Ready to Wed by J. L. Berg

thigh to push aside my lacy blue thong.
    “We’re going to consummate our marriage in an empty ballroom, standing against a wall, with our family down the hall. You okay with that?”
    I could feel him hard and ready against me, waiting for my answer.
    “Yes, Logan. God, yes,” I managed to say as he plunged into my slick core.
    I muffled my cries and moans against his shoulder as he pumped in and out, filling me completely with every stroke.
    “I love you. So fucking much,” he said roughly, slamming into my body harder. I could feel the orgasm building in my belly, swirly and twirling in my body like a tornado. His eyes focused on mine and he must have seen it in my eyes, because he took my mouth seconds before I cried out my orgasm, muting the sounds with our kiss.
    One hand snaked around my body and found my bare ass. As he braced us against the wall with the other, he pulled me closer. His strokes were fast and uncontrolled, and within seconds his eyes glazed over and he gave a guttural moan as he came.
    Still panting and in our post-coital haze, both of us jumped when there was a knock on the door.
    “Logan!” Colin whispered.
    “What the fuck do you want, man?” He suddenly looked down to make sure I was covered in case Colin was dumb enough to walk in. I really hoped he wasn’t.
    “They’re starting to notice you guys are gone. Might want to hurry things along,” he laughed.
    “All right, thanks.”
    We turned to each other and couldn’t help but laugh a little.
    “Guess we better go before we get busted with our pants down!” Logan said.
    We laughed and redressed each other, and headed back to our reception, hoping to hell that we didn’t look like we’d just been shagging down the hall.
     
     
    ~Logan~
     
    Dinner passed in a blur. I think we had chicken, or pork?
    There were so many people talking to us, I honestly didn’t have a chance to eat anyway, so it could have been lasagna for all I know.
    All I could think about, in between answering questions about our “honeymoon” and our decision to sell Clare’s house and move into mine, was the time we’d spent in that ballroom.
    Visions of Clare lying on that table flashed before my eyes. Her hair fanned out in every direction like a whimsical goddess. The touch of her skin as I held her and slid inside her for the first time as husband and wife. The look in her eyes as she came.
    Then it hit me. I’d taken my wife for the first time in a dark ballroom, fully clothed, backed up against a wall. I was an animal. I looked over in her direction and took her hand. She caught my eye and smiled, a faint blush spreading across her face.
    I should have waited. Taken her slowly and lovingly. Stripped her down and spent hours kissing every inch of her skin. Instead, I’d taken her fast and hard, slamming her and that stunning wedding gown into a wall.
    I suddenly had this overwhelming desire to show her exactly how much I treasured, loved and adored her. Maybe it was the whole cancer thing or just the high of getting married, but I decided to be spontaneous.
    Rising from my seat, I gently kissed her temple. “I’m going to run up to the room and grab something. I’ll be right back.”
    She gave me a confused look but just nodded and said okay.
    Within fifteen minutes, I was walking back into the reception having completed my task.
    Leah spotted me first, and her lips upturned into a smile.
    “Hey, Superman, are you going to serenade me?”
    Clare turned and saw my guitar slung over my shoulder and her eyes widened in surprise.
    “No, I’m going to serenade my wife,” I said with a grin.
    The hotel staff was just about done setting up the impromptu stage, putting together a microphone and amp they had stored for larger weddings and business meetings.
    All eyes were on me now as I set up, pulling my guitar out and taking a seat. I plugged everything in and then looked up to find Clare’s green eyes staring back at me. I wasn’t much of a