Page 79 of Hideaway Whirlwind
“You scared the shit out of me,” Birdie says, panicking and kneeling at my side, grabbing my face to kiss me. “I thought I killed you!”
“Did you cum?” I ask, my throat unbelievably dry, which doesn’t seem right, not after the way I drank her arousal and mine down.
“Yes,” she says with a whine, “but that doesn’t matter! We areneverdoing that again.”
“Yes, the fuck we are.” I’d grab and roll my little black widow beneath me if it weren’t for the fact that my head is swimming. I’d probably pass out again and wind up crushing her. I lift my head as soon as the world stops spinning, blinking until my vision clears, and wave to the mess on my stomach. “Seethat?”
“See what?” she snaps, then huffs with disbelief. “Did you cum when I almost killed you?”
Fuck yes, I did. “For the record, that is exactly how I want to die.”
“Well, you’re not allowed to yet.” She stretches out beside me, playing with the cum pooling on my torso. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”
I laugh, then groan when it makes the throbbing in my head that much worse. I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next time I wake, it’s to Birdie gently cleaning my face with a warm, wet washcloth, her hair damp from a shower and pulled back with a scrunchie.
“Shh, go back to sleep,” she urges when I try to sit up.
Fat chance of that, since she works the cloth down my chest and stomach, dipping it into a large bowl of water resting on the mattress, wringing the cloth out repeatedly, then uses hermouthto clean my dick.
“You sure you’re not trying to kill me?” I ask, palming the back of her head when my cock hardens with another erection. “Death by orgasm.” Cumming three times in one night might just do me in.
Birdie laughs with my cock in her mouth, her throat muscles convulsing around my crown, causing her to gag, then choke when I cum involuntarily with a whimper.
“Shit, shit, I’m sorry. It’s too good.” I fight back nausea when I sit up too fast and move the bowl of water to my nightstand before I pull her down on the mattress beside me.
“It’s only fair,” she says, swiping my cum spilling from the corners of her lips up with a finger and popping it into her mouth to suck on it like a lollipop.
“What a fucking pair we are.” I hardly have the energy to tuck my hypersensitive dick back into my sweatpants and pull our comforter up over us.
She yawns and snuggles close on her side, hiking her top leg over my left thigh, smelling much fresher than I do in the clean flannel she’s traded in her nightgown for. She whispers in a dreamy tone, “Two murderers in a pod.”
Chapter 29
Teagan
A little over an hour before sunset, the sky soon to be painted a brilliant orange and indigo, Elliott and I unhurriedly walk the mile and a half away from the cabin with the children linking hands between us, the puppies trotting ahead with Storm in bursts of energy before circling back.
Elliott is already holding back tears and quiet hiccups when, not ten minutes into our journey, Kendall tires and says, “Papa, up.”
My shiny black, pointy-toe cowgirl boots peak out beneath my dramatic, floor-length, all black and lace gown with each step across the dry terrain. The unseasonably late cold wind attempts to disturb the braided crown of my half-updo come the end of April, and I’m grateful my dress was made with silky-lined long sleeves and that I hadn’t instead opted to have them altered. I’d found both the boots and my dress in an upscale western boutique in Dallas while shopping with my wedding planners, avoiding all things white and traditionally “bridal”. After all, there is nothing traditional about Elliott and me. And while my dress isn’t technically meant to be awedding gown, I knew from the moment I saw it in the winter clearance section that it wasthe one.
Though Elliott must be sweating in his all black, three-piece suit, dashing in a pair of new, enormous black cowboy boots, he doesn’t complain. There is nothing to complain about on one of the most momentous occasions of either of our lives. Not today. Not yesterday. Nor the three weeks Layla and Violet were able to work their infamous magic to put together our wedding reception.
“We’re here,” my groom says with a gulp, taking the lead as we wind through the narrow gaps of the copse of pine trees to a small clearing.
We stand in a circle, as if we’re about to perform a séance, with Dustin and Sydney holding each of Kendall’s hands. Our two girls wear matching black velvet dresses with black ribbons tying their hair back, while Dustin proudly stands tall in a suit to match Elliott’s, down to the boots and waistcoat beneath his tailored jacket. We look more like we’re attending a funeral than a wedding, standing here atop Priscilla’s grave, and truly, I couldn’t have picked a more perfect wedding venue when Elliott takes my hands, rubbing the knuckle of my naked left ring finger.
“Birdie,” he starts in a raspy voice. “You are my greatest longing come to life. It is you who reached into the wounded heart of me to pull me out of the darkest of my days and gave me a reason, a purpose, to be a better, gentler man. It is you who calms the static in my head. The woman I was sent to find, to protect and cherish for the remainder of my life. You are the very essence of warmth and joy in this cold, cruel world. My soulmate. My goddess and the mother of the greatest children I have been blessed to call my own.”
It surprises me that, when his handwritten, memorized vows continue, his voice grows stronger, as if he needs the entirety of thiscruel worldto hear every word as he bares his soul. Tears fall from the corners of my big bear’s blue eyes, trailing down to disappear into the beard he now keeps trimmed just short enough to show off the art inked out on his neck.
“It is my vow to be worthy of your choosing. To help clear the path to your dreams. To fight alongside you any demon that should threaten you, whether in this world or in your dreams. To love you and our children every minute of every day, not just with my words, but through my actions. I vow to always be yours.”
I’m the one who can’t hold back my hiccups, the shaking of my shoulders, and the rapid beating of my heart as I sway toward this man, my love.
When I part my lips to begin my vows, Elliott squeezes my hands, then takes a knee before our children. “I vow to you three all the same and to be worthy of being your papa. I love you, my spirited Kendall. I love you, my courageous Sydney. I love you, my lion-hearted Dustin.” Like a ritual, with each declaration, he pulls them in to kiss their foreheads. Next, he places a long kiss high on my stomach, his large hands splayed across my hips. “I love you, my darling Killian. I can’t wait to see who you will grow up to be.” Lastly, he stands and takes my hands again. “I love you, my beautiful, fearsome, and unbreakable Birdie.”
My voice is just as strong as his when I say, “I choose you, Elliott. I vow to always choose you and to be worthy of your choosing, too. You are the very best of mankind, someone so pure of heart that I never could have imagined you existed inthis world or in my dreams. You are my peace and everything our children could ever want or need from their papa, and we are the privileged ones to be loved by you. It is my honor to be the one who gets to walk alongside you in this life and whatever may follow next. I vow my protection, my love, my heart and soul to you, my twin flame. I vow to forever be yours. Only ever yours. I already am.”
