Julia harshly balls the fabric of my tuxedo shirt and drops her head backwards. “Fuck, I’m so close.” She brazenly bucks into my pumping palm. “Così vicino…”
A hungry growl leaps off my tongue. “Fuck, I love it when you talk to me in Italian.”
My fiancée moans louder without care or concern for the limo driver on the other side of the tinted glass partition. I increase my speed and curl my fingers slightly upward, knowing just the right spot to tap. The extra depth instantly combines with the constant friction of my caresses to her clit. On a deep gasp, she begins to uncontrollably claw at my chest as she starts to come undone.
Damn, this shit never gets old.
Or stale.
Or any less easy to resist.
Her thighs clamp together on a window breaking scream.
Under any other circumstances, I’d hike this dress up and replace my fingers with my dick.
Not today.
Not literally minutes from the most important moment in our lives.
“Wyatt,” she breathlessly begs, pulling my face to hers. “Please.”
“Sweet Cheeks…”
“Per favore.”
My cock thumps against the zipper of my pants in protest.
Her plea in Italian is usually impossible to resist.
We’re talking late to cooking for royalty level of impossible.
I let my thumb brush her signature red lips before shaking my head slowly.
She sticks her bottom one out childishly seconds prior to me removing my hand from underneath the thick layers of tulle.
The limo comes to a halt, and I lick away the evidence of our premarital fun. We hastily hustle out the back of our limo directly in front of the infamous A Little White Wedding Chapel in Vegas.
Getting to this point feels like it’s taken forever. It’s only been a few months, but after all the trauma we went through the only thing I wanted was to make her officially mine. Build our lives together and return to spending the days laughing instead of looking over our shoulders. While we both have difficulty sleeping from time to time the therapy has helped. We occasionally talk to a therapist together who helps reaffirm the situation was not our fault. This was legally declared as well when the police ruled it as pure self-defense against aggravated stalking. Our therapist also helps remind us that regardless of how many precautions we take life will always contain hidden risks. Julia has returned to taking a self-defense class once a week. However, unlike before when she took them alone, Ainsley, Ryann, and a slightly pregnant Meena attend with her. We’re all thankful they’re not afraid to protect themselves yet loathe the idea of them having to. We’ve started to use that time to either take the kids to do something together or kick back for a couple beers like we used to.
Things between Pax and I are definitely improving even if they’re not completely repaired. He still occasionally has trouble removing my past behaviors out of the equation but is getting better about it. He’s managed to stop treating her like “Julez” and started to appreciate her more as Julia, the sassy, whiskey drinking, scantily dressed, executive who is head of an entire division at the largest lingerie company in the world. Her proposal went through as did her request to divide her time between working remotely, typically from our apartment in Highland, and Paris. We have a beautiful roof top apartment there that I always keep stocked with pastries. She occasionally travels with me, but most of the time I try to take jobs that don’t require me to stay away from her longer than two days. Partially out of fear.
Partially out of preference to coming home to her every night.
I’m working on the former despite how difficult it is.
Our fingers link together, and we exchange warm grins.
My eyes steal one last look at her in the ballgown that’s concealing her lime green and gray kicks that mirror mine.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Her brown complexion is glowing.
Her hair pinned up in a perfect ballerina bun.
Her lips covered in my favorite color.
Her hand, the hand holding mine, the hand I can’t wait to put a band on, sporting a bright red rock to match the shade I love to see smeared on her skin.
She looks perfect.
She is perfect.
Perfect for me.
Perfect for the life I wanna build.
Perfect for the man I’m working so damn hard to become.
I push the door open to grant us entrance, and Julia blows me a kiss of gratitude. Just on the other side of the door, she snatches her hand away to catch her gasp.
Pax warmly states, “Surprise.”
The rest of our friends shout it at the top of their lungs in unison. “Surprise!”
Julia giggles and squeals in excitement. The abundance of joy she turns to me with swells my chest with pride.
This is better than the original plan.
This allows us to embrace our past as well as our future. To acknowledge the people who loved us before we loved each other. To appreciate the impact they’ve had in our present while taking the first steps towards a brighter future.
This allows for Wyatt, the man Julia never fails to see, to proclaim all of that in front of the only family that matters to him just as it allows for Julia, the woman he worships at the feet of, to do the same.
This will be our most memorable moment yet…
And I couldn’t be happier.