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Isabella blinks. “I—we can get breakfast on the road, then.”
“I like the sound of that.”
I move up her body, straddling her chest as my swollen cockhead bumps against her lips. I love that she trusts me enough not to prod at what the surprise might be, and even more that she’s so hungry for my cock that she can’t let me leave bed without it.
I’m glad, because even a few seconds of my tongue on her pussy and the taste of her cum in my mouth has me painfully hard.
Isabella wraps her lips around my tip, taking me deep as she arches her neck, looking up at me with those wide dark eyes. “I’m going to fuck your face hard and fast,” I tell her, reaching down to grab her hands and tangle my fingers through them, placing them on my thighs. “I need to come, lass, and quickly. So let me know if it’s too much.”
She only stretches her lips around my cock, flattening her tongue for me to thrust, and I groan with pleasure as I grab onto the headboard and start to thrust. “My good lass,” I growl, thrusting into her mouth, feeling the hot, wet tightness of it as my balls ache with a near-orgasm already. “Take my fucking cock, wife.”
She moans around it, and a bolt of lust shoots through me as one of her hands slides between her legs behind me, her other still on my thigh as I directed. I feel my wanton little bride start to rub her clit as she takes my cock in her throat, and I realize that I’m going to come even sooner than I thought. Feeling Isabella touch herself as she sucks me is one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever experienced.
“If you want to come again, make it fast, lass,” I warn. “Because I’m about to fill your mouth up.”
I feel my cock swell, thrusting into the back of her throat, and Isabella lets out a cry of pleasure as her thighs tense, the ripple of a second orgasm bursting through her as I shoot the first hot spurt of my cum down her throat.
“Good fucking lass,” I groan as she takes every drop, swallowing with each burst of cum. “Good girl, Isabella. Take it all--fuck—"
Her hand stills as she finishes swallowing my cum, licking my sensitive tip as she looks up at me, wanting every drop. I groan with pleasure once more, not wanting to slip out of her mouth, but we don’t have time for a second round.
“So we’re going somewhere?” Isabella asks as we both sit up, pushing her hair out of her face. “Like a honeymoon?”
I kiss her lightly, slipping out of bed, and I see her gaze rake over me. “You’ll see. Go ahead and get packed for a few days. And bring something warm.”
Within an hour, we’re packed and in the car on the way to the hangar, and I can feel Isabella practically vibrating with excitement next to me. “I want to try to get you to tell me,” she says teasingly, nestled in close to me in the car. “But I’ll let you have your surprise.”
“Good.” I kiss her as we get out, leading her to the private jet. “I don’t get to travel on these all that often, but we’ll get to do it at least once more.”
I’d wanted to take her on the jet especially to make up for the last time, the tense and strained short flight from New York to Boston. I don’t want that to be her last memory of flying on a private jet with me, something that should be a fun experience.
This flight is entirely different. We sit companionably next to each other, Isabella with her ginger ale and her book, me with a beer, a spread of snacks out in front of us. She nestles close to me the way she did in the car, and it feels so good to know that she wants to be close, that she trusts me even after it took so long for me to come around to the idea of us.
It’s not a terribly long flight, only about six hours, and as we descend I see Isabella looking out of the window at the foggy green expanse below us, her eyes wide. “Where are we?” she asks as she pulls back, and I grin.
“You’ll see. Make sure to grab your coat before we deplane.”
I feel my spirits lift as we step off, hand in hand with Isabella. She looks around, and then back up at me. “Are we in—”
“Ireland,” I confirm. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and I wanted to bring you here for our honeymoon.” I lean down and kiss her lightly. “I’ve seen your home, and I wanted you to have a chance to see where I come from too. Or at least, come from by way of a generation,” I say wryly. “I wasn’t actually born here, more’s the pity.”
“This is incredible,” Isabella breathes, tightening her coat around her a little. “It’s so green and damp and—oh my god, it’s beautiful.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. I checked with the doctor,” I add, “and she said you’d be fine for the trip. The Dublin Kings will be providing us with some behind-the-scenes security, discreetly, although I don’t think we have much reason to worry.”
Rather than a driver, I’ve rented a car, and I drive us to our hotel. I picked out a luxury hotel in Dublin for our first night, and we get settled in, heading out to a pub for dinner. Isabella takes everything in with a happiness that makes me glad I’d decided to push for the honeymoon, something Connor hadn’t been all too pleased about. He’d cited the recent unrest among the Kings, suggesting it might be too dangerous, but I wasn’t going to hear it.
My goal is to give Isabella as normal a life as possible, without all the politics and drama of the Kings. I know to some extent it’s unescapable, once I have a seat there, but I don’t want it to intrude on our lives, the way my father kept it out of my mother’s.
“We haven’t talked much about the future,” Isabella says, as we nestle into the pub with a pint of Guinness and shepherd’s pie for me, fish and chips for her. “We’ve had our wedding, we’ve been renovating the house, what next? What are you hoping for, Niall?”
“For us to be happy,” I tell her simply. “Both you and I have had far too much of the other in our lives.” I reach over, taking her hand. “I’m going to be one of the Kings soon, with a seat at the table, and aye, that will change things some. I’ll have more responsibilities, and more wealth, though I don’t want to change the life we live too much. I’ve thought hard about the violence of my life, about how to scale that back to protect you and our family—because I want that family now, Isabella, and I want to be around for it. To have more children with you. A long life.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand. “I want that, too. Although—maybe we give it a little time, before the second baby. I already feel terrified by the one.”
“You’re going to be a good mother,” I reassure her. “And you have support, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. Ana will be there for you, and Caterina and Sofia and Sasha are sometimes in Boston, too. You won’t be alone. I want you to have friends, a life of your own, to live without fear. I don’t want to live a life where you fear for yourself or our children because of things I’ve done. I’ve been a rough man all my life, Isabella, but I’m willing to be a gentler one for you.”
She bites her lower lip at that, her eyes a little misty. “I’m so sorry, Niall, for how things began. I think all the time of new ways to apologize, of things I could say to make it better, and it never feels like enough. Even now—”
