***Monroe dirt farm***

Jack was beginning to feel tired to his bones. The meeting with the elders had not gone as smoothly as he would have liked. They had just assumed that he had not met the stipulations in his grandfather’s will and was turning everything over to them. When they discovered that he had in fact, they were much less than pleased. Of course, their demands for proof had grated on him. The marriage certificate would take a week or more to arrive. They had argued that without ‘proof,’ his claim was not valid.

And when he had gotten to the heart of the matter – the Lucky Wolf was losing money – all hell had broken loose. The meeting he thought would take an hour tops took almost four. It was nearly two now. He needed to shower and change, pick up Abby, and make it to the church. He had sent her dozens of texts. She insisted she would meet him there, but he was having none of it. They went together.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure what to wear. It seemed ridiculous to wear his only suit to someone else’s wedding when he had not to his own. Fuck it, he grabbed clean jeans, t-shirts, and underwear and stormed from the casino.

He had ‘won’ in the end. But that was not right. No one won this one. But closing the casino was the right thing to do. At least for a bit. Business had been so slow lately that the decision affected only a couple dozen of the employees. The others would be better off with the unemployment checks that these lay-offs entitled them to. He would call a meeting for Monday; something safe, of course. As hard as this was going to be, he needed the weekend to rest and plan.

His mind raced with all the things that needed to be done as he drove to the ranch. “Shitpisscockcuntmotherfuckinsonsofbitches,” he had forgotten that he needed to speak with the bank manager. He hated putting that one off until Monday, more likely Tuesday now. He needed to check with his financial advisor to have sufficient funds liquidated and transferred to his account to cover the loan.

He felt the tensions strumming through his body as he pulled into the driveway. He inhaled deeply and tried to calm his mind. He did not want to upset Abby with all this shit. This was her friend’s wedding. He smiled; it was also their first time out as a couple.

His feet had not even hit the bottom step when the door flew open. Her lips on his tasted sweeter and more refreshing than the coolest mountain water after days in the desert. He could lose himself in them. If not for this wedding…and the casino…and the banknote.

“And there will be time for that later. I’ve run you a bath and made a couple of samiches.”

“Samiches, woman?”

“Those are sandwiches made with love.” She was undressing him as she pulled him through the house and up those stairs. Had it only been Monday night that he had carried her up them?

“Yes, but we don’t have time for what either of us wants. Strip naked, bath, and I’ll bring food. I know there will be plenty at the reception, but that is a couple of hours away, and you haven’t eaten since McNasty’s in Alburquerque last night.”

“Have you is the more important question….”

“Yes, I ate while I made yours. And bathed. I just have to get dressed, and we can….”

He slammed the bathroom door shut behind them and pushed his wife against it. “Sweetheart, we’re not going anywhere until your sweet little cunt is dripping with my cum.” He loved that as many nasty things as they had already done, she still blushed. “And before you tell me we don’t have time, we will always make the fuckin’ time for what’s most important.”

Jack frowned, “Unless you don’t feel well enough. How’s your head?” Whatever had happened at that rest station last night had done a real number on her. She had practically passed out in his arms after talking with that couple. Then she had slept for the rest of the night, waking only as he had carried her into the house.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what happened. Maybe everything just….”

The fingers of one hand covered her full-pink lips as he used the other to push the petticoat up her stocking-clad legs. “Good girl” when he found her bare cunt with his fingers. He ran the tip along her cleft that was already wet.

Jack growled as he used the hand that had covered her lips to unfasten his jeans. He was inside his wife in a single breath. It was coming home. None of the rest mattered. They would fucking deal with it all. Later.

This was more than mere sex. More than desire. This was need. Maybe obsession. But it indeed was like being incomplete without her. It was frightening almost. He had been restless, insecure, and angry his whole fucking life. But with her, he was none of those things. That was not what frightened him, though. Losing her, going back to that other, that was what terrified him. Not understanding what was happening bothered him too. He was hoping that Grandfather had not gone back to the ranch yet. Weren’t they staying until after the wedding?

Her fingers brushed through his hair, but it felt more like his mind. Peace overcame all that shit. Her forehead rested against his, “I’m right here, Jack. I’m not going anywhere.”

How had he not known? How had he not seen the truth? But he knew the truth – he had known. And he had been too scared to accept. Her fingers caressed his shoulders, and it was like some fucking warm, white light trailed from them. All the tension was gone in an instant. He could stay like this….forever. Just buried inside his wife.

Abby laughed against his ear, “I don’t think that would be appropriate wedding attire.”

The image flashed through his mind of walking into the church with her legs and arms wrapped around him. But rather than being sacrilegious, it was almost holy. Even after their little…whatever the fuck that was…he knew so little of what was happening. Other than that, this was right.

“Jack, we’re going to be late,” she whispered as she arched her hips and began to move on his hard cock.

He wanted to fight it, the powerful orgasm he felt building. He wanted to stay just like this. To hell with someone else’s wedding. He needed his wife.

“You have me, Jack. You always have.” Was it her soft words that whispered in his ears? Her gentle fingers that caressed and enflamed him? Or something else, that mysterious connection they shared? But whatever it was, it was too much and not enough.

He lost control. He pounded into her. He was vaguely aware of her head hitting the hard door. He tried to be more gentle, but she only whispered, “Take what’s yours.” He knew that he would need to kiss the bruises his fingers were leaving in her hips. But they had all night. Once this shit-show was over, and he had his wife back here. Where they belonged.

He felt his orgasm building. Or was it hers? He could not tell. He could feel her fingernails digging into his skin. He didn’t give a shit if she broke the skin. He’d proudly wear her marks, just as she would his. He pounded into her faster. Desperately. He needed…. And she provided. Her surrender swamped his mind, heart, and soul. Her screams of completion were the sweetest song he had ever heard. Drawing forth his own music.

His mouth found her neck. He knew that she was too fucking gone to realize what was happening. He might pay for this later, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. He wanted the whole fucking world to know that Abigail belonged to him. Let her wear his marks, and his cum drip from that tight little cunt. Let them all fucking know. He cried out his release, and their duet rose to the heavens.

She held him to her. Moments, days, all eternity. It didn’t matter. He belonged to her. To his little Abby Jean.

She laughed as she swatted at his shoulder, “Little Abby Jean? In case you haven’t noticed, there’s nothing little about me.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze; his fingers caressed her cheeks, giving her the tenderness he couldn’t before. “That’s another twenty, Abigail. You will learn not to disparage my wife.”

She shoved at his shoulder, “Get your bath. I need to get dressed. You might be eating those samiches in the car.”

He stepped back and swatted her outer thigh, “Another ten for being bossy, brat.”

She swished her hip as she turned and looked over her shoulder, “Promises, promises.” His laughter followed her from the room.

He made quick work of that bath. The water had begun to cool already, but that was probably a good thing. He brushed his teeth and considered shaving, but the idea of her thighs pinkened later stayed his hand.

He stopped just inside that pink monstrosity. This weekend, if they made out of bed, they needed to pick up some paint at Willard’s Feed & Seed. He was not sleeping in a room that looked like a six-year-old had vomited pink on it. And they sure weren’t sleeping in the other bedroom. His point of view on their grandparents might be softening, just a bit, but certain images would never leave his mind.

The bright sunshine yellow polka-dot dress that she wore over those petticoats had him hard – again. He was sure that those were stockings and the black Mary Jane pumps would look better wrapped around his waist later. She wore white satin gloves that came to her elbows, and a tiny clutch purse rested on the bed next to her. Her long blonde hair was pulled back from her face and tied in a ponytail with a white silk scarf. That matched the one….

He walked over to the bed and pulled the other scarf from her neck, smiling at the massive hickie she had been attempting to hide. His eyes held hers as his hand pushed the dress and petticoats further up her thighs. He smiled and nodded his head when he felt her bare cunt beneath the garter belt. His fingers slipped inside its heat as her head dropped back and her eyes closed.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he pushed his fingers deeper and faster into her heat. He waited until she obeyed before his thumb began the erotic dance against the hard nub. Abby cried out her release, but her eyes never left his. He drew her orgasm out for as long as he dared.

He reluctantly pulled his fingers from her wet depths and brought them to his lips. He tasted them. Their combined essence.

He loved how she sat on the edge of that too-small bed. Her knees still spread. Her dress pushed so high on those thick thighs that her pretty pussy was on full display for him. It glistened, and a couple of drops of his cum began to leak down her inner thigh. He leaned over and pushed it back inside. Holding her gaze the whole time, he lifted his fingers to her lips this time, “Taste what you do to me, woman.”

He loved the way her bright red lips looked wrapped around his fingers as she suckled them. He bent and captured them. His tongue danced against hers. “Mine. And I want the whole fucking world to know it. My cum dripping from that pretty little cunt. My mark on your neck. And my baby filling that belly. Maybe that makes me a possessive caveman but just remember it’s a two-way street. I belong to you. Heart, body, and soul.”

She smiled and nodded, “For the rest of our lives. And….”

“Beyond,” they finished the benediction together. Then Jack adjusted the too-tight fit of his jeans, picked up that silly purse, and held out his arm. “Ready to go, Mrs. Greywolf?”

“Well, since we don’t have time to come again, we might as well, Mr. Greywolf.” He buried his face in the side of her neck and licked his mark that was darkening by the moment. “As many as you want just as soon as this shit show is over. Remind me again why we need to go to someone else’s wedding when we’re still on our honeymoon?”

“Stop being such a bad boy, Jack,” she giggled as they stepped onto the porch.

“Baby, I may be a real bad boy, but I’m your real good man,” and he sealed that promise with another kiss as he buckled her into the front seat of Miss Mrytle’s vintage Chevy.

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