Mr and Mrs (Promises 1)

“They were holding me back.”

“Hmm?” I say, looking up at him, and he nods to the wallet still in my hand. I slide the card back inside and flip back to the picture. In the picture, my blonde hair glints in the sunlight, strands of honey and caramel softly ruffled by the breeze. I look nice there, but right now I look like a freaking mess. My husband, however, always seems to look like perfection, except for when I see the worry flash across his face.

“You went down to take pictures in your dress in the peach grove before the ceremony. I tried to go down and make you come back up.”

I laugh. “Why?” I look up at him, puzzled.

“It was taking too long, and I wanted to get married,” he grumbles, like he’s still annoyed at the idea. It makes me smile.

“How long were we together before we got married?”

“Three months.”

Now I really laugh. “You make it sound like it was forever.” My whole body shakes, and the scowl he had on his face moments ago fades into a smile, a dimple on his cheek coming out. I lean up and kiss it, and I feel his whole body still.

“It’s your dimple, you always say. Only you can make it come out.”

“Maybe I’m remembering. I saw it and I just had to kiss it.”

“You always did.” The smile is gone, and a look I can’t read crosses his face. I’ve caught it a few times now. In that moment I really hate that I can’t remember. Would I know that look?

“Do,” I correct. “I always do kiss it.” Because I will. I want to make it come back now so I can do it again.

“It was forever. Waiting those three months.”

The elevator finally dings and Phillip exits, still keeping me in his arms. He heads right down a long hallway and walks through a set of open double doors. There is a giant bed in the center of the room and Phillip deposits me on it. He starts stripping me of my clothes.

“I didn’t even want to wait a second after the first time I saw you. So three months felt like an eternity,” he says, pulling my sandals off, then going for the loose-fitting pajamas pants I have on. My shirt comes up a little, and he freezes, his eyes going to the little baby bump. I can’t stop myself from touching it.

He leans in, kissing it, then his kisses start to travel lower.

“Phillip.” The word comes out breathy as I feel his mouth over my mound through the thin fabric of my simple white panties. I let my legs drop open more. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to make room for my giant of a husband. His hand comes up, pushing the fabric out of the way, exposing me to him.

“I should let you rest, make you something to eat, but I—”

“Yes.” The word comes out as a moan. The need in his voice makes him sound like he can’t go another minute without tasting me or he might die.

His mouth descends on me, hungry and fierce. There’s no softness or build-up. He goes straight for my clit, sucking it into his mouth. I instantly cum like my body has been sitting on edge for months, and it only makes Phillip wilder, eating at me faster.

“I need another. Give it to me. It’s mine,” he growls, before going back to my clit, consuming every drop of my first orgasm, consuming me. I give him what he demands, coming so hard I have to close my eyes as I jerk against his face.

When I finally open my eyes, I see I’ve been moved to the center of the bed.

“Sleep. I’ll make you something to eat.” He kisses me, and I taste myself on him, but he pulls away far too quickly. I want more. I want the weight of his body on top of mine, but he’s already walking out the bedroom doors, and I’m alone in bed. The sight gives me a stir of something familiar.

Chapter Nine

Molly

I let out a squeal as I’m grabbed, turned, and pushed softly up against the wall outside our bathroom. Phillip’s big body cages me. The morning light floods the bare white walls of the bedroom and my husband’s face is illuminated by the golden glow. He looks almost savage, his hair wild. I probably had a hand in that as I’d twisted my fingers in his hair not so long ago. I’d woken with him fully wrapped around me like a second skin, one hand protectively on my belly, the other cupping my sex, his face buried in my neck.

The last thing I remembered was his mouth on me before I passed out. I had a vague recollection of him saying he was going to make me something to eat, but I must have slept through the rest of the day and night, only waking because I had a crazy need to go to the bathroom. The baby was already pushing on my bladder, or maybe it was the fact that I’d slept twelve hours.

But what has me catching my breath is the wild look in his eyes. Almost like he’s a predator and I’m his prey. He’d caught me easily, not that I would give him a fight. The look is intense, and I wonder if he always looks like this. I also wonder if he always keeps his facial hair a little long like this or if it’s just because of all the time we spent at the hospital, when he refused to leave my side to even shave.

I reach up, running my fingers through it. I like it. He leans into my touch, his eyes falling closed like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt in his life.

“I thought you were gone,” he finally says in a gruff voice.

“I’m right here.” I try to reassure him. “Just had to go to the bathroom.”

His forehead drops to mine, and we just stand there for a few moments until his hands finally drop from the wall, landing on my waist. Then he does something I don’t except. He falls to his knees in front of me, taking me by surprise.