Noticing my lascivious prowl, she backs herself into the room, inevitably jailing herself.  “Bryce...” she says with less conviction.  “...tell me where we are going.”

I shake my head from side to side, slam the bedroom door behind me then remove the space between us.

Now holding her body against the wall with my own, I pose my question again, deliberately breaking it down for her. “Why,” I whisper into her ear. “Did,” I say, breathing into her neck “You,” I growl, as I lick the tops of her cleavage. “Flinch?” I ask as I spin her around and splay her hands against the wall.

Her fingers claw into the panels as I press my erection against her arse. “Where are we going?” she probes again, still persistently holding her own.

Her fight has me hard as a fucking rock. “Fine, have it your way,” I advise, as I slowly unzip the back of her dress.

Alexis changed out of her wedding gown right before we left for the airport, her attire now a red mid-length strapless number.

I finish undoing the zipper and begin to peel the dress from her body when she stops me. “Bryce, wait!” Sucking in a breath, she turns her head to the side and closes her eyes as she exhales. “I love you.”

By this point, I have a pretty good idea of what she has done, and to tell you the truth, I’m fucking excited to see exactly what she chose. “Hunny,” I say as I remove her dress completely, letting it fall to the ground, “I love you, too.”

Taking a step backward, I spot the freshly inked area at the base of her back. It looks a little raw. Dropping to my knees, and now face-level with her tattoo, I take in the scripted name and picture.

“Brylexis,” I read aloud, as I trace the letters without touching the mark.

Under our name is a picture of a star.

“Do you like it?” she asks, clearly hesitant.

“Yes,” I hiss. Do I fucking like it? I more than fucking like it. It’s one of the sexiest things she has ever worn.

She breathes out as her body relaxes. “Oh thank God!”

Gripping her arse cheeks with both my hands, I lean forward and trail my tongue around the area, prompting her to tense up again and suck in another breath.

“I love it,” I growl.

Alexis widens her stance just a little, and that slight opening of her legs—an invitation to deepen my exploration—sets a fire within me. I can’t help myself and grip her G-string, tearing it apart before nipping and biting at her soft rear.

“Oh, God, Bryce,” she moans.

“Turn around,” I demand, my tone not one to be argued with.

Slowly, she does as she told, and even though I love her tenacity at times, her submission is also just as pleasing.

Now staring at her naked flesh before me, I wet my lips in preparation for her taste, fervently anticipating our union.

“Foot,” I request, keeping my eyes on her moist pussy.

She obliges and lifts her heeled foot, placing it on my knee. While I remove her shoe, I trail my tongue up and down her leg, tantalising every nerve ending I possibly can.

“Other one,” I demand, repeating the same action.

With her shoes discarded, I lean forward and lash her clit with my tongue then trail it up her abdomen, in between her breasts until I’m at her mouth. I bend down, slide my arm behind her thighs, and lift her into my arms.

“Where are we going, Mr. Clark?”

“To the bed, Mrs. Clark.”

Almost instantly, I feel my bottom lip between her teeth as she holds onto it, stretching it slightly and taking it with her while pulling away from my face. Her eyes display a mischievous retribution as she lets go, the feeling both mildly uncomfortable, yet erotic.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she says with a slightly annoyed tone.

“I know nothing of which you speak.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“No, I don’t. Not right now.”

Laying her down on the bed, I climb over the top of her and look deep into crystal clear blue eyes that reveal her inner most feelings—when I pay attention to them, they never lie.

“Not right now?” I question, leaning forward to tenderly kiss her lips.

Pulling away from her perfectly, fucking, kissable lips, I wait for her answer.

“No,” she answers, her response obviously artificial.

I swipe her peaked nipple with my tongue before sucking on it, deliciously. “How about now?” I prompt.

 “Uh ah,” she answers on an intake of air.

“Hmmm. No?” I mumble as I switch breasts only to tweak with my fingertips the wet hard nipple I just abandoned.

Trailing my tongue further down her stomach, I dip it into her bellybutton as I pass, then comfortably position myself between her legs. I smile victoriously as I take in the sight before me, seeing just how turned-on she is—the proof is in the pussy.

Her entrance glistens with aroused moisture, the view parching my mouth. I swallow heavily and drag my finger along her clit, circulating my motion. “How ‘bout now?”

Her back bows, affording me a stunning view of her chest, but she still refuses to give in.

Having had enough of this game, I go in for the kill, hungrily devouring between her legs. I lash at her clit with my tongue while sliding two fingers into pussy, moving them in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“Oh Bryce,” she moans, her sultry sound eliciting a reverberating groan from within me.

“Do you love me now?” I growl, still pressing my lips to her wet clit.

“Yes...yes I always love you, every second of the day,” she admits, her voice rising along with her pending climax.

Satisfied pleasure rushes through me when hearing her say those words. They never get old; I never tire of hearing her say them. Now feeling overly fucking thrilled with her with surrender, I suck her clit into my mouth, knowing this will tip her over the edge, and then wait for her body to relax as she comes back down to earth.

I sit up on my knees, my cock heavy with desire, desire I want nothing more than to release into my wife. “Come here,” I say, taking her hand and lifting her to her knees.

She looks down at my erection, and a pleased appreciation washes over her face. It’s the best fucking expression imaginable. Nothing tops the look she gives me when she admires my cock.

Scooting forward on her knees, she takes me in her hand, squeezing my base and dragging her hand to the tip. Her milking action is rewarded when a bead forms on my crown. “Taste it,” I suggest, knowing that she wants to.

She smiles and sticks out her tongue then leans forward and slides it along my sensitive head. I jerk with pleasure. She pumps once more in the hope for another bead and is rewarded when yet again one appears.

“Fuck, Hunny. Come here.” I pull her close and lift her up, impaling her on my shaft, both of us moaning in succession. I seize her arse with my hands and lift her up and down, thrusting with passionate dedication over and over.

She cries out with exertion as she reaches another climax, the sheer carnality of her scream a fucking pleasure to watch. The way her head falls back under the weight of physical pleasure and mental emotion, rewards me for my efforts. I release one hand from her hip and clasp the back of her head, bringing it back to mine. Then, delving my tongue deep into her mouth, I expel my own orgasm.


We both collapse on the bed, thoroughly sated and fucked, and that wonderful feeling of attainment gratifyingly washes through me. After seconds of catching our breath, I tug her to my side, and she comfortably rests her head on my chest.

Gently, I kiss her on the head. “So, how does it feel to be Mrs. Clark?”

“Perfect,” she replies then hugs me tight.

* * *

Hours later, we are departing the plane and stepping onto the tarmac at Charles de Gaulle Airport. It’s fucking freezing, the icy chill in the air piercing my skin like a thousand tiny needles.

“Paris?” she asks, spinning to face me and seemingly not fazed by the near zero degree temperature.

The look of sheer excitement that is radiating from her pores fills me with so much joy. “The one and only,” I reply intertwining my fingers with hers, wanting to keep us both warm.

“Oh my God! Can we go see the Eiffel Tower, now?”

Personally, I want nothing more than to cuddle up to her naked body, the flames of an open fire dancing before our eyes. Except, seeing her exhilaration—one that resembles a kid at Disneyland—I’m now more inclined to freeze my arse off just to continue witnessing her expression.

“If you want, but it’s bloody cold,” I shiver, cursing myself for not having our coats accessible.

“Screw the cold. Paris blanketed in snow is so romantic. It is the only place in the world I would be happy to freeze to death.”

Shaking my head, I lead her toward the waiting Limousine, hell bent on not allowing any freezing of her body to occur. “We can go, see, and do whatever you want. Our honeymoon is your oyster.”

She stops once again and I all but refrain from rolling my eyes, changing my mind when I see her smile widen beyond normal proportions.

“Anywhere?”

“Yes, Hunny, anywhere but here. Come on, let’s go see the La Tour Eiffel,” I entice, my French rolling from my tongue.

“Oui s’il vous plaît, Monsieur Clark,” she responds, her French spoken just as perfectly.

I groan at the sound of her words which are like verbal sex to my ears. “Limousine. Now!”

* * *

Reaching Champ de Mars without burying myself inside Alexis was an impossibility. Her French spoken words as I bucked my hips while she rode me were fucking sensational. ‘Oh Dieu, oh Dieu,’ she’d chanted at my request. Followed by ‘Oui, oui’, and finishing off with ‘Baiser’. Needless to say, it was the best 45 minute drive I have ever experienced.