Wet (Diamondback MC 4)

“Love you, Monroe,” I tell her. “Glad you could admit that. I know how hard that was for you.” My head dips to whisper those last words across the inside of her thighs.

“Now you’re just gloating. Remember, turnabout is fair play.” The teasing temptress comes out. My lips wrap around her clit. One of her hands drops to mine on her waist. I use my other hand to slide the halo cut red sapphire engagement ring on her finger. I don’t stop using my mouth on her pussy. My hand locks with hers, pulling my other one away from her body, but my goal is to get Monroe off. That way, I can slide deep inside her and she can see the ring on her finger.

“Hunter, please.” Two of my fingers work their way inside her, making that motion I know will have her coming in no time. Add this in with the way my teeth scrape against her clit, my tongue lapping at all of her sweet cum, and she flies apart. Earth shattering and ear splitting. I don’t stop, not until her body is done shaking.

“You ready to get married.” Her eyes pop open. I slide my thumb along the ring.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful, Hunter.” I figured she’d give me shit about not asking. Not Monroe though. I never can guess what she’ll do next. I climb between her legs, my cock gliding along the lips of her pussy.

“Fuckin’ glad. Now, you better get to makin’ plans,” I tell her before kissing her and then screwing her until we’re both breathless.

Epilogue

Monroe

Six Months Later

I have everything a girl could ever dream of. Earlier today, my father walked me down the aisle, giving my hand to Hunter. Of course, he had to threaten he’d cut his hands off if he ever hurt me. As if that would ever happen anyways. We’ve had maybe one or two spats, the first being about Jeremy, which I was a complete and utter bonehead about. The other was him leaving dirty clothes all over the place. Our house, which luckily, after Hunter showed me the plans, only needed minor adjustments in the kitchen area. He doesn’t cook and I do, so a bigger refrigerator and a double oven was a must for me. The hard part about waiting for the house to be finished? We were either in our room at the clubhouse or in a small travel trailer by the house. Things have definitely been difficult to say the least, when you’re practically on top of each other, and not in the between-the-sheets sort of way.

“Trouble.” Hunter’s lips graze across the nape of my neck. Right now, we’re enjoying the reception here at the clubhouse. I’m in my vintage wedding dress that has cap sleeves with a lace overlay from top to bottom. My neck is bare. I still wore my combat boots, but this time they’re white instead of my usual black. When my father walked me down the aisle, seeing Hunter in his black button-down long sleeve shirt, Diamondback cut, black jeans, and motorcycle boots, it was like walking towards perfection. His hair was slicked back, five o’clock shadow showing, beautiful eyes locked on me, and a smile only meant for me, I nearly fainted.

“Hello, husband.” I turn around in his arms. Hunter’s hands move to my lower hips, pulling me in closer.

“Wanna dance with you, Monroe, as my wife.” We didn’t have a traditional wedding. No one stood up for me or Hunter. Our flower girl, though, she stole the show in only the way Henley ever could. We both couldn’t decide who to have in our wedding party, so we said fuck it and did things how we wanted to.

“I’d like that. Are you happy?” My hands slide up his arms, going until they’re draped around his neck. A soft Southern rock ballad plays in the background.

“Fuck yeah, gonna be happier once I strip you out of this dress, take all those damn bobby pins out of your hair, and have those locks of yours fisted in my hands as you take my cock.”

“Hunter,” I moan. His leg slides between mine, giving me the barest hint of what’s to come.

“Too bad we still gotta cut the cake, or we’d be going home.” That’s something else that happened right before we said our vows. The house is finally completed. There’s no furniture besides a master bedroom set we ordered online. Both of our schedules have been slammed, his with the club and the house, mine with work and the wedding. Which leads me to a surprise of my own.

“I have something to tell you, well, two somethings.” I lean up on my toes, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“What’s that? You’re ready to leave and let me have your tight, wet cunt as my wife?”