Man of the Year (18 page)

“See? So I literally have nothing unique to offer you,” I laugh.

“You have this to offer me,” she smiles and puts her hand over my heart. “That’s something I couldn’t get from anybody else.”

“And you have it, Lo, all of it,” I say. “My whole heart is yours.”

She sniffles, but she’s smiling. She’s quiet, kind of reflective and peaceful. I think maybe she’s letting it sink in.

I give her a big smile and then softly kiss her. “I love you, baby,” I whisper against her lips. “The greatest day of my whole life was the day my family moved in next door to you. I've loved you since the second I first saw you, and I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

This time, she kisses me and she wraps her arms around me while she’s doing it. Her knees bend and her legs come up at my sides. She runs her foot over my hip and onto my ass, lightly urging me down against her.

The kiss turns more passionate and I slide my hands under her shirt and up her body. She sits up for a second and lets me take it off, leaving us both naked and making out in the bed.

I kiss her all over, paying special attention to her neck and chest. Her nipples are hard and perky now and it makes me feel good to know that I’ve turned her on. I love turning her on. I fuckin’ live for it.

She watches me with lustful eyes as I kiss down her body and between her legs. I hear her moan softly when my tongue starts working her.
They don’t give out the Best Oral Sex award for nothing, cupcake.

Her fingers run through my hair and she bites her bottom lip as she watches me. I love when she watches me. It’s so hot. I like seeing the look on her face and locking eyes with her every few seconds so I can watch it building up inside her.

“Yes, beautiful girl,” I breathe when she starts with the pre-whimpers. “You taste so good. Mmm, I want you to come for me.”

A little gasp. A high whimper. A long moan and a lot of panting.
That’s right, angel. Can you feel how much I love you?

Her neck arches back and she shivers, so I kiss my way back up her body and let my lips graze over her throat while I slowly slide into her. She’s still coming and I can feel her squeeze me every now and then. It’s fuckin’ awesome! Wet and tight and practically made for me.

I’m going slow, but I’m getting really deep and she gasps a little bit every time I bottom out. I know it’s not hurting her because she’s got her legs wrapped around me and she’s using her heels to push me down so I’ll get even deeper. She wants it like that tonight and that’s exactly how I’ll give it to her.

I’m panting into her neck as I grab her hip and hold her tight against me so I can do that swirl thing she likes. This is basically guaranteed to get her off in about ten seconds and, since she’s already a few orgasms in, she comes again right away.

She gets so tight that it’s almost painful, but her muscles flutter around me and it’s like her body is milking me.

“Fuck!” I pant. “Oh fuck, Lo!”

“Yes, James,” she breathes against my ear. “Come inside me.”

I’ve got no chance against something sexy like that. None. I completely lose my shit and give her a few fast, deep pumps before I spill out into her.

“Oh! Oh shit!” I breathe in a cross between a pant and a grunt. I keep coming and she starts kissing my neck. “Fuck, Lola! Oh my God!”

No more. I can’t take any more. I’m fuckin’ dizzy from how hard I came. My arms give out and my whole body falls onto her as my muscles sporadically twitch with the intensity of it.

She holds me as I pant into her neck and try to get my shit together.
Fuck, man! That was super intense!
I can’t even open my eyes for a couple seconds. My whole body feels like I’ve been hit by a bus—but in a really fuckin’ great way.

“I love you,” she whispers over and over, pressing soft kisses to my shoulder.

I should write this down or something. This is definitely a highlight in my sexual timeline. I love her so goddamn much that it’s like my brain can’t even process anything else.

I finally get enough strength to roll off of her and I flop down next to her on the bed. Immediately, she turns on her side and cuddles into me with her arm across my chest and her leg draped over mine.

“I love when I can get you like that,” she giggles, giving me a cute little kiss. “I love when you just can’t take anymore and you loose it.”

“You always make me like that,” I chuckle. “When I was on shoots, I could literally count down from ten and know exactly when I was gonna pop, but I have, like, zero control when it comes to you. I'm all instinct with you, Lo, and I can never hold back.”

She smiles proudly and rests her cheek on my chest as I exhale.

I want this forever, this moment right here. I want this kind of intimacy every day for the rest of my life. This might be even better than the sex itself—ok, maybe I shouldn't go that far, but it’s pretty fuckin’ great. I’ve always liked holding Lola in my arms like this, even when we were kids. I think it’s because I’ve always been in love with her and she’s always occupied my heart, but I wasn’t able to love her properly until recently.

I vow to myself that I’ll strive to have this every night with her. I’ll do everything I can to hold her and make her feel good and I’ll share everything with her moving forward, even shit like Tara Morgan kissing me.

I rest the side of my chin on her forehead and my eyelids feel heavy as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

“Lo, baby, wake up.”

Not again!
I’m so comfortable, draped over James with my head on his chest and his warmth all around me. The last thing I want to do is wake up right now.

“Lo, wake up, ok?”

“Come on, dude! We don’t even have anything to do today. Let me sleep in,” I whine.

“I know we don’t have anything we have to do, but there’s something I want to do and I need you to get up,” James whispers to me, nudging my chin so I have to look up at him.

“What time is it?” I ask, cracking my eyes open enough to attempt a glimpse at the clock.

“It’s 7:15,” he replies softly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I laugh. “We don’t have to check out until this afternoon. Go back to sleep, James.”

“We gotta be there in 45 minutes,” he replies.

“Be where? Seriously, dude, I’m really tired,” I gripe.

“If you get up and do this with me, I promise I’ll let you sleep in until noon every day for the next two weeks,” he says, sliding out from under me and sitting up on the bed.

I make a long, drawn out, very overplayed grunt of frustration, but I pull myself out of bed.

As I walk towards the bathroom, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, bending down so he can nuzzle into my hair and trail kisses up and down my neck.

“I love you more than anything, Lola,” he whispers to me.

“I love you too,” I giggle, amused by his sudden outburst. "You're awfully affectionate this morning," I remark.

"I know," he grins against my skin. "It's 'cause I'm fuckin' crazy about you."

I giggle and proceed into the bathroom as he gets me a Frappuccino from the fridge.

I’m incredibly tired, but I manage to get cleaned up in about 20 minutes, thanks in part to my very minimal makeup and choice of casual jeans, a plain white t-shirt, yellow sweater and Converse low-tops. James is equally informal in really worn out jeans with a tear in the knee and a gray t-shirt that’s looking all kinds of right as it clings to his torso.

“Lemme take a picture of you,” he says, pulling out his iPhone and snapping a pic.

“Why?” I laugh. “What’s the big deal?”

“You’ll see,” he grins.

I stare at him with suspicion.
What are you up to, my handsome 007?

It’s not until our cab pulls up in front of the Clark County Marriage Bureau that I fully realize his big idea. He wants to get married. Right now!

“James, is this—are you serious?” I say as I stare out the window.

“Let’s do it,” he smiles. “We’re already in Vegas, it’ll be super easy, let’s just get married today.”

I’m speechless. I’m without speech. Sans words.

He pays the driver and takes my hand as we walk in. There are already a few people in line, even though it’s only 8:20, and I’m still shellshocked as I stand silently with him.

“You surprised?” he chuckles.

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

“We don’t have to do it if you really want to wait, but I just think it’s perfect timing,” he says with a hint of vulnerability.

“No, I want to do it,” I smile.

“Ok, good,” he exhales with relief.

“This is actually kind of perfect, now that I think about it,” I say, managing to construct my most articulate sentence of the past few minutes. “No guest lists, no poofy dresses and feuding family members. You might be on to something here, James Laird.”

He hasn’t spoken to his parents in about six years and I absolutely despise my father, so tensions would have been high if we’d gone for the big, traditional wedding. I never really took those factors into consideration when he proposed to me, but I’m guessing that was in the back of his mind when he got this matrimonial wild hair this morning.

He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Drama free. Now all we have to do is go through the romantic process of filling out a shitload of paperwork.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around his waist as we wait. James is going to be my husband. Today. Like, within the next few hours. It’s kind of blowing my mind.

A short while later, we’ve obtained a marriage license and we’re on our way to one of those cheesy chapels to get officially married. I’ve learned that there are several legal steps and it’s a far cry from the spontaneous “hey, let’s just get married” scenarios you see in the movies. In fact, the marriage bureau isn’t even open 24 hours anymore, so, unless you pre-arrange your license, you can’t get hitched on a 3 a.m. whim.

We get to the chapel and it’s delightfully cheesy. There are white columns, fake roses everywhere and cherubs painted on every flat surface. They even have an Elvis impersonator who will sing you down the isle for a small fee.

“We’re totally doing that!” I laugh as I point to the Elvis photo on the wall.

“You want The King to walk you down the isle?” James chuckles.

“Dude, if I’m doing the cheesy, Vegas wedding, I’m going all-in,” I reply.

“Then I’ll give you your dream, cheesy, Vegas wedding,” he grins. “Jeans and a t-shirt while Elvis serenades you and some guy who performs, like, 600 weddings a day reads off a list of generic vows for us to say to each other.”

“Perfect!” I giggle.

It sounds crazy, but this truly is delightful. I’m definitely not a big, elaborate, Kim Kardashian wedding kind of girl and I love the idea that we’re playing it small and having fun.

I have to admit that I’m also completely excited to marry James and to have him be my actual, legal husband. It’s such a trip when I think about how long we’ve known each other and all the experiences we’ve shared together. This man has been such a huge part of my life for so long that it’s perfectly fitting to solidify it like this. This sets our commitment in stone and broadcasts our devotion to the world.

There are four couples ahead of us in line. One of the grooms recognizes James and lets us go ahead of him in exchange for a picture. Another couple gets curious and starts talking to us, so James explains our whole history and they let us go in front of them too. People are so accommodating and friendly sometimes, especially when they’re dealing with someone as warm and charming as James.

I’ll skip the details of the enthralling paperwork, but soon everything is prepared and we’re up.

They lead us into a small room that looks like it used to be a bedroom. It’s got low ceilings, burgundy carpeting, columns with fake ivy wrapped around them, a few rows of pews and a mural of a forest on the wall. This is spectacularly, gloriously, fantastically corny—and it would be impossible for me to love it more than I do!

The in-house Elvis impersonator greets us, firmly in character, and calls me “Miss Lola” when I introduce myself. He launches into “Can’t Help Falling In Love” and I’m giggling like I’ve suddenly turned into an anime character.

He’s got this all timed out and the chorus concludes when we arrive at the end of the isle where my very-soon-to-be husband awaits me with an amused, elated grin.

Our minister, an older, black gentleman, has us repeat the classic spiel. “Do you take this man”, “richer or poorer”, “sickness and health”, etcetera, etcetera. He’s got this down to a tee and he’s rattling it off like he could repeat it backwards and forwards.

We get to the ring exchange and it dawns on both of us that we didn’t exactly think this part through. James doesn’t have a ring yet and mine is still on the nightstand where I left it in a huff last night.

“You don’t have rings?” the minister stops, jolted out of his routine.

“Not with us,” James answers.

“Just pretend,” I instruct.

The minister doesn’t seem very pleased with this idea, but I’m guessing he’s got about 80 other weddings to do today, so he lets us go with miming this portion and continues on with the ceremony.

“You may kiss the bride,” he concludes.

I throw my arms around James’ shoulders and he lifts me into the air, kissing me with gusto as he twirls me around.

“You’re my wife now, Lo!” he excitedly beams when he sets me down.

“We’ve completely lost our minds, but I don’t care!” I laugh hysterically.

When we’re all done and everything’s legal, the chapel provides us with a limo to take us back to the hotel, but James insists we stop so he can get a wedding band. He explains that it’s very important to him to have that symbol so everyone can know he’s mine and only mine. I certainly can’t object to that, so I happily agree.

We head to a trendy jeweler in one of the popular hotels and James looks over the choices behind the glass.

“Dude, check that out,” he laughs, pointing to a giant, Super-Bowl-sized ring with a tiger’s head made out of black and orange diamonds. “Or look at that one!” he says, motioning to a black diamond ring with an Uzi across the band.