Page 71 of The Vow

“Our buddy just got married! Shots at the bar!” someone shouted, people whooped and yelled and Carmelo felt himself smiling and his worries were left in his chair, next to his barely touched whiskey.

Lena

Lena twirled the ring around her finger, pursing her lips, her eyes catching on the desert landscape that shot past the window of the limo. Colt had said she could keep the ring, or give it back, whatever she wanted. It wasn’t a fancy ring, it was just a gold band, with a single, modest, solitaire diamond on it. It wasn’t what she expected her wedding band to look like. She’d had in mind a huge diamond and platinum and a halo band. However, it was apt because what had just happened in the last twelve hours, wasn’t what she had expected her wedding to look like. Her husband was not what she’d pictured her husband to look like. She hadn’t pictured getting married in a white lace corset in a tacky little chapel in Vegas with a motorcycle club in tow. She hadn’t pictured her husband being an All-American Police Sergeant. A fucking cop. She hadn’t pictured any of this.

She hadn’t wanted to get married anytime soon. But when she eventually would, she had assumed it would be someone quite different than Carmelo. She had pictured, she had to admit, despite what she had said to her family, an Armenian businessman. He was faceless, nameless, in her mind, but he was a man from within the Syndicate. From within her world. And she had pictured a big church, hymns and incense and a huge train on her dress and a long veil over her face. She had foreseen a long engagement, months and years of roses and dinners and gifts. She hadn’t wanted it now. She hadn’t even graduated yet, after all, but, despite herself, she did assume all of that was awaiting her. Almost what her parents had organized for her, but the crucial difference being it was someone she had chosen. Someone she wanted, and someone who wanted her. Now, she wanted Carmelo, and Carmelo wanted her. And she had chosen him. Kind of. Would she have ever met him, or started dating him? Unlikely, she couldn’t imagine a situation when she would have crossed paths with him. Unless he was arresting her. And she had actively tried to un-choose him, at the beginning. She’d tried to walk away. But things got muddy quite quickly. She shook her head as she watched the empty sand of Death Valley, like another planet, barren and strange. She couldn’t hold back the smile, though that spread across her lips, remembering how he’d put those handcuffs on her, dragged her across the hotel foyer, pushed her down to her knees and told her to suck his cock.

And she’d enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it. She couldn’t put into words the thrill, the dizzying urgency, the heat she had felt, that first time and all times after that. She’d sought it out again. Sought him out again. And yes, she’d tried to tell herself this was all an experience to help her learn what happened between a man and a woman. So that she knew, so that she was equipped and experienced enough to be useful, desirable. But who was she kidding? It was him, it was something about him that had awoken her. The woman in her, the animal, the thing demanding satisfaction, the thing wanting to give satisfaction. Whereas normally she focused on her own gains, productive things, material things. This was immaterial, almost untouchable, but she sought it and nothing else mattered. Lena nibbled the skin around her nail, a little dry bit. She knew she shouldn’t, she wouldn’t normally but, like a lot of things recently, she did it anyway. She imagined what her mother would say if she caught Lena biting her fingers, and that brought a twisted sort of satisfaction of its own.

She was sore to her core. She adjusted herself on the leather chair of the limo, so she was more comfortable, and tried not to wince. She took a sip on her extra large iced coffee. God she needed it. The ice cooled her throat, the coffee kept her eyelids from drooping. Had she imagined she’d be driving back from Vegas after being up all night? After saying “til death, baby,” to a cop, witnessed by hardened, leather clad motorcycle club members and their women. Had she imagined sneaking around the back of the hotel with him, naked underneath her terry cloth robe from the hotel, where he poured vodka all over her couture corset, and set it on fire? No, she had not.

And it had burned. And they watched it together. It glowed brightly and she watched on, letting it burn. Watching the material curl blackly, as she was tucked under Carmelo’s arm, one cheek pressed against his chest, one arm around his waist. She heard his heartbeat, she heard his steady breath in his lungs. He whispered in her ear. “Princess, that’s it now, til fucking death do us part.” And she had simply snuggled him back, feeling completely fine with the words she had dreaded hearing. Completely at peace with it.

She smelled Vegas, and parking lot and smoke. She felt the heat of the fire and the cool of the night, licking her legs. And he held her tight, as the black, warm night surrounded them. Her pretty white corset burned to ashes, which caught in the wind, and were carried across the ground, wispy curls of glowing embers, until they went out. She wanted to burn the world for him. Anyone and anything that got in their way, her parents, this stupid business arrangement connecting the MC and the Syndicate, anything and everything that kept them apart. Or forced them into something they didn’t want. She would burn it all down and rebuild from the black ash. Something that fit them better. Something that worked out so that the head of a Mafia crime syndicate, and an ambitious do-gooder police Sergeant could be together. She vowed to herself, in that parking lot, wearing nothing but a terry cloth hotel robe, watching her expensive handmade silk and lace couture burn, that she would put him first, always. Put them first. Family was family, business was business, but Carmelo was her heart now. Her blood, the air in her lungs and the ground beneath her hotel-slippered feet. For better or worse, til death, she had promised and she meant every word of it.

Then they had gone back into the hotel, into the suite that had been booked for her and her friends to sleep in. But Carmelo and Lena had not slept. They had devoured each other for the rest of the night and into the morning. She’d never been kissed like he kissed her. It wasn’t really a kiss, it was more like he was tasting her, eating her mouth, lips and tongue. It was raw and pure, exactly like he was. She felt sore, spent, and she knew he was, too, but she felt quietened in a way that she had not ever felt before. Relief, pure physical relief from having discovered the true sense of meaning in the universe. Everything she was curious about, everything she hadn’t understood, every part of her, as a woman, and him as a man, she had explored and touched and tasted. And it threw new meaning onto her life. It made things look different, under the light of what she now knew. Who she is now. It wasn’t the pride from the respect and fear she could command in the Syndicate. It wasn’t how tough and unforgiving she was on the inside. It wasn’t in how much money she made, how pretty she was, how glamorous and desirable and alluring she seemed on the outside. It was something else.

And now she sat in cheap yoga wear that she’d got from the hotel shop. Leggings, a bra top, and a hoodie. It smelled like the shop, it still had the labels in the back. She wasn’t wearing panties. She didn’t like the look of the nylon thongs from the hotel shop, everything hurt down there. The lycra clung to her and she admitted she was looking forward to a shower. Carmelo had gone home with Colt, they had said it would be better, more subtle, in case Ardian or Kavan were around. It would cause less trouble. So she was in the limo, alone, being driven back. Kavan and her family would have heard about the bachelorette party argument. They would have heard that all her guests left after she turned into a kind of anti-bridezilla on them. Screaming at them as they wished her well, and got ready to party on her behalf. She’d been wrong to do that and she’d instantly regretted it and been frustrated with herself. And then he’d shown up.

And she’d directed all her frustration at him. But he’d just strolled in with sushi and a smile and before she knew it, they were making love on the table and on their way to get hitched in Vegas. And finally, finally they’d had sex. Not just sex. She’d felt the pain, and the fullness, she’d expected, yes, and the pleasure, the choking, blinding pleasure. But it had been more than that. Something else had happened between them as well. Something she hadn’t bargained on. Trust in each other, respect, commitment, simmering between each other, entwining each other, capturing each other. It had formed an unbreakable bond between them. They hadn’t meant for it to, but she felt it now, and she knew he did, too.

While she was uncomfortable in the limo, she was quite content being suspended in this kind of limbo for a few hours. Not able to do anything other than stare out the window, her phone out of battery hours ago. A few hours of peace before all hell broke loose at home.

Lena mentally rehearsed what would happen when the journey finally ended. Getting back home, she pictured the limo pulling up to the gates of her family’s city apartment, and she’d have to do the walk of shame past the concierge into their private elevator. Up to the apartment. And probably they’d be in. And she’d slink straight into her bedroom to shower and freshen up, change into something comfier and more appropriate, then emerge into the main living room to face the music. Her mother would be tight-lipped and pale, her father would be an unhealthy shade of purple and red. Her sister would be smug that Lena was being told off, excited for the drama, glad it wasn’t her in trouble for once.

Maybe she’d treat herself to a bath actually, rather than a shower, she thought whimsically. A bubble bath, a long, hot, slow bubble bath. Then she’d face her parents. They had decided they wouldn’t tell anyone they got hitched. They’d keep it quiet from her family, and anyone else who hadn’t been there last night. The Mayor, the FBI, Kavan and Ardian… The story was that Lena just had too much to drink and went to Vegas to party, meeting up with some of her college friends. Carmelo could get away with it, since he didn’t answer to his father and seemed distant from his brother, so he didn’t have to make up any excuses. Carmelo only seemed to have that beautiful dog of his. And the MC. Maybe that’s something they could work on together, getting closer to Carmelo’s real family. Maybe she could become his family, the “good part” they had refered to while saying their vows. Maybe she could become all the family he would need. She watched the desert roll past the window and fingered the gold ring on her finger. Maybe she already was all the family he would need.

Lena

“Lena, oh fuck Lena, please stop… oh fuck me… I’m going to come…”

Carmelo’s protests only spurred Lena on. She risked a glance upwards from her position on her knees in between his legs. Her favorite position. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head back, his shirt half open. She had him on that dangerous tightrope, halfway between pain and pleasure, about to fall, teetering on the edge. She smiled around his hard cock, and eased off a little.

She heard him let out a shaky shiver, so she flicked his cock piercing with her tongue and then traced it around the edge of his head. If someone had said to her that on the night before her wedding, at her rehearsal dinner, she would be on her knees giving the bozo cop that her father had told her to marry, a blowie, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Lena, Lena, let’s find a bed, I need to fuck you, I need to see you, I want space to look you in the eyes when I come deep inside you…” He was panting, his chest rising and falling, half of it on display. Pectorals defined in the semi-darkness of the storage room she’d dragged him into moments ago.

She’d fought it with all her might, but here she was, on the night before her wedding. Her arranged marriage to the bozo cop. The bozo cop she’d looked at like a piece of dirt on her shoe when she first laid eyes on him. The bozo cop she’d thought she could use for a one and done sex education. The bozo cop whose hands she’d come alive in. The bozo cop she had fallen in love with, who had respected her, had seen her, looked at her for the woman she was and treated her as such. The bozo cop she’d lost her virginity to, on a kitchen table in her wedding dress, then gone to Vegas with. The bozo cop she’d already married.

She almost giggled at the absurdity of the situation. But here they were, with his cock between her lips, him trembling, completely at her mercy, exposing his whole self to her, in a dark storage cupboard in the hotel they were having the ceremony in tomorrow morning while their nearest and dearest ate dinner a few rooms down.

“Lena, Lena, Princess, I need to fuck you, properly, like smash you into the mattress kinda fucking-” Carmelo breathed, his hands coming under her armpits, pulling up and off him. She let his cock pop out of her mouth. This was the first time they had seen each other since their Vegas wedding. Lena had, as predicted, been grounded for being ungrateful and unruly during her bachelorette party. She’d played the humble daughter, quiet and demure and repentant. Because frankly, by that stage, they were already married and the fancy big other wedding was all booked and paid for and there was nothing she could do to back out of it now. And really, she didn’t need to or want to like she had before. They had messaged, and spoken on the phone, of course. Every day, multiple times a day. And frankly, their plan now was to get the nightmare wedding ceremony over and done with, get her back to college for her last term, then take their life from there. Move in together, figure things out. Move Carmelo out of that little apartment, for a start. Things weren’t firm but… she felt confident they could sort it out together. So as soon as they had seen each other again at the rehearsal, she’d instantly felt that heat, that connection flare. She had been happy to see him, and she could tell he was playing it cool in front of others but she knew what that sparkle in his eyes meant. So when she’d excused herself from the table, and texted him a moment later, telling him to follow, she knew that he would.

He’d been up in a flash and had practically tripped over his own feet to get himself into that storage closet with her. And that was how she had found herself in her favorite position with him. On her knees while he trembled and begged above her.

He made a groaning sound and gritted his teeth. She loved the power she had over him like this. She loved that she could reduce him to this. Free him from all his baggage, from his status as a cop, as a man, meant to behave a certain way, meant to be in control all the time, doing the right thing, controlling, dominating. She could turn him into an animal, pure and wild and wanting.

“But husband dearest, I want a snack between courses,” she teased, and her hand reached down and tapped his wet, hard cock, sandwiched between their bodies.

Carmelo smiled and looked down at her. He leaned forward, his forehead on hers, their eyes connected. Then he looked down at her mouth, and leaned forward to kiss her. It wasn’t really a kiss, he consumed her lips. It would have looked messy if they had been in the light of day. He took her lips into his mouth, one hand closed around her throat, his tongue flicked out and into her mouth, licking her into him. Then he licked her chin, the part of her throat between his fingers, she felt his lips again devouring her sensitive skin.

“I’m not the only one who is hungry, huh?” she said, closing her eyes and enjoying his ministrations, feeling her way ahead, governed only by her feelings for him.

She chuckled deeply, she felt his chest rumble against her boobs. They ached for his touch.

“Your room, Lena, I need to pound into you, you’re mine, I need to-”

“But we can’t go there together now, we are halfway through the rehearsal dinner!”

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