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In the end, I had to blow him to get it back, but that was fine. He would be in a much better mood after clearing out the pipes, and this gave him a chance to see how Thor’s Hammer actually worked.
While I took care of him, he also took care of me. I think he pushed me to the max to punish me for sneaking in orgasms behind his back. I never took that thing past a two but Hale cranked it up as high as it could go.
He had me buzzing like a telephone on a 1950’s switchboard. Seriously, by the time he was done, I’d survived a new kind of electric shock therapy. But that no-fuck-zone-closet-mess-around was exactly what we both needed to relieve some of our pre-wedding tension.
“Not on my skin!” I yelled at the last second, just as Hale tipped his head back and gripped his cock like he usually did when he prepared to come.
“What? Why?” His fist tightened as he held that thing like a grenade with a loose pin. One wrong move and he was going to blow.
Kneeling before him on the floor of his dressing room, I searched for something he could finish in. A sock. A towel. Literally anything would do.
“Rayne,” he growled my name through gritted teeth. “It’s been weeks.”
I panicked. “Don’t you keep tissues in here?”
“Why can’t we finish the way we usually do?”
“Your semen could discolor my spray tan! I can’t walk around with a giant splotch of man shame on my chest!”
“Rayne,” he growled again, losing patience.
“Hale, I’m not going to look like the Hester Prynne of porn. I still have fittings.”
“Then open your mouth.”
Well, that also worked.
A moment later, I exited the closet and wiped my mouth—Thor’s Hammer in hand.
The final days before the wedding were flying by. As much as I looked forward to the wedding, I knew I’d be equally relieved to see it pass. I missed when it was just the three of us and we didn’t have this big project looming over every decision.
Remington kept me busy and preoccupied during work hours while I split my free time between studying, playing with Elara, and making sure all the last minute wedding plans were set. When evening rolled around each night, I was too exhausted to do more than cuddle up with Hale and watch a show.
Our weekends were reserved for everything we needed to get done so that we could enjoy the time off during the wedding festivities. I couldn’t imagine Hale not working, but he swore he was keeping his calendar open for the next two months while we got married and honeymooned our asses off. I was going to need a B-12 shot for all the sex I planned to have after we lifted the sex-ban.
Things were moving fast and, while it started as a short engagement, it ended more rapidly than I’d expected. We were one week away and even though all the big things were done and the little details were handled, I couldn’t shake the feeling of overlooking something, but Hale assured me we were ready.
There would be no more traveling overseas before the wedding. However, Hale still had one more trip to make up north to meet with Clayton, his lawyer.
“You scheduled a meeting during wedding week?” I pouted, looking over the itinerary on the iPad as I sipped my coffee in bed.
“It won’t take long. I’ll leave in the morning and be back to New York by evening.” He exited the bathroom in a billowing cloud of steam and disappeared into his dressing room.
“But isn’t Clayton coming to the wedding? Can’t you talk about whatever you have to discuss when he gets to the hotel?”
“I’m not doing business during our wedding, Rayne.”
“Then why is our entire guest list made up of business contacts,” I grumbled into my mug.
He poked his head out of the dressing room. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He tightened his tie. “Rule number one, never mix business with pleasure.”
“Um, then how do you explain me?”
He adjusted his cuffs. “You never worked for me.”
