THAT MAN 4 (The Wedding Story-Part 1) (3 page)

“Take the fucking bow off,” I growled.

Still roaring with laughter, she scooted off the bed so she was standing before me. With her nimble fingers, she undid the bow and tossed it on the duvet. I huffed a sigh of relief. Woof. That felt better. My cock recovered quickly and was ready for action.

“Jen, babe, do you think you could show
Mr. Burns
a little love?” Jen didn’t know I reverently called my cock by a proper name (my little secret—that and the fact I also talked to my cock), but she got the idea. My eyes stayed on her as she bent over and kissed the wide crown. I pressed firmly on her head, coaxing her to go down on me. I hissed as that warm wet mouth of hers slid down my shaft, her tongue sliding along the backside. So fucking good. After taking me to the hilt, she came back up, adding welcomed pressure. She knew how I liked it.

That’s all I needed, though truthfully, I could never get enough head from her. I was sufficiently lubricated for the next part of this gift. Before she could go down on me again, I gripped her ponytail and yanked up her head. She let out a little yelp that made my cock flex.

“Are you ready for part two of this gift?”

She eyed me suspiciously. “And that would be—”

“The fun part. You get to ride me.”

Jen’s face lit up like a little kid about to go on one of those coin-operated mechanical horsey rides. Wasting no time, she tore off my boxers she had on and repositioned herself, straddling my lap, knees bent on the bed, with my cock impaled inside her. Gripping her hips, I bucked her hard as she rode me up and down. I hissed. Fuck, yeah! This was good. So fucking good for both of us. Holding on to my shoulders, she got to control the pace while I got to go as deep and as hard as I could. I repeatedly hit her G-spot with each powerful thrust. She shrieked with pleasure again and again.

I gazed at her heated face. Her head arched back, she looked so impassioned, and I was mesmerized by the way the dangling earrings I’d just given her shook and shimmered. Quivering as if they were having little orgasms of their own. I was tempted to nibble her lobes but worried in my state of lust I might bite off an earring and swallow it whole.

I gripped her hips tighter as she accelerated her pace. The friction and heat of her rubbing against my thick length felt so fucking amazing.

“Do you like your present?”

“Oh God, yes!” she panted out. “I’m so close to coming!”

“Good, baby,” I groaned.

On the next deep thrust, she fell apart with a thunderous “yes” and I could feel her throbbing all around my pulsing cock. Her body shook as I grunted out my own explosive climax and met hers full on. Spent and sweaty, we collapsed onto each other, her arms wrapping around me. We stayed in that position for several sweet minutes as we rode our orgasms out.

Five minutes later, we were nestled side by side, her head resting on my chest. We had almost recovered. Now close to five, the sun had begun its disappearing act and cast a mellow amber glow.

Jen traced lazy, ticklish circles on my chest. “Baby, I’ll never be able to top that birthday present.”

I playfully flicked the tip of her cute upturned nose. “Don’t worry, you will.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Yeah, I do.” I was turning the big three-O.

“How ’bout a hint?”

“I want to wake up to my wife.”

I felt her jolt against me. “What are you saying, Blake?”

“What I’m saying is I want to marry you on the day before my birthday.”

“December twentieth? Gosh, Blake. That’s only two months away.”

“Jen, we’ve been engaged for almost six months; it’s time to set a date. My mother has been driving me crazy.”

Jen giggled. “Mine too. I keep telling her we’ve just been too busy at work.”

Which was true. Except I’d checked our calendars and had come to the conclusion that Saturday, the twentieth would be a perfect time to get married. With Christmas around the corner, most of our SIN-TV productions would be shut down, and our offices would be closed until January third—giving us an opportunity to go on a two-week honeymoon. I explained all this to Jen. She agreed. It made total sense.

She rolled on top of me and gave me a hot spontaneous kiss. “Oh my God, Blake, we’re really going to get married!” The excitement in her voice was contagious. I smashed my lips against hers. “Yes, you’re going to become Mrs. Blake Burns, and tonight we’re going to break the news to our parents.”

“My mother is going to be so excited.” Jen beamed. “She’s been planning our wedding forever.”

I didn’t know if Jen could feel my heart skip a beat. I quietly gulped. And so had my mother. Instead of letting her know this, I urged her to take a shower with me and get ready for our dinner.

The future Mrs. Blake Burns had another surprise in store.

Jennifer

“O
h, my good Lord, you have a health club in your house?” Dressed in a demure A-line navy dress and sensible shoes, my mother couldn’t contain her astonishment. Her soft gray-blue eyes were as round as marbles. While my dad had chosen to forego the tour of the Bernstein’s forty-room Beverly Hills mansion and spend time chatting with Blake and his dad, my mom had taken Blake’s mother, Helen, up on her offer. I’d accompanied them.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. Neither my mother nor my father had ever set foot in a house of this magnitude and grandeur. One could easily confuse it with a five-star hotel with its size, amenities, and sumptuous furnishings.

I corrected my mother. “Mom, it’s their in-home gym.” But the truth, it looked more like a health club, the expansive mirrored room filled with racks of weights and a myriad of state-of-the art workout equipment. There was even an adjacent sauna, massage room, and steam room.

Helen twitched a small smile. She was elegantly dressed in a peach silk sheath and designer heels along with her usual array of mega-sized diamonds. Whippet-thin, the stunning woman, with her upswept platinum hair, towered over my lovely but humble Midwest mother.

“Saul and I work out here every morning with our personal trainers. You and Harold are more than welcome to join us tomorrow morning. And right afterward, our masseuse will be here.”

Still in awe, my mother declined politely, letting Helen know that she and my dad would be flying back to Boise in the morning. The week had gone by so fast.

Helen glanced down at her diamond-studded watch. “Come, let’s join the others for dinner. Everyone should be here by now.”

The Bernsteins’ weekly Shabbat dinner was about to begin. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents as well as Blake’s that we’d finally decided on a wedding date. Having planned for my wedding since the day I was born, my mom was going to be over the moon.

*

Shabbat dinner at the Bernsteins’ house always had a special meaning for me. It was where I got an eyeful of Blake’s super-sized cock for the first time. I’d accidentally walked into an unlocked bathroom where he was jerking off. I’d watched him come all over his hand. I was mortified, but now both Blake and I could laugh about it. The unforgettable memory, however, always made me very horny during Shabbat. And the same with Blake, though I wasn’t sure if it was for the same reason. Always, in the middle of devouring Grandma’s famous matzo soup, he’d reach for my hand, discreetly slip it under the table, and press it on the heated bulge between his legs. Tonight was no different. I could feel it throbbing. With my parents here, I wished for once he’d “
unbig”
himself to use the word he’d invented.

Most of usual suspects were gathered around the elegantly set dining room table—a dazzling spectacle of fine china, crystal, and silver. Joining Blake’s parents…his feisty sex-crazed Grandma, who I adored, and his older sister, Marcy the gynecologist, who I hadn’t gotten to know well. She and Blake were not particularly close. Missing, however, were her seven-year-old twin sons, who were home with strep, and Matt, her husband. Or rather ex-husband. Soon after Blake and I’d returned from France last Spring, a big family
scandale
had erupted. Marcy had discovered Matt, also a gyno, fucking one of their patients—a voluptuous blond starlet named Kristie who happened to be one of Blake’s former hook-ups. Right in the Beverly Hills office the two of them shared. On the examining table, no less. Well, to make a long story short…Marcy got the practice, the house, and custody of the twins, and Matt got Kristie, whom he was planning on marrying. I’d wanted to reach out to Marcy—having gone through a not that dissimilar life-changing break-up with my ex-fiancé, Bradley. But the unspoken estrangement between Blake and his sister made it difficult. I did, however, admire the grace with which Marcy had handled her ex’s affair.
The asshat!
And she now seemed more focused on her two children, who also seemed to be handling the break-up remarkably well. However, it did put a little damper on my happiness, and I sometimes felt bad when others in the family gloated over my engagement to Blake when her own marriage had gone down the drain.

As was customary in the Bernstein household, my mother, the female guest of honor, was asked by Blake’s father to light the Shabbat candles. My darling Blake helped her do it. More memories of our first night together rushed into my head…his arms around fire-phobic me as I futilely lit one match after another. My mom got it on the first try and welcomed Shabbat into our lives. Shabbat, I had learned, was the symbolic union of man and woman, of God taking his bride. What a perfect time to announce our wedding date, though butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Setting a date made it so real. Blake and I were finally going to get married. I shot him a quick glance, soaking in his handsome profile. I could stare at him forever with that perfect outline of stubble and sexy mop of unkempt hair. He felt my eyes on him and shot back a flirtatious smile. The littlest smile could make desire pour through me like warm honey.

Over Blake’s mother’s delicious brisket, we made small talk, the Bernsteins mostly asking my parents about their stay in LA. Shortly, their housekeeper Rosa began to clear the table, making room for coffee and dessert.

“Oh, please let me help.” My mother leapt out of her chair with her plate and my dad’s along with their cutlery in her hands.

“Meg, darling,” said Blake’s mother coolly. “Please sit down. There’s no need.”

My mom shot me an awkward glance. I nodded, indicating for her to acquiesce. Rosa immediately took the plates and silverware from her, and my mother hesitantly sat down. Bewilderment flickered in her eyes.

God bless my mom. I loved her so much. She was such a good soul. Honestly, there wasn’t a mean bone in her whole body. While Helen might chair lots of charities and foundations, my mother embodied charitable giving. Or should I say, living? She gave alms to the poor, never missed making meals for the homeless on holidays, and opened her door to anyone in need of a bed. Her whole life was about the needs of others, and foremost, those of my dad and mine. Blake’s father was grooming him to one day be the head of Conquest Broadcasting, and I’d have to adjust to that role. In my heart, I wanted to always be like my mom. Humble. Giving. Caring. And genuine. True to my roots. And one day, like her, I wanted to be a great mom.

Blake’s grandma hurled me out of my thoughts. “So,
bubala
,
vhen
are you and my Blakela gonna get married?” Always the same question at around glass number three of wine.

I swallowed hard while Blake broke into his dazzling smile. Under the table, he squeezed my hand that was resting on his erection.

“Funny, you should ask, Grandma. Jennifer and I have exciting news.”

My heart hammered. My mother’s face was already lighting up. Blake continued.

“We’ve set a wedding date. Saturday, December twentieth.”

A rapid-fire chain reaction was set off.

“Oy,
I should only live so long!” moaned Blake’s grandma, pouring glass number four.
“G’zei gezunt.”

“Mazel tov,”
exclaimed Blake’s father at the head of the table, raising his wine glass.

Blake’s sister threw her arms up in the air. “Great. The same day as Matt’s wedding to bubblehead. Now I have an excuse not to attend.”

I didn’t appreciate her mouthful of sarcasm, but she was probably hurting. Blake shot her a dirty look.

My mother, oblivious to Marcy’s off-color remark, had tears in her eyes. “Oh honey, that’s wonderful. I’ll call Father Murphy tomorrow to reserve the parish.”

Helen’s eyes grew as wide as they could. She’d definitely had one too many doses of Botox. Her harrumph silenced everyone.

“Meg, darling, there’s no way we can have the wedding in Idaho. Or is it Iowa? I always get those two states mixed up. Regardless, at that time of year, the weather can be atrocious. I can’t have our guests flying in those risky conditions.”

Shit. I hadn’t even thought of the weather factor when I’d agreed to Blake’s date. But Helen was right. It could be blizzarding in the Midwest. With the airports shut down. And even the West Coast weather was volatile at that time of the year.