Artie puts my laptop on my knees, opens it, and taps a few keys. “I sent you the link.”
My eyes move slowly across the letters. “Application for marriage license, state of New York.”
“We print it out here and take it to the Pine Ridge justice center. There are some things we don’t have or won’t have, but I called Alban Wymark this morning. He said he’d meet us there tomorrow and get it all fixed up for us—legally or magically, he said it doesn’t matter. Then we can get married the next day. If we want.”
I hesitate.
“Or later. Or n—not at all. I mean, I told Artie we got married in a small private ceremony, and we wanted to make it official.”
“I would stay with you in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer. Until death do us part,” I whisper, taking his hand.
Artie sits on the bed and grips my hand in both of his. “I, Arthur Phillip Taylor, take you, Imogene Sommer, to be my wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer. Until death do us part. I love you.”
“I love you.” I wipe my eyes on the shoulder of my jammies, my hands wrapped around his so tight that I’m probably cutting off his circulation.
“May I kiss the bride?”
“You may.”
The kiss is long, lingering, and ends up with Artie scooting back into bed. The laptop is shoved to the floor.
“I think I can pronounce us man and wife before you go to class, baby,” he whispers.
“Well, I think you’d better,” I whisper back. “Otherwise, you kind of lied to Alban.”
Artie’s fingers rub against my crotch, turning me rapidly wet. “That would be terrible.”
“So horrible.” My pajama bottoms shimmy down.
“What’s Laurel doing?” I whisper as his cock brushes against my bare thigh.
“Playing with her new jumbo stacking rings in the busy bee bouncer in her room.”
I guide him into my heat, surprised at how easily he slides in.
“You’re always ready for me.”
“I was waiting for you for such a long time.”
“ALL RIGHT. COMPROMISEtime.” Artie holds out his laptop. “Tab A is the menu from Tiramisu. Tab B is the menu from the River House. Pick what you want. I’m bringing us home dinner.”
“But I’m defrosting ground beef, and I have noodles and shredded cheese. I’m going to use the ‘Make These Into Dinner’ app and figure out what it is,” I protest.
“That sounds adventurous and delicious, honey, but tonight is special. We have so many things to celebrate. Annnd, do you know what else tonight is?”
“What?”
“It’s our wedding night. At least in spirit. Our sneaky, private wedding anniversary will always be December First. We have to consummate.”
“Uh, did you forget that you consummated me up until five minutes before my class started?” My legs flex at the memory, pussy spasming from the memory of his bare cock pounding into me, my fingers rubbing myself, even dipping inside after he came to catch the dripping cum that always tastes so delicious to me.
I think Artie’s remembering the same thing. He looks a little glassy-eyed as he opens Tab B. “The River House has a grasshopper pie.”
“Ew! Oh, no, honey, even if that’s a traditional snack, I don’t—”
“Grasshopper pie is a mint and chocolate pie.”
“They need to call it something better,” I mutter, shaking my head. But...
