Trust Me II (6 page)

“I could do that, but it wouldn’t have the same effect.”

“It would for me,” she said with raised eyebrows. “If we are going to have a marriage of mutual respect, I think we should share in all things, including erotic dancing.”

Creighton narrowed his eyes and walked over to the bedside table, pressing the button to turn on the small clock stereo. The soft sounds of a piano echoed from the hidden speaker then he turned and grinned at her, stepping back into the middle of the room as she started to stand up. Sandra froze on the edge of the bed, watching as her new husband suddenly burst into an imitation of a ballet dance.

He stood on his tip-toes and pranced around the room in front of her, completely naked, his arms above his head. Sandra had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as he attempted a Pirouette, nearly stumbling into the bookcase behind him. He looked at her and smiled, trying a haphazard plié, squatting completely down to the floor. He frowned and glanced down, his hand wrapping around the end of his penis as it bounced off the carpet when his squat deepened. The sight of this incredible agile man trying to dance for her, his penis brushing the floor was enough to break the damn, and she exploded in an abrupt laughter. Thankfully the song ended a few seconds later, but not before she fell to the bed holding her sides, panting, tears running down her cheeks. He leaned across her smiling, his hands wrapping around her waist as he pulled her to lay flat on her back.

“How was that?” he asked, unfastening her pants and quickly tugging them down, smiling at her naked body beneath the fabric. Sandra wiped the tears away with the back of her hand as she looked into his dark eyes.

“Wonderful,” she smiled. “You can do that again anytime you’d like.” Creighton lifted her into a sitting position, pulling the tee-shirt over her head, eying her naked breasts like a hungry man at a feast.

“You owe me for that,” he told her, pushing her back down on the bed and stretching his long muscular body out across her, pinning her to the cool sheets. Sandra giggled, wrapping her arms around his strong neck while his lips caressed her cheek, nipping and sucking the tender flesh of her ear.

He reached down and lifted her legs, encircling them around his waist as he positioned the tip of his engorged penis against her moist vagina. Rising up on his elbows, he stared down at her, watching her expression while he thrust into her quick and hard, smiling to himself when she drew a sharp breath in surprise. The movements were fast and fluent with one long thrust after another until she was panting, her hips rising off the bed to meet him, taking him into her deeper. He lay down across her, his movements increasing to a frantic rate; harder, faster until they were hot, sweaty and gasping for air. She felt the familiar welcoming dizziness overtake her, arching her back and taking him in, crying out his name as the waves of passion washed over her. Creighton groaned when the muscles of her vagina clamped around his thick penis, caressing him as his thrusts became urgent, demanding and he quickly spilled his hot seed into her, growling like a wounded beast.

A few long moments passed as the two clung to each other, their hearts pounding a joint rhythm within their chests. It didn’t matter what the rest of the day held in store for them, right now, at this exact moment life was perfect.

“It’s not going to be the typical reception,” Mary said as the women all gathered around the kitchen table, peeling potatoes, scrambling eggs and mixing together all sorts of salads, custards and ingredients for brunch.

“Mary and I thought it would be more fun to have a party; music, dancing, food, just a very relaxed atmosphere where you can visit with your friends and family and not have to worry about getting your gown dirty,” Emma continued as she strained the jug of fresh milk at the counter.

“That sounds wonderful,” Sandra said slicing oranges for juice. “I was worried that we forgot our wedding clothes.”

“I have an outfit for you to wear,” Sabrina said with a wide smile. “Mum and Nana helped me work on it yesterday.”

“A new design?”

“Yes, we’ll go upstairs and you can try it on after brunch.”

“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile.

The room fell silent for a few moments as everyone considered the events of the afternoon that lay ahead of them. Unlike yesterday, the only thing they knew was that there would be about five hundred guests; family, friends, business associates, neighbors and very close personal acquaintances. They were
winging it
according to Mary.

“You seem a little solemn,” Cathy said to her sister, pushing the bowl of balled cantaloupe aside and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just afraid that all of this has been a dream and I’ll wake up and find I’m late for work.”

“Not a chance,” Creighton interrupted when he joined the women, followed close behind by his father and brothers. “If it’s a dream then we’re both having it and I hope we never wake up.” Sandra smiled at the wink he offered her then stood from the table and carried the bowl of oranges to the counter.

“Can you spare a few minutes?” he asked her, his eyes shining like a child at Christmas. “I need to speak with the contractor and thought you might like to see where you’ll be living.”

“Absolutely,” she answered excitedly. He reached out and took her hand in his, before stepping toward the back door.

“We’ll be back,” he told those watching them. “Sandra and I have to discuss some minor details for our new bedroom. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours…I mean minutes.” The room erupted in laughter and Sandra blushed, walking beside Creighton out the door and across the yard to the wooden fence that separated the two properties.

“Rochelle will be here around three to do your hair and makeup,” Creighton said as they neared the house next door. “Irena is going to be thrilled; she loves Rochelle and has been begging me to take her to Paris to have her hair done.”

“So our getting married will be a blessing to everyone?” Sandra teased watching the smile on his face widen.

“That’s one way to look at it.” They continued talking as they walked up the new driveway to the front of the house, the excitement of seeing so much improvement in such a short time shone in his dark eyes.

“Will we still be able to move in when we get back from our honeymoon?” she asked.

“Everything will be ready when we are; at least the major repairs are completed. There are still a few minor details left to finish though.”

“Like what?”

“Like paint, wallpaper, window covering, that sort of thing,” he answered.

“I suppose we should find something to go with our two toasters.”

“Maxine has a few ideas,” he said with a grin. “I’m sure she can find something to coordinate with the china and bath towels.”

“Who’s Maxine and why can’t we choose our own? We have some things from our trip to Paris and I’m sure even England has shops we can look at. If not we can go back to Kansas, I have a full apartment worth of stuff in storage.”

“Maxine is the designer who did my flat in Chelsea and in
Versailles, but yes we can do our own shopping. We’ll need to make some decisions soon though, or the only thing we’ll have is a living room and bed when we move in, not that I’m complaining; we can make use of both. I just don’t want to spend our honeymoon shopping for dining tables, unless I can have my favorite dessert on it.”

“Spotted dicke?” she asked with a frown. “I’ll have to ask your mom to show me how to make it.”

“No,” he said with a wicked grin. “I meant
Peinture de carrosserie.
’’ Sandra gasped, a deep magenta blush tinting her cheeks again.

“You are a deviant,” she assured him, causing his laughter to ring out, echoing in the still morning air.

“You should know baby, you married me.” She smiled as they neared a group of three men next to the front porch.

“Matthew is the contractor,” Creighton began, identifying the men they were approaching. “He did the remodel on my flat as well as two of the company branches. He’s very talented and very thorough. I trust his work immensely. The young man in the purple shirt is Stefan; he’s Maxine’s brother. He’s good, but not as detail oriented as his sister. The older man is Wayne Johnston; he owns a ranch about three miles from here. He married the great granddaughter to the Marstons’, the original owners.”

“Why would he be here?”

“He has always felt it was his duty to his wife’s family to oversee the place. He’s actually a
nosy sod who likes to keep abreast of what’s going on in the community. He’s harmless, just a braggart and a pain in the arse.”

“So you mean he's pretty much the neighborhood Mrs. Kravits?” Creighton frowned, looking at her as if she was speaking another language. “You know, Bewitched the TV show? She had a
nosy neighbor who watched everything that happened from behind her curtains.” Creighton raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head in amusement.

“Never heard of her.”

“Oh come on, you must have, it’s an old television series from the 60’s or 70’s.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“You’ve led a very sheltered life, Mr. Ashford,” she teased him as they came within earshot of the small group.

They spent the next forty-five minutes looking over the house; talking about the repairs and discussing ideas with Stefan for the designs and color schemes of each room. The house was very similar to that of William and Emma’s, only larger; a fact that was deliberate according to Creighton. The original owners had only two sons and the properties that his parents and Derek now owned was once one large piece of land. It had been divided up and the houses built for the sons when they started their own families. The three homes were built in the Victorian style of the era they grew up in, leaving the home Creighton and Sandra now owned as the largest of the three; a place where the children and grandchildren would come for parties, suppers and holidays. Each design was similar, the layout identical and the property of
the latter two equal in size to each other so there would never be a complaint about one son having more than the other.

Over the years, the Marstons all passed away and eventually the properties were sold; while many of their descendants remained in the area, they no longer held the arrogant attitude or social standing that the Marstons’ once had. Or at least most of them had fallen from the eyes of grace, which brought them back to their uninvited guest.

Wayne Johnston was an older man, late sixties Sandra estimated and very proud of his wife’s heritage. He had snow white hair and a clean shaven, weather worn face. He had a yellow smile from years of chewing tobacco and wore a pair of mud crusted boots over old brown pants, faded blue shirt and an older style button up jacket of brown suede. He followed close behind them adding his own bits and pieces to the conversation, commenting on everything they said. Creighton had been right though, he was a large
pain in the arse
.

Johnston insisted it would be best to have the kitchen window on the side wall rather than the front of the house, where it had been for nearly a hundred and fifty years. The stairs should be carpeted instead of left bare and he argued that the wood had been stained too dark; a particular light switch should have been put on the opposite side of the door, the windows were too modern for the style of the house and the exterior brick should have been covered with stucco rather than left as it had been since the day they were placed in mortar. He did, however, like the front lawn and the porch, but very little else met with his approval.

“You still want the garage where the old barn used to be?” Matthew asked, ignoring the snorted disapproval from Johnston.

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up and have sheep and cows wondering around the front lawn or down the street,” Creighton insisted.

“We’ll have the ground leveled and the footing poured by tomorrow, the foundation can go in midweek and then we can work on the structure,” Matthew commented. “It should be ready once you’re back. Where are you two lovebirds going for your honeymoon?”

“It’s a secret, but we’ll be gone for at least a month, maybe two, depending on a particular project at the office. If Michelle can fine tune the contract, we won’t be back ‘til the end of August or first of September.”

“Sounds good,” Matthew said. “That will give us more than enough time to finish everything so you can carry your bride ‘cross the threshold.” Creighton grinned as he glanced to Sandra, his hand holding tight to hers as they walked together, moving farther away from Johnston.

“I can’t wait. Would it be possible to put a flat above the garage? I’d like a place for my security team to live without having them underfoot.”

“It would be quite possible, may take a bit longer though. I’ll work on the blueprints and send them to you to approve, in the meantime I’ll have my men get started clearing the ground.”

“Take all the time you need. Stay in contact with Clark, he’ll let you know how much room he needs for the surveillance equipment, as well as living space.” Creighton smiled. “I doubt we will need the security right away, this area is very secluded and private. Speaking of which,” he glanced behind them to see Johnston lingering behind with Stefan, filling him in on how the house should be set up and decorated.