Hot Cop bonus scene: The Wedding Night


“Chase! Put me down.” I’d struggle more, but it’s hard in my wedding dress. Plus, right now I’m clinging onto his neck for dear life because the man is truly crazy.

My husband--I’ve only been allowed to use that term for the last seven hours--has one arm tucked under my knees and is bracing my torso against the doorframe while he uses his other arm to try to get the hotel key to work.

“No way,” he says, determined. “I’m carrying you over this threshold.”

“But I’m a whale! Look, you’re struggling.” Okay, I’m not exactly a whale. Maybe a hippopotamus? Adult size Livia weight plus five months worth of fetus times two must equate to some sort of enormous wild animal. All I know is that it’s hard enough for me to drag myself around these days. It’s embarrassing enough that he has to see my added mass. So much worse that he’s trying to carry it as well.

“I’m struggling because of the damn hotel door, not because of you, kitten. I can’t get the fucking thing to--” His sentence breaks off as the door (finally) opens, and we nearly tumble into the room.

Chase rights himself before we fall to the ground. “We did it! We’re in the room!” He sets me down but immediately wraps his arms around me, pulling me in as close as my protruding belly will allow. “Welcome to the honeymoon, Mrs. Kelly.”

We’re only an hour out of town at a bed and breakfast in Weston, but it’s all we need. A few days away. A few days alone.

“Mmm. Mrs. Kelly…” I let the name linger on my tongue. I’ve said it so many times in practice, but saying it out loud for real, hearing it said… “I’d never imagined my name could sound so beautiful.”

Chase’s brows dart up in surprise. “Can you say things like that and not get your feminist card revoked?”

“Shut up,” I say, laughing. “There’s no card. And yes. I can. Feminism is about women having choices.”

“Oh, yes. Choices.” I swear he hasn’t stopped grinning since he put the ring on my finger this afternoon. I love seeing him so happy. I did this. I made this man this happy.

Just like he’s made me so happy too.

I brush my lips along his whiskered jaw. “I don’t want to talk about feminism right now.”

“You don’t?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

He cups my face and looks me in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this? I can help you undress and tuck you into that bed, and it will still be the best wedding night in the history of man.”

I nearly cry at the mere suggestion. I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. And probably a difficult thing for him to offer considering how thick his erection already feels against my belly.

Sweet as it is, I’m not about to cry because I’m touched.

I’m about to cry because I’m so damn frustrated.

Here’s the thing--I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I got freaking married today. Wedding days are hard on any bride, and I’m growing, not one, but two humans inside me.

But the minute Chase set me on the floor and said Welcome to the honeymoon, I perked right on up. I’ve been waiting for this. I even took a nap on the hour car ride up to Weston just so I’d have more energy for this. Chase and I have been so busy preparing for today’s event that we haven’t had much chance to be together, especially with my mother and family in town. It’s been eleven days since he’s been inside me, and I’m desperate. I’m a horny bride, and if I don’t get some soon, I swear to god I’m going to explode.

“Chase, I need to fuck you.” My voice cracks. “I really need to fuck you.”

“Thank god,” he whispers before his mouth comes crashing down on mine. He’s desperate for me too. Greedy. The growl in the back of his throat as he devours me gives him away. He wraps his hands in my hair that has long fallen from it’s up-do. We’re glued to each other, content to feast like this for the moment.

When he starts to pull away, I clutch onto the lapels of his tux.

“Let me help you get undressed, Liv,” he says against my lips, coaxing me to relinquish my hold on him.

I let go, reluctantly. Dazed and dizzy from his kiss, something tickles the back of my brain. Something about an interruption. “What about our bags?”

“The doorman brought them up while I was getting you from the car.” As though reading my thoughts, he goes to the door and puts the Do Not Disturb sign out. “It’s just us, babe.”

In response, I turn so the back of my wedding gown is facing him and then peek over my shoulder with a sly smile. “Then what are you waiting for, Officer?”

He doesn’t hesitate. In seconds he has the bow on the back of my dress undone. The material that hugged me tightly loosens a bit around my body. I start to gather the stretchy lacy gown to pull it over my head, excited that he’s about to discover my secret, but Chase stops me, turning me back around to face him.

“Sit.” He pats the end of the bed.

I stare at him curiously. He’s so handsome in his tux. He’s always hot, always sexy. Always my favorite thing to look at, but today it’s different. I’ve never seen him dressed up so formal and, yeah, I’m emotional lately so maybe it’s because it’s our wedding day, but every time I look at him I have to remind myself to breathe. He’s just breathtaking. And mine. And I love him more than anything in the world except maybe the lives growing inside me. I can’t separate him from them. They’re all mine. We’re all together. For real, now.

It’s a lot to take in sometimes. Like right now. And I need to sit as he’s suggested so I do.

With his eyes on mine, he kneels down and takes one foot in his hand, removing the ballet slipper that I exchanged my heels for after the ceremony. He repeats with the other foot. Then he trails one hand up the inside of my calf, burning my skin with his fingers.

I won’t last long if he continues to torture me like this. Seriously, I’m giving him three minutes before I tear his clothing off, sexy tuxedo or not.

“I’m curious,” he says, seemingly unaware of the torment going on inside me, “when I took off your garter earlier at the reception, I happened to look upward.”

Ah, he has discovered my secret.

I won’t say it though. I want him to ask. My cheeks warm from the anticipation. “And?”

“Livia, are you not wearing any panties?”

I shake my head fast, as though I’m nervous. The way I did when he asked me the night of our first date. And I could lie tonight the way I lied to my mother and said it was because I didn’t want panty lines, but the truth is, this was for him. Our own little inside joke.

Chase’s grin widens. “Would you like to show me?” His hand is already skating higher up my leg. “Would you like to show me your cunt?”

I shiver. God, how nervous I’d been when he’d first asked me. And excited. “How would you...Officer Kelly?”

“Let me worry about that. My brave little librarian.” With both hands, Chase grabs the hem of my gown, and pushes it up my legs. I lift when he reaches my thighs so he can bunch the dress up under my baby bump, leaving me fully exposed. “Look at that beautiful naked pussy.”

He dances his fingers across the skin over my pubic bone, teasing me. It tickles and tingles, turning every nerve cell in my body on high alert. But it’s not anywhere near where I need him.

“Chase,” I plead, spreading my legs for him.

As though I haven’t said anything at all, he says, “I have to feel you. Can I feel you, Liv?”

“If you don’t, I’m going to file for an annulment.”

He bites back a laugh as he finally trails a finger over my clit.

I sigh. Then sigh again as he makes a second pass. The third time, he keeps his thumb there, adding pressure, and the sigh I let out is more like a moan.

“Good girl,” he says. “Can I put my fingers inside you?”

“Yes.” Fuck, yes.

He’s still playing the night from our past, taunting me with his composure, but I’m already bucking against him, begging silently for his hand, for his mouth. For his cock.

He sticks one long finger inside me, and I’m so worked up that my legs start to shake.

“Such a good girl,” he says again. “You’ve been so patient.”

“I’m not,” I whimper. “I need you.”

“What do you need? Do you want me to put more fingers inside you, kitten? Do you want me to fuck you with my hand?” He adds another finger inside me. And then another. “Is that what you need, baby?”

“Yes!” I squirm as he hits that sensitive spot, the one that will nearly throw me over the edge except that his thumb isn’t massaging my clit quite as hard as I need it to, and he knows it. “More. Please, Chase.”

“What do you need? Do you need me to stop?”


He chuckles lightly.

“Do you need my mouth?”

“Yes,” I say, breathily. “Please. Please take care of me.”

“Oh, baby, you know I’ll always take care of you, right?” His fingers speed up, but his thumb has left my clit now.

I nod, my fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. “Please Chase. Please. With your mouth. Take care of me.”

“Always, forever until death do we part. But holy hell, I love it when you beg.” Then, and only then, does he sit forward and suck the small bundle of nerves into his mouth.

I’m so wound up, my clit so primed, that his lips are like a match and I instantly explode. As my orgasm spirals through me, he doesn’t let up, licking and feasting and finger fucking me while I shatter and shake. Another climax follows immediately after the first, and I move my hands to grip Chase’s hair as I grind my pelvis into his face, greedily taking every bit of pleasure he’ll give me.

“Fuck,” I say, when I’ve finally calmed down enough to speak. I blink, trying to clear the stars away from my vision. “Just. Fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” Chase says, standing up from the floor and undoing the bowtie on his tuxedo. “That’s what we’re going to do next.”


I undress Livia slowly.  Not because I want to tease and torture her with anticipation--well, maybe a little that--but because I want to savor each and every part of today.  I want to peel off her dress and mark what is now mine...inch by newly exposed inch.  Those delicate shoulder blades--mine.  The dimples above her heart-shaped ass--mine.  Those ripe breasts with their swollen, dark tips--mine.

And mine most all--the curve and swell of her belly, our babies inside.

But the thrill of loving someone as much as I love Livia is that every time I think the word mine, what I really mean is yours.

I’m yours.

I’m yours, yours, yours.

Yours until I die.  Yours forever.

The dress is hung up, the strapless bra unhooked, the glittering barrettes plucked from my wife’s hair, and soon I have her completely naked and available to me, sprawled needily on the bed.

“Chase,” she begs.  “Fuck me.”

“I’m going to, sweetheart, but first I want to look at you.  You’re so fucking beautiful right now, I just need to take it in.  That you let me marry you.”

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.  “You don’t have to woo me.  I’m wooed.  I’m wed.  Just do it already.”

I grin.   Such an impatient kitten--how did a man like me get so lucky?  I start unfastening my cufflinks as I walk around the bed, raking my eyes over every single line of Livia’s body.  There’s something so erotic about the heavying curves of her belly and breasts, the blooming hips, the way her lips are ruddier and her hair thicker than ever.  Maybe it’s evolution’s way of getting a man to stick around, but fuck all if she hasn’t been my sexiest, sweetest obsession since she’s gotten pregnant.

And now she’s all mine.

I toe off my shoes--shiny dress things that are ten thousand times more uncomfortable than the tactical boots I wear at work--and then I’m undressed, my things tossed onto a chair because I can’t wait another minute to feel her skin against mine.

“What are you going to do with me now that we’re married?” Livia asks, turning her head on the pillow to watch me as I start crawling up the bed.  I was already sporting a thick semi after going down on her, but her naked body stretched out and waiting for me--plus that hungry gaze of hers--has me turgid and wet at the crown.  

I crawl over her entire body, caging her with arms and legs and running my nose along the hollows of her neck and collarbone.  “I’m going to do exactly what I promised in front of Father Jordan today,” I tell her, ghosting my lips across her throat.  “I’m going to have you…”  I move to one side, turning her so that her back is to my front and my body is spooning and cradling her smaller one.  “And I’m going to hold you.”

She lets out a sigh of pure pleasure when I demonstrate the holding with a hand cupping her breast.  I squeeze and pluck at her nipple for a few minutes, until she’s squirming and grinding her ass into my hard-on.  

“And,” I continue, finally unable to take the velvet-soft skin of her ass stroking against my cock any more and reaching down to wedge it against her wet opening.  “I’m going to love you.”

I push in, ever so slightly, this angle making the fit extra snug.  She moans.

“And honor you.”

In I go, even deeper, hefting her thigh with one hand to open her up to me.  I take my time burrowing inside, determined to feel every last inch of her, every single inch of this first time between husband and wife.

With a grunt, I’m fully seated inside of her, the soft globes of her ass pressed hard against my hips.

“For as long as we both shall live,” I finish, dropping my lips to the back of her neck as I start to thrust.  Slowly enough that my cock drags along her sensitive front walls every time I move.  In and out, in and out, until she’s shivering and slight mist of sweat is sparkling on her skin.

“You going to delay my orgasm until the day we die too?” she asks, half snark, half desperation.  

I laugh, even though I’m dancing along the edge too, my leg muscles tight and wired, my stomach taut as if I’m preparing for a blow.  But her first.  

I snake a hand over her hip and find the plump nub of her clit and rub it as slowly as I’m moving in and out of her, slow enough that she growls at me.  “Chase, come on.”

“I don’t want to miss it when it comes, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to miss your dick when I--oh, oh, oh.”

I know she hates being so carefully coaxed to the edge--that she’d rather grind and fuck in a hot sweaty mess (and I like that too)--but I love watching her like this.  Tense and quivering and begging, her entire body aching and pining.  Her walls completely down as she clings to the pleasure I’m giving her like it’s a lifeline.

And then she goes, her back arching and her hands fisting in the sheets and her legs sliding helplessly against the bed.  I watch every single second of it, the roll and flutter of her eyes and the hammering pulse in her throat, and the way I can actually see her belly contract with her orgasm.  Can see the clenching pulses as her muscles squeeze around my cock, and it’s that visual that sends me over the edge.  I wedge in even deeper and let the last waves of her climax milk me to the finish, let the visual of my pregnant wife all twisted and caught up over the feel of my cock inside her pull me the rest of the way there.

And there’s the tight tug at the base of my spine, like a bomb’s about to go off, and then it goes, releasing and surging as I pump into her.  It’s wet and hot and deep, and she moans as she feels me swell and pulse inside her, as she feels how much wetter and messier we’ve gotten between her legs.

I kiss and nibble at her shoulder as the last waves move through me, drowsy and happy and so fucking in love with this woman I can’t stand it.  I move my hand over her belly, enjoying the way the ring looks on my finger as my hand rests on her skin.  It feels right.



She laughs then, low.  “I think we woke the babies up.  They’re flipping out in there.”

She’s been able to feel them for at least a month now, but much to my disappointment, I haven’t been able to feel them yet.  I know that for her it’s all so real--her body is changing, she gets to feel them and their presence every day.  But I sometimes feel shut out of their new, little lives.  They’re invisible to me except for a handful of peach colored ultrasound pictures, and I can’t feel them, and it’s months before I can hold them, and--

A tiny bump, like someone’s tapped the inside of my palm with their finger.

“Was that…?” I ask Liv, looking at her with huge-eyed wonder.

She smiles, biting her lip.  “Yeah.”

I can barely breathe.  I make her move on her back and then I kneel next to her, placing both hands on her belly now.  She idly presses on one side of her stomach, as if to prod the babies into moving.  Hey, wake up.  And it works--I feel two more tiny bumps, small and light against my palm.


“What, baby?”

“You’re crying.”

I reach up to touch my face and realize that she’s right.  I’m crying.

“I just never thought--”  The words stick in my throat, but I force them out anyway.  “I never thought I would get to have this.  That I could ever deserve it.  And now I have it anyway, it’s all so perfect and I don’t even know what to do with myself, I’m so happy.”

Her eyes are warm as she reaches up to push the tears off my cheeks with her fingers.  “I know what you do with yourself.  You live.”

And when I drop my lips down to hers, my hand still registering the little flutters that mean our babies are happy and warm inside her, my own heart flutters like tiny baby kicks at the idea that we get to live together until death do us part.

Amen to that.