Page 42 of Embracing Us

Chapter eighteen

Max

As I stand looking in the full-length mirror in my room, I glance at my son lying on his playmat in his nappy. Neither of us are dressed yet; I want to leave it until the last minute to reduce the chance of any baby-sick incidents before the ceremony. Since I woke at five this morning, both of us have remained in our underwear. I had a full English breakfast delivered to my room, which I enjoyed immensely, as Jackson devoured his bottle. Now, we are both sated, happy, and ready for the day ahead.

My previous night’s sleep wasn’t the best. When Linda isn’t in my bed, the nightmares continue to return. They haunt me between the snatches of uninterrupted sleep. Not having her there to wrap my arm around, hold her breast in the palm of my hand whilst the horrifying images engulf my brain, is torture. She thinks I saved her and gave her hope. She will never understand the strength she gives me. How even on the darkest days, when I think back to what happened, she and my son are the reasons I fight to move forward.

The clock tells me there is one hour before we meet, and I swear to always be there. That she and I will be bonded until death takes one of us from the other. I had expected to feel nervous today; it worried me that perhaps uncertainty would rear its head for the first time. It hasn’t, and the day has brought nothing but excitement and extremely slow passing minutes as I wait.

*

Yesterday, after we attended the registry office as required to have our paperwork rubber stamped, we walked back in the direction of the pub where we were meeting the others. As we passed a small lane on our right, Linda pulled me through the archway that highlighted its entrance. Unlike the main street, no one was to be seen, only a few stray cats wandering around. At the bottom of the lane, a building sat on its own. The heavy blue door slightly ajar, Linda tugged me in its direction.

“What are you doing, Beautiful?” I said with a chuckle.

“Granting your wish,” she replied, her voice husky. “Giving us some private time.”

As we stepped through the blue door, we found ourselves in a small bar. Little red booths lined the walls. We approached the heavy wooden counter, pressing the bell for service. An elderly man appeared from nowhere, popping up from behind the wood. We both took a step back in shock.

“What can I get thee?” he asked, in a strong cockney accent.

“Two pints,” Linda replied.

“Pints?” I questioned, and she nodded.

“We are in little Britain. We may as well act like it.” She leant in close as the barman poured our drinks. “You go find the most private booth. I’ll bring these over.” Her words were filled with sexual promise. I was both excited and nervous about what she had planned.

“Did you know about this place?” I asked her. She answered only with a knowing smile.

Leaving her at the counter, I walked down the room to the furthest table in the corner. As I glanced to my left, the room extended beyond the bar and was much bigger than I first realised. A booth in this hidden area would be perfect for what I hoped my future wife had planned.

Within moments, Linda stood behind me, holding two-pint glasses filled to the brim with amber liquid. The white head bobbed on top then spilled down the sides. Both of us watched the foam trickle down the smooth glass. “That will be your cock in a few minutes,” she whispered darkly. “I’ll enjoy that drink too.” My gaze focused on this forward, brazen woman who I love with every molecule of my body. When we met, she was nervous but enjoyed sex. Now, she initiates it, surprising me with incredible experiences. “Slide into the booth,” she said, taking my glass and placing both of them on the table. She moved to sit next to me, turning her whole body in my direction.

I watched with awe as she unbuttoned the pale blue sleeveless shirt she wore, exposing her breasts. No underwear was obviously the trend for today. My eyes looked over her shoulder. “He’s away to change a beer keg,” she told me. “We have five minutes, at least.” I smirked at the comment.

“Five minutes? That’s all you think I’m good for?”

“That’s all I need when I’m with you,” she responded. “And right now, I need you.” She straddled me as her fingers fumbled with my buttons. My cock sprang free, hard and ready. With every word past her lips, I wanted her more. Not giving either of us time to think, she rose up and took me, sliding down onto my cock with force. Her pussy spasmed, struggling to adjust to the intrusion. She flexed her hips then wiggled from side to side. “Sit there and let me fuck you,” she purred, her breasts level with my eye line.

At first, she moved slowly up and down my length. I felt every inch of her flesh expanding, contracting, taking hold. Her rhythm increased rapidly. She sunk her nails into my upper arms as she moved. I was treated to the sight of her tits bouncing happily before me as she rode my cock. Fuck, it was both hot and unexpected. Utter perfection. A euphoric moment to add to our collection.

A rattle from the bar told us other patrons had arrived, the sound of voices filling the room. People, a lot of them. “Shit,” I hissed, “Linda, stop.”

“No,” she snapped, continuing to work her hips. Each thrust harder than the last. She leant down and ran her tongue around the edge of my ear. “Shoot up inside me,” she said, decisively. “Let go.” As if under her command, my body responded, giving her what she wanted. She sunk down, pushing me as far inside as she could whilst continuing to rub her clit against my skin. “Good boy,” she whispered then kissed me fiercely. Her dark curls fallen forward over her forehead, her chest turned the most stunning shade of pink. All aroused and confident, she looked delectable. Hell, I have a woman who loves to take control. I am one lucky man.

Footsteps caused the old wooden floorboards to creak noisily. She quickly buttoned her shirt and readjusted her skirt, before moving to sit at my side. We each lifted our pint glasses, clinking them together in celebration as the group of men wandered past the end of our booth.

“To marriage,” she announced.

“To the future Mrs Gordon,” I told her. “To the woman who made my world complete.” Her delicate lips twisted into a shy smile. “And who rides my cock like a vixen. The perfect wife to be.”

*

Jackson’s gurgles snap my attention back to him. He promptly spews up his bottle of milk from earlier. “See, this is why you aren’t dressed yet,” I tell him. “And neither am I. Your mother would kill both of us if we turn up at this ceremony with stained shirts.” His eyes watch intently as I talk, lifting his small body and cleaning him with the soft towel I laid out in preparation. “Shall we get our glad rags on, little man? Today, I’m making your mummy mine.”

Our ceremony is taking place on the sunset terrace which overlooks the marina below. I arrive dressed with my son in my arms. The registrar stands at the balustrade next to a small table covered with a cream tablecloth. A vase of blush roses decorates the space. She’s wearing a simple navy trouser suit with a soft-pink shirt. As I approach, she turns to face me. I’m surprised to see she is younger than I expected. Her sleek grey bobbed hair suggested age; her face says she is no older than fifty.

“Good afternoon. You must be Max,” she says, extending a hand. “And this young gentleman must be Jackson. Aren’t you the most handsome little devil?” she coos. Wide green eyes blink at her in response.

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