Authors: Alexa Kaye
My hips start rocking. I’m rubbing against him! Like a cat in heat.
I should be ashamed but I’m not. I’m desperate. For what, I don’t know.
“Please,” I beg. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I feel is pleasure. Overwhelming, mind-blowing pleasure.
“Baby, you are so sweet,” he says as he presses little kisses to my jaw. “Do you know how beautiful you are? I can’t wait to make you mine.”
I can’t wait until I’m his! If this is what sex with Jace will be like, I want to have sex all day, every day. I don’t want him to stop kissing me, touching me, making me burn. The throbbing feels so good and yet so bad I want to make it stop.
No, no I don’t. I don’t want it to ever stop.
I grab handfuls of my hair as he lowers his head, placing little kisses on my upper chest. My head falls back, resting against something behind me, maybe a wall. I lean back and my spine arches, my body bending to him, welcoming his exploration.
Yes, yes. Take me.
That’s what it’s saying.
He shoves the jacket down my arms, forcing them down, trapping my wrists in the fabric. I feel kind of powerless to stop him now but I love it. I can’t touch him. I can’t grab him or claw at him. Nor can I stop him when he yanks my shirt up, exposing my bra.
He slides his hand into my bra cup and I almost jump out of my skin. With a small motion, he pulls my breast out of my bra then flicks his tongue over the sensitive little peak.
I cry out.
This is nothing like what I expected.
Sure, I’ve watched movies. I saw that people breathed hard when they had sex. And writhed a lot.
But I had no idea it would hurt like this. Hurt sooooo good.
I grind my girl parts against him, feeling how wet my panties are becoming. My body is tightening all over. My stomach. My chest. My legs. Something is building inside me. A pressure. Yes, like steam in a pressure-cooker. Will I explode? Or ignite?
I don’t care. I just want. Want. Want.
Need. Need. Need.
He moves lower, unzips my pants. His fingers tickle the skin on my lower stomach. I shiver even as another blaze rushes through my body. I’m hot and cold. On the edge of something so big I can’t comprehend it.
He drags my pants down, over my hips, down my thighs, my calves. And then they’re gone and all that’s between me and his touch is a pair of thin cotton panties.
I should be stopping him. We’re not married. I’m a virgin who can’t shake some of my Amish beliefs. I should be kicking my legs and refusing his touch. Good Amish girls remain untouched until their wedding day.
I’m not a good Amish girl anymore.
He touches me down there, through my panties and I writhe in utter agony.
not a good Amish girl. Not even a good girl. Not the way I’m opening my legs for him, begging him to touch me again.
“Baby, I’ll make it better,” he promises.
I’m very grateful for that vow. Because I am miserable. And yet, I’m not.
Next, my panties are torn away, and I’m naked from waist to ankle, and acting like a complete
. But I can’t help myself. Jace’s touches and kisses are more addicting than anything I’ve ever tasted or tried.
I want more, more, more!
He shifts down so his head is down there, practically between my wide-parted thighs. His breath feels cold against my burning folds. I shudder all over, not sure what will happen next, but eager for whatever it might be.
His touch is soft, gentle. He parts my folds, finding the sensitive little nub at the front. And then he angles closer. What is he going to…?
I explode inside. Invisible flames blast through me. My whole body shakes and spasms. I don’t know what’s happening, but it is amazing! I feel it everywhere. Tingles. Heat. Pulsing sensations. But especially down there. I feel my insides clenching and un-clenching in a steady rhythm.
This must be…it has to be…
He stands, steadying me.
Jerking one arm free from the confines of the jacket, I wrap both arms and legs around Jace and hold on as I fight to catch my breath. I’m so hot. And tingly all over.
“Better?” he asks as he places a kiss on the top of my head.
I nod. I don’t know what to say after that. Now that some oxygen is getting to my brain, I’m slightly shocked and embarrassed.
“Good. There’s more of that coming.” He disentangles his body from my monkey-like hold. “You’ve never…?”
“No.” I can’t look at him. I stare at the floor.
He lifts my chin. “Mila, look at me.”
I lift my gaze.
“It’s time to go,” he says. “We’re going to be married in three days. I can’t wait any longer than that to have you. I don’t know if I can even wait that long.”
He wants me. He wants to put that big,
so very, very big
, cock inside me. I’m both thrilled and terrified.
“Remember all those nights we spent talking on the computer,” he says. “All the secrets we’ve shared. Nothing has changed. I’m still the Jace you laughed with and joked with. But now we can be more. That’s what you want, right? Tell me that’s what you want. Because if I can’t have you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
I like the desperation I hear in his voice.
And the wicked, feral gleam in his eyes.
He doen’t know it, but I’m already his. Every inch of me. Mind and body.
And when it comes time to…do what all wives do…I will.
And, I suspect, I’ll like it.
I kiss Mila and leave for work the instant we get home from the courthouse. Not because I love work. Actually, I do love my work. That’s why I live up here in the first place.
But that’s not why I’m so eager to leave my soon-to-be bride and get to work.
It’s because if I don’t leave, I’m going to rip off her clothes, throw her on the floor, and make slow, sweet love to her. Over and over and over. Until neither one of us can move.
Why shouldn’t I do that? The paperwork is done. We’re as good as married. All that’s left is the formal ceremony, which is scheduled for three days from today.
I want to—damn, do I want to.
But I won’t.
No. I won’t.
Because I want it to be right. For her.
Mila grew up in an extremely conservative family. She wants to think she’s shaken all the prejudices and beliefs her parents drilled into her head since she was born. But she hasn’t.
And I’m not such a bastard that I want to push her too hard. She’s feeling confused enough going this far—marrying a man she doesn’t know well, an English man as they say.
She has already kissed me.
She has already let me touch her.
Even that has been difficult for her. I can see it.
My balls may explode by then because seeing her, hearing her, even smelling her makes my dick hard. But I’ll do the right thing. I’ll wait until our wedding night. For her.
To distract myself and make the time go by faster, I decide I'll throw myself into my work for the next three days, starting today. I won’t stop thinking of her. Not for one minute. I know that already.
It blows my mind how enthralled I am with her. I hate being away from her. For even a few minutes.
But I force myself to work well past sunset, determined to exhaust myself to the point of basically collapsing on the couch when I get home and sleeping until it’s time to wake and go back to work.
My strategy works for the most part. By the time I’ve pulled into the driveway that night, I’m so beat I can barely keep my eyes open.
I drag my tired ass inside the house.
Damn, that smells good. Roasted meat. Garlic.
I check the stove but don’t see any food.
“It’s in the refrigerator.”
She’s behind me.
And almost forget my vow to wait until our wedding night to take her.
She’s wearing a pair of shorts, a snug tank top that lets me see her hard little nipples, and one of my flannel shirts. My shirt has never looked so sexy. The tails skim her smooth thighs. “I’m sorry. I got cold.” She runs her hand down the shirt, caressing it. My gaze locks on that hand as it strokes back up, over a breast then combs through her hair, a tumble of freshly-fucked waves. I want to grab the silky length in my fist and yank her to me. My fingers fold in, nails pricking my palms. “I didn’t realize you would be so late.”
“I…had to make up for this morning,” I lie.
“Sure. I understand.” She blinks and yawns.
“Go to bed,” I tell her. “Get some sleep.”
She’s going to need it, since she won’t be getting any sleep Friday night. I have plans for her Friday. Lots of plans.
She doesn’t trot off to bed like an obedient little wife. Not right away. Her neatly-groomed brows furrow. “Wouldn’t you like me to keep you company while you eat?” She scurries to the refrigerator and yanks it open.
I place a hand on her arm to stop her. An electric arc buzzes between us and instantly I feel that invisible pull I felt before. I need to touch her. To feel her body pressed to mine.
She lifts her eyes. Her lips part.
Damn, she’s just asking for a kiss.
If I kiss her, I know I won’t stop.
But holy shit, those lips.
And she smells so damn good.
And that compact, curvy little body fits perfectly against mine.
My body angles toward hers as if invisible ropes pull it to her.
My heart starts thumping in my chest.
“It’s…I made…” she whispers.
I don’t give a damn about the food. What I want is standing in front of the refrigerator, looking up at me with massive doe eyes.
She’s so close, and willing. I see it in her eyes. Her hard nipples. The way she’s angling toward me, begging me to take her. “Go to bed,” I repeat as I feel my control slipping. I’m about two seconds away from saying fuck it and throwing her on the floor. Doesn’t she see that?
Maybe she does. Maybe it makes her wet.
My dick twitches.
I lick my lips, remembering what her pussy tastes like.
“I…” she visibly swallows. Her chest rises and falls quickly.
“Please,” I add.
She takes a single step back. The overwhelming connection is broken.
She’s safe. For now.
But if she comes close again, I won’t have the strength to fight my need. Not so soon. My dick is still hard, my balls throbbing and tight.
“G-goodnight,” she murmurs.
“Goodnight.” I watch her go.
I love watching her walk. Her hips sway so seductively. And that firm, round ass is enough to make my knees buckle.
I’m the luckiest bastard in the world, to have this delightful creature as my wife. I vow to make sure she knows how lucky I consider myself.
Which reminds me…
Leaving the kitchen, I turn to the door.
I have work to do. In the shop. Dinner can wait...
Well, this is it.
My last chance to change my mind, to go back to the life I left behind with my tail between my legs. To beg for the bishop’s forgiveness and fight to get back into the fold.
To accept the fate my parents had prescribed for me.
Amish wife. Mother.
I’ve had three days to change my mind. Three very long, very trying days.
Since that first night, Jace has been avoiding me. At least, I think that’s what’s been happening.
I don’t know why. And I don’t know if it will continue after the wedding.
All I do know is that I’m kind of disappointed. And confused.
What if this is really how it will be? Jace coming home late every night. Hardly saying two words to me. Falling asleep. Waking early and leaving without even a goodbye…
Leaving me here, in this house, all by myself.
For hours. And hours. Days. Weeks. Months.
Would I rather keep living like this? Alone, and lonely in this wild, dangerous place?
Or would I rather be back home, where it’s safe, but where I was so unhappy?
No way. I can’t go back.
My heart pounds as I look at the magistrate and say, “I do,” sealing the deal.
I belong to Jace now.
He slides the sparkling ring onto my finger, and I gasp. It’s so beautiful. I hadn’t expected such a fancy ring. A simple gold band would have done. In fact, I’m a little afraid I’ll wreck this glittering masterpiece--maybe knock that enormous center stone out. “This ring, my gift to you,” he says, “symbolizes my desire that you be my wife from this day forward.
As this ring has no end neither shall my respect…and love for you.”
Love. He says he loves me. Is it just part of the vows or does he mean it? Could two people really fall in love the way we have?
My heart answers that question. Most definitely yes!
My eyes burn. They aren’t tears of sadness. Or regret. Or confusion. They’re tears of joy.
This modern day mail order bride is in love with her groom.
Our officiate clears his throat.
I glance his way. He’s waiting. Waiting for…?
I clear the lump from my throat and say, as I slide the ring over my husband’s knuckle, “This ring symbolizes my desire that you be my husband from this day forward.
As this ring has no end, neither shall my respect and love for you.”
“Jason and Mila, you have consented together in holy matrimony before these witnesses, have pledged your vows to each other, and have exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to each other. In accordance with the laws of the state of Alaska and with great joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”
Looking at me like a hungry bear about to take a great big taste, Jace cups my chin and lifts it. His mouth smashes over mine, and all the air immediately blasts from the room. I loop my arms around his neck and hold on while his lips and tongue ravages mine in a bone-melting kiss.
There can be no doubt. I belong to my husband. To Jace.
Then, while the magistrate, Moose, and a couple of Jace's other friends—our witnesses—cheer, my husband scoops me off my feet and turns to them.
“You’ll excuse us, but we have some urgent business to take care of.”
? That’s an unusual choice of words.
Even so, his friends get the gist. Their hoots and catcalls follow us out of the courthouse.
He carts me to his truck and, after I yank open the door, he plunks me down in the passenger seat. Then he practically crawls on top of me and plants another searing kiss on my mouth. His tongue plunges inside. His hands grab and grope. And I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m more than okay with it. My spine arches, pushing my white satin-clad breasts up. My body burns. My heart thunders.
Someone whistles, and Jace spins around, “Hey! Have some respect for my wife!”
Half-in-a-coma, I glance out the window, catching Jace chastising a man in a sheriff’s uniform.
“Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency,” the sheriff warns with a playful gleam in his eyes.
Jace rounds the front of the truck and throws himself into the driver’s seat. He hits the gas, sending a plume of dust and gravel into the air and off we go, heading home.
Jace grips the steering wheel with one hand and places his other on my thigh. His jaw is tight, his face flushed. He looks like he’s about to snap.
I get it!
Now I understand why he’s been avoiding me for days.
. For our wedding night.
My insides tingle.
His hand inches up my thigh and I literally tremble.
I know what’s coming. Well, sort of.
I know we’re going to have sex. Because everyone knows that’s what happens on a couple’s wedding night.
But I don’t know what it’s going to feel like. Will it hurt?
My insides literally squeeze. Warm wetness gushes.
Already I’ve done more than the average Amish girl. Amish kids don’t kiss before they marry. At least, not the girls I knew growing up.
And nobody talks about sex. We all knew that’s how babies are made. But none of us knew how the deed was done.
All I know is this: my body likes what’s happening so far. The possessive way Jace kisses me, touches me. How he practically climbed on top of me in the parking lot and devoured my mouth.
My face burns and a twinge zips through me.
Jace is turning me into a sex fiend. I didn’t know that could happen.
I thought girls had sex because it was their duty. Not because they like it.
His hand inches higher, and my whole body tenses. His fingers are so close to my core, where I’m already burning. My lower stomach clenches.
My knees gradually part, the smooth, cool fabric of my wedding dress sliding between them, along with Jace's hand. His fingers graze my folds through the satin, and I tremble. My insides tighten. My breathing quickens.
Tensing up all over, and not because I'm scared, I grip the handle next to me. The drive home is long. If he continues this teasing, this tormenting, how will I survive?
Those fingers press harder. The pressure feels so good. And yet I want more. My head falls back, resting against the headrest. My eyelids grow heavy. I let them slide shut.
That's better. Now I can focus.
On the husk of my breathing.
On the sweet and earthy smell of him.
On the pounding, throbbing pressure building between my legs.
I can't stand it.
I drag my legs farther apart. It feels better the wider they are. Better and worse. Desperate, I claw at my dress, sliding it up my thighs until it's out of the way.
Jace makes a sexy growling noise, steers the truck off the road, and shifts it into park. “Woman, I am trying hard to control myself,” he says with a low, rumbling voice. “But you're making it impossible. I don't want to take you here. I want it to be right. To be at home. And I want to take my time.”
I want all those things too.
But I also want this throbbing heat to stop.
No, no I don't.
Yes, yes I do.
That hand continues to torment me as he catches my chin with the other.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I open my eyes and suck in a gasp.
His face is taut, his eyes burning with lust.
He smashes his mouth over mine and shoves his tongue inside, swirling, plunging, claiming. The hand between my legs tears away the crotch of my panties. His fingers slide between my folds and test my opening. He pulls my lower lip into his mouth and bites down gently, and my spine arches.
Once again he has brought me to the verge of ecstasy. He has possessed my body, laid claim to it. This time, I hope he will take me fully. I can't stand the teasing anymore.
The fingers slide up, toward the front of my folds, finding my burning clit. Damp with my slick juices, they glide over it, round and round. In circles that produce swirling heat in my core. My thighs tighten more, spread wider. Take me, my body says. Take me now.
Again, those fingers move to my virginal entrance. One finger presses against the barrier and I tense up. It burns. My insides clench. The finger retreats, returning to my clit.
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I'll make it better, but I won't take you yet. Not until we're home.”
I whimper. That isn't what I want. But my frustration is forgotten as he strokes my clit harder, faster. Sweet, sweet tension builds. Spreads. Heat blossoms. Pulses out from my center.
“Cum for me,” my husband demands. One of his fingers dips into my ass, and a massive, tingling explosion blasts through me. My insides spasm, milking the finger in my anus like it was a cock. I am soaring in the air, no I am sailing upon massive waves of pleasure.
And now I am floating. On rivers of bliss.
I open my eyes to find my husband smiling, eyes glittering with dark need. “Now at least one of us will enjoy the ride home.” He shifts the truck into gear and steers it back onto the road.
Still pulsing and twitching with aftershocks, I admire his profile. And then the thick swell of his upper arm. The lean cut of his torso. The (holy crap!) thick bulge tenting his pants.
I was feeling better, thanks to Jace's magical fingers. But clearly he is in agony.
Could I return the favor?
Shy and uncertain, I slide one hand over his thigh, moving it toward the erection pushing at his pants. When I reach it, I cup it, feeling the round head trying to work its way out of his clothes.
Jace makes another of those growly sounds, like a grizzly and shifts his legs, sliding them apart a little.
Encouraged, I unfasten his belt.
“I'm warning you, wife,” he says, “if you start this, I may lose control. You might find yourself taken out here, on the side of the road. Roughly.”
My insides quiver. My heart does a little flip.
Maybe that's what I want.
I unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper.
He's commando. No underwear. His thick cock springs free and I can't help gasping.
It's soooo big.
How will it ever...fit?
My insides clench and I feel my cheeks heat. I'm blushing.
“Are you afraid?” my husband asks.
I shake my head, even as a huge lump gets stuck in my throat. Am I afraid? No. But I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect.
I trace a fingertip along the slit and a little droplet of liquid comes out. I smear it around the velvety head.
Jace pulls the truck off the road again. Then he gently moves my hand away from his cock. “If you don't stop this right now, I won't be able to resist. I will take you. Here. Now. I won't be able to stop myself.”
The heat in my cheeks burns hotter. Still, emboldened by the flames I see burning in his eyes, and the throbbing heat beating through my body, I turn my attention back to his cock again.
Yeah, again. It's becoming a habit.
I don't know what I'm doing.
Yes, I have touched a penis.
Technically, I didn't really touch it with my hand. And I didn't touch it in a sexual manner.
I touched it with a washrag. It belonged to a baby I was babysitting. He made a mess in his clothes and I had to bathe him. So, needless to say I have no idea what to do with a grown penis.
Feeling a little lost, but appreciating Jace's (wavering) patience, I trace the flared ridge circling the head with my fingertip. The cock twitches and Jace's breathing speeds up.