24. Emzee

EMZEE

CHAPTER 24

I had never been the kind of girl who liked to dream about my wedding day. My life goals for as long as I could remember—going way back to when I was a child—consisted of simple things, like having a house of my own with no boys allowed (which I’d more or less achieved with the loft, though my feelings about boys had definitely matured), being able to take care of myself (I liked to think I was doing pretty well in that regard), and getting a dog (hello Munchkin). I hadn’t done too bad, all things considered.

The downside being that every detail relating to my upcoming nuptials had hit me like a freight train. I simply wasn’t prepared for any of it. Had never deigned to consider the difference between colors called “oyster” and “feather,” the religious affiliation of our officiant, the flowers that would work best for the groomsmen’s boutonnieres, or the catering budget per guest. Thank God Tori and Brooklyn had managed to pull everything together with minimal input from me.

Because suddenly, Wedding Week was upon us.

I couldn’t believe how fast the time had passed.

I also couldn’t believe how big a shindig it had turned into. Last I’d heard, there were over six hundred people on the guest list. Did I even know six hundred people? Was this actually happening?

The reality of the situation didn’t fully sink in until we got to O’Hare to catch our flight from Chicago to Ford’s family’s summer house on Martha’s Vineyard, where we’d be holding the big event. I was nervous about basically everything as we waited to board the plane. It was making me worry about nothing, like the guy I kept catching with his eyes on me across the lounge. If he actually was staring at me, it was probably because I was hyperventilating.

My anxiety persisted throughout the entire flight, to the point where I could have sworn I saw that same suspicious guy from the airport standing at the end of the lane when Ford and I turned into the long driveway that wound through the landscaped grounds to his parents’ house.

But no. Of course it wasn’t the same guy. It couldn’t be. I was just freaking out over everything because I WAS GETTING MARRIED.

Ford had been busy but supportive over the last month—in fact, he’d been the one to suggest that we fly to the summer house early to have a chance to ease into the events of the weekend. I’d immediately agreed, worried not just about my own cold feet, but his as well. We cared for each other, yes, but were we really going to go through with this?

Then again, did we even have a choice, at this point?

“Here we are,” Ford said as he parked the car.

I lowered my sunglasses and looked out the window, taking it all in, my eyes going wide.

My family was wealthy. I’d grown up in a beautiful, lavishly expensive home, I’d gone to the best schools, traveled on private planes, and my closet was full of high-end designer clothes.

But Ford’s family was dripping with money.

Their summer house wasn’t some beachy cottage, but a sprawling estate. It sat right on the beach, and I could see the water sparkling behind it in the late afternoon light. The house itself was U-shaped, with east and west wings, so huge that I could have sworn I was looking at six or seven houses instead of one. The exterior was all clean white shingles, festooned with well cared for ivy that crawled artfully along the walls. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a larger home. There had to be at least twenty bedrooms inside, and the sides of the property had two separate swimming pools with matching guest houses that looked to have at least two bedrooms each.

This was luxury I’d never seen before. I was completely overwhelmed.

“Ford, darling!” Ford’s mother came out of the house, her arms wide open as she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. She was dressed all in white linen, a perfect match for her perfect house, not a speck of dirt on either of them. I pasted a smile on my face and nodded.

She gave me a glancing look in return. It was far better than the outright ignoring I’d gotten during the first month or so of our engagement, but I had no desire to spend any more time with my in-laws than strictly necessary. Mr. Malone wasn’t terrible, honestly, but he tended to disappear into the background whenever possible. Not that I could blame him.

“I’m so sorry, but I need to go check in with Brooklyn,” I said, waving my cell phone and excusing myself.

“I’m sure Munch is fine,” Ford said gently. “He loves it over there.” He knew me too well.

“I know, but I’ll feel better if I call,” I said.

I’d been calling Brooklyn almost every hour to check in on my dog and make sure he was getting along with her greyhound, Mr. Kibbles. He and Munchkin had been friends at first sight, enjoying countless happy playdates together since Brooklyn and Luka had adopted Kibby from a local shelter last year, but I still couldn’t stop fretting.

“Munchkin’s great,” Brooklyn said when she answered. “I just gave him his Kong with the organic peanut butter in it. He’s having a blast.”

“I’m sorry I keep bothering you,” I said.

I had hiked up to the top of a grassy hill just above the beach. The sun was going down over the water, the clouds turning rosy and gold. It was a beautiful scene—everything about this place was beautiful—but staring at it did nothing to calm my nerves.

“It’s okay,” Brooklyn said. “I don’t mind hearing from you, I just don’t want you to worry. Munchkin’s having the time of his life. You know he’s always a good boy over here.”

“I knew,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be there soon,” Brooklyn promised. “Just hang in there. I’m sure it feels like the world is spinning out of control right now, but everything’s going to be fine. Love you.”

My brothers and sisters-in-law would be arriving the morning of the wedding. I was supposed to be using this time to get to know the rest of the Malone family. Something I was not especially looking forward to, though I hated to be a brat about it.

“Love you too,” I said to Brooklyn, missing her and Tori and my brothers. “Bye.”

That’s really what it was, I realized. I was calling to check in with my family more than I was concerned about my dog enjoying his little vacation. After all, my in-laws hadn’t exactly welcomed me with open arms. It was only natural for me to be anxious.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I stood there looking out at the water for a while, my arms wrapped around me as the wind picked up.

“There you are,” Ford said, coming up behind me. “Aren’t you cold?”

He took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I said, pulling it close.

Things between us had been so good lately. Day by day, we’d become more comfortable with each other…in the biblical sense. I always wanted more of him.

Even now, despite my nerves, I wanted him.

God, he was gorgeous. The breeze ruffling his hair just so, the fading sunset emphasizing the chiseled planes of his face, the slope of his broad shoulders. I let out a soft little sigh.

“We should head back. Dinner’s being served in a bit,” he said. “You hungry?”

I smiled. I was, but not for dinner.

In fact, the last thing I wanted right now was to sit across the table from my soon-to-be in-laws so I could feel the weight of their overwhelming disappointment at my presence.

They had been a bit more friendly as of late, and of course they weren’t overtly trying to end the engagement (at least, not that I was aware of), but his mother was still very not-thrilled that the wedding was happening. I knew the second I stepped inside the Malone Manse, I’d feel even more out of place—not just with his family, but in the face of their overwhelming wealth.

“I just need another minute,” I said. “I’ll be right in. Promise.”

I expected Ford to leave me and head inside. Instead, he took my hand in his.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

We headed down to the sand, the stretch of beach completely deserted. The benefit of owning a huge section of land on Martha’s Vineyard was that you never had to worry about anybody crowding your private beach.

The Malone property took up most of the shoreline within view. They had a dock further down the beach and luxurious private cabanas and lounge chairs set up at various spots. There was even a little bar near the dock, though it was quiet and unstaffed at the moment.

The luxury all around made me a bit speechless.

But Ford’s presence helped. Feeling his hand wrapped around mine did a lot to calm me.

“It’s incredible here,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ford said. “It’s not too shabby.”

I gave him a gentle sock in the arm. It was moments like these that made me feel like something more was happening between us. It was getting harder and harder to ignore.

I shivered again, and this time Ford stopped and turned toward me. “Let’s go back.”

“Not yet. I’m okay,” I said.

Ford lifted an eyebrow. “I could warm you up.”

His voice had gone low and husky. I knew what that tone meant.

“You think so?” I asked, playing innocent.

“I guarantee it,” he said, grabbing my hips and pulling me against him. I loved it when he was a little rough. And I loved that he was already hard and ready for me.

“Hmm…maybe I am getting warm,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He bent his head down to kiss me, his tongue thrusting hard and deep into my mouth—a preview of what he was capable of giving me. I kissed him back, moaning my pleasure.

“How about now?” he asked, his hands going lower until they found the hem of my dress.

“A little warmer,” I said coyly.

“Just a little?” he asked, biting the side of my neck, making me gasp.

His hands moved up until his fingers found the crotch of my panties, already soaking wet.

“Look at that,” he said, sucking in a breath. “I think you’re more than warm now.”

He dragged his fingers back and forth, stroking me through my underwear. The extra friction made me shiver, but not from the cold this time.

Ford slid his jacket off my shoulders, releasing me long enough to lay it on the sand. Then he pulled me down onto it, positioning himself over me, pressing his body against mine.

He kissed me the entire time, his tongue tangling with mine, pulling my dress up past my hips. I’d never had sex in a public place, right out in the open (our quickie at Blue had been behind a locked dressing room door, after all), but I realized that I liked the idea.

Clearly, so did Ford. The thrill of it all turned me on, and the thought that we could get caught was beyond hot. Even though night was falling around us, I wasn’t cold anymore. Not with Ford all over me, tugging my panties aside so he could thrust his fingers inside me.

I cried out with pleasure as he teased my clit with his thumb, letting me ride his fingers at my own pace, bringing me to the edge of an orgasm before pulling his hand back.

“I’m not gonna let you come on my fingers,” he growled, nibbling my earlobe. “I want to feel that tight little pussy coming around my cock.”

Then he pulled out a condom, ripping it open as I worked his belt open and pushed his pants down.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, rolling the latex down his long, hard length.

“You,” I said, breathless with need.

“Tell me,” he said again. “What do you want?”

I swallowed. I knew what he wanted to hear. I’d never been much of a dirty talker, but I liked when Ford did it. He loved to tell me all the explicit, nasty things he wanted to do with me—to me. And he loved narrating when we were in the midst of fucking. Now it was my turn.

“I want your big, hard cock,” I said. My voice low and throaty with desire.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Ford demanded.

My knees were up, my thighs open, and I could feel the cool, salty sea air between my legs. I was so ready for him.

“Fuck me. Fuck my pussy,” I said.

“Your tight, hot pussy,” he prompted.

“Fuck my tight, hot pussy,” I moaned.

“Good girl,” Ford said with a smirk. “Spread your legs for me.”

I did. I spread them wide, baring myself to him, wet and ready and waiting, and we both let out a groan as he slid home.

“Yes,” I panted. “Fuck me, Ford.”

He did as I asked, in slow, long strokes that made me go out of my mind, squirming in the sand, hungry for more. I closed my eyes and pressed my head back, not caring that sand was getting everywhere. Not caring that I’d probably still be washing it out of numerous unmentionable spots for the next several days.

All I cared about was Ford and his body and the pleasure he was giving me.

Then, without warning, he grabbed my knees, spreading me even wider and pressing my thighs back against my chest. I felt the difference immediately, the way his dick pumped even deeper inside me.

“Yes,” I moaned, stretching out the word. “Yes, God, yes.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s it.”

I gasped at how good he felt. How close I felt to him as he started to lose control, his thrusts speeding up, his breaths hitching. I could tell he was getting close, and I was too.

Suddenly, all I wanted was to come with him. To feel that moment of release together, to be even more connected. I pulled his mouth down over mine, sucking his tongue, meeting each of his thrusts with a jerk of my hips, the two of us losing ourselves in the hot slide of our bodies.

I didn’t care about the wind or the sand, didn’t care that I was moaning louder and louder now, my cries probably strong enough to reach the Malone family house where his parents were likely gathered around the dinner table eating from the world’s most expensive china.

I didn’t care if they heard. In fact, I wanted them to.

“Emzee, fuck, Em,” Ford gasped, pulling back to gaze down at me, and I knew this was it. He was coming. And so was I. Cresting the wave, my body pulsed with waves of hot pleasure, my pussy contracting hard and fast just as Ford let out a roar, finding his own release.

We lay there in the sand after, both of us breathing heavily, the night air cooling our hot bodies as the sounds of the waves surrounded us.

For the first time since all of this had begun, I allowed myself to believe in the happy ending that The Wives had been spinning. Could this really work between me and Ford?

I was finally starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—it would.