Bucking tradition and daring bad luck, we stayed together last night. With the dawn light barely breaking through the light fog covering the ground outside the house, I’m going to risk bad luck again, waking McKayla up in a very special way one last time before she’s my wife. I know Brad will be here soon enough to start getting McKayla prepped for our big day, and I want to make sure we both get our chance to enjoy ourselves.

Carefully, I pull the covers down her body, not wanting to disturb her yet, and assume my position, low on her body. Easing her legs apart, I take a moment to marvel at the sight in front of me, the smooth, silky lips of her pussy peeking out from the cleft between her legs.

Grinning to myself, I keep my eyes on her face, gently touching my tongue to her pussy, licking it slowly from bottom to top, spreading my tongue to cover as much area as I can. The first couple of strokes don’t wake her. She’s a remarkably deep sleeper, although she moans a bit and her hips move in response.

I feel her tight inhale of breath when she does rouse, and she reaches down, running her fingers through my now shorter and soon-to-be styled hair. “Mmm, good morning to you too.”

She grabs my hair, pulling me to her harder as her hips find the rhythm she wants. I eagerly comply, my cock growing rock hard against the mattress as McKayla fucks my face and takes control the way we’ve become comfortable with. I growl, the vibrations low in my throat as I slide my hands under her ass, cupping the voluptuous cheeks and helping her move even as I bury my tongue deeper inside her.

“Oh, fuck . . .” she moans as I slurp, drinking in her essence until she’s grinding her pussy against my lips. I pull back slightly to focus my tongue on her clit, little flicks as fast as I can until she convulses, the spasms rocking her whole body as she comes. “Oh, God. Evan!”

Before she’s even done shaking, I flip us, bringing her over to straddle my hips the same way she straddles my bike when we ride. McKayla giggles, reaching down and taking my cock in her hand. “I get to ride the hog, huh?”

I thrust my hips up, plunging my cock inside her to feel the flutters still wracking her tight pussy. “You’re damn right, Princess. Ride me. Fuck, ride me.”

She sinks down, and I know that even though I demanded it of her, I can’t hold back and let her do it alone. My hips buck wildly beneath her, driving my cock up into her body and meeting her stroke for stroke. I pull her chest down to mine, lightly tugging her hair back so she looks up at me, and I cover her lips with a deep kiss.

McKayla slithers her body against me, our nipples rubbing together as our tongues swirl and duel, my hands running lovingly through her freshly pink hair, our hips falling into that perfect harmony that we have with each other.

Holding her tight to me, I tremble, knowing I can’t last any longer. “Fuck, Princess, I love you.”

She falls over the edge with me, gasping out. “I love you too,” she cries as her pussy clamps around my cock and I fill her with my seed. We ride out the moment, matching smiles on our faces. “Hmm . . . that’s a great way to wake up. Do you know what I dreamed of last night?”

“Waking up to exactly this?” I tease, and McKayla shakes her head, her eyes serious. “What, love?”

“That this . . . that I’d have a baby in my stomach soon. Brad could tease me about getting fat, and I could try out all sorts of stretch pants. Silly, I know, but . . .”

“But exactly what I want too,” I murmur, kissing her lips again. “Soon, my love. For now, though, I think we need to go get ready. If we’re late, you know Brad’s going to go nuclear.”

“He did tell me that a sleepover the night before the wedding was a surefire way to be late. I don’t care if we’re late or not, though. It’s not like they can start without us.”

I watch the sway of her ass as she disappears into the bathroom, my cock stirring even if it was just where it wants to be. But that ass, though . . .

Before she can shut the door, I hop up to stand in the doorway. “I need a shower too. Together would be faster.”

I love her laugh, but damned if she doesn’t shut the door in my face anyway. “No way, mister. We’ll get sidetracked and never get ready.”

“And tell me why that’s a problem?”

She opens the door a tiny bit, one eye visible through the crack. “I need to get ready so I can strut down that aisle and become your wife, asshole. Besides, Brad would kick in the door and drop dead of a jealousy-induced heart attack seeing what I’ve got for the rest of my life. Now leave me be.”

Best reason I’ve ever heard, so I slap the doorframe, agreeing with her, giving a playful growl. “Then hurry it up because I’m ready for a fucking suit too! I gotta shave . . . my balls!”

“Don’t you dare!”

* * *

“You okay?” TJ asks quietly as the organist plays. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Thank God that thing is tie-less.”

“Yeah, well . . .” I mumble for the hundredth time. My brother’s getting a kick out of this, I can tell. This whole thing is just so us. Sure, we’ve got an organist, but for most of the music, we’ve also got an electric guitar player, and other than me, nobody’s wearing a suit, with TJ even borrowing a motorcycle jacket from me. Earl’s somehow squeezed himself into his old dress uniform, although I’m wondering if he’s going to pop one of those buttons and put someone’s eye out with the damn thing.

“Just relax, Bro, she ain’t going anywhere,” TJ reminds me as the organist finishes. The guitar player takes over with The Wedding March, and the doors to the church open.

The first thing everyone sees is Brad, who insisted on being the ‘flower bitch’ and looks like only Brad can with his hair styled into some swooping shape that looks like it came straight out of a cartoon and wearing a white . . . I’m gonna be generous and call it a kilt . . . with a pink silk shirt. He prances, tossing handfuls of rose petals in the air. “Fabulous, fabulous, I’m so glad to see you all.”

Rose follows him, dressed a lot more like you’d expect a bridesmaid, and McKayla appears a moment later like a pinup fantasy vision at the back of the sanctuary. Everyone gasps at the stylized satin poured over her curves, dipping low in the front and skating tightly to below her knees where it flares out into a wide pool of light pink on the floor around her. It’s daring, it’s sexier than anything this church normally has, and it’s totally my Princess.

She walks toward me, her eyes never leaving mine. She looks at my suit and her eyes say all I’ll ever need to know as every dirty thought she has races across her face. I doubt that she’s going to let me wear this thing ten seconds after we get into the limo.

I spread my feet a little wider, crossing my arms in front of me, knowing that I look imposing and that she loves it. I can see her breathing pick up, her tits rising dangerously close to the neckline as she comes to stand beside me.

I can barely keep track of the ceremony, vaguely noticing that the priest keeps darting glances at McKayla’s cleavage. I’m not upset. I’m amused. Someone’s going to need a little extra prayer before they deliver the sermon tomorrow.

I take McKayla’s hands when it’s time for the vows. We go the traditional route, simply because we both agreed that what we really want to promise can’t be said in a church. After we say ‘I do’, I lift McKayla’s veil. “Well, Princess, you ready?”

“You’re damn right,” she says, yanking me close for a deeper kiss than I think anyone’s ever done at a wedding. “My man.”

“Princess . . .” I murmur, my voice deep and growly with emotion as I tilt her chin up toward me and kiss her again, ignoring the polite cough from the priest and TJ’s low laughter, because I know that McKayla’s saved me.

Maybe I saved her once from some mental jerk, but in the big picture of life . . . she’s the one who saved me. She’s the one who let me emerge from my long night, the one who’s held me when the ghosts still want to talk, or stays up when I have to pace the floor until they’re now gone.

And I’m so fucking glad. Because I’m ready.

I’m ready for whatever wild adventures my Princess has in store for me . . . right after the reception when we head out for our honeymoon on my bike that I know TJ and Earl are going to tie a shitload of tin cans on ribbons to. I can’t stop them from that.

But nobody’s going to stop us from taking the honeymoon we want. The one we decided not to plan, just to pack a few things and go wherever the road takes us.

We’ll be back. Eventually.