Page 37 of Parker
When I told my future wife, she thanked me in every meaningful way she could. My cock twitches, excited by the memory of her riding me as her sweet juices flowed down my shaft.Later, I chastise myself. The last thing I need in the middle of my wedding ceremony is a raging boner.
Our guests congregate at the entrance to the registry office, everyone dressed to the nines. My old friends have turned out in support. Nicky sadly has few people to call friends, so the guest list was largely mine. Those who aren’t here out of loyalty came to be nosy and report back to others.
“There’s the old dog there,” my friend Cole shouts. We attended university together and shagged our way through the dorms of Glasgow. He strides over and slaps my shoulder in greeting. He looks like the same arrogant fuckwit he was all those years ago, sharply dressed with enough wit to match.“Now, mate, I can’t wait to see this girl. Is she so good in bed that you had to marry within months to keep her? Or have you knocked her up already?” I give him a tight smile. The joke lands somewhere I don’t want to follow. Not today. “See you on the other side.” He grabs my hand in celebration.
***
Everything in the small room is as we requested. The walls are plain, and an unembellished wooden desk sits at the bottom of the aisle. Twenty chairs are decorated with white covers and pale pink bows for our guests. Rose petals decorate the floor. Simple, understated, but romantic.
The celebrant smiles and waves for Boyd and me to join him at the front of the room. As I take my position, he talks me through the ceremony while the guests take their seats. The room buzzes with excitement as we wait for my bride to arrive. The seconds on the clock seem to slow with each tick. At 11:12 am, the organist signals that my lady has arrived and plays the wedding march for her entrance.
Sophie appears first, her soft pink flowing dress falling to the floor. The chiffon sways as she walks toward me, the simple V-shaped neckline accentuating her slim figure. In her blonde bob, she wears a band of pink roses with a classic pearl pendant at her throat. She smiles at me, and I respond with the same.
The aisle and the room’s entrance are offset. Nicky has no one to give her away. She will make the journey to being my wife on her own. Excitement fills me as I spot her standing in the doorway. She looks phenomenal.
Crystal sparkles are scattered throughout her dark curls that are pinned high. As she walks across the pink petals, her full-length lace dress skims every curve and then flares slightly from her knees. The neckline is high, with sheer lace covering theexposed skin on her chest and arms. She arrives at my side, and I take her hands in mine. I’m relieved to see her make-up is natural. She hasn’t painted over her looks. The woman standing before me is the woman I love. And I can’t wait to make her mine.
***
My foot to the floor, my red flying machine weaves through the country roads, heading for our destination. After the ceremony, we had a meal with our guests at a local restaurant and then left to begin our romantic weekend retreat.
I can’t wait to get my wife on her own and naked. Since I saidI do,my hands have not left her body. The need to be touching her is all-consuming.
Knox Castle sits on the edge of a private loch, nestled in the highlands of Scotland. As castles go, it’s small and intimate. It’s at times like these that I appreciate my family’s wealth, as being able to reserve the whole place for the weekend with staff is something most can only dream of. The driveway to the castle meanders through acres of manicured gardens. Nicky beams at me as she points out various flowers and wildlife.
Arriving at the property, we stare wordlessly around the grass area in front, where no less than thirty highland stags are relaxing in the evening sun. Their horns are long and jagged; their shaggy coats look rough and warm. Some raise their heads to watch our car arrive, but most ignore us as if we aren’t even there.
“Do you think they will attack us?” Nicky asks, her eyes wide with nerves.
Reaching over, I take her hand as I pull the car to a stop at the front door.
“I’ve never seen a deer in real life.” Her eyes meet mine before dropping away, her upbringing so different.
“They wouldn’t be here if they were dangerous,” I assure her. “My family have spent months in remote parts of the highlands. No one has ever been murdered by a stag.”
She giggles, her worries placated for the moment.
A small man appears at the top of the stone steps to the front door. He’s dressed in traditional Scottish tweed, a green and brown tartan plaid over one shoulder, with short tartan trousers called trews and cream socks up to his knees.
He bounces down the steps with a huge smile plastered across his face. His rosy cheeks and riot of dirty-blond hair stuffed under a tweed bonnet give him an almost caricature appearance, like someone you would expect to see being depicted as Scottish in a children’s cartoon.
I smile at my wife in reassurance as we step out of the car onto the gravel, and it crunches under our shoes.
“Good evening, sir and madam,” the little Scotsman says in a thick accent, which I find hard to follow. “Welcome to Knox Castle. I’m Hamish, and I will be your butler for the weekend. Anything you need at all, let me know and I will attend to it.”
“Thank you, Hamish,” I respond. “Could you park our car, please? And take the cases to our room.”
“Of course, sir.” He smiles. “Mrs. Cotter, our head housekeeper, is inside, ready to show you around.”
Taking Nicky’s hand once more, I lead my new wife up the stairs toward our magical weekend as my phone beeps with a message. Ebony.
PR sorted. Story and photos online. What a fantastic day. This looks good for us.
I almost smile. Almost. With Ebony, every ribbon comes with a string. And I don’t see her as part ofusin this marriage, even if she does.
Chapter sixteen
Knox Castle, The Scottish Highlands
