no doors for forty feet in either direction. This must be a hell of a suite.

Pete pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. He slides his hands under my ass. "You want to do this right?"

It takes me a second to catch on. What can I say? I'm tired and all my thoughts are of him taking off that suit. He wants to carry me over the threshold.

A smile curves over my lips. "Let's."

I slide my arms around his upper back. He scoops me, holding me against his chest. It's not the first time he's carried me. Not the second, or the third, or the twelfth, but it's the best time.

I squeal with glee as we cross the threshold. He kicks the door closed then sets me down.

The room is huge.

It's the size of our house—it's always been ours, but now the state of California will recognize it as ours too. The foyer opens to a wide main area with a kitchen, a dining room, a den, and a balcony with a Jacuzzi.

"You like it?" He places his body behind mine and presses his lips to my neck.

"I love it."

"I love you." He drags his fingers over my shoulders and upper back.

His fingers find the corset lacing of my dress. He pulls the bow undone then gets to work unlacing the dress.

"I love you too." I tilt my neck, offering it to him.

Words are great. Don't get me wrong. Most days, I live for words. When I'm not studying, hanging out with Pete, or getting some kind of exercise, I'm reading.

But right now, I don't want words. I want his lips on my body. I want his hands on my body. I want his body on my body.

I want him. Period.

He drags his lips over my neck until his mouth is hovering over my ear. "I
do
want to feel my wife come on my face."

"Mmm."

"Want to taste your first orgasm as a married woman." He loosens the lacing enough to push my dress to my hips.

I shimmy out of it. I'm desperate to be out of these clothes now, but my husband is patient.

He's seamless about unhooking my longline bra and peeling it off my torso. He's just as slow with the crinoline.

Pete slides his hands under my ass, scoops me into his arms, and holds me against his chest.

He carries me to the couch and lays me flat on my back. I'm in nothing but my heels and my thong, and he's still wearing all those clothes.

His eyes pass over me slowly. Then he's undoing his tie and tossing it aside. Then the jacket. The shoes.

He drops to his knees. His fingers trail over my ankle. He unbuckles my shoe and pulls it off my foot. Then he moves to my left foot and does the same.

Pete takes his time dragging his fingers up my legs. Those hands... damn. I'm on fire. Every brush of his skin against mine makes me needier, hungrier.

He traces the outline of my thong until he gets to the crystals that spell
I do
. "Jess." He looks up at me. "Fuck, that's perfect. Too bad I have to destroy it." He leans down to press his lips to my hip.

Then he's got the side of my thong between his teeth. I laugh and squeal as he pulls the panties all the way to my feet.

He tosses the underwear aside.

"Take off more clothes," I breathe.

"Which ones?" He raises a brow.

"All of them."

He smiles. "Anything for my wife."

Fuck, I love the way it sounds on those luscious lips of his.

The man remains a tease. He takes his time undoing the buttons of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Then his hands are on the buckle of his belt. He undoes it, tosses the leather thing aside, and steps out of his slacks.

My husband is wearing only black boxers and black dress socks. He motions to the socks and raises a brow.

I laugh. "Very sexy."

He sits on the couch, next to my feet, and pulls off his socks. "Been thinking about getting you out of that dress all night." His hand curls around my ankle. He drags it up to my knee then pushes my knee off the edge of the couch. "Been thinking about tasting you all fucking night."

He presses his lips to the inside of my knee. Then he's dragging his lips up my thigh. He moves faster than usual, groaning against my skin, digging his fingers into my flesh.

Then he's there, his mouth on me. Damn, that feels good. I let one leg hang off the couch. I drape the other over his shoulder.

I haven't got a hint of patience today. I need to come. I need to come on my husband's face.

God damn, it's so romantic.

I rock my hips to match his movements. He groans with appreciation as his hands go to my ass. He holds me, guides me, licks every fucking inch of me.

Pleasure pushes me toward an orgasm. The man is fucking amazing with his mouth. And he's my husband.

That makes it better.

It makes it so much better.

He licks me up and down again and again. He does it until I'm close enough I'm dizzy.

"Please, Pete." I dig one hand into his hair. "Make me come."

His mouth closes around my clit. He sucks softly. Then harder. Harder. Harder.