“You’d be surprised how few people in my family care about whether my cock gets action.”
I snort a laugh. “I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sure you’re right.”
I settle over his cock and slowly sink down, taking him as fast as I can. About the time I bottom out, someone knocks lightly at the door. We both say, “Come back later,” at the same time.
Feeling like we might not have a good grasp on time when we’re being intimate, I get busy riding his glorious cock. I want to go slow and enjoy the experience, but my mind is telling me to go fast.
When I come, so does he. When I can’t go anymore, I collapse on his chest, burying my face in his new cut. It smells like leather and I can see the patch with his club name on it out of the corner of my eye. And a sense of being right where I belong floods my mind. We stay there for a minute, trying to catch our breath. Another knock at the door breaks through the afterglow. This time the knock is sharp and incessant.
We scramble up and pull on our clothing. I step into the adjoining restroom and quickly clean myself up. When I come back out, someone’s knocking intermittently at the door.
I look around and see Mica standing at the open window. It occurs to me that he’s actually going to hop out the window toavoid dealing with whoever is on the other side of the door. He pauses with one leg on the outside to say, “You look beautiful.”
“You mean sinful? We just had sex in a church, Mica. We’re both probably going to hell in a handbasket.”
“We’re already married, sweetness. That means we can have sex if we want.” He shoots me his brightest grin, the one that makes him look twice as handsome and causes my pulse to pound in my veins. Then he slips out the window, and walks away with his hands in his pockets, just as Queenie bursts in. She glances out the open window just in time to catch sight of Mica walking away. She raised four sons in an MC and knows every one of them is a big testosterone fueled biker.
She looks at me. Her eyes move from my flushed face to my tousled hair to the slightly crooked strap of my sundress. Then she looks at the table, which is sitting about six inches further from the wall than it was when I came in.
“Hmm, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on here,” she says.
“It was nothing bad. Let me explain,” I start rambling.
“You don’t need to explain,” she assures me, quickly shutting the door. “Mica knows better than to come around bothering you before the ceremony. This was supposed to be your time to chill out and relax.”
“I enjoyed his visit,” I admit guiltily.
“I’m sure you did. My son can be charming when he wants to be. They all can,” she adds as she quickly rights my hair, then tugs the strap of my sundress back into place.
“There,” she says cheerfully. “You look proper instead of freshly ravished.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Do you think we’re going to hell for ravishing in a church?”
Queenie chuckles. “No, of course not. A church is just a building where people meet to talk about spiritual matters. It’s not a place where God hangs around to be offended by humankind.”
“Sorry if that was a silly question. My gramps never put too much stock in organized religion, so neither did I. He said they were a bunch of hypocrites that sinned all week and then thought going to church on Sunday washed away their sins.”
“That’s a harsh view but he wasn’t wrong about that. I grew up in a church where men made all the rules and decisions. Women were expected to obey. As you can probably guess, I said hell no to all that and ran away. I eventually met up with Rock.” A wry smile crosses her face. “I learned that you don’t have to rely on controlling old men to tell you what to believe because God is everywhere. What’s important is that you treat people well and with respect. Some people might need a religion to help remind them of that. Others do well being guided by their own sense of morality.”
“I guess that’s how Gramps thought too. He had his own moral code that he lived by.”
She gives my arm a pat. “He was rough, but he was a good man. He’d be proud of what you’ve done in his absence, and if I believe in anything, it’s that today he’s gonna be watching over you.”
When we go out to the chapel, all the seats are filled with smiling faces. And my uncle Cray has decided to walk me down the aisle this time. I stop beside him, not surprised that he’s wearing his everyday clothing.
This time we have an actual ordained preacher. Not that our first ceremony with Rigs officiating didn’t feel right, but I think I always knew that it wasn’t a proper wedding, even if it was legally binding and the marriage became real.
When the music starts, I slip my arm through Cray’s and we put one foot in front of the other. Mica watches me come, his eyes occasionally dropping to my belly. His expression is one I can only describe as adoring. When we reach Mica, Cray hands me off to him. I know it’s an old fashioned tradition, but I wanted Cray to have a part in my vow renewal ceremony. Mica takes both of my hands in his and we turn to face each other.
Pastor Langley opens his Bible and addresses the room. “We are gathered here today in the presence of God to witness Mica and Nova renew their commitment to one another.”
He turns to Mica. “Mica, do you reaffirm your commitment to Nova as your wife? Do you promise to love her, honor her, comfort her in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?”
Mica’s eyes don’t leave mine. “I do.”
Pastor Langley turns to me. “Nova, do you reaffirm your commitment to Mica as your husband? Do you promise to love him, honor him, comfort him in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” This renewal is so much more intimate than our original wedding ceremony.
