The Night
Cross POV
The bouquet flew high, and Cross was already closing the distance between him and his new bride before anyone even caught the flowers. Catherine—in her blush-colored wedding gown fit for a queen—saw him coming her way.
She tossed back her head with a laugh. A few—or a couple of hundred—of their guests saw him cutting across the dance floor, and they laughed, too.
He had warned Catherine, after all. Hell, he warned anybody who dared to listen to him throughout their very large, and very long, reception.
Once she tossed those flowers, it was done.
They were out of there.
The first dance was long over, just like the four course meal, and cake cutting. He had held back from smearing cake in Catherine’s face after she painted his with icing, but only barely. She looked far too beautiful to be doing that, anyway.
He had made sure to give their guests a bit of a show when he had to collect Catherine’s garter, and toss it into a waiting crowd of single men.
Yes, they had certainly made sure their guests were properly entertained, fed, and satisfied. The Donati and Marcello union had been—by far—one of the biggest events in the city over the last decade. No expense was spared, and they had not disappointed.
But now it was over.
And Cross was done.
Cross caught Catherine around the waist with one arm. In one swift, easy pull, he had her lifted from the floor, and tossed over his shoulder. Cheers, hollers, and whoops echoed out from behind them as Cross headed for the front entrance of the Waldorf Astoria hotel.
The crinoline of Catherine’s dress flew all around them as she kicked her legs. Her laughter was a teasing, breathless whisper in his ear. She smacked his back with her palm.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked.
“Getting us out of here. It’s the only way I can, apparently.”
People kept dragging her away all night.
“I can walk, you know!”
“Cool fact.”
Catherine laughed again. “You have to let us say goodbye, Cross.”
“Babe, we have been saying goodbye all damn night. We are leaving. Now.”
People rushed ahead of them. Some were still shouting, cheering, and going on in their way. They filled up the entrance, and flooded out the doors onto the front steps. Of course, they left a clean walkway for Cross to walk straight through.
Outside, his and Catherine’s families waited. Only then did he hoist her off his shoulder, and set her to the ground.
“Have a good trip,” Dante told Catherine. Then, the man looked at Cross. “And you …”
“Hmm?”
Dante smiled. “You lasted longer in there than I thought you would.”
Cross laughed, and took the hand that Dante offered. The two shook hands, before Dante clapped him on the shoulder.
Shit wasn’t perfect with them.
It was going to take time.
Cross was willing to make time, though.
Catherine was currently distracted by her mother, and brother. Even his mother and father were in the group saying goodbye to his wife.
Cross turned back to Dante. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Her.”
Dante nodded. “Of course.”
“Someone is impatient,” Zeke said.
Cross laughed when he glanced over his shoulder. Catherine was already climbing the stairs leading to the private jet. She hadn’t even wanted to make a stop to get out of her wedding dress. The gown billowed around her legs in all directions from the wind. From the top of the stairs, she waved at him.
A silent, hurry the fuck up, Cross.
After all, it had been him who dragged her out of their reception because he simply couldn’t wait any longer.
Cross winked, and waved right back.
Catherine only shook her head, and then proceeded to enter the plane. She could wait five more minutes, surely.
“Yeah, well, this has been a long time coming,” Cross finally said to his friend.
Zeke nodded. “Have a good honeymoon.”
Cross grinned. “You know it.”
“I’ll hold the city down for you.”
“You better.”
Zeke held out his fist, and Cross bumped it with his own.
Ride or die.
“And I guess, thanks for being my best man,” Cross said. “From the start, huh?”
Zeke chuckled. “Sometimes I swear that’s all I know how to do.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Never said it was.” Zeke gestured over Cross’s shoulder. “Someone’s back out, and looking this way.”
Sure enough, Catherine was standing back out on the stairs again.
“Call me when you get five minutes,” Zeke said.
“Not likely.”
Zeke shrugged. “Yeah, I wouldn’t call your ass, either.”
The two friends hugged fast, and then let each other go. Soon, Cross was climbing the stairs of the private jet, and heading inside. They still had another hour to go before the plane would be able to lift off, but he didn’t mind.
The pilot and flight attendant greeted him at the front of the plane.
“Your wife is changing in the bedroom at the back,” the blonde flight attendant said.
The pilot chuckled. “If you would like, we can let you both know when you need to take your seats.”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
The two of them nodded, and then disappeared into the cockpit. Cross headed down the middle aisle, and was at the back of the plane in less than a minute. He found the door was closed, but a single knock granted him entrance.
Cross barely got the door closed before Catherine was on him. Her kiss slammed against his mouth, and seared him into nothing but ashes from the inside out. His hands found soft skin—she’d apparently gotten that dress off all by herself, but he had no idea how.
“Let’s just get these off,” his wife said.
Her quick hands had his pants undone, and shoved down in a couple of seconds, and a single breath. Her fingers circled his length, and stroked him hard with tight palms. He hardened under her touch in no time at all.
“Jesus Christ,” he grunted.
Catherine’s sly grin clouded his vision before she was gone. Dropping to her knees, he’d barely blinked before her mouth found his cock. She took every inch of him between those silken lips, sucked him all the way back to her throat, and practically grabbed the fucking air right out of his chest.
Her tongue swirled, stroked, and teased. Those teeth of hers dragged gently enough to make his nerves snap.
Jesus.
Fuck him if he didn’t love the way Catherine sucked him off. He adored the way she looked on her knees, taking his cock like it was her favorite thing to do. Those green eyes of hers watering every time she took just a little too much of him in.
But hell, if that was the game she wanted to play …
Cross let Catherine tease him for a short while, but soon, he was wanting something else a hell of a lot more. Yanking her up from floor, he spun his already naked wife around, and bent her over the bed.
Shit.
He reminded himself to thank Zeke and Wolf for the gift of the private jet. Particularly, a jet with a bed and room.
Catherine’s laughter came out breathless and spun as Cross’s hands dragged up her spine. He tugged the silk tie from around his neck, and used it to bind her hands at her back. Over her shoulder, Catherine tossed him one of her sweet winks, and then another sly grin.
“Maybe we should wait a bit,” she told him. “Another, what, hour? Yeah, an hour and we’ll be up in the air. Join the mile high club and all that.”
Cross didn’t fucking think so.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll have another go.”
But for now … He fitted himself behind Catherine, slid the head of his cock through her slick folds, and took her in one thrust. The force put her up on her toes, and she let out a satisfied hiss.
The sound rocked him. Pleased him. Drove him fucking crazy.
He pulled out, and slammed right back inside of her pussy again just to hear her make that sound one more time. She did, and her fingernails dragged red lines across his hands. He was still holding onto the hands he had tied at her back, after all. Cross didn’t even mind the marks.
He loved the sting. It felt kind of appropriate, really. This woman had left marks all over him.
All throughout their life. Their love kind of stung, too. Damn good.
“Come on, then,” Catherine urged, “make me come.”
Cross only really needed her to ask, and his baser urges came out to play. It was damn near as tempting as the sound of her begging.
Still just as good, though.
And then she did just that.
Whispered, “Please.”
He was done for.
His control was gone.
Cross found that fucking Catherine now that they were married wasn’t any different than before they said their vows, but somehow, it still felt new.
All his. She was all his, now.
He had just finished wiping his cum from his wife’s back with his silk pocket square when the flight attendant knocked on the door.
Catherine sighed, and gave Cross a look.
“What?” he asked.
“I was going to save that—put it in our shadow box, or something.”
Ah, well …
Shit.
He looked at the ruined item. “I could have it dry—”
Catherine yanked it out of his hand. “No, Cross.”
“It was a thought.”
“Here’s a thought—you had three groomsmen, and a best man. Make sure one of them keeps theirs.”
He could do that.