Julio Bigcock made a return to Facebook to steal every photo of Windsor he could get his fat hands on. Cropped portraits of her smiling face, photos of her and Gretchen, and the rest of her friends. He even went back so far as to get a photo of her and John Nash when they were dating. The photos are larger than life. Literally. They are huge.
She walks slowly from each image to the next. I stay where I’m at, by the door, and watch her expression as she takes in each one. Windsor gets tothephoto. The one I never told her I saw. It’s the group shot of her and the Rosy Team on their night out with Nash. She laughs a little and moves on to view a black and white photo of her and me. She’s sitting in my lap gazing at me with a look of love on her face. It’s not the same as the look she’s giving Nash in the previous photo and that’s the point. That nothing is really as it seems. Different types of love look different ways. A photo of her mother and her when she was in middle school comes next, then one of her and her father at a father-daughter dance taken a few weeks before his accident. At the very end of the row is a photo of all three of them. Her family. Her mother is looking at her father with that same substantial look.
I wrap my hands around her middle and pull her back against me as she cries happy tears. “My family,” she says. I turn her away from the photo and face her toward the largest canvas in the room. It’s six feet tall and leaning against the bedpost. It’s the first time I’ve seen this one. Windsor looks fucking stunning in this one.
It’s a photo from only six hours ago. The photographer snapped it seconds after we sealed our marriage with a kiss. Our hands are entwined and raised to the sky. Her face and that smile are the happiest things I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I vow in this moment to make her that happy every day of my life. Ironically, in the photo that I had no part in choosing, I’m looking down at Windsor with a huge sappy smile on my own face.
I turn her around in my arms and whisper, “Our family.” I wipe a few spilled tears with my finger. “This is our family now,” I say. She leans up and I lean down, and we kiss.
“Thank you, Maverick. For all of this. Thank you for our family,” she says reverently. They’re photos. This was easy. Well, the wedding photo wasn’t easy, but anything can happen if you offer the right price. Windsor has given me so much more than photos. I smile.
“I know how you can thank me,” I whisper while reaching over to the side of her dress where I know the zipper is. During our first dance as husband and wife I mapped that shit out real quick. I know exactly what needs to happen. “I just want you,” I amend.
“I think we can safely say,” she murmurs while fluffing out her gown, “that is the one thing you got today with absolute certainty.” Windsor pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and cocks her head to the side. Devilish move. “And if you ever wonder how I feel about you, all you have to do is look at that life size canvas of me smiling like a crazy person, wearing a wedding dress, clutchingyourhand.” Her gaze wanders back to our wedding picture. “You kind of love me,” she says, sighing.
I use her distraction to unzip the dress. She lets me unsnap the top clip, too. The gown pools around her feet like a billowy carpet. Only then does she look back at me. I’m not looking at her face anymore.Sorry, babe.
I lace my hands behind my head and pace backward a few steps. “You’re trying to kill me off on our wedding night. It’s the only explanation,” I say, my voice terse as my eyes rove the black-as-night lingerie she wears under her pure white wedding gown. No bra. Only sheer black panties and her black garter. I glance between the wedding photo and her current state, and can’t form coherent words. I get the best of both worlds. I fucking getit all.
Glancing down and back up quickly, she shrugs. “I wouldn’t dream of it and this old stuff? It’s no big deal. You are supposed to take this off,” she points at the garter with a red fingernail, “with your teeth. No hands allowed. It’s seven years of bad luck if you touch me before your mouth gets it off,” Windsor explains. My man brain gets lost somewhere in between teeth and touch, but I get the gist.
Loosening my tie by yanking it side to side, I plan my attack. I look at my wife’s body like a challenge. A hot fucking challenge.
“Oh and to make things interesting…here.” She slides the black thong down and kicks it to me. All she wears is the trident necklace, her wedding rings and the black garter—all things that link her to me. The primal male rears to the surface, beating his fucking chest in victory. “Let me help,” she says, reaching for the buttons on my shirt. My hands reach for her automatically. Shetsk’sme, while beaming a huge triumphant smile, all teeth and full glossy lips.
I take the shirt out of her hands. “I got it,” I fire back.
She puts both hands up and says, “Fine. Fine. Have it your way.” I strip down to a pair of black boxer briefs while Windsor walks around the suite looking at all of the canvases again. She pauses in front of a wall of glass that overlooks the ocean, her back to me. I drop the stone cufflinks onto a table so I don’t lose them and approach her quietly. Not quietly enough. She spins on me, her gaze darting down to my dick.
“Seeing as we both obviously want touching privileges while also obtaining a lifetime of good luck I’m going to get to work,” I tell her while dropping to my knees in front of her. She points her leg out while reaching down to raise the garter up higher, until it’s almost level with her God damned freshly waxed pussy. Shaking my head, I glance up at her and raise one brow.
She hikes her shoulders. “Just leveling the playing field. It’s an easy task, right? Maybe the more you work for it, the better luck we’ll have?”
I don’t respond. I take the garter in my mouth, blowing a mouthful of hot air on Windsor as I get a grip with my teeth. I smile when I see her skin raising in response. I flick my gaze up to find her watching me, no smile, parted lips, and heavy eyes. I smell how turned on she is. Pressing my palms against the glass beside her ass, I shimmy the scrap of lace down a little further and blow again. This time she whimpers. Let’s be honest. I could have this thing off blindfolded, anesthetized, underwater, at the beach, during a tsunami in mere seconds. She made it a game first. So I take my time.
When I finally get done a few minutes later, teasing and blowing all the way down to her calf, she says, “Okay good job. Touching commences now.” I come away with the black garter in my mouth. Windsor grabs it out of my teeth and flicks it across the room. It lands on the table where I put the cufflinks.Stone would appreciate that,I think.
“Touching now?” I ask. She nods reverently, leaning her body against the glass. Well, it is right there. I grab both of her legs and sit them on my shoulders. She wraps her legs around my face and I finally get to taste her. Windsor moans at first contact and I love that I know she always does that. I hope she always will. I also hope there’s no one down on the beach watching me go down on my wife right now.
“That feels so good, Mav. Yeah, just like that,” she pleads, her voice breathy and so fucking turned on that it causes my dick to twitch. “Bed. Bed. Bed,” she repeats.
I look up to make sure she does indeed want me to stop. She nods, so I disentangle myself from her and stand. She leaps at me, almost taking me down to the ground. Her mouth is fierce, her tongue probing, like she’s trying to taste her on me. Wrapping her legs around me, I grab under her ass and carry her to the huge bed, passing our wedding picture resting against one of the bedposts.
I fall down on top of her, breaking the fall with my arms. “I want to make love to my husband,” she explains, reaching between our bodies to grab my dick. Her small, soft hand strokes up and down. The word “husband” coming from her mouth makes my heart pound. I get to be her husband. I’m going to wake up from this dream any second I’m sure of it. My dick brain takes over for the moment and agrees with Windsor’s statement whole-heartedly—especially because I haven’t been inside her for days. She was busy with wedding stuff and the night before the wedding she spent away from me. I need this more than food, water, breath…more than anything else. I move a couple fingers to her sex and hot wetness greets me. Sliding one finger in, I feel her gripping me, wanting more. With the wet finger I circle her clit and watch her gorgeous body writhe with pleasure. I lick up the front of her neck and across the bottom of her jaw, over to her ear.
“I’m going to make love to you now,” I whisper before biting her lobe, probably a little harder than I meant to.
She grabs my face in her hands. “Yes,” she says before pressing her lips against mine, eyes open, blue eyes gazing into mine. I slide home and her eyes flutter shut.
“Open your eyes.” She does. I rock into her slowly, softly, deliberately. She moans softly and I know I’ve got the right pace going for her. She raises her hips each time I thrust into her. The world is silent around us except for the sounds of her breathy moans, my heavy breathing, and the rhythm of my strokes as they slide in and out of her tight body. Her hands are around my neck and her lips don’t leave mine as she climbs higher and higher. I know the moment she’s about to come. I’m right there with her this time.
“Come with me, baby,” I say. She bites my bottom lip and nods. The sharp pain of her bite shoots me over the edge. She grabs my ass to hold me in, as if I ever wanted to leave, and I drop my hips a few more times and explode inside her.
Her head tips back and she moans, “Mav.” I feel her flexing around me over and over as I pump inside her, heavy and strong. I roll so she’s on top. Windsor slumps over on my chest, her head resting on my heart. No words are needed, but we still tell each other how much we love each other. She tells me how at peace she feels now that we’re married. More specifically now that our new family is officially formed.
Our past and our future merged into one huge thing that seems tangible, but it isn’t really. It’s something inside of us, some unspoken knowledge of healing and love and forgiveness. Life is about taking what you want and giving even more. Not because you think you should. Because you want to. Love isn’t easy because life isn’t easy. You have to fight for the things you want. Sometimes you win and sometimes you wish you’d lost instead. Other times it feels like you’re already dead and gone. That’s always when the best part comes, like some avenging angel who evens all the scores no matter who you are or what you do. I won’t lie, it does help to be a little bit of a badass.
Charles Bukowski once said, “find what you love and let it kill you.”I say, “Rise from the ashes and take it back.”
