Raw Ch. 12

"Hmm. I don't think my thermometer is working right. I'll have to try another one."

One of his eyebrows arched up.

I retrieved another pillow in the same fashion as before. This time, I set it on the floor by his good foot. I turned around with my back to him and maneuvered the ottoman farther away, spreading his legs. I gasped as I felt his hands on my hips and his thumbs caressing my ass through the thin, Lycra material of the sheath dress.

"Mr. McClaren! That is very naughty of you!"

"I won't tell if you won't," he breathed, his hands sliding over the bare skin of my thighs now below the edge of the dress. They stopped halfway down, tracing the edge of the stockings and the straps of the garter belt.

I slapped his hand away and faced him. "Now behave!"

"Yes, ma'am." He was grinning like the Cheshire cat now.

I knelt between his legs and pulled a latex glove out of the mini pocket in the skirt of the dress. I made a show of snapping it on. His smile wavered, and I grinned. I pulled his cock free of his boxer shorts and proceeded to dip my head, taking just the tip of him into my mouth.

"Oh, God!" He hissed as I bobbed my head.

I moaned around him, relishing the feel of him against my tongue. It had been too long. I pulled back, and he fell out with a plop. I rubbed my gloved hand over his shaft and sighed. "I think you have a fever, Mr. McClaren. You're very warm."

"How do you cure that?" he was panting now.

"I would recommend more heat. A wet washcloth usually does the trick."

His eyes closed for a moment. They were as dark as obsidian when he opened them again. "What if I don't have that?"

"We get creative. We just need something warm and damp."

I pulled off the glove and lowered my head, my eyes on him. I licked around the tip again before taking him in until he bumped the back of my throat. He grew harder the more I sucked. And his hands found their way to my head, guiding it.

My hands gripped and stroked what wasn't in my mouth. I moaned at the feel of him under my fingers. I'd almost forgotten the hardness and strength under such a malleable disguise.

After some time, he pulled my head up.

"Nurse Becca," he said, his words strained, "I think I need some more intense physical therapy, if you'd be so kind."

I broke my role. I suddenly didn't care what the doctor had said. I was more concerned about my fiancé's well being. "What if I hurt you?"

"I'll be fine. Nothing will hurt more than it already does." His voice was tight. "Please. I need you, Becca."

I nodded and rose, cinching up the hem of the dress. He helped me straddle his waist, mindful of the cast on his leg. He parted his robe, and I pushed up his T-shirt, caressing the mostly faded bruises over the left side of his chest. Slowly, I lowered myself over him. We moaned in harmony as we connected.

"Put your hands on my shoulders." His hands circled my waist, holding me still as he throbbed inside me. "Lean forward."

I sighed as his tongue trailed over the swell of my breasts. His nose buried in the valley between my mounds as his hot breath caressed my skin.

"Rock gently. Yes. Like that." He struggled for a moment to get his arms free of the robe, and then he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Do you need a safe word," I said between gasps, one of them coming out as a giggle. My fingers spread over his skin now. Familiarizing themselves once again after so long.

"Chewbacca." His eyes clenched for a moment. "Fuck, you feel so good."

I lowered my lips to his, moaning my agreement.

It took awhile, but I reached orgasm. Afraid I'd injure him if I rode him out, I climbed off and finished him with my hands and mouth. He relaxed with a deep sigh, sweat coating his forehead and chest.

"Looks like you could use a sponge bath," I giggled.

He started to chuckle but held his hand to his chest. "Oh, God, it still hurts to laugh."

I reached for the pill bottle on the end table. "I can take care of that, too, Mr. McClaren."

Once he'd been medicated, he pulled me to lay down on the couch next to him, my head on his lap. His fingers played with my hair, relaxing me even more.

"I've given your proposal a lot of thought."

"Hmm?" A small part of my brain went fishing for what he was talking about. The rest of me was still gently floating down the river of true post-coital bliss not self-induced, a forgotten feeling after six weeks of abstinence.

"I have a counter-offer to make."

I rolled onto my back, smiling up at him sleepily. His eyes were still slightly dark. Which made me wonder what mine looked like just before, during, and after sex. Did they get all shadowy like his? Was it just his pupils dilating? Or did my eyes get hazy from arousal so his appeared to be darkening, too?

I blinked away my random thoughts as I saw him watching me with his lips pressed together. A telltale sign he was waiting for me to pay attention. "Sorry."

"Maybe I should wait until you've fully recovered."

"Nope. I'm good." To prove it, I sat up. I felt a little dizzy, but I said, "Lay it on me."

He arched an eyebrow at that, his forehead creasing, but he continued. "I agree that a simple ceremony is all we need to officially become husband and wife."

I started to comment, but he shook his head. So I just nodded.

"I also won't be going back to work in the fall." He held up his hand when I opened my mouth again. "At least not in Wheaton. I've been talking with Mr. Sanders, the principal at my school. With this past year off for the most part, it has given me a lot of time to think about if I want to stay in teaching or not. I've had a couple of interviews over the phone since I'm laid up here, and I've been offered another job. It's teaching at a university, not a high school. The condition is that I also have to get my Masters. Which means I'll be taking some classes myself."

I waited a good five count to make sure I wasn't interrupting him before I asked, "Where at? Here, in Chicago? At least in Illinois?"

"No, it's working between Georgetown and Lewes satellite campuses for the University of Delaware."

I frowned. "Now you're just teasing me."

"I'm serious, Becca. I don't have to work at all. I told you that a few weeks ago. But I enjoy the work. And I'm willing to do whatever or go wherever it takes as long as you're happy."

I jumped up at that, my euphoria gone, and backed away from the couch. I suddenly wished I had more clothes on. "I'm happy with you! You're all I need."

"You said you would love to live at the beach house. Both campuses are less than thirty minutes from—"

"It was a pipe dream!" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Never in a million years would I have thought—"

"Why not? We have the means to do it."

"Because it doesn't make any sense!" I was pacing now, trying to process it all. "People don't just get a dream job and move to the beach. That's the stuff of movies and fairytales."

"Becca, sit down, please. I can't follow you around the room like this."

I stared at his cast for a moment and then obeyed. The moment my butt hit the cushion, he took my hands in his again.

"I am perfect whenever and wherever I am with you, Becca. I'd be content to stay here in this condo with you for the rest of our lives. I'd make it work. Because you'd rather be here than in Wheaton. But I know where you really want to be. That's at that beach house. Away from the turmoil of the city. This is our chance to make a new start. Together. I just want to make you happy. I know how un-Domly that sounds, but it's true. Sure, I go by the title of Master. But the only thing I've ever wanted to master in my life is your heart."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't crying. I couldn't stop the tears. They were hot, and I could taste the salt in them as they trickled past my mouth and I licked at my dry lips. Malcolm face wavered before me. I blinked to clear my vision, which only made me cry more at his smile.

He didn't pressure me to make a decision. I didn't need time, though. I'd known my answer for the past six months. I'd just been too afraid say it out loud. But now...

"I want to live at the beach house with you, Malcolm. Isolated from the rest of the world. I'll write in my study overlooking the ocean while listening to the waves crash just yards away. You'll teach math to preppy kids who go up to the Hamptons on the weekend when you're not taking classes. And in our free time, we'll lie on the beach or perfect the art of kink in the Black Room."

"Wow! Where did that come from?"

"It's what I dreamed. What I envisioned when you forced me to come back home last fall. Something I'd desired but cast it off as wishful thinking. But I think it sounds like it is soon to be our reality."

"Don't forget that we're going to travel the globe attending conventions to buy bondage stuff for our private attic dungeon and sell your kinky books."

My heart was beating a mile a minute. "So we're moving?"

Malcolm's eyes lit up, and he got a silly smile on his face. He nodded and then pulled me in for a kiss. When we separated, panting, he whispered, "Yeah, we're moving."

###

July was a welcome sight to see. It had been a month since the cast had come off and we had put Malcolm's house on the market. He had moved into the condo, which we were going to keep for whenever we visited the Midwest. He was improving well with physical therapy, and I had finished "Triple Tease: The Shameless Sister," which Sue was gleefully reviewing the final edits of.

On a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, a week after the holiday, I finally became Mrs. Malcolm McClaren. Much to my delight, as well as Malcolm's. Although Sue insisted we continue to use my maiden name for my books. I told her we would have to talk about it later.

It wasn't the wedding I'd envisioned as a little girl. No elaborate flower arrangements that would wither in an hour. No drawn-out walk down the aisle to archaic music on the arm of my father who was trying not to cry as he gave his baby girl away. No dramatic bridesmaids in colorful, matching dresses they'd never wear again and probably secretly hated. No bossy photographer who took up two hours of our time so we could put a bunch of photos in an album we'd never open past the first year or two. And least of all, no noisy reception with so much food I could only smell but not eat because my expensive dress had been altered to only fit if I was holding in my breath.

In other words, it wasn't your typical wedding at all. But it was in no way a dull ceremony. And I'd never forget it...or tire of talking about it.

I got ready in the suite we'd reserved at the Palmer House hotel in downtown Chicago. Our plan was to use the next week as our honeymoon here in the city. Malcolm had wanted me to show him all the sights as he swore he'd not been to most of the museums. I think he was partially fibbing, but I let him believe I believed him. Though I had a feeling we might not make it out of the room much.

After we checked out next Friday, we were driving to Delaware in his car. The bulk of our possessions that would be moving with us were already on a truck headed east with my car in tow. Anything else we needed was packed with our baggage in our suite.

My mother gushed over wanting to put my hair up, but I'd wanted it down. Besides, what did it matter? We were just going to be standing in front of a judge in a courthouse. I even thought my dress was a little over the top, but I'd let her talk me into it. In the end, I let her win with my hair as well. I mean, how often did she get to give away her only daughter? I was actually pleased with how she'd managed to fix my hair as both an up-do with still plenty of tresses hanging down.

We were meeting Sue downstairs and taking a cab to the courthouse where Malcolm would meet us. I struggled not to roll my eyes as my mother fretted over me in the elevator, making sure every detail was perfect. I was still trying to swat her away from straightening the silver chain around my neck with the diamond teardrop pendant—a gift from Malcolm I'd found this morning—when the doorman opened the door for us to exit out onto the street.

I froze in the doorway, my hand covering my mouth. "Oh, my God!"

Right there on Monroe Avenue was a white, open carriage with a white horse. A man in a black top hat and tails stood beside the carriage with a small chalkboard sign that read 'Mrs. McClaren.' He tipped his hat to me and held out his white-gloved hand.

"Your groom said no cabbie was taking his bride to her wedding ceremony," my mom whispered in my ear. She took my arm and led me forward down a short red carpet—which made me giddy with laughter— as people gathered on the sidewalks to see what was going on.

Somehow, I managed to climb up into the carriage. Then I was being driven through the streets of Chicago with my mother and book editor. It took me a moment realize we weren't heading toward Randolph where the circuit court was for Cook County.

"And he said you weren't getting married in a courtroom, either," Sue grinned from her seat as she caught me rubbernecking to figure out where were going.

"Can you tell me where we are going?" I said once I'd found my voice again.

My mother patted my hand and smiled conspiratorially at Sue. "You'll find out soon enough."

I was practically bouncing in my seat as people waved at us and whistled and honked car horns. My cheeks were hurting from smiling, and I was ever thankful that my hair was up off my face. I was glad I was sitting down, too, when the carriage finally rolled to a stop near Buckingham Fountain.

"He didn't!"

"He did!" Sue said, clapping her hands, bouncing in her own seat.

Sure enough, as soon as I was helped down from the carriage, I saw Malcolm standing beside three other men by the famous fountain. A new crowd of onlookers had gathered nearby on the far side of a white chain fence that had been put up around the west side of the fountain.

A bouquet of four, long-stem red roses tied with a black ribbon mysteriously appeared from the carriage driver. I clutched them, barely able to mouth my thanks. My heart had never beat so fast in my life. I had to count to twenty to breathe slow enough that I didn't feel like I was going to hyperventilate.

I could see Malcolm in a black tux with a red cummerbund. He looked so tall and distinguished. He'd trimmed his dark hair, but the breeze tousled the still-lengthy locks the way that always melted my heart. And as we got closer, I could see the roguish two-day shadow I'd convinced him to keep. My knees grew weak, and my feet felt like they barely touched the ground as we approached, my mother on one side and Sue on the other, practically supporting me.

The fact that Malcolm had staggered backwards with his hand to his chest told me that I'd chosen my dress wisely. The silk, floor-length Henry Roth sheath dress from Kleinfeld's—a purchase on a secret girls' trip to New York when he was in Delaware finalizing his new job—had been everyone's favorite, including mine. The scoop neckline tastefully showed off the ladies, and the draped low back made me feel elegant and young.

It hit me right then and there that this was the wedding I'd always dreamed of. I hadn't wanted opulent and fussy. But I'd wanted elegant. Romantic. Yet simple. Malcolm had really read my mind without me even realizing it.

"You are amazing," I breathed once I'd come face-to-face with most the perfect man in the world. At that moment. At any moment. My heart swelled with love, and it was making me dizzy.

Malcolm took my hand and lifted it to his lips. "Did you really think I was going to marry you in front of a judge? You deserve so much more."

My cheeks grew warm, and I knew it wasn't the summer sun. "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you've got me now." He winked at me.

I waved at one of the men standing by the fountain, and he waved back. I knew Malcolm had called Darryl to be his witness. I had been shocked to learn he lived in Maine, not Canada, so maybe we'd be seeing more of him in our future. I had asked him if he could hook me up with some female subs on the East Coast to become friends with. He'd only said, "Maybe" with a smile in his voice, and promised to show us where the clubs were out there.

Malcolm took my arm and led me over to the other man who silently stood with his hands clasped and a smile on his face. "This is James Duncan."

"Reverend Duncan, ma'am." He shook my hand between both of his.

I glanced between the two of them and arched an eyebrow. "It's very nice to meet you, Reverend."

It was the reverend's turn to wink at me. And I had no doubt he was someone Malcolm knew from the scene, if not the club. Calling in an old favor, perhaps.

Reverend Duncan gestured toward the fountain. "Shall we get started?"

Malcolm and I both nodded eagerly.

The ceremony was short and sweet. After the vows, the rings, the kiss, and the announcement, the surrounding crowd—our impromptu guests—erupted into a loud chorus of clapping and yelling, wishing us both the best.

I gave Darryl a warm handshake, and he pulled me into a hug in return. "You look ravishing, Becca. I've never been more jealous of Malcolm than I am today. Take good care of him, please. From what I hear he's waited a long time for you."

I'd barely had time to recover before my brother, Alexander, was hugging me as well. He had brought his girlfriend, Cameron, who had been on-again ever since Christmas. And she was sporting a new diamond ring. She really was the perfect fit for him. It just took him awhile to figure it out.

"I love you, Becca. I don't know what all happened with Drake, but I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself." He tilted his head toward my new husband. "You picked a good one. Don't let him boss you around too much."

I bit my cheek as I smiled and hugged my big brother. If he only knew. But I simply said, "I won't. I promise. I'm so happy for you two." I turned to hug Cameron and whispered in her ear, "You'll have to tell me all about it." She just grinned, nodding her head. Probably a reflection of myself at the moment.

I'd only spent a few minutes crying this morning about Drake and Daphne's absence, and then I'd dried my face and applied my makeup. I'd actually forgotten about them until Alexander mentioned our missing sibling's name. I hadn't told them about the wedding. I didn't want Drake showing up to ruin my day, as brief and unpretentious as I had intended it to be. I'd send them a wedding announcement and leave it at that. When my mother had asked last week if Drake was coming, Malcolm had taken her aside. I don't know what he told her, but she didn't bring it up again.

Sue couldn't stop bawling. She had linked arms with Cameron throughout the ceremony. I gave Cameron a lot of credit for keeping a smile on her face the whole time. As for Sue, but I wasn't sure if she'd finally lost it because I was becoming a Mrs., or that I was moving to the East Coast and she wouldn't see me as much.

Both my mom and Darryl took pictures. Malcolm had hinted about the latter maybe having some secret hobbies of taking photos of women with less clothes on. I couldn't wait to see how he'd captured our special day. Maybe I'd find the courage to let him try his hobby out on me once we'd moved. With Malcolm's approval, of course.

Malcolm and I had a short carriage ride around the city to celebrate. Then we met back up at the hotel where our small group of six had a late lunch in the Lockwood Restaurant. We laughed. We cried. We ate too much. Malcolm disappeared for a short period, and I felt a strange emptiness when his hand had let mine go for the first time since we'd met up at the fountain this morning.

This whole day was the best damn wedding celebration I'd ever been to. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I didn't want it to end. But eventually, our guests had to bid us adieu.