Beauty From Love (4 page)

“It’s okay. We’re used to kids.” Jack Henry looks at me and shrugs. It’s a half-truth because he’s very used to children. Me … not so much.

“You must have left yours at home?” the husband asks.

“No. We don’t have children yet. We’re here on our honeymoon.”

“Then congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.”

We continue the small talk with the couple briefly before the server brings our first round of mai tais. “Wow. That’s beautiful.” It’s a tall, stemmed glass curved in the center, the dark rum collecting in the bottom. Each is garnished with a tiny umbrella, pineapple slices, and cherries with a lovely purple orchid next to a sprig of mint leaf. I can smell the liquor as soon as it’s placed in front of me. I’ll need to show restraint so I don’t get wasted.

“I must admit I don’t feel very masculine with such a pretty drink in my hand.” Jack Henry holds his glass toward mine for a toast. “Here’s to us and a very long and happy life together.”

I touch my glass to his. “Thank you for making me your wife.” I lean over and a place a kiss against his lips.

“Yuck! That’s so gross. I may throw up.” I hear gagging noises from one of the boys across the table, followed by a chastisement and apology from his mother.

I silently pray this isn’t what we have to look forward to during the entire dinner but I soon discover it’s only the beginning. The boys’ antics alternate between booger picking, booger eating, making fart sounds—some, I question the authenticity of—a stunning display of controlled chaos.

Jack Henry squeezes my hand as he leans over to whisper in my ear. “They’re little boys trying to get the attention of my pretty girl. Ignore them or it’ll get worse. Trust me.”

He knows children. I don’t so I take his advice. The night seems to take a turn for the better once I no longer appear preoccupied by the mischievous boys. And the fire-knife show holds their attention, preventing any further performance out of them.

I’m in the midst of clapping for the fire-breather when one of the performers comes into the audience and grabs my hand to take me on stage. I’m surprised because I didn’t see it coming but I should’ve known. Shows like these always select people from the crowd to participate in the performance.

I turn to look back at Jack Henry and see him grinning and clapping as I walk away from the table. He probably volunteered me and paid them to put me in a string bikini so I could dance on stage for him. Horny bastard. I’ll get him for this if I find out he’s behind it.

I’m quickly given directions about my performance while shoved behind a divider to change into an orange bandeau top and green hula skirt. I come out and costume designers surround me—and the others pulled from the audience—to place flowers around our heads and ankles. I’m handed two feathered rattles. “The girls will demonstrate the motions. There will be a series of hand, hip, and foot motions. They’ll introduce them slowly, one at a time—nothing complicated. All you have to do is mimic what they show you.”

My man is so gonna love this.

I watch the show with much enthusiasm but not because of a particularly spectacular performance. I’ve attended countless luaus. Although this one is quite good, it’s L’s performance I’m anxious to watch.

The audience members are led onto stage and L is the last one. That places her right in front of our table.

The people range in age from young children to, well, old as dirt. She’s definitely the hottest one in the bunch. I’d say that about her even if she weren’t my wife.

The hula dancers position themselves in front of the audience participants and demonstrate the first motion with their hands. Laurelyn mimics it slowly. Gracefully. Perfectly. They incorporate the hips next and I’m mesmerized by the way her body moves. I think she’s better than her demonstrators. The foot motion is last but I’m already lost in her sensual motions when she peeks over her shoulder at me as she turns. Her body language is unmistakable. She’s gonna let me fuck her ever how I choose.

My wife is hotter than hell. Every man—and woman—here knows it, including this guy with the wife and four-point-five kids sitting across from me. He’s rarely taken his eyes off Laurelyn since the moment they were seated at the table. Surely, his wife has noticed, or maybe she hasn’t since he completely turned the childrearing over to her so he could ogle my wife’s tits.

This guy is blatantly staring and it is pissing me off, but I remind myself these aren’t swingers in a club. This guy’s here with his family but he should show respect toward his wife and mine.

I take a cleansing breath and exhale slowly. I’m letting this go because that’s what mature men do. And it’s what L would want from me.

When the show is over, Laurelyn returns to the table, changed back into her sundress. I rise and pull her chair out for her. “You didn’t get to keep the costume?”

“Sorry, McLachlan. They made me turn it in.” She leans over and lowers her voice. “But I’m sure we can come up with something for later.”

Oh yeah. I’m definitely buying this girl a hula costume for the bedroom.

Everyone at the table resumes watching the show—except the ogler. Laurelyn has no idea she’s being violated and I’ve had enough. No husband should have to watch some dick salivate at the sight of his wife’s chest. “They’re a great pair, aren’t they?”

He turns at the sound of my voice and goes pale when his wife asks, “What was that?” His eyes become large as he reaches for his drink. “I said they’re a great pair.” I point at the kids sitting to the left. “Your older boys get along well while the younger son entertains the baby.”

“Don’t let those two fool you,” she says as she gestures toward the rambunctious boys. “They’re a handful. They don’t always get along so well.”

The show ends and I waste no time in leading L toward the car ahead of the crowd. “Wait. I need to go to the restroom.”

I look at the horde around us and know they’re all headed in the same direction. “We’ll be at the house in ten minutes.”

She shakes her head. “My bladder will explode if we get stuck in traffic.”

“I really want to beat this crowd out of here so I can get you home and fulfill my promise.” She crosses her legs and makes a face to convey agony. “But not at the cost of an exploding body part.” I swat her bottom and she yelps. “Go—but hurry—because I have plans for you, Mrs. McLachlan.”

I’m waiting for L and see our dinner companions as they’re leaving. “Did you enjoy the show?” I call out as they walk by. I would never bring his indiscretion to his pregnant wife’s attention, but I can’t resist making the bastard squirm a little. He deserves that much.

He busies himself with one of the children, pretending to not hear me, so his wife answers. “We did. And you?”

“Loved it. It was Laurelyn’s first luau so she especially enjoyed it.”

“Laurelyn. What a pretty name. I’ll have to remember that one when this baby comes—that is, if it’s a girl. We didn’t find out.”

I hope it’s a boy. I don’t want this guy to have any lasting connection to my L. “I’ll tell my wife you said so. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You too.”

Laurelyn walks up from the opposite direction of the restrooms and is wearing that mischievous grin I love so much. “What have you been up to?”

She holds up a large shopping bag. “I wanted souvenirs.”

We both know what’s in that bag so I can’t wait to get her back to the house to play dress-up. I grab her hand and lead her toward the area where our driver is to pick us up. “Where’s the fire?”

“In my pants.” That earns me a giggle from my bride but I’m not amused. I’m horny.

We’re out a little earlier than expected, so I’m grateful when I see our driver waiting at the curb in a black Town Car. “That’s us with the hazards on.” I’m used to Daniel’s reliability so it’s nice to have someone do a good job of filling his shoes. Our temporary driver keeps up this kind of service and he’ll earn a nice, fat bonus at the end of this assignment.

“What’s with the hurry?”

I wave the driver off and open the door for L. “I’ll tell you when we’re in the car.”

She’s a woman so she doesn’t get it. I know what’s in that bag and what she’s going to look like in it. She’s going to dance for me—only me—in a hula costume. Probably with nothing underneath. The anticipation has my cock hard as rock.

The car pulls away and I know I have at least ten minutes until we make it home, probably longer when you take traffic into account so I’m in pure misery. I bring her hand to my erection. “This is the hurry. I’m in agony because I want you under me so badly.”

She leans up and removes her cardigan before spreading it over my lap. “If we don’t do something about this, you won’t last a minute once we’re home. I don’t think either of us wants that.” She moves her hand up and slides it down the front of my pants. She grasps my cock in her hand and her thumb strokes the tip, spreading the moisture already there. “I think a little pregame show is in order so we savor the real thing later. Don’t you agree?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I lean my head back against the seat while L pumps her hand up and down. “God, you’re the best wife ever.”

She leans over to whisper in my ear. “I wish there were a divider. Remember all those naughty things we did in the back of that limo?”

How could I forget? Those were some of the best moments of my life. I grab her head and bring her ear to my mouth. “Hell, yeah. I remember it all. Every touch. Every kiss.”

“You want to know what I remember?” She pumps faster as she talks, bringing me closer to the climax I need so badly. “You exploding inside my body, claiming me. You rubbed your cum into my skin, marking me like an animal, as if I was your possession for no other man to look at. And I loved it.”

That’s it. The first spasm begins, and then the others, followed by a full-on explosion. She doesn’t stop until her hand and my boxer briefs are a wet mess and then she kisses the side of my face. “That’s my boy.”

She takes her hand out of my pants and opens her handbag to fetch a tissue. She wipes her hand and then passes a clean one my way. “Tissue?”

“Thanks.” I take it from her and ease it down the front of my trousers. “Isn’t my girl the prepared one?”

“Looks like I’d better be in case I need to do that again.”

I can’t lie and say it won’t happen again, not with the way she makes me want her.

After we’re back at the house, she has me wait in the bedroom while she gets into character. She’s playful and it’s only one of the many things I love about L.

I’m lighting the last candle in the room when she calls out through the cracked bathroom door, “Close your eyes.”

She likes to do this—have me shut my eyes while she gets in place. It’s all about staging for her. “Yes, ma’am.”

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and hear the sound of a ukulele begin. It takes several seconds before I recognize the familiar tune of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” coming from her phone.

“Okay. You can look.”

I open my eyes and L is completely decked out in hula gear, feathers and all. Her top is a yellow bikini and it’s lovely against her freshly sun-kissed skin. Her skirt and headpiece are red, yellow, and black. Her long dark hair cascades over both shoulders and she’s the most beautiful hula girl I’ve ever seen. I imagined something similar but the reality is so much better.

She’s mimicking the dance she was taught at the luau, and the raging sexual urgency I expected isn’t there. This type of dance leaves me feeling much different than when she pole dances for me. There’s something surreal, and so very sweet, about the slow sway of her arms and hips to this particular rendition of the song. She looks so pure and deserving of much more than what I promised her I would do when I got her home tonight.

“This is the only Hawaiian song I had in my music library.” She doesn’t miss a beat in her rhythmic dance as she talks.

“Baby, it’s perfect.” And it truly is. It does something to me I can’t explain.

“Each move has so much depth, every dance its own story.” She makes coordinating flowing motions with her arms. “One of the girls backstage told me this is symbolic of a tree swaying in the breeze. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

She has no idea. “It certainly is.” No woman has ever made it look so lovely.

She dances another minute and then shrugs. “That’s it. I got nothing else. I wish I had more of a show for you.”

I put my arms out for her. “Come here.”

She walks to me and I wrap my arms around her waist to pull her close. I put the side of my face just below her chest and she cradles my head with her arms. I feel so much more for this woman than I ever thought possible. My love for her makes me ache deep in my chest. I never want to find out what it would feel like to lose her. “I love you so much, L. I don’t ever want to know the pain of not having you in my life.”

She leans back and tilts my face upward. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere. I’m here as long as you want me to stay.”

I feel like I’ll smother if I don’t have her. “Swear you’ll never leave me.”

She smiles and it feels like a rush of breath expanding my lungs in a moment of suffocation. “I will never leave you.”

“We’ve had a change of plans for christening our bed.” I reach for her phone and pass it to her. “Put that song on repeat and forget what I said earlier. I just want to make love to you—as slowly as you’ll let me.”

She smiles as she thumbs the phone’s screen. “I’m glad you like the song. I wasn’t sure about it.” She puts her phone aside and slides her hands over my shoulders.

“I love it.” It makes me feel good about us. “Dance with me.”

We sway in the middle of our bedroom. I’m in a completely different mindset than earlier. I know L likes my filthy mouth occasionally, but I use it far too frequently. I’m too much of a caveman with her at times. I should touch her gently and speak sweetly to her more often. She’s a treasure—my precious one—and I’d be wise to always treat her as such.

The song comes to an end before beginning again but I’m done with dancing. I take L’s hands in mine and lead her toward the bed. We stop when the backs of my legs hit the mattress and she unbuttons my white linen shirt before pushing it from my shoulders to the floor.

I take the floral wreath from her head and place it on the nightstand before I smooth her stray hairs. I twirl a lock of her long hair around my finger and marvel at how soft it is. “You are so beautiful.”

She blushes and drops her face. It’s still surprising to me how she can be so strong—even seek a career in the spotlight—yet she doesn’t know how to take compliments. I’m certain it’s because she never heard them while growing up. Or from that fool, Blake.

I place my hand under her chin and lift her face. “You better get used to hearing compliments because I plan on telling you often how gorgeous and loved you are.”