Page 58 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
“Behave, Mrs. Wilder,” I growl.
She winks as the officiant begins the ceremony. Violet glances over at where the girls and my mother sit together. My Goldie’s eyes mist over as she faces me again.
“I love this for them,” she whispers.
“I want to kiss you,” I whisper back.
A clearing of the throat grabs our attention.
“The vows?” the officiant asks for what I’m guessing is not the first time. Especially given the quiet laughs of those surrounding us.
This time, we keep to the more traditional vow verses the shorter, modern ones from that first week in December. The rings we removed before the ceremony return where they belong on our fingers as we promise to love and to cherish, for as long as we both shall live.
Until my dying breath, I will love this woman.
“You may kiss the bride,” he finishes, and I’m already reaching for her.
This kiss feels like a combination of the very first, mixed with certainty and forever. Our loved ones cheer, the girls being the loudest, and I hold the fourth female who makes up my world close to me, imparting every promise into sealing our fate with this kiss.
Laughing in her melodic cadence that captivates and restarts my heart, she smiles as we part. The girls run up and tackle us in hugs, and everything feels complete.
Shortly after, a large and lengthy bench table is set up in the clearing with soft, muted shades of pink and red lanterns strung between two large oaks. Under that canopy of lights and hanging vines, the table is set with dripping candles and platters of food with place settings.
Our small and intimate group mingles, the girls clinging between me and Violet or their newly found grandmother who beams at our daughters as if time were an illusion. Before we all sit and eat, I take my wife’s hand and guide us away from the group.
“Where we going?” she asks, smiling and holding up the skirt of her dress.
Somehow, they did some voodoo magic and that long train she had before is tucked and made to be one now with the dress. I walk us far enough away to a bubbling creek and lean her back against one of the tall evergreens.
“I never get used to that,” my voice rasps.
She brushes her fingertips over my brow. “What?”
“The way you look at me,” I shake my head. “I sometimes ask, when it’s late and I can’t sleep, but you’re in my arms, safe to dream, how am I worthy of this angel?”
She holds my bearded face that I trimmed shorter to clean up for today. “You, Hudson Wilder, are the most honorable, kind, giving man I’ve ever known. And you love me in a way I’ve always dreamed but feared to hope I’d have.”
“You deserve everything, Violet Hudson, and I plan on spending the rest of our lives loving you, giving you space to discover new facets of life and who you are. Whatever you want to explore? It’s yours. Just ask.”
Her soft smile feels sacred. Only for me.
“And I vow to spend the rest of our lives, loving you in ways that make your heart so full, you’ll never question your worth in receiving all the good that life wants to give you. Because, you, my love, my husband,” she caresses my cheeks, “are deserving. I love you, Hudson.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her forehead. “Thank you for intercepting that damn ad and insisting on being my wife.”
Laughing, my wife kisses me. Words between us are everything, but so is this, how we communicate with every look and touch. I’ve been salivating over the curves of her body in this dress, and if I have to sit next to her, in front of our family, for the next few hours, I need to feel her, deeply.
Breaking the kiss, we’re both breathless. I gently turn her around and place her palms on the bark. Her hitched breath tells me she knows exactly what’s about to happen. So does the way her ass pops out, seeking my lap.
Chuckling, I kneel and grab the hem of her dress, then slowly pull it up with me as I stand. My gorgeous wife’s breathing accelerates. The tops of her breasts fight the collar of her wedding gown with every pant. I mold my body against her bare legs and ass, only the lacy white thong and garter set she’s wearing underneath.
Groaning, feeling the swell of my shaft, I bite her ear. “You knew what you were doing wearing this underneath,” I growl.“You wanted me to see it. Drive me mad all damn night until we’re finally alone.”
Her moan gets carried with the wind and drowned by the running creek. I wrap her skirt around to the front.
“Hold this here, Goldie.”
She eagerly takes her dress and keeps her backside exposed to me.
