Keno smirks. “It’s really, really fucking good. I’ve never enjoyed getting someone off nearly as much as I love getting you off. The way you tremble in my hands because of what I do to you is hot as fuck, dude.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I agree. I never thought I’d enjoy being covered in cum, but… I mean, I’m looking forward to washing it out of my hair, but it’s not nearly as disgusting as I thought it’d be.”
He laughs.
We’re interrupted when his phone rings. Sighing, Keno rolls himself off the couch and lands on his ass on the floor. I snort laughter as he climbs to his feet and grabs his phone. He answers just before the rings stop.
“Hello?” Pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Hi, thanks for calling.”
I watch his face as he listens to the caller.
“Just a second.” He pulls the phone from his ear and looks at me. “One of the venues wants to know if we’d like to come in for a tour this afternoon.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Keno brings the phone back. “That sounds good.” A quite lengthy pause and then he says, “Thanks. See you at three.”
“Which one is this?” I ask when he hangs up.
He laughs. “I have no idea, but she’s sending me some directions via email. I’m hoping there’s an address.”
The placewe pull up to is impressive. It’s a mountain resort with hiking, different kinds of lodging, activities year-round, and spectacular views everywhere we look. The woman we meet loads us into an all-terrain buggy and drives us around the resort.
We follow a path to a private peak with only a single, large chalet with probably the best view I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Everywhere we look, it’s breathtaking. There are trees and greenery, but the mountains around us are a combination of desert stone and green tops. There’s even the quiet babble of water moving nearby.
There’s a spa, enough lodging for everyone at a variety of price points starting as low as $125/night. They offer room blocks and event pricing for groups on top of that for some of the pricier rooms.
We can even rent an entire section of the resort for our event alone. She brings us back to the primary building—a huge hotel at the top of one of the mountain peaks—and shows us a portfolio of weddings they’ve hosted. I’m surprised and relieved to see a variety of themes still work in a location like this.
After an hour and as the sun begins to go down for the evening, the woman leaves us alone to talk about it. We’re left with a bunch of brochures and pictures, too.
“I’m in,” I say. “This place is stunning.”
Keno smiles. “It is. I’m not sure which spot is my favorite, though. Which do we book? For how long?”
We rifle through the pamphlets until we find the package we’re interested in. Monday through Thursday and we can reserve the private chalet and the cabins at the base ofthat mountain. There’s transportation, catering is included at different prices depending on what kinds of food we’re interested in, and there are three different options for cocktail hour and reception with this single peak.
The base price is $17,000. Half is due up front.
“Is this normal?” Keno asks as we stare at the number.
“In everything I’ve read, the current national average spent on a wedding is $44,000.”
His eyes widen. “We’re not spending that, are we?”
I laugh. “We didn’t set a budget, remember?”
“It seems silly for a single day,” he complains.
“It’s not a single day, though. This price gets us four days. I think that’s pretty good, no?”
He hesitates as he stares at the page. I take his hand and yank him toward me until he almost falls out of his chair. His tension breaks as he laughs, catching himself with my thigh. I love the way his eyes sparkle with laughter.
“We don’t have to choose this place. We don’t have to spend this money. We can get married in a junkyard wearing paper bags, and it’s still going to be the best day of my life.”
Keno’s breath rushes out. “I hate how swoony you are without trying to be.”
“You’re swoony too. That proposal left me breathless.”
