Chapter 4

chapter

four

Greyson

We end up back in the room where Bella got dressed, though this time I'm not standing on the other side of the door.

"Did I mention how beautiful you look?" I ask her.

The smile she gives me nearly knocks me on my ass. "Thank you." Then she glances down at her dress. "This is not the dress I would have picked out."

"Nah, you would have picked something simple. Maybe some flowers in your hair. Bare feet."

She leans up and kisses my cheek, but my stupid fucking beard prevents me from feeling it. "You know me so well."

"So what's next?" I ask.

"The reception. It'll be back in the same room, but they have to reset it back like the restaurant. We'll be on display at the front table."

"I'll try not to eat with my hands."

She laughs. "I don't care what you do. You've saved my ass. Once again."

"Darlin'," I warn.

"Yes, we're a team. I know. I remember. And yes, I would've done the same for you."

I squeeze her arms. "How did this even happen? Where's your groom? You need me to go kill that motherfucker?"

"No. It wasn't like that." She tugs on the lace at her shoulder. "So much fabric. This dress weighs a ton."

"Take it off. Wear something else to the reception so you can be more comfortable."

She bites down on her lip. Immediately I'm reminded of the way she tasted during our kiss.

"Grandmother wants me to leave it on," she says.

"All the more reason to take it off. You got something else you can put on?" I ask.

"I do," she says, but she still looks uncertain.

"Darlin', do you know what being my wife means?"

"What?"

"It means you no longer have to bend to your grandmother's rules. You can do whatever the fuck you want to do. Yeah?"

She pulls me into a hug. "You are truly my favorite human in the whole world."

I wrap my arms around her, wishing she wasn't wearing the enormous wedding gown so I could have her body closer to mine. I kiss the top of her head.

"Let's get you out of all of this," I say.

"I should probably get Lizzie in here to help. It took her forever to button me into this dress."

I turn her in my arms so her back is facing me. There are, in fact, seven thousand tiny buttons. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration.

I blow out a breath.

"I told you. Let me text Lizzie."

"Wife, stand still and let me take off your wedding gown. That's a husband's privilege."

I swear I hear her suck in a breath.

My hands might be shaking, but I ignore that nonsense. Have I imagined undressing Bella a million times before? Of course. It was my number one jerk-off fantasy when I was a teen. But we're not kids anymore.

Bella is very much a woman and now very much my wife. And I very much want to put my mouth and hands all over her gorgeous body.

I start at the top of the buttons and they're so tiny and delicate, they make my fingers feel big and clumsy. I manage to fall into a rhythm though. Slowly, one-by-one, unbuttoning her dress.

"I take it this entire ordeal was planned by your grandmother?" I ask.

"Of course. My ideas were too crass and simplistic."

"Still as much of a bitch as she always was then?"

"Leopards can't change their spots," she says.

I've got the dress unbuttoned to her mid back, but I still haven't found any bare skin. Instead, she's encased in some more white fabric.

"Tell me about Landry's girl," she says. "I still can't believe he met someone."

"That boy is whipped. Head over ass for Brook."

"So she's good for him? You like her?"

"Yeah, she's great. She's actually Natalie's sister," I explain.

"Natalie, as in Linc's wife?"

"Yeah. They fit in pretty good up on our mountain. You'll like them."

"I can't wait to meet them someday."

I finish the long column of buttons and the dress gapes open. I slide it down her shoulders and off her torso. The full skirt can practically stand on its own, so I get down low to squish it out of her way.

"Step out of the dress, darlin'."

She uses my shoulder as leverage and climbs out of all of the white fabric.

"I don't even wanna know how much this thing cost," I say. I pick it up and sling it over a nearby chair.

Then I look up and she's just standing there. Bare legs except for a garter belt and stockings and bare shoulders and arms. Her entire middle is covered in white, curve-molding material.

"What are you wearing?" I ask.

"This is not the part men are supposed to see," she says.

The fresh bloom of pink in her cheeks tells me how embarrassing she finds this. But I feel like I'm missing something.

I put my hands on her waist. "Darlin', this feels really tight. Can you breathe?"

Her hands come up to cover her face. "Greyson, you're making it worse."

"Making what worse? Why is your perfect body crammed into this contraption. Don't get me wrong, you look hot as fuck in it, but it can't possibly be comfortable."

"Of course it's not comfortable. It's shape wear."

"Huh?"

"You know it's supposed to squish and mold and hide all your body's lumps and imperfections so you have a more pleasing silhouette."

This pisses me off. "Who told you that you had imperfections?"

"My grandmother. Practically every day of my life, but you already know that."

I dig in my jeans pocket and pull out my knife. I pull out the biggest blade and start at the shoulder straps and then the part between her breasts.

"Greyson! What are you doing?"

"Freeing you from this torture device. Imperfections, my ass. I'd like to wrap your grandmother in this goddamn straitjacket."

"You're angry?" she asks.

I pause in my slicing of the material to look at my bride's gorgeous face. "Fuck yes, I'm mad. No woman should ever have to wear a contraption like this. For any reason. I thought that nonsense went the way of the corset and pantaloons."

She huffs out a laugh. "Did you just say pantaloons?"

I cock a brow at her. "The book club is reading a historical romance. Pantaloons are a thing. I promise."

"I know that. I just didn't think you'd know that."

I pull the fabric as far away from her skin as possible because I don't want to nick her perfect, creamy flesh. I'm so goddamn angry, I can't even enjoy unwrapping my bride like a damn present.

Her hands move up to cup her full breasts as the shape wear crumbles off her body in shards of white.

"Greyson, I am actually naked under this."

I look up at her and grin while I work on a particularly challenging piece of elastic around her thigh. "I'm noticing that."

"Well, you can't see me naked."

I finish ripping the offensive garment off her body, then stand. "What the fuck does that mean? You're my wife, Bella, I'll see you naked whenever the hell I want." I slide my hand in between her thighs. "I'll touch you too. Unless you want to fight about that as well."

My fingers explore deftly, bypassing the parts I know she wants me to touch.

"I'm guessing by how soaked you are that any argument you try to make now will be moot." I nuzzle into her neck, licking at the tender skin there.

"We have to go to the reception," she murmurs.

"We will. But first, I have something I need to do," I tell her. With my free hand I bat hers away from her tits. "You don't ever need to hide or disguise or cover any parts of yourself. Not for me."

"Okay," she whispers.

"Now, do you want to explain to me why you're soaking wet?"

She sucks in a breath when I nibble on the skin across her collarbone. "You cut my underwear off."

I chuckle and lick up to her ear. "And did you like that?" My fingers still play between her slick folds and she's practically leaking into my palm.

I want to step back and take in how she looks. Standing in the middle of this room wearing nothing but her stockings and heels. But I don't want to stop what I'm doing.

"This," I smack my hand against her wet flesh. "Is one needy pussy."

"Yes," she hisses.

"I've got you, wife. You're mine to take care of now. That means any time this pussy gets needy, you come to me and I'll handle things."

Finally, I slip my fingers between her lower lips, brushing against her clit."

"Grey!" she squeaks my name.

"That's right, darlin', you call my name when I make you feel good."

She's impossibly tight when I plunge two fingers inside her. I make sure the heel of my palm presses against her greedy little button.

"Ride my hand, Bella. Come the fuck all over it."

I'm painfully hard in my jeans and yeah, I could unbutton them and just pound into her. But right now, this first orgasm, I want to feel it with my hands.

I know she's getting close because her pussy is squeezing my fingers. There's a rattling of the door to the room.

Bella gasps. "Oh my God," she whispers.

"Doesn't matter. I'm not stopping until you come." I say, keeping my rhythm steady.

Her warm hazel eyes flare and she bites down on her lip.

"Your guests are waiting, Annabelle!" Her Grandmother snaps from the other side of the door.

"We'll be out in a few," I bark.

"Unlock this door this instant!" she demands.

"I don't think I will."

Bella gasps as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Are you going to come?" I ask her softly.

Her eyes wide, she nods.

I pull her mouth to mine and swallow her cries as she detonates on my palm. Her release drips over my fingers, and fuck me if that wasn't the hottest fucking thing in my entire life.