74 - We're Ready

Their wedding ceremony was exactly what Sheridan expected it would be:  short, civil and dignified.  It was only the locale that lent an aura of romance to the occasion, but she didn’t need the romance.  After all, she had been given a genuine, heartfelt marriage proposal today, which had been a delightfully unexpected surprise.  With that and the man she loved by her side, what more would she ask for?

Even so, she could appreciate the beauty surrounding her and once again told Jon that she wanted to meet Jeri when they returned, to offer her personal thanks for the woman’s assistance. 

The light and airy chapel was much like a sunroom in that two of its four walls were comprised of nothing but windows.  One set proudly displayed the resort’s lush, tropical garden and the other framed the sun’s final daily dip into the ocean when Jon and Sheridan exchanged traditional vows and rings. 

Disinclined to be completely blasé about the whole thing – this was a private moment, not an insincere one – they had posed for assorted beach, garden and chapel photos to commemorate the event.  Afterward, in need of a witness, they had invited the photographer to stay for the ceremony. 

“Where are we going now?” she asked her husband, tucking her diamond-heavy left hand into the crook of his arm.  She would have been content with something a little less flashy, but when Jon had seen her eyes continually gravitate to the ring that was made with a ridiculous amount of diamonds, he took the decision from her hands.   That was how she came to be wearing a single thick band comprised of four connected, yet individual bands that independently rotated in the classic representation of a Possession ring. 

His ring was a mate to hers in that it was the same white gold and four interconnected yet independently-moving bands, but that’s where the similarity ended.  There wasn’t a diamond to be found, nor did he want any.  The thick, heavy ring was perfectly suited to his wide hand, she thought.

“Dinner,” he replied, accepting the bouquet that was another of Jeri’s personalized touches to the day and helping her onto a torch-lit path. 

The shades of a tropical sunset were reflected in the fuchsia calla lilies and orange ‘tiger’ lilies that Jon’s assistant had specially ordered for the occasion.  He had nodded approvingly at the arrangement and told Sheridan he’d been more interested in the cat theme than the colors.  Then he pointed out that the lily stems were bound with a sheer, leopard-print ribbon.

“Dinner where?”  She thanked him with a smile and tip-toed over the flagstone so as not to get one of her spiked heels caught in the cracks.  “We’re headed toward the beach, aren’t we?  Have I mentioned that I don’t like my seafood quite that fresh?”

He cut her with a chastising look, chuckling nonetheless.  “I owe you Steak Oscar and I’m a man who always pays my debts.”

“Your debt was already paid, remember?  We had Steak Oscar at Delmonico’s.”

“Yeah, but that was New York Steak Oscar, not Jamaican.  Totally different thing.”

“Oh really?” She tugged on his hand until he stopped, and then bent over to hook the heel straps of her just-shed sandals.  No way was she stepping foot on the sand in a pair of Jimmy Choos.  They were too expensive and she would probably break her ankle.  Nodding that she was ready to continue their jaunt she asked, “What exactly makes it different?”

“What makes it different?  Where your ass is sitting when you eat it, of course.”

Catching sight of their destination, Sheridan’s lips curved around a soft gasp. 

Where their ass would be sitting was positively breathtaking. 

About twenty feet out on the right, at the end of a sandy path flanked by flickering lanterns, was a romantic white gazebo.  Even tied back with ribbon, voluminous sheets of white voile flapped delicately at each of the tented structure’s four corners.  Layers of the same voile covered a candlelit table set for two. 

“Then this would be Heavenly Steak Oscar,” she murmured, admiring the centerpiece that so closely resembled her bouquet.  “Because nothing outside of Heaven could possibly be this exquisite.”

“Just you.”

She smiled up at him, cupping his cheek and tenderly teasing, “Jeri not only sets the romantic scene, but she gives you a script, too?”

“I’m firing Jeri,” he grumbled with a twinkle in his eye, before searing her lips with a punishing kiss. 

Ducking her head backward, she planted her palms on his chest and laughed.  “Don’t you dare!”

“I am.  I swear to God, you mention her one more time before we get home and her unemployment blood is on your hands.”

“Pfft…  You fire her and I’ll hire her.  I’m sure I’d be much easier to work for than you are.”  She murmured her thanks as he seated her at the crystal and china-laden table. 

“What the hell do you need an assistant for?”

The white-jacketed waiter appeared at her elbow to fill her champagne flute with a pale, bubbly beverage as Jon claimed his own voile-draped chair.  She nodded appreciatively as the man moved to the other side of the table and Jon’s glass, and then pinned her husband with a shrewd look.  “To give me pointers on how to handle you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he chortled as their dinner plates were uncovered and the server was dismissed with a curt nod.  “All you have to do is show me a flash of sexy underwear and I lose all train of thought.  I think you’ve got this covered, Kitten.”

Taking a contemplative moment to swallow the “champagne” that was actually sparkling grape juice, she then returned the flute to the table and leaned forward, tilting her head curiously.  “Sexy underwear.  That’s all it takes, huh?”

“That’s all it takes.”

“Did Jeri send any of that?”

He chuckled as he cut into the succulent steak, flashing a quick grin in her direction.  “Not that I know of.  Why?  You don’t have enough?”

“From the sounds of it, no.  I’ve never been a lingerie kind of girl before.  I picked up a couple of things when we first got together, but other than that and what you bought me at Agent Provocateur, my lingerie drawer is nothing but serviceable cotton.”

“Throw it away,” he ordered immediately and without pause.  “A woman should have underwear as sexy as she is, and there’s nobody sexier than you.   I’ll make sure you have plenty of ‘fuck-me’ panties.”

Why was it that his conversational tone did more to her than if he had set out to deliberately seduce her with those words?   Her husband thought she was sexy and he wanted her to feel that way. 

The delicious meal that he’d so thoughtfully arranged held no interest for her.  She wasn’t all that hungry to begin with and the little hunger she did have was overridden by an abrupt case of sexual starvation. 

You can’t let all this food go to waste.  At least pretend you’re eating.

So she picked at her asparagus and nibbled at the tender beef while mentally playing the really good scenes from last night’s re-creation of their last Jamaica trip.   She squirmed against the plushness of her seat cushion, wishing that it wasn’t quite so soft, as Jon leisurely worked his way from one side of his plate to the other.  The longer she was forced to twirl her fork tines in the gourmet steak topping, the more she came to believe the man was quite possibly the world’s slowest eater.

When his steak was nearly gone, he looked up at her.  He then sipped from the champagne flute and nodded to her food.  “You need to eat something, you know.”

“I’m not interested in food.”

His forehead wrinkled with concern.  “You’re not starting with evening morning sickness or something are you?”

“No, I want you to fuck me.  Dinner is in the way.”

The wrinkles smoothed as the creasing migrated from his forehead to the various smile lines in his face and gripping blue eyes flared with a heat that she’d learned to recognize and, subsequently, crave. 

“Why the hell didn’t you say that to start with?” he demanded, pushing his chair back and proffering a hand to help her rise. 

“You went to the trouble of arranging this beautiful dinner.  I wasn’t going to inconsiderately push it aside just because I can’t get enough of you.”

He pulled her flush against his body with an arm that clamped roughly around her waist.  His fingertips abraded the delicate flesh of her inner wrist as he pushed up to clasp her hand, completing their ballroom dance-type pose.  Assaulting her mouth with a brutal nip, he sternly informed her, “I’m a man.  I like to fuck and I love you.  You are to always assume that burying my cock inside you tops my to-do list.  Got it?”

“Got it,” she breathed, grinding her hips into his.  The hardness she found there had Sheridan’s fingers snaking around the back of his neck so that he couldn’t take his mouth away.  “It’s time to get on that to-do list, then.  Now.”

“Ahhh, fuuck….” 

Swallowing his guttural moan in a kiss fueled by a desire she’d only known with him, Sheridan detached her hand that was being held aloft.  When she burrowed it beneath the expensive suit coat, his body heat was enough to scorch her and the masculine nipple she found beaded responsively under the rough scrape of her fingernail. 

A purr welled up from the back of her throat.  God, she loved that she could play his body that way.

“Now, Jon.”

Taking a quick step back, he cuffed her wrists in one hand and dug in his pants pocket with the other.  “Five minutes, baby.  Just gimme five minutes and I will give you all you can handle and then I’ll give it to you again.”   Speaking into the speed-dialed call he bit out, “We’re ready.”

“What are we ready for?”

Her perfunctory question wasn’t borne of actual curiosity.  Curiosity would distract her and Sheridan was more interested in licking his Adam’s apple than just about anything at the moment – except maybe getting bitten.  Was it wrong that she had goose bumps just thinking about the way his teeth were going to mark her bare shoulders? 

If it was wrong, then so was she. 

The sex kitten diva was ready to play with her rock star husband.