Chapter 45

Luca

I n life and in hockey, you win some. You lose some. My first six months with Polly showcased this theory to perfection.

Losses: Every shoe, wall, and piece of furniture in our house had been destroyed by Toto. Ana was dating my coach. My team failed to make the playoffs. (I blamed Ana.)

Win: Chris and Clara—gone. I had a new manager. Signed a new contract with New York. Sex with Polly was UNBELIVABLE. We were back in Australia. And ….

“Fuck this is brilliant, Pol. Are you as excited as I am? Because I’m pretty excited. Was I right, or was I right?”

“It is and I am. It’s very rare for me to be swayed into changing my mind, Luca. As happy as I am that I did, I still feel I deserve come kind of prize.”

“Oh, you for sure deserve a prize, but that will have to wait till we get back to bed.” I shot Polly a wink that, given the circumstances, should not have made me feel the things it did where it did. “Are we going to do the crown thing now?”

“We are. Now, stop talking or mum will bust up here and kick your ass.”

A hearty laughed burst free, and even over the singing or wailing, whatever the priest and choir were doing, I still heard Polly’s mom grunt in disapproval.

“Told you.” Polly smirked. “You might have won her over by bringing me back here for a proper wedding but embarrass her in front of the CWA crew and the blessing she gave you will switch to a voodoo curse in the blink of an eye.”

Father Ioannou cleared his throat. “Sorry, but we prefer not to speak of voodoo curses directly prior to the service of the crowning.” He smiled, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Father.”

Luck had been on our side; the new addition to Polly’s family church was a young man ready to modernize. In consideration of Polly’s past, Father Ioannou was more than happy to forgo many traditional elements. He was also willing to overlook the normal stance on marrying someone like me, a Catholic … and me swearing at the pulpit.

For the rest of the ceremony, which included prayers, the crowning, readings from Scripture, the common cup, and my favorite part, the Dance of Isaiah—which wasn’t actually a dance but a walk celebrating our first steps as husband and wife—Polly and I were silent.

The reception was quite different.

“We don’t have a lot of time before people notice we’re gone, now stop sulking and come sit on my face.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s our wedding, and despite the fact that I said it was stupid to get married again just for my family, it’s almost over, and I’ll never have one again, and I’m sad.”

“I think you might be a bit tipsy, Pol.”

“Great. Now you’re laughing at me, so I’m sad and mad, and we’re officially having a fight.”

“Oh, we are?” I laughed, “Well, I’m very sorry for laughing and insist you sit on my face so I can apologize some more. To reiterate, face sitting will fix it all.”

“Luca. You can’t just go down on me whenever you’re in the bad books.”

“Why? Doesn’t it feel good and make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“And does it feel good when I apologize?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so two plus two equals you suffocating me with your thighs. Now hurry the hell up. Sit.”

Polly rolled her eyes, hitched the dress that several dozen ostriches may have lost every feather for, and stood above me, one stiletto on either side of my neck.

“I can’t believe everyone thinks I’m the bad influence when you’re the one lying on the floor of the coat closet waiting for me to smother you. Anyone could come in here and find us.”

“I know. Isn’t it hot?”

“...Yes.” With that, she dropped her knees to the floor, and her cunt—her bare cunt—was only an inch away. A guttural, carnal groan not heard since dinosaurs roamed the earth roared from my chest as she trembled above me, her legs already shaking and covered in goosebumps.

“Fuck, Polly. Did you marry me in a church while wearing no panties?”

She bit her finger and nodded, “I did.”

“Okay, now I’m begging. Let me taste you. I’ve been hard for hours.”

“Fuck, Luca. I love it when you beg for me.” Before I could reply, she slipped forward and sealed herself over my waiting lips.

I was ravenous. Feasting. Lost in her sweetness. In the way she bore down, moaning, clawing at my hair. Her aroma, her taste. Everything was perfect.

She was perfect.

Hockey commitments meant Pol had flown back to Australia ahead of me. We’d not seen each other for a week, which was long enough to be considered a form of torture, and this—me eating her out in a closet while our families danced to ABBA on the other side of a thin chipboard door—was the only thing that could ease my suffering.

My cock may not have felt the same. Desperate for her touch, it throbbed against my zipper, leaking as I watched my sexy, confident girl push down the neckline of her ivory dress. Her breasts spilled free, bouncing as she rocked with her head tossed back, hair spilling free from her braided hair. She cupped one in each hand, played with her nipples, called out my name, and how she’d missed me, and how much she loved me over and over as I licked and sucked.

Perhaps my muffled groans or the way my hips were thrusting up into nothing gave away my pain and need for release because Polly suddenly stilled, leaned forward, and planted her palms on the carpet. “Wait! This isn’t right.” Her glorious boobs dropped into my face as she slipped back to my chest, making a mess of my shirt before swinging her left leg back over to join the right.

“No, Princess, why?” I gasped, immediately typing to pull her back onto position.

“I want you to come in my mouth while I come in yours.”

Who was I to argue? Seconds later, my cock was free, her lips were closing around the red and glistening head, and she was straddling me in reverse. My final words as her pussy again brushed over my mouth? A muffled, “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

From there on it was a masterclass in chemistry. A symphony of sex. Polly sprawled out on top of me, her hands and warm wet mouth working me over, taking me to the back of her throat, moaning and gagging. And me, licking her clean from front to back, tongue fucking her soaked pussy, swallowing every drop she gave me.

The world outside the door disappeared. There was no party. No guests. No cake waiting to be cut, no speeches left to make. It was just her and me. Me and her.

My beautiful wife and her husband.

Time melted into nothingness. We were consumed by each other. I begged for the feeling to last forever, but when she cupped my balls and slipped her free hand around the base of my cock, pumping in time with her bobbing I knew I was done.

She was close, too. I could feel it in the quiver of her legs, the wild pace of her rolling hips. “Come,” I demanded right as I sealed my lips around her clit and fingered her ass.

“Luca!”

That was it, her throaty cry sent a bolt of heat down my spine and directly into my cock and we both felt it, both moaning before exploding inside each other’s mouths, our hips bucking as we drank each other and releasing while riding the ultimate high.

As soon as I could move, I was reaching for Polly’s limp, spent body and turned her back to face me. Her mussed hair, red cheeks, and sated smile were the best wedding gift a hockey man like me could ever receive.

“I still can’t believe you arranged a Greek Orthodox wedding with three hundred guests in Byron Bay from New York, while caring for a baby. It’s pretty impressive, Tedward.”

“It’s impressive as fuck, is what it is. I’m seriously reconsidering my future plans to be a recording artist/stay-at-home icon. I think international celebrity wedding planning is a more realistic ticket to a better life.”

Asher, who was sitting beside his man at the bridal table, with their baby girl Harriet bouncing on his knee, cleared his throat. “Exactly what part of your life are you wanting to improve? Your husband, your daughter, the multi-million-dollar Brooklyn home we share?”

Witnessing Teddy Kim flustered and speechless was a rarity, but oh so worth the wait. “Shit!” he shouted, pointing before jumping to his feet and darting away. “Is that Chris Hemsworth?”

Asher smiled a smile of true love while watching Teddy run. “I’ve never seen him move so fast, and I’ve seen him chase down Anderson Cooper’s town car in a snowstorm.”

“Did he catch him?” I laughed.

Signaling for me to wait, Asher raised his hand, pulled out his phone from his pocket, and began to scroll. “Of course he did.” He turned the screen so I could see the shot of a beaming Teddy hugging a certain concerned news anchor. “It’s Teddy. He can do anything.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” A soft set of hands and arms slid around my neck and wrapped around my shoulders. “Sorry to interrupt, my darling husband, but your sister tells me it’s time for our not-so-first dance.”

“Well, we can’t keep the joint matron of honor waiting, can we? Better get to it.” I took Polly’s hands in mine, kissed the delicate skin inside both of her wrists and stood, lifting her off her feet as I went.

“Umm. I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to piggyback the bride to the dance floor.”

That doubt failed to stop her legs from wrapping around my waist. “Well, this is my second wedding, and I’ve never heard that. Besides, since when do we follow the rules?”