For a moment Delilah felt as if she were floating.
No, her groom had just swept her off of her six inch heels and carried her into the boudoir he had just put on his card a moment ago.
They had raced up the stairs together while she held onto the loose folds of her dress. Her veil had flown off her head somewhere where I-15 met the exit to the world's tallest thermometer.
But she still had her bouquet of wilted forget me knots and carnations.
Maybe zipping away from the wedding chapel in Vegas on a Harley hadn't kept with most wedding day traditions, but Delilah intended to stick to the tried and true when it came to her wedding night in Barstow.
Not that she had saved herself for Rodrigo like some virgin bride. Her wedding dress had been off-white as well as off the rack to match her shoes. After they had said their vows, she had plucked a bag of goodies away from an Elvis impersonator and they had left to start their marriage.
She twirled around the room as soon as he set her down and then smiling, reached for him who didn't need an invitation. Their lips met softly at first, like a first kiss but matured quickly enough into a mating of their tongues as their hands explored one another. He tasted of flat champagne and breath mints, but the way his tongue traced the inside of her mouth, she felt the familiar heat simmer between her thighs, drenching her panties.
Her pussy had already been revved up by miles spent with her body pressing closely to Rodrigo's with her legs wrapped around him in a way different from loving. The steady humming of the motor teased her just enough, where she could almost climax but experience had told her that
Harleys just didn't make the best lovers.
She felt Rodrigo loosen the pins that kept her hair swept up in a messy bun and the red curls fell around her shoulders. She heard the zipper being tugged down her back even before she felt his fingers slip inside to stroke her creamy skin. It shivered beneath his touch as he pulled her dress down carefully as not to mar it. His large hands spanned her waist as they often did before they reached up towards her chest.
Her breasts sheathed by inconsequential lace were worshiped by his hands while her own went straight to his pants, unzipping his fly. As he unhooked her bra setting her breasts free, she pushed his pants down his legs over an ass shaped by time in the ring and thickly muscled thighs. The legs she loved to wrap her own around, or to hug tightly with her knees just before she came.
His briefs followed and she gazed at her favorite part of him.
Long, thickly veined and purplish where she liked to pop him in his mouth like a sweet plum. He loved the way she nursed his erection from its mushroom cap to his balls which hung loosely until she reached them.
But right now she just wanted him hard and fast as his bike inside of her so she pushed him on the bed, the mattress creaking beneath his weight and shucking her own panties she crawled over to him and began lowering her pussy over his cock, sheathing him inch by inch, watching his face change while she cupped her breasts in her hand, until they spilled over.
Just out of his reach.
She undulated up and down his cock, feeling the friction build inside her juicy channel that grabbed hold of him and then reluctantly surrendered him each time she pulled back.
Damn it felt good and she let herself enjoy it.
Sometimes she felt like she was dancing, her hips moving in her own rhythm. He watched breathlessly until his own hands reached to grab her hips to guide her. She closed her eyes then, quickening her tempo, and he gripped her harder, as she withdrew to tease him and then pushed down harder, taking more of him each time as if claiming him.
And then something burst inside of her sending shards of pleasure throughout her body, while his grew tenser, his fingers marking her body in half-crescent bruise. A moment later, she felt the warmth of his semen shoot through her and she collapsed against his dampness.
As the pleasure ebbed out of her, she hugged Rodrigo who murmured in her ear. As they lay in the aftermath, the door suddenly flew open and in walked a hunk of man wearing faded blue jeans that hung low on his waist, and some kind of belt on him like a sash in a beauty contest.
He gazed at her in confusion and at Rodrigo as if he wanted to rip him apart. Delilah gasped as she looked at him and knew she had ten seconds to save her husband's life.
But how was she going to convince her brother that Rodrigo hadn't really kidnapped her?