Sweet Paradise
A BTU Alumni Short Story, that, let’s be honest, is pretty much all smut and very little story.
**more of vine and holly's wedding followed by their honeymoon**

Chapter 1

vince

 

Is it common for a person to be matrimony shamed by their officiant? Because that is precisely what is happening right now. And the worst part? It’s delaying me from finally being declared my woman’s husband.

“

And since you jerks were too impatient to wait and allow me the time to properly plan a wedding…” Lyle says, casting a judgmental frown at my beautiful bride and me.

 

I give him my most intimidating glower. It’s a facial expression I typically reserve for the opponents I face off with inside the octagon, not my friends. But Lyle, a man I would typically call my friend—hence why he is officiating my WEDDING—is getting the murder eyeballs because he is KEEPING ME FROM MY WOMAN.

 

“Not that you’re bitter about that or anything,” says the woman of my dreams, the mic clipped to her wedding gown allowing all the guests filling this rustic-farmhouse-turned-winter-wonderland despite Lyle’s complaints about lack of time to hear her chastisement, causing them to laugh.

 

“Hush, you.” Lyle cuts Holly a glare that would flip my homicidal switch if I didn’t know he also loves her unconditionally.

 

Holly’s red-painted lips, the same ones currently requiring my body to work overtime to avoid embarrassing myself in front of all our guests with the erection it’s inspiring behind my zipper, part in shock. “You can’t hush the bride.”

 

Lyle props a hand on his hip. “Do you want to argue, or do you want me to finish marrying you to this sexy beefcake of a man?” He winks at me, staying on brand by shamelessly flirting with me while he’s in the middle of performing my nuptials.

​

Holly turns to Kyle, who’s dutifully holding her bouquet and standing behind her. “How about fulfilling your man of honor responsibilities by getting your husband in check?”

 

“Ly, babe,” Kyle cajoles, a well-practiced affectionate smile on his lips, “they agreed to let you officiate, so don’t be a vowblock.”

 

“Vowblocking?” Lyle pauses in his monologue, his gregarious personality not caring that he’s in the midst of officiating. “Is that a thing?”

 

“Only when my best friend allows you to guilt-trip him into letting you perform his wedding ceremony,” Jase comments from his best man spot beside me, the jackass doing nothing to hide his I told you you shouldn’t have trusted him to behave smirk.

 

“Whatever.” Lyle runs a careful hand over the neon green and hot-pink tips of his spiky hair before smoothing it down his green crushed velvet tuxedo jacket. “You guys still love me.”

 

“That may be true.” I clap him on the shoulder, squeezing a tad harder than necessary. “But if you don’t pronounce my woman my wife in the next two seconds, I’m going to find a new coffee shop to frequent.”

 

Lyle lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching at his chest. “You take that back right now, Vincent Steele.” He shakes an aggressive finger in my face.

 

I just grin, letting my threat linger for maximum effect.

 

Lyle and his husband—because he had no one vowblocking him on his wedding day (the lucky jerk)—Kyle own the coffee shop Espresso Patronum, which my Holly bakes out of.

 

I used to be grateful for having the greatest coffee shop in all the land across the street from The Steele Maker, my family’s gym that I fight out of. For one, their coffee and the baked goodies my future wife creates are hands down the best I’ve ever had. And for another, it’s how I met my bride.

 

Right now? At this moment? While Lyle watches us with that judgmental frown tugging down the corners of his mouth, I’m rethinking all my life choices that led me to my friendship with him.

 

He knows damn well it took me over a year to get this damn woman to finally accept my proposal. I’m sure as shit not dragging out this engagement any longer than necessary.

 

“Tell me I can kiss my bride, and I’ll consider it.” I don’t blink, staring my friend down until he gives me what I want. 

It was a mistake letting him officiate. He’s become drunk on power.

 

“You know what? Screw this,” I declare, done waiting for permission. Hooking an arm around Holly’s waist, I haul her in and dip her backward with a not-suitable-for-public-consumption kiss.

 

Ask me if I give a fuck.

 

Spoiler alert: I don’t.

 

“Fine, fine, fine.” Lyle tosses the leather-bound notebook containing the ceremony dialogue. Honestly, I don’t know why he bothered holding it since he’s barely been reading from it. “I pronounce you man and wife and all that marital jazz. Merry Christmas.” 

 

Whoops and hollers cheer on my continuing display of inappropriate public affection. It’s only when Holly is breathless that I pull back, letting her body slide against mine as I stand her upright again, pressing my forehead to hers. 

 

“You’re mine forever, Holly Meredith Steele.”

 

“Yes, I am.” She smiles, her whiskey eyes twinkling like the lights dangling from the exposed beams overhead.

 

Slipping my fingers under her left wrist, I lift her arm to my mouth, kissing the tattoo on her wrist that proclaimed her as mine long before the rings encircling her fourth finger.

 

Our friends and family continue to carry on, and it feels like the whole world has paused to celebrate this moment with us, our moment of becoming one. It’s chaos, the perfect kind.

 

​

Chapter 2

holly

​

I’ve never been one of those girls who dreamed of what her wedding would be like. Granted, a lot of that had to do with how I grew up. It’s kind of hard for a girl to imagine her wedding being the happiest day of her life when the expectations for it trended more toward a spectacle than a special occasion.

 

Still, it’s hard to ignore a day that’s at the forefront of almost every other girl’s mind at some point, especially when I’d catch glimpses of the fantasy in movies and read about it in many of the romance novels I would devour on the QT.

 

Not that there’s anything wrong with romance novels—hell no! I love those sumbitches, even more so now that I get to call one of my favorite authors one of my best friends.

 

Anyway…we’re getting off topic. That’s not really the point I was trying to make.

 

The point is, my wedding was supposed to be some lavish affair planned more for the thousand-plus guests that would have been invited to attend than it would have been for myself and a parental-approved groom.

 

God. Thank Chris Kringle I finally grew a backbone and escaped that life. Sure, technically, I ran away, but—and trust me on this—it was the best decision I could have ever made. If I hadn’t risked everything to escape the life I had always known, I wouldn’t now be married to the man of my dreams, and it sure as Santa wouldn’t have happened in the most magical, winter wonderland, Christmas spectacular wedding ceremony this side of the North Pole.

 

I can’t help but sigh at the perfection of it all.

 

“Come here, wife.”

 

There’s no stopping my smile as Vince pulls me along with him. We’ve been married for all of thirty minutes, and my husband has called me wife roughly one hundred and twenty-seven times. Though, seeing how I just called him husband in my mind, I guess I shouldn’t judge.

 

The twinkle lights strewn across the beams above us cast a sparkly glow on Vince’s blue-black hair, the blueish hue even bluer with each bob and weave of his head as he searches the ceiling for…something.

 

“Where are we going?” I ask around a giggle.

 

My husband—oops, I did it again—electric slides around his cousin Gemma dancing with—

 

Ohemgee, is that Chance, her kinda-sorta enemy she’s dancing with? Ooo, maybe she’ll finally hate bang the hockey hunk and the rest of us can stop getting blue clit any time they are in the same room together. Seriously…it’s a problem.

 

“Right here.” Vince twirls me around, pressing my back to one of the support pillars at the edge of the dance floor and effectively breaking me out of my musings about my friend’s sex life.

 

My tongue peeks out to wet my suddenly dry lips as he moves in close, one arm resting on the pillar next to my head, my heart skipping a beat as the other bands around my waist, pulling me flush against his solid chest.

 

Anticipation bubbles in my veins as he leans in, his breath teasing my neck moments before his lips do, and I groan at the sensation.

 

He chuckles into my ear before trailing kisses down my jaw. “I love you,” he whispers against my mouth just before claiming it in a passionate kiss meant to seal every promise spoken during our vows today.

 

His fingers curl around my hip, digging into the soft flesh and making me gasp at the possession as a tingling

sensation spreads throughout my body from his touch. My nipples pebble against the soft material of my gown, and

 

I moan into his mouth, still melded with mine.

 

And then, just as quickly as he started, Vince pulls back, caressing my cheek with a maddening nonchalance like he didn’t just set my body on fire and make my panties damp.

 

I bite my lip and peek up at my husband through my lashes as his gaze roams over me in hungry reverence. That lopsided smile that’s been charming me since even before I wanted to be charmed by it tugs at his lips.

 

I narrow my eyes. If I didn’t love him so damn much, I could hate him for how alluring that expression alone is. But, alas, I’m head over pineapple upside-down cake for him.

 

“Ready to get out of here, wife?”

 

I press my lips together to restrain a grin. It’s best not to encourage him if he’s already trying to ditch our reception less than an hour into it.

 

I loop my arms around his neck. “Someone’s being impatient,” I singsong while playing with the hair on the back of his head.

 

Vince’s gray eyes twinkle with familiar mischief as he dips his head again. “Well you see…” I shiver as he trails feathery kisses along my skin. “We have this bridal suite in the back that is completely empty right now.”

 

“Mmm.” I hum, lowering my chin to recapture his mouth with mine. “You know I live for your take-charge initiative.” I peck at his lips. “But Lyle’s head might literally explode if we cut out early.”

 

“Ugh.” Vince drops his head, his forehead resting against mine. “I hate that you’re right.”

 

I run my hand along his freshly shaven jaw, cupping his cheek before giving it an affectionate tap. “Better get used to that feeling because you know I’m always right.” I duck under his arm. “Now come dance with your wife, husband.”

I prance toward the dance floor, letting out a screech when he hauls me over his shoulder, smacking my ass in a resounding spank before giving it a dominant squeeze.

 

“Vince!”

 

I’m out of breath by the time he sets me on my feet, our friends and family closing in around us in a makeshift circle as my husband pulls me close for his own special brand of dirty dancing.

 

“I love you so much, Cupcake,” he says, lifting my left wrist to his mouth and placing a kiss over his nickname, which I inked on my skin almost a year before I allowed him to put a ring on my finger.

 

“I love you too, Muffin.” There’s no suppressing this grin that tugs at my lips at how my UFC champion of a man loves me calling him Muffin on the reg. Though I know that ironclad ego of his is why he preens from it because he knows it’s short for Stud Muffin.

 

“I know you do, baby.” Vince dips me back, laying his lips on my throat.

 

“No, no, no, no.” Lyle pushes his way into our bubble, physically putting his body between ours and holding us at arm’s length. “You’re not ruining my wedding day because the two of you don’t know how to keep it in your pants.

 

Save that enthusiasm for tonight and keep it out of my wedding.”

 

“Your wedding?” Vince’s tone is incredulous, but he’s chuckling in my ear as he recaptures me in his arms, my back pressed to his front as he sways us side to side.

 

“Yes, my wedding.” Lyle squares off with us, his velvet tuxedo jacket gaping open as he rests his balled hands on his hips. “Do you two know the lengths I had to go to to be able to plan this”—he flutters his hands at our winter wonderland—“extravaganza?”

 

Outside of the man I married less than an hour ago, Lyle is my favorite human in life, and I know laughing at his typical flamboyant exuberance at this particular moment could be detrimental to my health.

 

“You’d think we’d committed the heinous crime of eloping like my sister with how he’s reacting,” Vince mock-whispers into the soft spot behind my ear.

 

Oof. The glare Lyle levels Vince with makes me think if my new husband isn’t careful, I might become a widow on the same day I became a wife.

 

“Puh-lease, Mr. Man of Steele.” Lyle rolls his eyes as he emphasizes Vince’s fighting moniker. “If life were actually like the game board in The Game of Life, your wedding would be only one step past an elopement. So don’t act like you had this long-ass engagement with beaucoup planning time.”

 

“Beaucoup?” I press my lips together. “Really? That’s the value amount you’re going with?”

 

“Hush, Sweets.” Lyle attitude finger circles me.

 

Vince is practically vibrating with laughter behind me.

 

Lyle flips an enthusiastic bird at my husband. “Now, seeing as I did all the legwork for you and your special special day, you will keep your sexy asses here until every dance has been danced, and every bouquet has been tossed, and every garter has been removed—”

 

“Now that’s a tradition I can get behind,” Vince says, cutting into Lyle’s run-on sentence.

 

“An-y-way…” The narrowing of Lyle’s inky lashes gives away our friend’s utter lack of amusement as he continues despite what his glare tells us was a rude interruption. “You will listen to every toast, and you will smash your bites of cake, and then and only then will we call it a night, and you two can commence with the fucking like bunnies.”

 

“Bring on the honeymoon, baby,” Vince declares with a bellowing roar.

 

​

Chapter 3

vince

 

With my wife thrown over my shoulder, I climb the staircase to the private plane our friends were gracious enough to let us use for the almost five-thousand-mile flight to our honeymoon. I don’t choose my friends based on the perks they come with, but not gonna lie, this is one of those times it’s fun being friends with rock stars.

 

“I’m not sure how I feel about this new habit of yours.” Holly slips her hands underneath the bottom of my jacket, lifting the leather above my beltline, the frigid December air blanketing the now-bared skin of my lower back in an instant. “But I’ll admit…I’m digging this view.”

 

I chuckle as a hand slides into my back pocket and squeezes my ass.

 

Tightening the arm I have banded around her upper thighs, I use my free hand to return the favor with a playful spank. “Not as much as I’ll be digging mine five minutes after takeoff.”

 

“I take it you want a window seat?”

 

I pause at the question, returning the greeting from the flight attendant staffed by BoP before moving into the main cabin and setting my wife down on one of the leather couches, making quick work of her seat belt.

 

Holly pushes her hair out of her face, an adorable frown tugging between her brows as I take the spot beside her and lift her legs to drape over mine. “I thought you wanted the window seat.”

 

“What would make you think that?” I ask, playing dumb.

 

She cranes her neck, glancing at the small oval-shaped window behind her before returning her gaze to me. “You were talking about the view after takeoff.”

 

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I bite back a grin. It’s cute how even after us being together for over a year, she so easily forgets how my mind forever stays in the gutter when it comes to her.

 

Slipping a hand over her leg, I slide it up her inner thigh, dragging my thumbnail along the seam of her leggings. “Cupcake…” I let my pet name for her hang in the air and cup her between the legs, feeling the heat of her pussy radiating through the stretchy material of her pants. “The view I was talking about was you.” I squeeze, pushing the heel of my palm against Holly’s center, not bothering to smother my smug smile at the throaty moan spilling from my wife’s parted lips. “More specifically, you naked, bouncing on my cock.”

 

“Vince!” she whisper-hisses, a blush spreading across her cheeks as her eyes dart around to make sure our flight attendant isn’t anywhere near us.

 

“What?” I shrug, letting my hand slip away from her heat to adjust my pants, my dick straining against my zipper painfully.

 

“I’m not taking my clothes off”—her eyes dart around again—“here.”

 

I crook a finger beneath her chin, bringing her eyes back to meet mine. “Barely married a day, and already you’re trying to skirt your wifely duties?”

 

“Wifely. Duties?” The dropped octave of Holly’s voice and the sky-high arch of one of her sculpted brows would each be a warning indicator on its own, but the combination of the two is dangerous. Thank the Dark Knight I know she knows I’m joking and she loves me for my sense of humor. Otherwise, I’d be at serious risk of losing my manhood.

 

“Mm-hmm.” Hooking an arm around her middle, I tug her against me, burying my face in the curve of her neck. “And I promise I won’t stop fulfilling my husbandly duties until you pass out from the pleasure of it all.”

 

“Vin…”

 

“Yesterday, we were joined together in matrimony. Today…” I bite down on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “We join the mile-high club.”

 

“Bu-but what about the flight attendant?”

 

Holly’s tone may be hesitant, but the hand she’s slipped underneath my shirt that’s now tracing along the ridges of my abdominals is anything but.

 

“She’s been employed by Birds of Prey for years, baby—I doubt seeing newlyweds fucking even rates on her scandalous scale.”

 

Holly loops her arms around my neck, her fingers automatically toying with the hair at the back of my head. “Really?”

 

“Really, baby.”

 

She giggles against my mouth when I kiss her, her arms tightening around me, pulling me closer. I continue the kiss eagerly, my tongue dipping into her mouth as my fingers fist in the soft fabric of her sweater.

 

“But don’t worry, she won’t see anything because as soon as the pilot gives the all clear to move about the cabin, I’m taking you to the bedroom in the back of the plane.”

 

“There’s a bedroom?” She abandons me, spinning around and folding herself over her legs to look from a better vantage point.

 

A chuckle rumbles up my throat. Before fate brought the love of my life into my life, she grew up in a family with more money than God. Money certainly didn’t buy my bride happiness in her old life, but the thing I find so special about her is that, despite how common ostentatious displays of wealth were, she still has this pure excitement for an experience like this.

 

“Guess it’s a good thing we aren’t traveling with the band because I could guarantee we’d have to listen to Pete go on and on about how BoP is kind of a big deal.”

 

Holly’s giggles soundtrack the pilot’s announcement for preparing for takeoff. “And that’s why he’s Lyle’s favorite.”

I’m nodding along because I couldn’t agree more. The vivacious personality of BoP’s drummer was like a friendship homing beacon to our exuberant friend.

 

“Yes, my beautiful bride, there is a bedroom…a bedroom where we will be alone.” I emphasize the word to put the last of her hesitation at ease, keeping my voice low and intimate. Besides, despite our penchant for risky semipublic places for sex, I’m way too possessive of her to openly risk any other eyes but mine getting the chance to see her naked.

 

Emboldened now, Holly glides her hand up my chest, circling a finger around my nipple before scraping her nails down my torso. “And what’s going to happen once we’re in this bedroom?”

 

So beautiful. So curious. So intuitive.

 

“Well…” I skim a knuckle along her jawline, my heart pumping faster in anticipation. “Once you and I are alone…”

 

Holly’s trembling lips part with a sigh as I trail my finger down her body, hooking it into the collar of her sweater.

 

I lower my voice to a husky whisper. “I’m going to strip you of every stitch of your clothing.”

 

The small movements of Holly’s chest rising and falling send a rush through me as I toy with the edge of her scooped collar. The swell of her cleavage taunts me as her breath hitches, but it’s knowing she’s enjoying the tease as much as I am that takes my grin to shit-eating proportions.

 

“And while I’m enjoying the view of your gorgeous naked body”—my eyes cut up to meet hers again, and they are blazing with a desire that matches mine—“I’m going to touch you however I damn well please.” Holly shivers against me as I move my palm up her chest, cupping her throat, squeezing just enough to add weight to my final declaration. “And you’re going to let me.”

 

“Is that so?” she challenges.

 

“It is.” My voice is firm and sure, letting her know I won’t be deterred from my mission.

 

“And why is that?” She narrows her eyes, her nostrils flaring as she tries to play tough, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gives her away.

 

“Because I am your husband, and what I say goes.”

 

A tiny growl rolls around in the back of her throat.

 

“I’m going to pay for that one, aren’t I?” I ask with a wince.

 

“Oh yeah.” My wife nods but leans in, kissing the underside of my jaw. “But I have a feeling you can make me come hard enough to forgive it.”

 

“Oh, Cupcake.” I use my grip on her throat to bring her close enough for my lips to brush her as I promise, “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard you’ll forget you were ever mad at me in the first place.”

 

The jet engines whir as Holly’s pulse races under my fingertips. Seconds later, the plane speeds down the runway, my belly dipping and ears popping as the wheels rise from the ground.

 

As promised, I lead my bride to the bedroom before the captain even finishes giving us the all clear. The room itself isn’t much more than a queen-size bed made up with premium bedding, but I don’t need anything else for what I have planned.

 

Holly sits on the edge of the mattress as I slide the lock on the door home, my eyes roaming over her face, taking in the flush of excitement radiating across her skin.

 

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

 

Beautiful and all mine.

 

It took me longer than I wanted, but finally, I bound this way-too-good-for-me woman to me. By marrying Holly, I am officially—and legally—the luckiest man in the universe. It is now both my duty and my mission to make sure she knows it every single chance I get.

 

Closing the small distance between us in a single stride, I curl a hand around the nape of her neck, anchoring her for a kiss hard enough to steal both our breaths. Fingers dig into my shoulders, nails sinking into my skin as I sweep my tongue inside her mouth to taste her.

 

I pull back abruptly before I get completely lost in my new bride. Then, reaching an arm behind my back, I grab my shirt and pull it over my head, carelessly tossing it to the floor.

 

Holly’s whiskey eyes glide over each inch of recently revealed skin. My cock jumps at how her irises darken like the top of the delicious crème brûlée she makes.

 

No, no. This won’t do.

 

Before sheer horniness can distract me from my plans, I grab my wife around the hips and reverse our positions.

 

“Strip, wife,” I demand, leaning back on my elbows.

 

Her eyes dilate even more, her pulse jumping at the side of her neck as her fingers toy with the hem of her sweater, anticipation clawing at me as I wait to see what she does.

 

Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, and when our gazes clash again, I can see the full weight of my undying devotion to her reflected back at me in her eyes. That, that right there, is why I was hooked on this woman from the jump.

 

Finally, fucking finally, Holly crosses her arms in front of her body and lifts the soft cashmere. Her gaze never wavers

from mine as she bends her arms behind her back, unhooking her matching red bra and sending it the same way as her sweater.

 

The sight of her perfect breasts taunts me enough that I need to fist the duvet in my hands to keep from launching myself at her and taking over the task at hand. Thumbs hooked in the waistband of her leggings, my wife stills, biting down on her lower lip because she knows precisely what she’s doing to me.

 

Fi-nal-ly, she shimmies side to side, peeling the stretchy pants over the swell of her hips until they pool around her ankles, the fabric forgotten as quickly as she kicks it aside.

 

“Fuck, Cupcake.”

 

I stab a hand into my hair, gripping the strands like they are a direct link to the sanity I’m desperately trying to hold on to as she stands before me in nothing but a pair of red lace panties hugging her curves and clinging to her sex.

 

“I don’t deserve you.”

 

In a blink, my wife is directly in front of me, her bare thighs pushing against my jean-clad knees as she takes my face between her hands. “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again.” She strokes her thumbs over my cheeks. “You are the best man I’ve ever known.”

 

No matter how hard I try, I can’t look away from those bottomless irises full of love and kindness. The pull of her is stronger than any gravity, and I am helplessly drawn in on an invisible tether.

 

I grab her by her hips, twisting my fingers in the lace until it snaps. That gasp I live for spills from her lips as I toss away the ruined remnants of her panties.

 

“If that’s the case…” I scoot back on the mattress. “Come sit on my face, wife.”

 

“Vin,” she responds breathlessly.

 

“Don’t get shy on me now, woman,” I tease as the blush staining her cheeks works its way down her neck and across her chest. “You know I love eating your pussy as much as the treats you bake.”

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, a tiny shudder rippling over her skin as she inhales a shaky breath.

 

“Now get your fine-ass self up here.” I crook a finger. “I need to taste you.”

 

I take her by the hand, helping her climb over me as I lie back on the bed.

 

“I want to feel you on my tongue.”

 

Her knees bracket my face, and I wrap my arms around her thighs, anchoring her in place, the scent of her arousal making my mouth water.

 

“I want to hear you moan,” I demand, burying my face in her cunt and licking her from back to front.

 

Holly jerks away instinctively, but I grip her tighter, keeping her exactly where I want her. There’s no preamble, no buildup. Instead, I stab my tongue into her entrance then drag it through her folds.

 

Holly gives me the moans I want, writhing over me in a sensual wave.

 

“Grab the headboard,” I command.

 

She obeys instantly. With her hands gripping the wood, I reach up, taking her ass in my hands and tilting her cunt for a better angle. Her skin is like warm velvet, her taste the most hedonistic drug.

 

I bite her clit, and she mewls, my fingers digging into her plump flesh to the point I know I’ll leave marks. Holly moans louder, her flesh quivering around my tongue, her muscles contracting under my touch.

 

“Come for me, wife.”

 

“Vin…”

 

“I want your orgasm.”

 

I release her ass and plunge two fingers inside of her. She gasps, her head dropping back as I drive them home. Her grip on the headboard tightens as I start to pump my hand, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

 

“Vin,” she pleads, desperation lacing her voice.

 

I use the flat of my tongue to stroke her, driving my fingers in and out of her until I feel her muscles tightening around them.

 

“Come for me,” I murmur into her flesh. “Come hard.”

 

A shudder ripples through Holly’s body as she lets go, her lips parting on a half moan, half scream as her orgasm rips through her.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she chants, surrendering to me completely.

 

“Do it,” I order, taking her clit between my lips and sucking.

 

Her back bows, her spine curved in the sexiest arch, her thighs tightening around my head as she rides out her orgasm. I don’t stop, refusing to relent until she’s breathless and I’ve wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her gorgeous body.

 

“Good girl,” I murmur, dotting kisses along her inner thigh.

 

“Holy cannoli, you’re good at that.” Holly collapses beside me on the bed, an arm thrown over her eyes.

 

“I know,” I say, rolling until I hover over her. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

 

​

Chapter 4

Holly

 

It’s not even noon on day seven of our honeymoon, and already it’s shaping up to be another perfect day in paradise. At this rate, I’m never going to want to go home.

 

Can you blame me though? Here I am, lounging against a stack of fluffy pillows on a king-size mattress inside a

private cabana, a frozen drink in my hand, a spicy romance novel loaded on my Kindle, and the gentle cadence of waves lapping in the distance.

 

Seriously, does life get any better than this?

 

Just when I think it can’t, my stupidly sexy husband comes jogging down the beach in all his shirtless, bulging, inked, muscly glory. It’s genetically unfair how attractive he is. And yet…I’m the lucky girl who gets to call him mine.

 

No, wait—I get to call him husband.

 

My heart flutters at the reminder. It’s not because he’s a seventeen on a scale of one to ten, but because he’s five hundred times more amazing on the inside—if that’s even remotely possible.

 

I prop myself up on my elbow as Vince nears our cabana, drinking in the sight of his tanned skin glistening with sweat, his muscles rippling with his movements. His inky-black hair is messy, the undercut swept back hastily from his face, giving me an unobstructed view of his gray eyes drinking me in hungrily.

 

He jogs up to the edge of the platform I’m lying on, ducking down and holding himself over me by balancing on the shelf of his knuckles.

 

“Good morning, wife.”

 

He plants a quick, sweaty kiss on my mouth, the slight taste of salt lingering on my lips as he pulls back.

 

“Morning, hubby,” I reply as he plops down beside me.

 

“Whatcha reading?” He helps himself to my Kindle, slipping it out of my loose grip and taking a gander at the words on the screen. “Is this one of Maddey’s books?”

 

Maddey McClain is one of the handful of amazing women who adopted me into their girl gang, or as my darling husband deemed us, the Covenettes. Before I knew her as a bestie, I knew her as Belle Willis, one of my all-time favorite romance authors. The fangirl in me is obsessed with knowing I have her in my real life and not just on my Kindle, though I suspect it’s Maddey who gets the most enjoyment out of our friendship due to how much she gets to tease Vince about how she was the one I loved first.

 

“Nope.” I pop the p as I steal my Kindle back. “This gem of deliciousness is Give Me More by Sara Cate.”

 

“Oh, really?” Vince teases while tracing his fingertips over the jut of my hip bone. “And is it inspiring you to try anything fun with me?”

 

“I don’t know…” I toss my Kindle aside, rolling over until we’re face to face.

 

Mischief I’m more than familiar with dances across Vince’s features. “Aww…” He reaches up, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. “Don’t get shy on me now, Cupcake. You know I love making your spicy BookTok dreams come true.”

 

My nose scrunches when he boops it.

 

“Plus,” he continues, “I fully subscribe to the whole happy wife, happy life thing.”

 

I bite my lip, not to be seductive, but to hold back a laugh because I know my sweet, wonderful husband is far too alpha to even let the mere idea of what I’m about to tell him be a possibility, let alone actually happen. Not that I would want it—I have my hands full enough with Vincent Steele on his own. Trying to add anyone else into the mix would be utter chaos.

 

“Well…you see…” I shift until my breasts pillow against his hard chest. “It’s about this married couple…”

 

“How convenient.” Vince toys with the strings tied low on my hips. “Seeing as we”—he bounces a finger between us—“are a newly married couple.”

 

“That we are.” I casually walk my fingers up the plane of his chest. “But in this story, their relationship doesn’t feel complete until they add their best friend Drake into it.”

 

Vince lets out the feral growl I expected he would, the vibration of the sound and the sheer possession in it making my nipples hard. “I love Jase, but I would castrate him with his hockey skate if I suspected he was thinking about suggesting something like that.”

 

Vince and Jase have a friendship unlike any I’ve ever seen before, and I say that as a person whose own best friend is married to Lyle. But, really? Does anything else need to be said?

 

“Aww, is polyamory the thing that could finally break the most epic bromance of the ages?” I tease, tracing the shapes of the superhero emblems inked down his arm.

 

I’m shoved onto my back in a blink, a scowling MMA champion hovering over my prone body. Fear is what I should

feel given my history, but because I know I’m safe with Vince on a soul-deep level, my pussy clenches instead.

 

I have no idea where my Kindle went or what happened to my drink. The only thing my mind is able to focus on is the feel of Vince’s calloused fingers dragging along my skin as he takes my arms and lifts them over my head.

 

He laces his fingers with mine, pinning my hands to the mattress. “One week, and already my bride is bored of me?”

 

I wiggle around for space, but the only thing my efforts get me is Vince planted firmly between my thighs…not that I’m complaining.

 

Arching my neck, I dot kisses along his chin. “You’re a man with Batman sheets on his bed—how could I ever be bored with you?”

 

My husband’s grin is proud, the dimple in his left cheek making a pleased appearance. “Damn right, baby.” He slams his mouth on mine.

 

Our kiss deepens, and I groan as our lips connect, his teeth biting down on my bottom one before he sucks it into his mouth.

 

“You know I’m all yours, right?” I say when we finally break apart for some much-needed oxygen.

 

Everything about Vince softens at my words. Well…not everything. His dick is still as hard as my new surname against my thigh.

 

“Never doubted it for a second”—there’s a purposeful pause before he finishes—“wife.”

 

My heart stutters at the reminder of how important I am to this man.

 

Untwining one of his hands from mine, Vince cups the back of my nape, stretching his thumb up to push against my chin to keep me in place. “And I’ve always been yours.”

 

Then, as if his declaration didn’t just steal my breath, he makes sure to finish the job by sealing his mouth to mine. His fingers flex around me, and I moan as our tongues tangle together, the taste of him addictive, like a drug I could never get enough of.

 

A warm breeze blows across my overheated skin as Vince’s hands slide down my body, his firm grip holding me to him as he continues to kiss me with more hunger than ever before. The warmth of his touch radiates through me, setting off sparks of electricity in its wake.

 

I can’t help but squirm closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, wanting more. With a growl, Vince deepens the kiss further, his hand running up my side and over to cup my breast possessively. Through the thin fabric of my bikini top, his thumb circles my nipple, teasing it until it’s hard and practically begging for relief.

 

“Vin…” My voice trails off on a moan as he pushes the triangle of fabric to the side and sucks my nipple into his mouth.

 

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name, Cupcake,” he mumbles around my flesh, his teeth biting the hard nub, making my back bow off the mattress.

 

“We’re on the beach,” I warn as he moves from one breast to the other.

 

“A private beach.”

 

I blink, struggling to see through the haze of lust coating my vision as I take in our surroundings. Yes, our bungalow sits on a section of private beach, but that’s all it is, a section, one connected to a much larger, much more public stretch of sand. But when his palm flattens to my belly and slips inside my bikini bottoms, I couldn’t care less if we have an audience or not.

 

“Goddamn.” He drags two fingers through my slit, plunging them inside my pussy. “You’re fucking soaked.”

 

“I need you inside me.”

 

His fingers still, the tips skimming along my G-spot in the most maddening tease as he arches back to meet my gaze, that dangerous smirk tugging up his lips. “Here?”

 

I’m nodding before he even finishes asking the question.

 

“Thank fuck.”

 

Everything after that happens in fast-forward. Vince reverses our positions, hauling me around to straddle his lap in an effortless display of strength. His fingers hook under the crotch of my bikini, pulling the bottoms to the side and slamming me down on his dick. I have no idea when in all the maneuvering, he pulled it out of his shorts, but I’m damn grateful for his Houdini-esque penis-escaping skills.

 

“Oh my god.” I let out a choked gasp.

 

Vince bands his arms around me, laying his forearms against my back and curling his hands over my shoulders.

“God, I love the way your cunt squeezes me.”

 

I groan when he swivels his hips, my clit brushing against his rippling abdominals as he slams up into me, sinking himself deep.

 

“More, Vin. I need more.” I tangle my fingers in his damp hair, clutching at the silky strands.

 

His mouth covers my breast again, his tongue lashing at my nipple as his hips continue their relentless thrusts. Over and over, he pumps, pushing me higher and higher until I’m gripping him for dear life, my touch gliding through the sheen of sweat coating his skin.

 

His body moves like a well-oiled machine as he takes me, our breaths mingling in harsh little gasps. Sweet sugar cookie. I’m beyond grateful for all the hours my new husband dedicates to the gym to maintain his reign as the UFC’s Light Heavyweight champion.

 

Vince releases my boob with an audible pop, his hands going to my hips, driving our bodies together with powerful thrusts that leave me clinging to him in desperation.

 

“You know what I want, wife,” he growls against my ear, his throaty exhalation fanning my heated flesh and setting off a wave of goose bumps.

 

Pleasure crashes around inside my body as his fingers dig into my flesh in a punishing grip, the need to come urgent inside me.

 

“Vin…Vin…” I choke out between needy cries, begging for relief from this razor edge of sensation.

 

He fists my hair tightly in one hand, his teeth grazing down the side of my neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

 

That’s all the permission I need before ecstasy breaks over me so hard it steals away everything except his name escaping my lips on a broken cry.

 

I don’t know how long it takes until I can do more than cling to Vince, shuddering in his arms as I come down from

the high.

 

“I love you,” he whispers against my hair. The kiss he presses to my sweat-speckled temple is so sweet, especially compared to the animalistic way he just took me, and my heart squeezes inside my chest.

 

“I love you, too.” I sigh, my heart still thudding behind my rib cage.

 

His arms tight around me, I lift my head, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, and meet his gaze with a flirtatious grin.

 

“What?” he asks, brushing a knuckle against my cheek.

 

“Can we do that again?”

 

His answering laugh is pure, unfiltered Vincent Steele. “Hell yeah we can, Cupcake.”

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Chapter 5

Holly

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Five thousand miles and six times zones—you would think that would be enough to keep the real world back home from invading our little slice of sweet paradise.

 

But…

 

You’d be wrong. There’s no amount of distance or time differences that will keep a Coven Conversation at bay.

 

It was one thing to be rudely woken up by the start of the girls’ incessant group chat. That’s whatever. I could roll with it. I’m a flexible guy thanks to all the yoga my pain-in-the-ass-because-she’s-always-right sister insists on being part of my training.

 

But the constant bellow of Santa’s hearty ho ho ho chiming as text after text practically trips over itself to make itself known before the next one is ruining this sexy-time mojo I’m trying to build kissing my wife’s bare back.

 

Cockblocked by text message. What the fuck?

 

“Make it stop,” I mumble against Holly’s soft skin.

 

She giggles, arching her back until her delectable ass pushes against the erection already grumbling about these anti-aphrodisiac notifications. “Just let me make sure it’s nothing important.”

 

“Holly,” I whine. She and I both know important is a relative term with the Covenettes.

 

Utterly unconcerned about the growing situation in my groin, Holly reaches for her phone. This time her ass grinds into me, increasing my chances of succumbing to death by blue balls.

 

To add insult to impending injury, the text thread is filled with speculation about my cousin Gemma’s sex life.

 

Yeahhh, knowing whether or not my relative took a trip to Pound Town with her would-be nemesis is information I’d need brain bleach for.

 

YOU KNOW YOU WANNA (Becky): **cropped and circled image of Chance’s hand sitting dangerously low on Gemma’s back**

 

ALPHABET SOUP (Rocky): Oooo, I think someone likes you, cuz.

 

DANCING QUEEN (Zoey): You don’t need to like someone to fuck them.

And then, and fucking then…Holly starts joining in. Here I am trying to do my best erotically teasing wake-up call for my bride, and she’s typing a freaking message to our friends. Ooo, someone is on my naughty list.

 

SANTA’S COOKIE SUPPLIER (HOLLY): OMG, this being 6 hours behind you guys is NOT working for me. I’m missing ALL the things.

 

PROTEIN PRINCESS (Gemma): You guys are RIDICULOUS. And Holly, you’re on your honeymoon. As much as it makes me throw up in my mouth to say *puke emoji* shouldn’t my cousin be keeping you too busy banging to text us?

 

I feel that puke emoji deep in my soul. Brain bleach, remember? Still…my sunshiny cousin’s observation is why she is one of my favorite relatives.

 

It’s time to put an end to this insanity so I can put a start to banging my wife.

 

Holly lets out a yelp of protest when I yank the phone out of her hands and start typing out my own response.

 

(Me writing as) SANTA’S COOKIE SUPPLIER: THANK YOU! THIS IS WHY YOU ARE MY FAVORITE COUSIN, GEM!

 

PROTEIN PRINCESS: Hi, Vince.

 

“Can I have my phone back?” Holly attempts to retrieve her phone, but I roll her underneath me, smirking at the feel of having all her nakedness pressed against me.

 

“That would be a no.” I laugh at the adorable pout she gives me.

 

(Me writing as) SANTA’S COOKIE SUPPLIER: Don’t you worry your pretty little head, cuz. I’ve been keeping my new wife VERY satisfied.

 

Holly’s eyes go as round as the coconut she drank her piña colada from yesterday. “Vince.”

 

I’m chuckling as I drop the phone over the side of the bed then take her beautiful face between my hands. “It’s cute how you think I don’t know you well enough to know you’ll be back in that chat telling them all about how I fucked you so hard you passed out from pleasure the first chance you get.”

 

“You sound awfully sure of your sexual prowess, Muffin.” She dances her fingers along the ridges of my muscles.

 

“Maybe.” I ghost my lips across her collarbones. “But I think the number of orgasms you’ve had since becoming my wife stacks the odds in my favor.”

 

“How do you know I wasn’t faking them?”

 

Her taunt sets off every competitive alpha molecule residing in my cells. I flip her over onto her belly with a growl, blanketing her body with mine and kneeing her thighs apart. “I dare you to fake this.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” She moans, squirming underneath me as I slam home in a single, powerful thrust.

 

“That’s it, baby.” I drop my mouth to her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it as I move inside her. “I promise you’ll only ever have real orgasms for the rest of your life.”

 

She moves with me, meeting me thrust for thrust and panting out, “Now that’s what I call happily ever after.”

 

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Thank you so much for reading! Want to learn how Holly and Vince met and feel in love (Sweet Victory)? Or if Gemma finally did hate-bang Chance Jenson (Defensive Hearts)? Find out in my BTU Alumni Series. All books are LIVE and FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

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