Chapter 62: Nice Guys Claim "Virgins" On the Their Wedding Night--Radio Edit

You guys know the deal by now...this is the Radio Edit...the censored love scene. If you want the dirty details, you have to transfer to the Soundcrush Explicit Work, available on my profile page, and find the corresponding chapter./explicit cut...

I can't imagine a better country love song for Adam's perspective of his wedding night than the Thomas Rhett song in the header above. Adam is basically a blonder, beefier Thomas Rhett, I think...

Adam

"Okay...all set..." I assure Mac as the boat swings lazily around the bow anchor.

She's so cute the way she wants to learn about the boat stuff. She pouts and peers down into the dark water where the anchor line disappears, like she could see to the bottom. "How can you tell?"

"Well, I know how deep the lake is from the depth finder, and I counted out how many feet of anchor line I released, and do you feel how the boat is swinging around? That means the anchor is holding," I explain.

Moonlight bounces off her pixie features as she looks up at me with admiration. "You know a lot of stuff I didn't know you knew, Adam. All the farming equipment stuff and boating stuff and you actually understand all that structural stuff Tyler is talking about for the house..."

I take her hand and lead her off the back and back down into the open air cock-pit. "It goes both ways. I had no idea you knew about organic gardening and harvesting and composting, and canning and cooking. Together, we could actually run a farm, you know," I tease her.

She grins. "I don't want to be a farmer, Adam. And I told you, I only like to cook fun stuff."

I hold up my hands in surrender, "I heard ya. I don't want to be a farmer either. When my dad decides to give it up, we'll hire a farm manager, and we'll just dabble when we feel like. I guess my point is...there's a lot of background we missed on each other. We've had an intense four years. Living in the moment and the music...and the bedroom." My voice is devilish as I head down into the cabin try to figure out where the light panel is. Ah. Found it. I fiddle with the sliders until I find a mix of low lighting that seems romantic.

"And living in the heat of arguments," she adds regretfully.

"Hmmmm. How about now that we are married, we keep the music, and the sex, and trade the fighting for getting to know all those things about each other we missed out on?" I'm tackling the control panel now, trying to connect to one of our phones. Apparently, Mac already figured this out during our boat tour this afternoon, because she punches throught the touch screen and pulls out her phone, opening her subscription music app.

"Deal," she says. "Here's something you apparently don't know...I'm good with tech."

"I did know that," I chide her. "So am I..." I say defensively.

"Yes, you are. You're amazing with the mixing programs," she lays a placating hand on my arm as she chooses a playlist...country love songs.

"Good choice," I murmur. I open the half fridge—there's a variety of drinks in there, plus some fresh fruit. There's even a bottle of sparkling cider. I shake my head. Years ago, I gave up trying to figure out how my mom anticipates everything, but somehow, at some point during the weekend, she stocked this boat with drinks, snacks, a first aid kit, sunscreen, shower stuff in the tiny head, pretty much everything we might need for an overnight cruise. I guess she knew we'd make an escape out here a some point.

I pull out the sparkling cider. "I think a private toast is in order, don't you?"

Mac bites her lip and nods as she opens the cabinets in the tiny galley. There's an assortment of shiny plastic barware. Mac's shoulders jump in excitement as she takes two champagne flutes out. One says "Captain" and one says "First Mate".

"Look how cute this stuff I ordered is!" She displays it like a game-show-model.

"You bought all this stuff?" I look around at all the monogrammed towels, the little decorative signs on the walls, the nautical spice rack strapped on the wall above the tiny stove.

"Yeah. I ordered all this kitchen and decorative stuff on the bus...while you were riding bikes," she says smugly. "But your mom and your sisters put it all on the boat, obviously. And your mom stocked all the food, and the toiletries, and the first aid kit, I guess. She thinks of everything..." her voice says a little wistful.

I know exactly what she's thinking. I sit the cider bottle down and pull her to me, smoothing back her hair and looking directly into her slightly worried eyes. "You are going to be a great mother, but it takes experience to 'think of everything.' We'll learn how to adult together, okay? I have to learn how to take care of our kid, too. I can babysit a healthy, fed and napped kid for a couple of hours, sure, but I don't know a damn thing about all the shit we have to do for a baby. I see all my sisters lugging all that baby gear everywhere and its like..." I splay my fingers beside my temples and making a bomb sound. "Mind. Blown. I mean, I don't even know what you call half that stuff. What's that thing they use to suck the snot out of a kid's nose?" I tease her.

She wrinkles her nose, but I've got her laughing now. "I don't know...a syringe, maybe? We can just call it a snotsucker, if you want..."

"Cool," I chuckle. "But, honestly, I'm sorry I brought it up. I don't want to talk about snotsuckers and baby worries tonight."

"Me neither," she agrees. "I want to dance with my husband under the stars."

"Good fucking idea," I praise, as I swoop up the sparkling cider and glasses.

We dance. On the bow of the boat. To country love songs.

Talk about mind blown. I'm gonna love romancin' my wife.

I couldn't count the times I've dirtied Mac up, grinding on her in a packed club or in the dark corner of a house party somewhere when the other guys were too busy getting drunk to notice, but this is the first time I've ever danced slow and sweet with her. I treat it like a we're shooting a video. I bring all the drama— twirling her, dipping her and planting kisses down her exposed chest.

Eventually, we just hold each other close, swaying. She lays her head on my shoulder.

The feel of her beneath my hands...her skin so soft and yet buzzing with fevered energy. She's like holding home and skating adventure at the same time. Mac is the best of both worlds. She's the only world I want to live in.

"Can we make this a tradition?" she whispers in my ear. "To always dance like this on our anniversary?"

"You got it, Shortcake." I pull my fingers down the small of her back and she whimpers.

"Adam, it shouldn't even be possible to want you as bad as I want you right now."

I chuckle. She thinks she's needy? I've been dying since the moment she sang that song to me, reaching out toward me from the stage with urgent, grasping fingers, all her emotion, all her love, trained on me. When she asked me for that ring, and really meant it this time, I thought I might explode. Not just my dick. All of me.

"You have me. You'll always have me," I promise her as I release her and pour the sparkling cider that's been sitting near our feet all this time. "But before we make love, there's more I want to say..."

She giggles as I hand her a glass of fizzing juice. "Excellent. I love your wonderful words."

I touch her lips. "Just a couple of promises I want to make to you, in private. I know you don't like to do emotional stuff in public."

She takes my hand, nodding as she kisses it, then bites on my fingers playfully. "Because you undo me, and I hate to show that in public, even though I've been losing it in public a lot lately..."

"You're entitled. Pregnancy hormones."

"Mmmmm," she grimaces. "But still...that you know that I hate to cry in public...thank you. It was bad enough that I cried when you sang to me. I would have completely broken down if we tried to go much deeper. So...thank you for the funny wedding ceremony."

I snort. "Thank your brother for that."

"I will," her grimace turns to a grin. "But thank you for going along with it. Are sure you don't want to do it all over again? Big church wedding? After the baby comes and the pregnancy hormones have faded, and I can get through it without coming apart?"

I shake my head decidedly. "No. Tonight was perfect. It was so... Madam. Never want to replace that memory. But if you want to make it legal..."

She shakes her head in imitation of mine. "It doesn't have to be legal to be real. That's just a piece of paper. We're married. We married each other, and...something powerful...God or Group Love or the gravity of the Universe...something conscious...cemented it. I felt it."

I nod slowly. "I love that about you, Mac. That you are so open to the mystery and wonder of all the things we can't see. Because I believe God sanctified our marriage in that moment my dad asked Him to bless us, and that fact you felt that, too...that we both allowed that power to bind us, that's what made it real."

Mac's hair is blowing gently in the breeze, and she looks so sweet as she pulls it to the side and bites her lip and steps right in front of me. "Maybe we should say thank you." She looks up at the night sky. "Thank you," she whispers to the great void. "I am so thankful for Adam, for this day, and for this love."

Oh, man. When she says things like that, it hits me somewhere so deep I can't even breathe. Her amazing trust and spiritual innocence punches a hole right through my own faith, opening me up. I'm not sure I ever believed, until I came to know faith through Mac's intuitive and pure vision.

I feel my own vision blurring and my throat tightening as I draw her gently to me and kiss the top of her unruly head.

I can barely gasp out my own prayer. "Thank you for this woman, and this child. Help me to be all they need. Help me to always keep these promises I'm about to make."

I tip her chin up and give her my all.

"Mackenna, I will always put you first. I will always see you. I will always hear you. I will always respect your individuality. I will always protect you. If we fight, I will always forgive you. I will always come home to you."

Even in the moonlight, I see her face pale, the way she always does when deeply moved. She tries to speak, but her words come out in a little frustrated muddle. I hold back a chuckle that seeks to escape my lips, and I wait, patiently for her to respond. She puts her hand to her mouth, then flutters it a little in front of her face.

"Most wonderful words yet," she assures me as she holds up a finger and drinks her cider, then reaches for mine a gulps it down too. I figure it's okay to laugh now. When she's finished washing down the sob that keeps trying to rise, and I'm finished laughing at how adorable she is, she takes a couple of deep breaths and settles into her own private promises. She drops the glasses, and puts her hands on my face as I rest mine on her hips.

"Adam, I will always seek to understand you. I will always try to meet your needs. I will always admire you. I will always ask your advice and take it to heart. I will always have your back. If we fight, will never run away from you again. I will always reach for you. "

Her sweet speech fills me. My wife—she understands me like no one ever has. We've struggled and hurt each other and run away and fought our way back to each other time and time again. She's seen me at my worst and my best and she knows my soul, even if we don't have all the backstories and details filled in yet. She knows me, and she's just promised me the things she knows my soul craves.

"We make these promises in Your name. Amen," I murmur as I kiss her forehead, her nose, and finally, her lips. The kiss is tender but deep.

Mac breaks it, a look like she's starving in her eyes. "Sex. So much sex. Now," she whispers.

"Woman, you don't have to tell me twice," I growl. I have her down below in about thirty seconds.

The main sleeping berth is a large irregularly shaped bed in the front of the boat, beneath the bow where we just danced. Mac has outfitted it luxuriously,snuggly soft gray bedding and about a hundred poofy pillows and throws in muted shades of blue and gray. A small built-in beside console holds a couple of decorative crates that are apparently bolted down, and large candles are nestled inside. As we climb down into the cabin, I find a lighter in the galley drawers, and light the candles. Mac pauses, fingering her necklace as she admires the romantic area.

A pained looks flits across her face. "You don't think Trace and Kat..."

"No," I confirm quickly. "He sexed her up top on that sunbathing pad we were just dancing on."

Mac's eyes go wild with mirth. "How do you know?"

"How do you think? I fucking asked him. Wanted to make sure he hadn't made his own Spunkbunk on my boat," I grinned.

Mac laughs like a little devil. "You know, I do admire his balls—boosting your boat like that. Yet, he's a good enough friend to keep their sex in a place that was easily hosed down."

"I don't want to talk about TrayKat sex," I growl as I back her down onto the bed and slide beside her, leaning up on one elbow. "I want to talk about our sex. Actually, I just want to talk about your body, Goddess. I want to talk about how sweet you look completely naked—your pretty little grapefruit tits and your nipples getting so dark and round now, and your gorgeous baby belly just popping," I run a hand beneath her top, rubbing the small swell, and then I flick her cut-offs open with an easy tug, teasing my hand just inside her panties. "And your perfect, pink pussy. I have it so memorized, you know. I know just what it looks like, what it tastes like, what it feels like. All I don't know is...are you wet for me right now, Shortcake?"

"Yes," she assures me, panting as she arches up against my hand. "Are you hard for me, Preacher?" Her hand feels it's way down my abs, pressing against my length straining in my jeans.

"Painfully so," I groan. "You gonna take care of me? Cause I'm gonna take such good care of you."

"Yeah, baby," she whispers. "You must really be hurting in these jeans, let's get them off."

"Let's get it all off," I murmur. "I don't want anything between us. I want slow, sweet, skin on skin."

"I want that too," She's arching again, into me. "I want you all over me. I want me all over you."

We undress each other slowly, tenderly. No matter how many times I get her naked, her exquisite beauty shocks me every time. Pregnant as she is now, a little hippier and her boobs heavy...fuck. Every day she turns me on more, physically.

We're on our knees on the bed, caressing each other lightly, admiring. I stroke down her sternum, around the fullness of her breasts. She runs her hands down my abs and they tense, anticipating what comes next.

"Jesus," I moan as she grasps me firmly.

Her eyes are dancing all over me. "So good," she murmurs. "All of you. Inside and out. So good, Adam. I love all of you, so much."

"Gorgeous," I tell her, as I run my hands through her hair, down her shoulders, her waist, and splaying them on her ass. "Perfect. My perfect match. My lover, my soul-mate."

I lay her down gently, kiss her slowly, holding her jaw lightly, careful—always so careful—of not pressuring her throat. I run my other hand beneath her, pulling her up on her side. Feels like hours we spend, just kissing, caressing, rocking against each other, making love with murmured words. At some point I raise her leg over my hip, and we move together, but I haven't entered her yet. Being on the edge like this—of claiming my wife for the first time—it's the sweetest, most blissful torture I have ever felt.

Mac is sucking my throat, and I'm running my fingers lazily over her. Everything is getting hotter—the air in this tight space, our fevered words, our bodies, sweating and sliding together.

"Your body is fucking paradise," I tell her. "I could die right now,"

"I couldn't, not yet" she pants. I find my way home and she yields for me as we both moan in pleasure.

"Oh god, Adam, I love you. I love you. I love you so much." She whispers over and over around my tongue as I take her mouth and begin to move. We fuck slow and controlled, keeping as much contact as we can, pressing our flesh and our spirits together. She keeps whispering her love and I keep drawing us together, working her up. We are so connected I can feel the heat of her desire flowing down her spine beneath my roving hands. Only my determination to please her first keeps me from release. I want to make her feel perfect for as long as I possible can.

I make love to every inch of her flesh with every inch of mine, until I can't take her passionate whispering or the pain from holding back anymore. "Congratulations, Shortcake. You're making me lose my mind. I've officially lost count of the I-love-you's now. It's time we finished this round..."

"Oh thank god," she pants. "Adam, I need...I need you harder...I...."

Paralyzed in the pure ecstasy of release, the instantaneous flash of satisfaction, we come slowly down.

It's all I can do not to collapse on top of her, but I can sense she and Babycakes are past the point of being able to take my weight comfortably. I feel like a dead man—a supremely satisfied dead man—as I roll off and pull her with me. She lays atop me, shiftless, boneless, breathing deep, my arms wrapped around her back.

"I love you," I tell her. Now that she can accept my love so easily, I know I will never tire of telling her.

"I love you," she murmurs.

I scrabble for one of the soft throws and pull it up over her back. We doze off like that, I'm not sure for how long. I awake a little later, blinking in the candle flicker, not really aware of anything except the sensation of my stiffening cock and Mac's mouth lapping it.

Ever since the night I met her, I've known my Mac is lusty. But Second-Trimester-Pregnant Mac? She has become insatiable. She's always like this now, so fucking greedy once we get started. I love it. I have an insane thought that I'll just keep her knocked up for the next ten years or so...just for this...the continual hot pregnancy sex.

I play with her hair, still half asleep as she teases me, but it's only minutes before I'm fully aroused and she's riding me, trapping my hands beneath hers, low against her little belly.

"Feels so good," she moans over and over. "So filled up with you, with your love."

"I know, baby," I encourage her. "Take it. Take all of me. Take everything you need." I match her movements as she rides hard and harder. Round two ends with growls and screams and unashamed shouts from both of us. Hope there are no houses in this cove; if there are the residents are hearing us fuck like animals.

I blow out the candles this time and we sleep longer. Round three gets started in the grey dawn, with me spooning Mac and rubbing her. Mac turns her head and murmurs to me. She says she's been thinking about my dirty talk in my mom's pantry from days ago. Says she can't get it off her mind.

Says she wants me to do what I talked about.

Takes me a minute to understand what she's saying. That whole afternoon was fueled by the coke I had used. I had pretty much forgotten my dirty pantry speech. When she flips over onto all fours and starts backing her ass up against me, the memory of what I said returns.

I said I wanted to take her ass. Now she's telling me she can't stop thinking about it.

Mind. Blown. Again.

It's one of those situations where the spirit is willing but the flesh just isn't ready. Mac's inexperience won't let her relax  yield pain to pleasure. I can tell she's only tolerating it. I back out of the idea of finishing—I'm completely over it if she's not in it.

"Let's work up to that," I murmur, kissing up her spine. We finish with one of Mac's favorites...good old doggie-style, the standard way.

I can't help teasing her a little after this round. "Can't fucking believe it. Thought you were a bad girl. Always thought you never offered anal because you thought I was too nice for that. Never woulda thought you hadn't done that before."

She props her chin on my chest. "Who would I do that with? A fanboy? Some douchebag I dated for like five minutes? No fucking way. That's a...trust thing. You are the only one I have ever trusted with all of me."

I stroke her back. "I get it, and I love that. I'm just teasing you. I do wish you would have told me you'd never, before I got inside you. It's definitely something to work up to, not something to go at full-on the first time..."

"I see that now," she snorts.

"I never want to hurt you in anyway, you know that," I promise her, scraping my callouses lightly along her spine, because I know she loves that. "We can strike it off the list, if it's not your thing. I only want what we both crave."

She's drawing circles on my chest. "But...I...I think I maybe want to learn to enjoy it—with you. I like the idea, it's hot...illicit...really intimate...like the last boundary. Maybe like you said...work up to it. I just... I guess I should have known a rock star like you would be ready to go when I gave you the green-light. You've had a lot of anal with fangirls?"

I say nothing, just let her draw lazy circles on my chest. All that shit that came before is another life now. I only want to think about my wife, our love, our sex, our intimacy.

"Adam?" she asks uncertainly, her hazel gaze trained on my face, waiting for my answer.

"Drawin' a blank on that one, Shortcake. Marriage seems to have caused selective memory loss," I tease, refusing to talk about sex with other women on our wedding night.

She smiles, reading me. "Okay, I withdraw my question. I just...I want to share everything with you. I want to give you everything. I want to experience everything with you. I'm sorry anal didn't...work out the first time, like I wanted."

I kiss her nose. "Whaaaaat? Girl, do not be sorry. We've had the best sex of my life tonight, and I hope you feel the same. I'm sorry...for those few tense moments. I only want to make you feel wonderful."

"It was incredible. All of it. Until I needed a break," she admits.

"I'm glad we have this," I tell her. "That we can talk about anything and everything. We're gonna need it. Our sex life is going to change as Babycakes grows, and then again after you give birth. We need this complete honesty. We might have to make some...adjustments."

"It will be okay, Adam. I'm not worried. God knows, I will always crave you, and I like sex too much for things not to work themselves out," Mac agrees stretching against me, ready for more sleep. As she's drifting, I can't help teasing her a little more.

"I'm not worried either, Shorty," I breathe her in. "We love each other too much for things not to work themselves out," I agree.

A sweet moment of drifting toward sleep, but then I just have to tease her little more.

"You realize...I just took your last little bit of virginity. On our wedding night," I add smugly.

She smiles her very sweet smile. "That was the plan, Preacher. I've always been saving my ass for you."

I chuckle. I love my very naughty wife.

Hours later, I watch her sleeping on her side in the bright sun that pours through the open hatch above. I slide the covering down her, admiring her spine, the lovely curve of hip, her beautiful bare ass. I didn't mean to wake her, but she rolls toward me, where I am sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes and smile are bright as reaches toward me with clenched hands and I gently pull her to sitting, smoothing her wild, frantically-fucked hair. I reach for the two boat breakfast beverage options...a water and a can of Starbucks coffee.

Four months ago, Mac was drinking what she wanted, smoking what she wanted, restricting her calories to the point of self-abuse, over-exercising. Now, she's always thinking about our baby. She chooses the water.

She blows me away, the tender loving care she's giving our unborn child.

I crack the can of coffee. "You can have some,if you want," I remind her. Her mom said a little caffeine is okay. She drinks half the water, and accepts the can for a few sips. When we finish the drinks, she crushes her thin water bottle and tosses it toward the galley sink—missing. I ring the sink with my crushed can, and plant an L on her forehead.

She plants her middle finger on my lips, then drags it down my chin. "More," she growls.

"Water or coffee?"

"You," she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck and going for the throat. I let her draw me down on top of her, eager all over again to be her shelter and her slave.

This last time is like the first time last night. Needy, slow, sweaty, and sweet.

After, we finally get that swim I promised her. And we eat the fruit my mom put in the fridge, because right now...Mac and I are all about the sweet life.

Oh boy. I just love these guys. How are you feeling about Madam's wedding night, dear readers?Hang on to this beautiful, calm moonlight lake chapter. Waters are about to get rough for Madam...