“Fine, theinternet, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss your—whoa, okay.”
I don’t wait for Ethan’s permission to kiss my husband.My husband. Wow, I fucking love the sound of that. I grip Ryan by the head and the small of his back with my sore hands. They throb with pain in time with my cock. I want him. Would love to claim him right here, in front of everyone.
My lips seize his, taking them, mauling them. I tease them with my tongue until he lets me inside. Ryan’s just as eager, catching my bottom lip, sucking, coming back for more.
There’s clapping and cheering from the peanut gallery, the same one that was critical only moments ago. But now that it’s done, they’re embracing us. All except the big one. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, still against the wall, still glaring daggers at me.
Whatever. Ryan’s mine now. Legally. On paper. Actually, that reminds me. I pull away from Ryan. “Where’s the wedding certificate?”
“Here,” Ethan says.
I would have loved to have Luke’s name on here as my witness.
“Tyler, sign this,” I demand.
Ryan gazes across the room to his contrary friend. “Becks, please. It would mean a lot if you signed this.”
He peels off the wall, sighing, but makes his way over. His hand moves with loud strikes of the pen. Ethan adds his signature as officiant.
There. Officially mine on paper. No one’s taking Ryan from me now.
“You two need to sign it as well—don’t get blood on it, for fuck’s sakes,” Ethan says. “I’ll get it to where it needs to go tomorrow.”
“Great. Get the copy to me as soon as possible.” I want to look at it every day. “Everybody, get the fuck out.”
Each of them stops by to pat Ryan on the shoulder, which I tolerate, but only because Ryan needs it. My patience is wearing thin. I don’t like them touching my husband.
Thankfully, finally, it’s just us. And I get him all to myself for longer than I’ve ever had him. We’re surrounded by an empty hush once the last of his friends trampled out. Ryan leans sideways against the bar top, and I take the seat closest to him.
He’s quick to hold up the pen for me, before I can attack him with my lips again. Interesting.
“Are you afraid I won’t sign?”
“A little,” he says.
The pen is in my hand so fast, and I script my large signature. I can’t do much to ease his anxiety, but I can do that. “Your turn.”
He’s the one who hesitates.
“Second thoughts?”
“No. I’m memorizing the moment. Don’t you feel it? Everything’s about to change.”
It already has for me. My center of gravity shifted. I’m questioning everything. I’m desperately attempting to recalibrate yet again, but I might be doomed to live my life on this fucking tilt-a-whirl. At least it will be with him.
“Sign, dollface,” I whisper. “And then I’m going to take you over and over—till you can’t move.”
We’re rocky and unstable tonight, each of us trying to fix it in our own way. We’re probably doing more harm than good, but we can’t deny how much we need each other, even if neither of us will say it.
Ryan signs.
It’s done.
I rip his clothes off and viciously fuck him over the bar top, no mercy, till he comes. I drag him to the stairs, set him up on all fours, and rail into him until he shoots all over them, wringing him out until he only thinks he’s got nothing left. His eyes get droopy by this point, but he reaches for me, and I need more. I put him on his back and make him hold his legs so I can sink my cock deep and claim new territory. I finally come, filling him up.
“Tate,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, dollface?”
