Page 62 of Only You

“I love it,” he said, standing by the door facing me, but his head was down, looking at the floor. I took in his appearance once more. His barber had somehow given him immediate waves. The crisp lines around his taper faded into his beard. His tuxedo jacket was unbuttoned, along with his shirt, and his tie hung loosely aroundhis neck. It was also bunched at the sides because his hands were in his pockets. He lifted his head to give me his eyes.

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. I pushed off the table, taking my time as I walked over.

“You can walk as slowly as you want, but it won’t stop me from taking you fast and quick.” My breath hitched at his proclamation. When I reached him, he spun me around, placing my face against the door. As he stood behind me, I could hear him unbuttoning his pants, and then the sound of the zipper excited me more inside the quiet room. He reached down and began gathering my dress around my waist until my thong showcased my round ass.

“We’ve been married for nearly an hour. Did you think I would let another minute go by without claiming my wife? I see you still got me fucked up. Now spread your fucking legs and arch your back,” he said as he ripped my thong off. I arched my back perfectly as I watched my panties fall to the floor. He entered me swiftly, filling me deliciously the moment my legs parted.

His arm reached around my waist, cupping my breast, where he toyed with my hardened nipple through the sheer fabric. My arm went up, wrapping around his neck, where his head rested in mine.

“Tay, fuck,” He moaned onto the shell of my ear, then his tongue licked out around the rim trailing down the side of my neck.

“Brice, mmmh,” I moaned in return. It was all we could say as pleasure consumed us both. He rocked into me fiercely, his dick sliding in and out of my tight wet tunnel, the thickness touchingevery inch of my walls. He groaned and bit into my neck as I tightened around him. My body came alive with my orgasm, traveling down to my toes, where my legs gave way.

“Aaaaaaaahhhh shit Brice,” I yelled as he pulled me closer holding me up as he continued ravaging my body.

“I know, Baby…I fucking know,” he moaned into my ear as he painted my walls with his release. We both stood still, catching our breaths.

“Thank you, Baby. I love it and I love you,” he said as he kissed my cheek and the corner of my mouth. His dick still rested inside me and I pulsed around him at his praise.

“Stop, Baby,” he groaned.

“I already have to fight Steph’s ass when I get back. Look at your dress; it’s wrinkled as hell,” he said and laughed.

“Please, I bet a hundred that he and JoJo have snuck off to do the same. You know Ms. Adri doesn’t like people in her kitchen while she’s cooking. It’s the baby's nap time, too,” I laughed as he finally pulled out.

“Let’s go then,” he said, kissing my lips. He fixed himself, then bent down and picked up my discarded panties and stuffed them in his pocket.

“I’m bringing all my patients to this room so every time I close that door, I can think about you and what I did to you in here. Nah, that’s probably not a good idea I can’t have my patients in here talking about how bad their tummy hurts and I’m up in here smiling and shit,” he said and laughed.

“Hey, what do you think about taking a yacht for our honeymoon?”

“I’m down. Where are you thinking?”

“Been thinking about Mexico,” he said.

“Hmm, you’re up to something, but Baby, I’ll go with you anywhere, ride or die.”

EPILOGUE

Brice

Isat, listening to the phone ring, until it was picked up. I spoke, not waiting for her to answer. My caller had been the head of the Mexican Cartel for as long as we’d all been in the game. She was the one who facilitated Devin’s reign. For a while, she fronted her operation behind her brother until three years ago, when she had Devin kill her brother as payment for their release out of the game, effectively ending the original One, Two, and Three monikers.

“Ice.”

“As you know, we eliminated the local problem we had with the Italian Mafia, or our problemas familiares, you so eloquently said.”

“Let me guess, you want out,” she drawled in English coated with her Hispanic accent.

“That guess would be correct.”

“Well, I don’t plan to let you go,” she said, voice laced with venom, with the undertones of a threat. I fucking hated threats.

“I figured you’d say that. Do you think I should let you eat that delicious-looking Pozole the waiter just placed on your table? Third table from the right in front of the window,” I said as I looked on through a pair of binoculars. We were on a yacht in the middle of the ocean off the coast of Mexico. We were far enough out that even if they’d spotted us, they would never reach us in time. I watched as she frantically looked around before she picked up the glass of water, bringing it to her lips.

“I don’t know if I would drink that either, there might be something in it,” I said confidently. She placed the glass back on the table and huffed a deep breath into the line before speaking again.

“What do you want?”

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