"Saved by the bell, eh?" He moved his lips close to my ear. "You are a sexy little fuck waiting to happen. Mark my words, you will beg for my cock before this is through."
With that, he let me go and headed towards the door as I swayed a little to keep my balance. He closed it behind him, leaving me alone in the room again where either it or my head was definitely spinning.
I stumbled to the table, to my handbag, feeling like I'd just jumped off the railway tracks before the train came through, and pulled out a handkerchief. Pausing to make sure the empty room was really empty, as if there was anywhere that anybody could hide, I quickly stroked it up the inside of my left thigh, where a single trickle of my natural lubricants was cutting a tickly trail towards my knee.
This was crazy. I should stop this right now before his prophecy came true. He was going to make me do everything I'd been trying to avoid my whole life if he had his way. And if things kept on going like this … I was going to beg him to do it.
Austin
Holy matrimony blah, blah, blah, cherish forever fucking yadda-yadda-yadda. The second I got Skylar alone in that honeymoon suite, that's when the real celebrations would begin.
How she managed to avoid me enough to keep that precious virginity intact this long, I was still trying to fathom. The worst part of it was that I couldn't fuck around with other women in the meantime.
If the press got wind of me going balls-deep in Ariana, for example, well, that would blow my new nice guy image right out of the water, and there went the title shot with it. Tonight though, in that honeymoon suite, I was going to fucking erupt. It was going to be like Mount Cum-more in there.
I hoped Skylar survived until morning, because fucking my virgin bride to death would probably be contrary to the image Robbie Johnson was trying to foster too. Damned if I was going to hold back, though.
I'd never gone for this long without fucking ever since I started, and it was driving me crazy. It wasn't helping my predicament that Skylar looked like sex on legs.
When I saw her walking down the aisle, a couple of things struck me. First, it was strange that she didn't have anybody walking with her, giving her away.
Second, I was glad I'd called Robbie a cheap fuck and chipped in some of my own cash so Skylar could get a wedding dress from a different designer than the one who had made her Tier-2 Sports Therapy uniform.
Perhaps it was for the best that she walked down the aisle by herself. She was so fucking hot that anybody walking with her might have withered away like a vampire in the sunshine.
She was so shy that she didn't meet anybody's eyes as she walked except mine, and even that was only the most fleeting of glances. It made me rock-hard knowing that under that form-fitting, pristine-white dress was a tight little virgin pussy that I was going to have all to myself after weeks of waiting.
For her part, Skylar looked like she was slowly, agonizingly, letting herself get swept away in the fantasy of it all. When people told her how beautiful she was, she tentatively thanked them, but it seemed like she was always waiting for a backhanded insult to follow the compliments.
That cloud that crossed her face whenever she might be in danger of feeling good gradually cleared, and this smile that could end empires took a hold. I'd never seen anything like that kind of joy before.
The guest list consisted of a few friends of mine, a bunch of people organized by Robbie and the NHBFC, like fighters from other weight divisions that I'd never get to fuck up, and their families, and some star-struck girls from Skylar's college. Some of those girls were going to be living out some fantasies tonight if I was reading the situation right, and I was.
I gave Skylar her first dance for the mandatory photo opportunities, and then hung back because fuck that shit. Skylar cut some shapes out there on the dancefloor with her friends, but came over to me if another guy danced too close for her comfort, as if for some reassurance about something.
To my surprise, whatever distance was too close for Skylar's comfort was actually further than mine. Heel-face turn or not, I'd have snapped anybody's neck if they had the audacity to try and pull anything at my motherfucking wedding, even if it was a fake marriage.
As early as was humanly possible, I bundled Skylar off to the limo and climbed in after her. At last, after I put up the privacy window between us and the driver, I had her alone again.
I saw her wringing her hands in front of her, her purity ring now gone and replaced by my ring. She was wearing that little piece of jewelry that proclaimed to the whole world she was mine, and all that was left to do was for me to claim her.
I shifted closer to her and she shrank a little, her body language betraying all her nerves, but those eyes of hers still begged me to fuck her. That wish was going to be granted.
"You were the sexiest woman ever to walk down the aisle today," I said.
"Oh. Th-thanks. I got kind of lost in the moment there. Forgot myself. I've never had a day anything like that before."
I reached up and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. That white gold and diamond bridal tiara of hers caught a few glints of light, but it wasn't as bright as her smile had been.
Curling my fingers behind her neck, I took control of her like I had in that spare room at the New Ashby Event Center. I could feel her shaking with that same fear and excitement; she was positively humming under my touch.
"Um … so, you're sleeping in your room, I'm sleeping in mine?" she asked.
One corner of my mouth raised in a smile, and I had a single humorless chuckle as I reached up under her wedding dress. Those wholesome pecks for the TV spot, and the family-friendly kiss after we were proclaimed man and wife, were nowhere near enough.
I wanted to pick up right where I'd left off, with my hand on her soaking wet little pussy as I kissed her so hard her head spun. Because now it was my pussy. All fucking mine.
"You know what I'd rather do?" I asked.
Skylar's resistance was as token and ineffective as it had been the last time. Wriggle around though she did, grasp at my wrist though she tried, she actually opened her legs further to give me easier access. Her bluff was called.
"You … you want to have sex with me," she said.
"No."
The look on her face told me that was the last answer she'd been expecting, and she went still. Her hands halted their resistance in confusion as I closed the distance to the tight opening I was going to fuck bareback as soon as possible.
"You … don't?"
"No. I want to fuck you until you scream my name, until you scream it so loud that you know you're mine as much as I do."
My hand touched the crotch of her panties and I could feel her virgin slit through the thin material, so wet, radiating sexual heat. Mine.
Skylar gasped and I kissed her, hard.
Skylar
We arrived at our hotel just as I thought I was about to lose consciousness from the intensity of Austin's kisses. He pulled away, and I panted for air as he opened the rear door. We stepped out to be met with paparazzi taking pictures with strobe-light speed.
It seemed that Robbie's plan to drum up interest was working, but that was little consolation as a surge of fear hit me. My panties were halfway down my thighs, as Austin had just roughly yanked them down when the limo pulled up to the curb.
With all those cameras taking pictures in the rear of the vehicle, I had no option to pull them back up. I smoothed my dress down and shuffled over to the door, where Austin scooped me up as if he was going to carry me all the way over the threshold from the curb. I offered silent thanks for the length of the gown, and for the fact that I wouldn't have to do some strange duck-waddle through the media to the hotel entrance.
Austin carried me so easily, it felt like the muscular fighter could have spun me on one finger like a basketball. A pair of girls in the elevator looked so jealous behind their congratulatory smiles.
He did carry me all the way to the door of his room, the honeymoon suite, only taking one hand away from me briefly to drag a key card out of his pocket and swipe it to open the door. Slamming it shut with a backwards kick, he crossed the room and threw me on the bed, where I bounced a couple of times before finding my balance. I sat up with my hands bracing myself on the mattress behind me and my feet facing towards Austin.
My husband shrugged off his jacket. It dropped to the ground before he literally ripped his shirt apart as if it was paper, and I could hear buttons rolling and skittering along the floor as he discarded the shreds of material. He kicked his shoes off. For the first time since that night in the dressing room, I was exposed to that glorious torso of his, the inked skin and masculine lines.
Just as inside the ring, his every movement was artwork. Muscles flexed and rippled as he mounted the bed and walked himself forward on his knees, distorting his tattoos one after the other.