Trainwreck 2 (Trainwreck #2) (20 page)

Sarah

T
hree months later, my wedding day came. It took place at Ari’s—or should I say,
our
—Southampton estate. We both opted for a small, intimate affair with just our close friends and family members. Gwen and Lauren were my maids of honor. Ben was the ring bearer and Andre’s darling six-year-old niece was the flower girl. Guess who was best man—Fernando! We were getting married at dusk on the beach—on the very spot where Ari and I had made love.

I was getting ready in the guesthouse. Miguel and June, from Bergdorf’s, did my hair and makeup while Luisa, Olga, and my mother prepped my dress. I was so happy my mother was with me on my special day. She was in complete remission thanks to Ari, whose company happened to be the manufacturer of her experimental drug treatment. The minute he heard it would no longer be covered by the government grant, my beautiful and benevolent husband-to-be stepped in and generously paid for it himself. For this alone, I was forever beholden to him. It made me love him more, if more was possible.

“Oh, honey, your dress is so beautiful,” exclaimed my teary-eyed mother as she helped me into it. Lauren had helped me pick out the gown at Bergdorf’s Bridal Salon. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Even I could not believe how gorgeous I looked. I was floating in a cloud of ivory tulle and lace. Underneath, I was wearing nothing except a blue garter borrowed from Gwen that Ari vowed to bite off later. A tingle rippled through me as I thought about what else he had in store for me…later.

There was one final touch. Luisa placed it on my head. My tiara from which a sheer veil flowed. “Ah,
Señorita
Sarah, you are a true
princesa
,” beamed Ari’s beloved housekeeper, who was a guest along with the rest of Ari’s trusted help.

Olga handed me my bouquet—exquisite lilies and roses that Ari and Ben had handpicked from our garden. I was ready. Ready to be united with my Trainman. The beautiful man whom I had once dreamt about and thought I could never have. With my mom, Luisa, and Olga holding up the long train of my gown, I headed outside. The bride wore combat boots.

###
♥
###

The weather on this late summer evening couldn’t have been more perfect. It was warm with a balmy sea breeze. As the sun set into the ocean, a harpist played “Tonight.” The sound of the waves crashing against the shore mingled with the cries of seagulls as butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

Ari strongly wanted a traditional Jewish wedding and for the spirit of his father to be with us. He was waiting for me under a
chuppah
, a canopy that was made from the
tallis
—a fringed silk shawl—that once belonged to his father. That is where we were going to say our forever vows, shrouded in his father’s love.

My heart hammered. How handsome my Trainman looked in his black tux. His blue bow tie matched the color of the ocean and his eyes. The gleam on his face told me he approved of how I looked. A glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking.

Since I had no father to give me away, Andre did the honors. His adorable niece led the way, throwing petals of wildflowers that also came from our garden. The walk up to the
chuppah
felt like something between an eternity and the blink of an eye. Ari’s face lit up as he took me from Andre. It said,
I love you, Saarah.
That breathy, sexy way he always said my name danced in my head.

As the sun disappeared into the ocean, we exchanged our vows, surrounded by the people we loved. Mrs. Blumberg was positively bawling and, in the corner of my eye, I could see my mother shedding sweet tears. After the rabbi pronounced us husband and wife, Ari crushed a wine glass with his loafer-clad foot and then crushed his lips against mine. As the small crowd applauded and screamed out
mazel tov
, I surrendered completely and unabashedly to my husband. Oh, how I loved this man!

In a few hours, after we partied in the backyard, we would be on a private plane en route to the South of France for our honeymoon. The first thing I was going to do when we got to our hotel room was to write something in my little journal of sayings.
Inhale the flowers and dream.

As I tossed my bouquet to Lauren, I knew that dreams really could come true.

Ari

I
showed my princess bride everything there was to love about the South of France. We stayed in the honeymoon suite of the exclusive Eden Roc Hotel overlooking the Mediterranean, spending our days sunning, swimming, indulging in fine cuisine and wine, and fucking morning, noon, and night. One day we never even left our luxurious accommodations. Like me, Sarah quickly fell in love with the Côte d’Azur, savoring every sensual experience. She loved it almost as much as she loved me.

Today, on our road trip to Paris, where we would be staying for a few days before heading back to the States, I was going to show her something different.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the convertible Porsche I was driving wound through the verdant Provençal countryside. Fields of wildflowers, grapevines, and gentle hills surrounded us.

“You’ll see soon enough, princess.” Having driven for almost two hours with a stop for lunch at a charming café, we were very close to our destination. A few minutes later, I turned onto a long pebble road that seemed to go on for a mile. An imposing two-story rectangular stone structure with robin-blue shutters on every window came into view.

“Are we visiting someone?” asked wide-eyed Sarah as I parked the sports car in front of the
mas,
as the ancient French farmhouse was called. Her eyes took in the large urns of flowers, abundant shrubs, and the climbing roses along the stone edifice.

“Stop asking so many questions,” I retorted, hopping out of the car to help her out. Taking her hand, I led her to the massive timber-wood front door. She inhaled the perfumed air, which smelled so good it could be bottled. She let out a dreamy sigh on the exhale.

“What are you doing?” her voice rising with surprise as I turned the tarnished doorknob and swung open the door. “Jesus, Ari! You just can’t barge into someone’s house. It’s trespassing. We’re going to get arrested!” She grew more agitated. “And what if someone’s inside who has a gun and thinks we’re burglars? We’re going to get killed!”

I was laughing so hard it hurt. She turned to me, rage bubbling in her brown eyes.

“This. Is. So. Not. Funny. C’mon. Let’s go back to the car.”

Still laughing, I swept her into my arms.

“Jesus, Ari, what are you doing?”

I caught my breath. “Carrying my bride over the threshold. What does it look like?”

“Ari! Put me down!”

“I will once we’re inside,” I replied, carrying her through the entryway to the great room that sat off to the right. Gently, I set her back down on her feet. With a mixture of curiosity and awe, she took in her new surroundings.

“It doesn’t look like anyone lives here,” she murmured, her eyes circling the room, moving from the massive stone fireplace and the many French windows to the open-beamed ceiling and the worn terracotta floor. There was not a single stick of furniture in sight.

“How old do you think this house is?” she asked, still studying it.

“It dates to the seventeenth century.”

“Wow!”

“C’mon, let’s explore it.”

Taking her by the hand again, I led her through the ground floor of the house, which included a spacious dining room with French doors that led to a patio, a large rustic kitchen with a pantry, a paneled library with built-in shelves, and a few other smaller rooms that could be used as bedrooms.

“Wow! This place feels so enchanted. Like out of a storybook.” She paused, looking out one of the windows. “And there’s so much property.”

The house sat on twelve acres of land and included a field of sunflowers and a vineyard, which we could see from the window.

“Who do you think lived here?”

“A couple that loved each other to the end of time.”

Before she could say something, I led her away again. “C’mon. Let’s check out the upstairs.”

A minute later, we were climbing up a steep staircase with a wrought iron railing. “Be careful,” I said, mounting the steps with Sarah in front of me in case she stumbled or fell. When we got to the top, a long hallway met us with a dozen rooms off it.

Sarah stared down the hallway. “These must be the bedrooms.” She counted them out loud. Twelve in total. “I wonder if they had any children. This would be such a fun place to grow up.”

“Yeah,” I said, my excitement mounting. My balls tingled. An erection was underway. Feeling it press against my jeans, I turned to my bride. “Princess, I’ll race you to find the master suite.”

Facing me, she twisted her luscious lips into a contemplative smirk. Fuck she looked sexy. I couldn’t wait to devour her. It had been a few hours since the last time we had sex. An epic farewell fuck to our hotel suite in Cap d’Antibes.

“Deal,” she agreed finally. My Sarah loved games and she played to win. That was something I loved about her along with her long, toned runner’s legs that looked even longer in her cutoffs. She was anything but plain and tall.

My dick stiffening, I quirked a coy smile. Little did she know that I planned to win this time. Big time.

“Okay. On your mark. Get set. Go!”

On the word “go,” we took off, dashing down the hallway, frantically opening various doors. I let Sarah narrowly beat me to the very last door on the right. Breathing hard with anticipation and my boner raging, I was virtually standing behind her as she opened it.

“Oh. My. God.” She stood frozen at the doorway.

Oh my fucking God was right. Smack in the middle of the huge high-ceiling room was a massive antique four-poster bed that was fit for a king—and his princess. The bed was perfectly made up with a magnificent scalloped matelassé coverlet and matching sham-covered pillows. On the center of the mattress sat a silver tray with a bottle of champagne, two flutes, and a vase full of flowers with a small white envelope next to it.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled again. “What’s all this?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I ushered her into the room. “Oh, and by the way, you won the race. Congrats.”

She was too in awe to respond. Upon entering, she caught sight of the one other thing in the otherwise bare room—a humongous, gold leaf mirror that sat perched against a wall on the floor opposite the bed. It soared almost to the ceiling. Letting go of her, I waited by the ornate mirror as she sauntered to the bed.

“I’m going to open the envelope,” she said hesitantly, climbing onto the bed to retrieve it.

Her tight heart-shaped ass looked so scrumptious from my vantage point. I couldn’t wait for her perfect cheeks to be back in my hands. And I couldn’t wait to see her reaction to what was inside. My eyes stayed on her as she removed the notecard, sat back on her shapely calves, and read it out loud.

“
Bienvenue
,
Madame
and
Monsieur
Golden. Enjoy your new house. Sincerely, Danielle Dubois,
Réalteur
.” Her eyes as round as saucers shot to me.

“
Monsieur
Golden—” Her mouth stayed wide open in a big O. She looked like she was either having a heart attack or a major orgasm.

Digging into my jeans pocket, I slipped out a large key and tossed it to her. “Catch it and you keep it, baby.”

Still in a state of shock, my Frisbee-loving wife managed to catch the key with one hand.

“What is this?”

A shit-eating grin played on my lips. “It’s the key to the front door.”

Cupping her mouth with her other hand, she let out a loud gasp. I was loving every minute. And loving her.

Dropping her hand, she finally found her voice again. “Oh my God, Ari. You bought this house?”

“Yes, princess. It’s your wedding present. I hope you like it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Are you kidding? I don’t like it. I LOVE it! I can’t believe it!”

I winked. “Believe it, baby.”

On my next breath, she leapt off the bed and ran over to me. She flung her arms around my neck and started jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store, smacking me with one kiss after another. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeated, drunk with love and lust.

“I love you too,” I responded, taking her in arms and swinging her around.

“How can I ever thank you, baby?”

Setting her down, I glanced at my sheepish expression in the large mirror, which I was facing. My throbbing cock twitched. “I can think of something.”

“Anything!” she breathed out.

“Get down on your knees.”

Obediently, she did as I asked. With a whoosh, I unzipped my fly, freeing my raging erection.

“Suck me, princess.”

On my next rapid heartbeat, she curled her long fingers around the base as her mouth clamped down on the crown, taking my hard, rigid length to the hilt. Arching, I hissed when the tip hit the base of her throat. God, she was something. She didn’t even gag. Her mouth came back up and immediately slid back down. Before I knew it, she was fucking me with her mouth, picking up speed as her hand pumped the base. Her warm tongue trailed along the underside, and then she drove me crazy with her teeth. I’d never been blown this way before. It was fucking incredible.