Page 1 of Entwined

Although I’ve asked her countless times and have never been crushed by an actual “no” — to which I’d laugh, then redden her curvy ass, because we both know she will be my wife one day — I am always devastatingly put-off with a lovingly said, but still infuriating to hear, “not yet,” or “soon.”

I want a teary-eyed, breathless yet resounding, “yes!” I’m tired of waiting. And everyone should know by now, especially my baby herself, that when it comes to Laney Jo Walker — I am far from a patient man. As far as you can possibly get. I’d bring in a minister to marry us while she slept if I could, but apparently there’s some ethical, legal, or both, bullshit rule that the bride and her witness must be cognitive, fancy word for “awake,” when vows are exchanged. I checked.

All our friends are either married, or engaged with set wedding dates. Every. Fucking. Couple. Except us. Eats my ass so damn bad when I think of the tuxes I’ve tried on and rehearsals I’ve endured, more times than a serial Polygamist, and there’s still not a ring on my Disney’s finger. Tests me to the very tempting point of wanting to abandon all sense of reason and just start punching shit.

“I’m ready.” Speaking of Disney… out she walks, stealing the breath I never seem to ever wholly get back where she’s concerned. “How do I look?”

“Exquisite, as always,” I let the awe in my voice go unchecked as I move toward her. “I love you in any color, you know this.” I haul her flush against me and brush her long, blonde hair off one side of her neck. “But there’s something especially captivating about you in red,” I hum upon the revealed flesh.

“Thank you,” she sighs, “for the compliment and the dress, I love it. But,” she gently pushes me away with a tiny snicker, “I’m starving, and I know you too well. You’re like a bull when you see red. So let’s hurry up and head to dinner before this dress is in shreds on the floor and my stomach starts growling louder than you will be if we stay.”

“As you wish,” I easily agree, far bigger plans at stake tonight, and escort her to dinner.

“It’s so beautiful here. Thank you again for bringing me.” Her tone is wispy, as though enchanted by the ambience and view; to which I’d have to agree.

I’d chosen Emerald Isle for our celebratory getaway, and standing here on the pier, under the moonlight, with the soft serenade of rippling water and the love of my life in my arms, only one other thing could complete my true happiness.

I release my hold on her to pull the box from the inside pocket of my jacket and bend to one knee. Gazing up at her, the moon’s iridescent glow casting a fitting halo around her, I send up a silent prayer that this will be the time I get my yes.

“Laney, baby, I know I’ve asked you—”

“Fifteen times,” she whispers her bemused interruption.

I laugh. “All right then. I know I’ve asked fifteen times, but I’m asking again. I don’t think I can live another day without your promise to be mine, forever. I need to know, more than my next breath, that I will have my beautiful, sexy, witty, strong, determined Disney by my side every day of my life. Will you please, finally, truly complete me, us, and agree to become my wife?”

The brimming tears in her eyes glisten, as if a reflection, in the night’s perfect lighting, and as only my baby can, she thinks not of the elegant gown she’s wearing and drops to her knees to join me. Classic Laney — decorum be damned. I love that about her.

She takes my free hand and lays it over her heart, her voice thick with emotion when she speaks the words that will eternally change my life. “I told you that once I’d accomplished all the goals I had for myself, that I had to do by myself, I’d marry you. I’ve graduated college, and have my dream coaching job now, both earned by me, my hard work. So Caveman, tonight, my answer is yes. I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

I hope she didn’t want to save the box, ‘cause in the delirium of my long-awaited fulfillment, I have no idea where I tossed that fucker once I pulled the ring out. I slide the white gold on her finger and try to say “thank you,” which comes out a feral growl of “mine” of its own instinctual volition, then hoist her in my arms and stand.

“Babe,” she giggles, “we didn’t kiss, take a picture or enjoy the moment. What are you doing?”

Besides practically running to our room? “Oh, I enjoyed the moment, immensely. And I’m damn sure gonna kiss ya. Everywhere. Do your picture thing later. You just agreed to marry me, baby. You’re lucky I’m taking you to the room first and not already fucking you right out in the open.”

“Such a brute,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck. “My brute. I love you, Dane.”

“Love you too, so damn much. Get the door,” I grunt, impatiently waiting as she keys us inside, then kick it closed behind us. “When?” I ask gruffly as I place her on her feet, trying to spare the dress I’d like to see her in again, but precariously close to saying “fuck it.”

“When what?” She turns for me… ah, zips down the side.

“Date. Wedding. When?” I hurriedly strip her down to… fuck, a black thong and garter set. So damn sexy. “These are staying on,” I grate out my command, running my fingers up her thighs, around the tops of the garters and finally, the lacy, inner edge of her panties. “God damn, baby. I hope you’re ready for me.”

She lets out a tiny squeal as I eagerly maneuver her to stand in front of the dresser. “Date, Laney. Tell me,” I demand, tugging my pants open and yanking them and my boxer briefs down.

“I, don’t know yet,” she stammers in shallow breaths, spreading her stance — bracing herself for the onslaught of what she knows is coming.

“One week. You decide by then, or I do. And it better be a date in the very near future. Hear me?”

“Hear you.”

“Good girl. Now, you want me, Laney?” I ask in rhetorical dominance, teasing my dick along and through her dripping wet pussy, panties pulled to the side.

She nods, arching her ass toward me. Not good enough. And she knows it.

With an authoritative hand and deep rumble in my chest, I push down on her back ‘til her juicy ass, my favorite part of her — a plump but muscled bubble-butt of perfection — is perched impossibly high in the air for me… and the panties are now ripped, out of my way. I squeeze and roll both firm cheeks in my hands, my cock swelling even more so from the intoxicatingly erotic, wet sounds of her desire.

“Yeah, my baby wants me bad, doesn’t she? Say it, you little tease. Tell me how you want it. Rough? You want my whole cock shoved in deep?” I push in just the tip and wait, achingly, for her to beg.

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