Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

" I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Slade turned to me, dressed in his sleek black tux, his lavender bowtie adding just the right amount of flair. He smiled—a devilish, hungry smile—and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on my mouth. That kiss, the first in over a week, felt like a promise. One I was dying to have fulfilled. We had agreed—well, he had insisted—that there would be no touching before the wedding. No stolen kisses, no late-night cuddles. He even slept in the guest room while I stayed at Erika’s last night. But now, here we were, married, and my body ached for more than the fleeting contact of our lips.

His hand tightened around mine as Erika fluffed the short train of my dress. I shot her a grateful smile. It was her steady support that helped me survive the last few sleepless nights of anticipation.

I was lucky, so lucky, to have both my parents walk me down the aisle. Mom’s injury two months ago had nearly thrown our plans into chaos, but with physical therapy, she made it to today. Seeing them both at my side as I walked toward Slade was a moment I’d treasure forever.

Slade tugged me along the makeshift aisle, leading us from the altar in Keaton and Charlene Abbott’s backyard. The sprawling lawn stretched to the beach, the ocean sparkling under the sun. As we made our way toward the photographer’s setup, I stole glances at my new husband. His grip was firm, reassuring, but the flicker of heat in his eyes told me he was just as eager as I was to steal away from the crowd.

"You look deep in thought," Slade murmured, his voice low as we reached the photographer.

"Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve kissed you properly," I teased, squeezing his hand.

His eyes darkened with amusement. "Soon. But first, we have photos to take. Smile for the camera."

I plastered on my best newlywed grin, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling from earlier. Erika had brought Lincoln Elliott as her date. He looked too much like his brother Michael—an unwelcome reminder of the past. But this was my day, my fresh start. I shoved the thought of Michael into the farthest corner of my mind, determined not to let him taint my happiness.

"Sweetheart?" Slade’s voice broke through my reverie.

I looked up to see him kicking off his shiny black dress shoes, rolling up his slacks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice suspicious.

Before I could protest, he scooped me up, bunched my train in his arms, and started walking us toward the water.

"Slade, don’t you dare!" I squealed, swatting his shoulder.

"Relax," he laughed, holding me tight as the waves lapped at his ankles. "I’ve got you."

"But my dress?—"

"It’s just a dress," he cut me off, grinning down at me. "Besides, you’re my wife now. Doesn’t that earn me some leniency?"

"You did not just use that card!" I gasped but couldn’t help laughing.

He spun me around as the photographer snapped away, the surf swirling around his legs. The joy of the moment was infectious, but then I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—out of the corner of my eye. A tall man stood further down the beach, watching us, his mirrored sunglasses flashing in the sunlight. My breath hitched. For a split second, I was sure it was Michael. But when Slade turned me again, the figure was gone.

My stomach twisted with unease. I tried to brush it off. I was imagining things. Michael wasn’t here. He wasn’t part of my life anymore. This was my day, our day.

Once the photos were done, Slade carried me back up the sand, letting me down gently so he could slip on his socks and shoes. We made our way up to the tent in the Abbotts’ backyard where cocktail hour was already in full swing.

"Do you want a drink?" Slade asked, slipping his arm around my waist.

"Rum and Coke."

He frowned. "How about just a soda for now? You know how you get with rum."

I rolled my eyes but relented. "Fine, soda it is."

As he headed to the bar, I made my way over to Erika and Lincoln, who were deep in conversation with Slade’s Aunt Myrna. Myrna whisked Erika away to meet her daughter the moment she learned Erika dabbled in jewelry design, leaving me alone with Lincoln.

"You look stunning," Lincoln said, his eyes sweeping over me in admiration.

"Thank you." I forced a smile. "I love the suit on you. Very sharp." The light gray color of his suit reminded me too much of Michael’s old wardrobe.

Lincoln’s gaze flickered around nervously before he reached into his pocket. "I, uh, have something for you."

I frowned. "Lincoln, you didn’t need to bring a gift. I told Erika?—"

"It’s not from me. It’s from Michael."

My heart skipped a beat. "I don’t want it."

He sighed, handing me a plain white envelope. "I promised him I’d deliver it. Please, just take it."

I hesitated before snatching the envelope and shoving it into the bridal money bag at my side just as Slade returned with my drink.

He handed me the glass, his fingers brushing mine as he kissed my cheek. "Everything okay?"

I nodded, taking a sip, but my thoughts were far from settled. What could Michael possibly have to say to me now?

I didn’t get a chance to read the letter until a couple of hours later. I slipped away to the bathroom for some privacy. Maneuvering in my wedding dress was no easy feat, but I managed to perch myself on the toilet, the heavy fabric bunching around me. After finishing, I washed my hands and sat on the small, padded bench in the corner of the beige-tiled bathroom. My heart pounded with anticipation.

The bag at my side was already overflowing with envelopes and cards stuffed with money. I fished through it until I found Michael’s envelope, crumpled at the bottom. My hands shook as I smoothed it out, the simple white paper trembling under my fingers. I slid my French-manicured index finger under the flap and gently tore it open. Inside was a letter embossed at the top with “From the desk of MSB.” Michael’s initials. Sinclair, his mother’s maiden name, was his middle name—just like Lincoln’s.

I hesitated before unfolding the paper, lifting it to my nose, as if I could still catch a whiff of his cologne. That faint, familiar scent hit me, and my mind conjured up an image of him—Michael, sitting at his desk, his left hand lightly gripping the paper as he penned the words I was about to read. His handwriting, bold and generous, sprawled across the page.

Morgan,

My dearest. I know that’s not something you want to hear, but it’s true. You mean the world to me and always will. By the time you read this, you’ll be married, and any chance I had will be gone. I regret that I didn’t try harder. I regret going out that stormy July Fourth. It’s what sealed our fate.

I’ll always love you. One day I might get married, but that person will never hold my full heart, because you do. I can’t give myself fully to anyone else.

I wish you a good life, and I want you to know I think Slade Abbott is the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

I love you,

Michael

The words blurred through my tears. I swallowed the lump in my throat, allowing myself a moment to wonder—what if? What if Michael hadn’t been lost to me? Would we be here now, together, married? Would he have won over Slade? But those thoughts were fleeting. I had made my choice. The die was cast, and I was Mrs. Morgan Abbott. Slade was my husband—my future.

Yet, as I clutched the letter to my chest, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia washed over me. I sat there for a moment longer, lost in the ‘what ifs’ before slipping the letter back into the bridal money bag. When I exited the bathroom, Slade was waiting, leaning against the doorframe with a crooked grin.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he pushed the door open and gently nudged me back inside.

I frowned, laughing lightly. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a moment alone with my wife,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

“Everyone will be looking for us,” I protested, glancing nervously toward the party still in full swing outside.

“They’re fine,” Slade said with a wave of his hand, shutting the door behind him. “They’ve got free food and drinks. Trust me, they won’t miss us.”

“You make it sound like we invited a bunch of freeloaders,” I teased.

He chuckled, his hands settling on my waist, pulling me close. “Not at all. But they’re having a good time—they can survive without us for a few minutes.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I reached up, running my fingers through his thick hair. He’d had it cut recently, a fade that left the top long and wild, just how I liked it. “I love your hair like this,” I whispered, watching as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted slightly in silent pleasure.

“I love you,” he breathed, his brown eyes dark with desire as he opened them again. “I can’t wait to get you alone.”

“We are alone,” I whispered, feeling my pulse quicken under his touch.

He grinned, tilting his head. “So we are. What should I do with you, Mrs. Abbott?”

“Nothing,” I replied, playfully pushing against his chest. “This dress is way too restrictive.”

His grin widened. “Then maybe I should relieve you of it.”

“Slade,” I warned, my tone light but firm. “We can’t… not here.”

His eyes darkened even more, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ve been hard since I saw you walk down that aisle.”

I gasped, laughing softly. “You are not.”

To prove his point, he took my hand and pressed it against the unmistakable bulge in his pants. “Believe me now?”

My breath hitched. “Slade… we can’t,” I whispered, though even I wasn’t convinced.

“Suck me,” he said, his voice a seductive growl.

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, so now that we’re married, you think you can just demand things?”

His face softened, and he chuckled. “Kidding. I don’t expect you to.”

“I would,” I replied softly, biting my lip. “If you wanted me to.”

His eyes gleamed, but he gently removed my hand. “I know you would. But I can wait until we get home. Just an hour to go.” He checked his phone, his thumb brushing over the screen.

I smiled, relieved and yet slightly disappointed. “I can wait if you can.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to,” he admitted, his voice husky. “I would take you ten ways from Sunday if we were alone right now.”

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “Does that mean I’ll be sleeping on the plane tomorrow?”

“More than likely.” His voice was a promise. “You’ll need all the energy you can get tonight.”

Exhaustion threatened to creep in as I thought about how early the day had started, how much energy I’d spent greeting guests and managing the reception. But I wasn’t about to let him down. I’d find the strength, because tonight was ours. And I wanted it just as much as he did.

When we got home, Slade’s hands were on me the moment the door closed behind us. He was anxious to peel my dress off, but careful, ever so careful, even taking the time to hang it on the padded hanger before returning to me with a mischievous smile.

"You’re killing me with that patience," I teased, feeling the heat of anticipation growing.

He chuckled, his hands grazing over the delicate lace of my lingerie. "Just savoring the moment," he said, his voice low and husky. "You smell so good."

I shook my head. "I do not. I’m sweaty."

"Shush," he murmured, dropping to his knees in front of me, his hands gently parting my thighs. He pressed his nose against me, inhaling deeply through the white lace of my panties. "This is the best smell," he whispered. "I bet I could make you come without even taking these off."

A shiver ran down my spine. "I’m sure you can."

He flashed a wicked grin before pressing his mouth to me, his tongue tracing the outline of my swollen clit through the lace. The sensation was electric, making my legs tremble. My hands flew to his broad shoulders, needing something solid to hold onto.

"Slade..." I breathed, already feeling the tightening deep in my belly.

"Come for me, my bride," he commanded, his voice rough and full of desire.

I didn’t need much encouragement. His mouth was too good, his tongue relentless, and within seconds, my body shattered around him. I gasped his name, clutching at him as my orgasm swept through me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless and weak.

Slade stood, scooping me into his arms as though I weighed nothing, and laid me gently on the bed. I watched, mesmerized, as he began to strip in front of me. His movements were slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. First, he tugged at the knot of his tie, tossing it aside, followed by his jacket and belt. I bit my lip as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the firm planes of his chest, the sharp cut of his abs.

"God, you’re beautiful," I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from him.

He smirked, his hands moving to his slacks. "You want this, Morgan? You want to suck me off?"

I nodded, my throat dry with anticipation. Words failed me.

He stepped out of his pants and boxers, his cock hard and ready, bobbing slightly as he fisted it. But instead of the usual, he did something different. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself above me, his knees on either side of my head. He lowered his hips until the head of his cock brushed my lips.

"Suck," he ordered, his voice dark and commanding.

"Slade?" I blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden shift.

"You trust me?" His gaze softened for a moment.

"Of course."

"Then suck."

I opened my mouth, taking him in, running my tongue over the smooth head. His scent—intoxicating, masculine—made my core ache for him. I wanted to taste him, to please him, but he suddenly pulled back, leaving me breathless.

"Not so fast," he groaned, his cock twitching in his hand. "If you go too fast, I’ll come."

"I want you to," I teased, licking my lips, eager for more.

He shook his head. "This is our first time as husband and wife. I want to remember every second of this."

His words melted my heart. "Slade..." I sighed, giving in to his wishes.

"Please, Morgan. Slow," he begged, his eyes filled with desire and love.

I took him back into my mouth, this time slow and steady, savoring the weight of him on my tongue. His breaths grew ragged, his hands fisting the sheets. After several minutes, his body trembled, and I felt the familiar tightening, the prelude to his release.

He groaned, low and guttural, spilling into my mouth in thick, hot waves. It was more than usual, and I gagged, trying to keep up. Sensing my struggle, Slade backed off, the rest of his release spilling over my neck and chest.

"Shit, I’m sorry," he said, his voice tight with regret. "That was stupid."

I wiped my mouth, laughing softly. "Stop it. It’s fine." I cupped my hands to catch the rest of him and padded to the bathroom to clean up.

Slade followed me, his face a mask of worry. "I just wanted to try something new. Don’t be mad."

"For heaven’s sake, Slade," I said, running the washcloth under warm water. "It’s not a big deal."

He exhaled in relief. "I didn’t expect to...you know, come that much."

I turned to him, wiping myself down before cupping his cheek with my free hand. "Maybe next time, don’t wait a week."

His eyebrows shot up. "How did you know?"

"Because you practically flooded me. I was choking on it."

He let out a low laugh. "So, you’d try it again?"

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I’m game for anything within reason. Just stop beating yourself up, okay?"

He relaxed, taking the washcloth from me to clean himself. Together, we headed back to bed, where the night resumed with far less drama. Slade made love to me slowly, reverently, and for the rest of the night, I forgot about everything but him.

The next morning, I had to nudge my new husband awake to catch our flight to Maui. "Slade, it’s already 8:30. We’re going to miss the plane."

He groaned, pulling me back against him. "Let’s change the flight," he mumbled into my hair.

"No," I said, smiling. "I’ve waited too long for Maui."

"But there’s a flight at 6:57 p.m.," he said, checking his phone. "We could sleep the whole day."

"Get up," I said, laughing as I wriggled out of his grip.

He grabbed me again, holding me tight. "I just want to stay here with my wife."

"They have huge beds in Maui. You can stay with me there," I teased. "Please, baby?"

His grip loosened. "Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me." He let me go, and I slipped out of bed, heading for the shower. Tomorrow was Maui, but today? Today was still ours.