We lived without hot water for a time. We lived in the house after the hardwood floors had been stripped, and you couldn’t walk around without shoes on in fear of stepping on a rusty nail. We lived there without power while new electrical wiring was being run, without water while the pipes were being replaced, and even without plaster on the walls after we found mold. We lived there through it all.
I thought she’d complain or hate the house, but she never did. In fact, there were days when she was the one who kept me going, even as I found more and more problems with the property. It felt like we’d never get the place done some days. Sometimes, I considered selling it at a huge loss just to get away from it. I couldn’t even count how many times I wanted to burn the motherfucker down, but she was a champ through it all. She’d pull on a mask and goggles and get dirty with me, and she did it with a smile while stealing the air from my lungs. Not a day had passed that I didn’t stop and stare at her in awe.
No matter how hard things got, no matter how much I wanted to quit, I never did because she told me that she wouldn’t marry me until our house was complete, so we could get married in the yard. I worked hard to finish the house. Not because I wanted the house, but because I wanted her and she wanted the house. It wasn’t enough that she was spending every day and every night in my arms. I wanted my ring on her finger and her in my heart forever. It’s amazing how fast time flies when you’re just living life. Before I knew it, the house was completed, and we were on to our next big adventure: planning our wedding.
We’d been living in town for a year, working on our house, just living life, and making friends along the way. Neither of us had any family to worry about inviting, but the people we’d met had become like family to us, so the wedding we planned on being small turned into a medium-sized wedding. Amelia had bridesmaids, and their husbands were my groomsmen. The women had forced us to hang out every time they did, and we actually formed a pretty tight friendship from it.
And I’d opened my shop. I loved cars, but bikes were quickly becoming my favorite, and I was making a name for myself with all the work I was doing.
We ended up tying the knot at sunset on May twenty-third in the backyard of our home. The wedding turned into the reception, and the reception turned into our honeymoon.
Neither of us had any desire to go anywhere. We already had our favorite spot. Why go anywhere else?
“Mrs. Knight,” I murmured as she approached me after guests had left. Her wedding dress fit her body, hugging every perfect curve. I didn’t think I could get turned on by a white dress, but there I was, my dick hard as a lead pipe in my pants.
“Mm, Mr. Knight,” she answered, stopping in front of me and brushing her lips against mine.
“You know where I want to make love to you?” I kissed her again before I swayed with her to the soft music she’d turned on. I smiled at the song.My Everythingby Bishop. Amelia was a big fan of the band, and I’d gotten her tickets to an upcoming show and backstage passes to meet the band. She’d nearly cried when she’d opened them. Instead, with tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around my neck before kissing me.
“Where?” she asked.
“Beneath the stars on the beach.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Want to?”
She nodded eagerly and pulled away. I led her out to the blanket and candles I’d already set up.
“Ollie,” she said softly, taking in everything I’d done.
“You like it?”
She nodded. “I love it. I love you.”
“Mm, I love you too.” I kissed her again.
It wasn’t long before I had her on back beneath the stars, the waves crashing behind us, my cock buried deep inside her pussy as she clung to me.
This was everything. It was perfection. If this was going to be my life, I’d let her crash into me a hundred times over.
My wife.
Amelia was my wife. My life. My fucking everything and more. My only regret was that she hadn’t crashed into me sooner.
“Are you excited?” I asked as we waited in line for us to meet Bishop two weeks after we married. The concert had been amazing, and I even found myself on my feet singing to the rock songs the fiery redhead sang, her band hammering it out behind her.
She nodded, her hands twined together and pressed to her lips. I smiled, knowing she was nervous. She kept saying she’d never met a famous person before and hoped she didn’t embarrass herself.
I assured her she wouldn’t, and I’d be there to keep her in line.
“Come on,” some backstage guy said, gesturing us forward. I’d paid extra so we could meet the band alone, instead of being rushed on with a group. I wanted this to be a good memory for my wife.
“Oh my god. There she is. There’s the band,” her voice shook.
I reached out and squeezed her hand as we approached.
Bishop, the singer, turned and smiled at us.
