Authors: Amarinda Jones
Thigh High (10 page)
Maz snorted in amusement. Even if that was appropriate, it was a bit late for that. “Consider that already given. Beryl’s probably already making white satin ring cushions and hiring wedding doves to fly over and crap on everyone as we speak.”
Joe laughed. “That might even top Snogger Reilly’s wedding.”
“Nah, that was a classic. We cannot hope to do that.” Her eyes remained on his. “So ask me.”
“Will you say yes?”
“You’ll never know until you ask.”
“Marilyn Adler, will you do me the honor and privilege of being with me for the rest of my life?”
Oh yes.
“What are the specifics of this arrangement?” The man had, after all, messed her around somewhat so it was only fair she did the same in return.
“You want them in writing?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re a tough woman.” His smile belied his words. “Well let’s see. There’s love, commitment and cherishing involved in the deal.”
“That sounds okay so far.”
“Hot, orgasmic sex on tap.”
“Excellent.” Maz was wet just thinking about it.
“Tender kisses, comforting hugs and slow, seductive massages.”
“That end in hot orgasmic sex?”
“Of course,” Joe responded as if any other thought was crazy. “The general overall plan is to grow old with you.”
“That could be dangerous.”
“And fun.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Marry me, Marilyn.”
“I believe I will, Joseph.”
“She said yes,” a voice yelled from outside and people started cheering.
“Oh crap, are we never alone in this town?” Maz already knew the answer to that.
“Nah, but its home.” Joe rose to his feet and pulled her close to his body. “I guess making love now to seal the deal is out of the question?”
There was only one response to that. “Close the gym.”
Joe let go of her and sprang to do her bidding. “I could do that.”
“Make me sweat some and I’ll get you all hot and hard.”
Joe turned and smiled her words. “I like the sound of that.”
“Then I’ll cool you down with my tongue and—”
“Everyone out of the gym,” Joe roared.
Epilogue
“Oh for god’s sake, strip me.” Maz held her arms out and looked at Joe. “I feel like Frosty the Snowman.” She was swathed in a sea of pristine white. It was like every bride’s hell. But Maz had caved in to what Beryl wanted to make her happy. It was easier that way. Besides, the wedding was never about them. It was a grand event on the Amberwarra Falls’ calendar, sandwiched between the pig judging and the lamington-making festival.
Joe started stripping her dress off straightaway. “Yeah, there’s a lot of white fluffy stuff. I’m not even sure where you start and it ends.” In his haste he ripped part of the wide skirt. “Oops.”
“Rip it to shreds. I’m never getting married again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Maz laughed as Joe made short work of her dress until it lay in a tattered heap at her feet. She shivered when his hands came to rest on her bare hips.
“Hello,” he murmured against her lips.
“Hello.” Maz grabbed hold of his shirtfront and pushed him back on the bed and unzipped his trousers. “Yum, you’re so nice and hard and I’m very wet.” She proved just how much by straddling his thighs and rubbing her pussy against his cock. “But I have been since you put your hand down the front of my pants at our table at dinner.” At first Maz had been horrified but a little later she enjoyed the slow, probing fingers between her legs. “And I never made a sound.” Her man was great with his hands.
“No, damn it, and I wanted you to,” he grabbed her ass and tried to pull her down over his cock. “You were squirming though. Do you think anyone noticed?”
“No, they were all three sheets to the wind by then.” The cellars at The Naked Shearer Pub had taken a workout at their wedding reception.
“I feel terrible about getting you all wet and leaving you so frustrated. What can I do to help?”
“This.” Maz grabbed the head of his cock and pushed it into the wet entrance of her body. As she slid down over the hard length of him, she sighed. “Oh yeah, that’s better.” It seemed like an eternity since she had last had Joe inside her. In reality it had only been half a day.
“Do you hear that?”
Maz smiled and rode her man as the sound of water splattering down on the iron roof started to permeate the room. “Rain.” It was almost a forgotten sound in their part of the country.
“Yeah, and I’m going to win Wazza’s bet. He said only a miracle would bring rain. I bet on that miracle happening today.”
She leaned forward and kissed her lips. “You impulsive romantic you.”
“Stick with me darling and we’ll win all the frozen chook raffles between here and Krogan’s Crossing.”
About the Author
Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your ass, but after all, that’s what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch who all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.
Amarinda welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her
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