120 Mph (22 page)

Regrettably, there was not a man or
woman inside the church who hadn’t found the words amusing.

With a visible wink and an equally large
grin, Reverend Deed stated his take just as loudly. “Just hold your horses,
Christian. Some things are best when a man is made to wait.”

“Reverend Deed?”

“Yes, Reverend Mohr?”

“You have no idea how long that wait has
been.”

Sara moved slightly and from under her
gown stepped on his foot. His head turned rapidly to her and she gave him a sly
wink.

The pain in his foot mustn’t have fazed
him because he repeated, “Lord above! You have no idea.”

Reverend Deed asked both, “Well, if the
two of you are done with yapping in front of the altar of God, and doing shenanigans
under
His
watch, do you think perhaps we could get on with the
ceremony?”

“Perhaps we better,” Christian announced
clearly.

Reverend Deed restarted on the ceremony.
“Dearly, Beloved  . . .”

Sara gave Christian’s hand a quick
squeeze. He returned the gesture.

“We are gathered here  . . .”

Reverend Deed suddenly paused, staring
hard at the both of them. “—And we are apparently rather impatient for the
sanctity of marriage between these two.”

He then gave Christian a smile. And
equally sized one turned in Sara’s direction. “And, as God is my salvation, my
healer, and our witness to this ceremony . . . I’ll not be the person held
responsible for making any man wait for the woman he loves.”

The ceremony was quick, to the point,
and over in less than twenty minutes.

From prison clothes, to white wedding
gown, to being Mrs. Christian Mohr, Sara was caught up in life at 120mph.

Chapter
Twenty-four

“Come back to me, sweetheart.”

Christian was seated in one of the two
plush chairs set by a table. He watched Sara move slowly from the large window
toward him. She’d been mesmerized by the seagulls right outside the window of
the quaint bed and breakfast; and the waves washing ashore only a few yards
away had drawn her attention from their first meal as husband and wife.

He knew she needed time to adjust to
being included into the outside world; Sara locked into a tiny room for so very
long.

They’d only just arrived, shown directly
to their room, and then served a delicious meal of roasted lamb with stuffing.

The room had been filled with rose
petals, scented candles burning, and love. The two small suitcases brought for
their honeymoon sat at the foot of the bed.

They’d asked for the bottle of chilled
wine replaced with something far less destructive to Christian. There was now a
crystal goblet of orange juice and two glasses; as well, an assortment of
fudge, cheesecake, and mints.

He would take her outside later. Right
now, all he wanted to do was to consummate their marriage vows. He was still in
awe on being married to her, how beautiful she was, and how easy it was to love
her and how much he cared about this woman.

She glided right into his arms, and once
there, settled in for the night.

“Are you happy?” he asked quickly,
brushing his lips against her face. He could not get enough of kissing her. Her
skin was so soft, her lips, even more so.

“Very,” she admitted, smiling into his
eyes.

Sara’s eyes were glassy—the woman radiant
with love.

With slow and steady purpose, Christian
started to undo the tiny pearl buttons it had taken Harriet Thorn five full
minutes to attach at the back of Sara’s wedding gown. She kept her arms wrapped
around his body to allow him this incredible pleasure every man earned on his
wedding night. When done, he peeled the material from her shoulders, gaining
access to her bared skin. His lips found her collarbone, her right shoulder,
then her left shoulder as intended target.

She was putty in his hands within mere
heartbeats. He could do whatever he wanted, but he would take this slow and
make it count. The one and only time they’d done this, it hadn’t been love. It
had been frantic sex coupled with anger and regret, topped with a generous
dollop of remorse that ended tragically.

“Can I ask you something?” she spoke, as
his hands lowered her gown to where he was quite near discovering her bared
breasts.

His plan was to peel away the material,
inch by agonizing inch, and kiss every one of those inches until she was left
begging for release.

“What do you want to ask me?” he ruled,
nipping the warm flesh directly below her collarbone, then her upper arm. By
this action, Sara started to purr, covered in gooseflesh.

Christian had yet to expose Sara’s full breasts
to his view, but he would get there soon enough. In fact, they had a lifetime
in which to get there, and in no rush to waste even a single second of it by
not making it perfect for the other.

However, a certain part of a groom’s
anatomy had other plans on his wedding night; a contradictory plan to this slow
and steady path of mortal desire.

Christian was torturing Sara, but a
certain part of his body was screaming he should get on with it, or suffering
the consequences if he went about this too slowly.

“You seem to want to take this at a very
leisurely pace. But as God is my witness, I do wish you would get to the goods
a whole lot quicker!” she blurted.

Christian stopped his actions, stood up
straight, and looked her right in the eyes. “Did you really just say that to
me?” He chuckled.

She nodded firmly. “Yes, Christian. I
really did say just that to you. I’ve been locked away from the world for a
very long time. I’ve served out my punishment for all my mistakes. I want you
in me. I want you making love to me, as my husband. I want to start on our life
together . . . and though I can see your every wish is to make this night as
memorable as you can, I can assure you, it will be. However . . . I am terribly
horny and I do believe I’ve waited long enough to have you.”

He smiled at her sudden truthfulness. “I
would say I’ve waited long enough, as well. But I just thought  . . .”

Sara set a finger to his lips. She
followed the movement by leaning forward and sliding her tongue over only his
bottom lip. “Just make love to me, Reverend, before I explode,” came quick and unchecked.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me?”

His darling bride smiled.

Christian slid Sara’s gown to her knees.
She stepped out of the pool of white silk. He then bent and scooped his wife
into his arms, carrying her naked form directly to the bed. The covers already
peeled back by the innkeeper’s touch.

Lowering her to the mattress, he kissed
every inch of her. He caressed every inch of her. There wasn’t one single part
of Mrs. Christian Mohr he left undiscovered, by either lips or hands.

There was not one part of this woman he
wouldn't love.

She didn’t pretend this was new, or that
they hadn’t done this before. Moreover, he was fine with that so long as he the
only man she would ever be with from this moment forward.

He slipped off the bed, stripped off his
clothes, and rejoined his bride within only a few passing seconds.

As he entered her, Sara’s purrs became
pants. Her gentle slide of her fingers over his back turned into deep claw
marks into his flesh. For every thrust into her body, she gave back equally to
what he gave her. For every kiss set to her lips, she gave him one far better
in return. For every sweet word and sensual rapture, Sara responded in check.

They came together—hard, strong, and
fast—as man and wife. What God intended no man be able to take apart, Christian
vowed to hold together with every breath he took. He vowed to fulfill every one
of God’s wishes to the utmost of his abilities. He never should’ve left
Him
,
but now that he was back, he would never leave again.

Happy in each other arms, he asked his
wife, “Let me know when you are ready to do that again.”

“Was it that good, Reverend?” she
recklessly teased.

Christian rolled Sara onto her back,
hovering directly over her body. “Good?” He gave her a quick, shameless kiss.
“I’ll let you know once I’ve had more of you to compare it too.” He entered her
again. This time they tried very hard to make it last. Emphasis on the word
tried. When a person went at life at nearly 120mph, it was incredibly hard to
slow down—if not altogether impossible.

Hours later, he wondered how things
worked to his favor, when nothing else seemed to over the years and he’d always
thought life as an uphill battle against his demons.

“Sara?”

“Hmmm?” She was sleepy and still
smiling.

He’d never get enough of her smile. Nor
get enough of her.

“I need to ask you something.”

Sara’s eyes darted open and she became
all ears. “Yes?”

God! Where did one start? He’d be asking
this woman in his arms to go back to the one place that hated her and had ruined
most of her life.

Christian drew in a breath. “Would it be
hard on you to go back to Preacher’s Bend?”

She sat up, leaving the warmth of his
embrace. “Why are you asking me this now?”

“I’ve been thinking . . .”

His wife chuckled. “Without permission,
it would seem.”

Christian’s grin pulled forth. “Yes,
without my darling wife’s permission. You’ll have to get used to that.” A quick
peck on her lips, he continued. “I’ve been on my own for quite a few years and
it’ll take some time getting use to sharing my thoughts.”

Sara took a deep breath and settled into
his arms, placing her hand on his steadily beating heart, her head against his
chest. She twirled his chest hairs, simply waiting for the words he needed to
say.

Christian started slow. “I never thought
leaving the one place with so many terrible memories for the both of us would
affect me as it has. I know I should’ve mentioned this, well before now, but I
want to go back.”

Sara kept twirling his chest hairs,
tightening his loins.

Christian tipped his head down and
kissed the crown of golden hair tickling his chin. “You can say ‘no’,” he
offered.

The twirling stopped. “Do you want me to
say ‘no’?”

“I want you to be okay with my decision.
We are a partnership now. If going back there will make you . . .”

“Christian, I’ll be fine with whatever
you decide for us. I’m certain there have been enormous changes in Preacher’s
Bend, people who won’t judge so harshly anymore. I can find a friend, if that’s
what you’re worried about.”

He couldn’t help but feel her pain.
She’d had no one when he’d met her.

“Sara, if we go back and I take up my
old job, can you see yourself as the minister’s wife? Take the stares? The
pointed fingers?”

“I’m a reformed prison chick, darling. I
should be able to handle a few measly stares.”

Her jest wasn’t at all amusing.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her
soundly to wipe away the bitterness.  “I do love you. Never, for one second,
doubt this, sweetheart.”

Sara scooted higher up the bed and
kissed him more firmly. “Well, I love you equally, and never for one second should
you ever doubt that.” She then maneuvered her body until she was seated atop
his pelvis, her knees on either side of his thighs.

Christian’s smile grew, as did something
else; something far more demanding on his person.

“Does this mean you’ll think about what
I’m asking you? We can go back to Preacher’s Bend? I can ask for my old job
back? The new church is great, Sara . . . but it’s not where I belong.” He took
a deep breath to add more as his wife smiled. “It’s not where we belong.”

Sara shifted until Christian’s cock slid
into her waiting core. “I don’t need to think about it. That old place was your
home and you its minister. And as long as I can always do this in the privacy
of our bedroom and Mrs. Thorn doesn’t just come barging in . . .” Sara tipped
forward, making it so much easier for him to slide into her and then make love
to her again. “—I don’t care where we live, what we live in, or who judges me.
I’ll still love you more than life itself. But there better be stronger locks
on your door and I’ll make up a huge ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign to put out on the
front porch whenever we’re in the mood.”

He reached up and drew her head to his,
his lips lingering against her lush mouth, as Sara sunk deeper onto his cock.
“That sign might have to be mounted there permanently and in bold red letters.
Besides, life is too precious to barter with arguing against you. You can
simply love me until my dying day. How’s that sound?” His last words whispered
against her face were, “But you do know I’ll always love you more?”

Then again, Christian should have known
there’d never be a man’s last words with this woman, who was now riding him
like a wild woman.

“Is that so? You’ll love me more?
Somehow, darling . . . I think not.”

The End