The Love Hater: Chapter 48

“I’m turning around, Son.”

“As best man, it’s my duty to look out for the bride, so you turn at the correct time,” I tell my father, making him chuckle.

“And as your father who hasn’t seen his bride since we all had dinner together last night, I can tell you that’s not happening. I want to see her the second she steps into view.”

“Age has made you stubborn.”

“Age has given me everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You, Sinclair, my family… and now Hallie and the baby.”

I look up the aisle at Molly, standing in wait with Halliday’s friend, and maid of honor, Sophie, her bottom lip poking out in seriousness as she grips onto her basket of petals.

“It’ll be nice to have another little one for Molly to play with.”

“You’re a great father to her.” My father’s hand lands on my shoulder with firm, loving reassurance.

“Thanks, Dad. I learned from the best,” I reply, clapping my hand on top of his.

My father stiffens next to me, and I follow his gaze to the tree line behind Sophie and Molly.

“Take a breath, Dad,” I instruct in a low whisper.

His attention is fixed on Halliday, walking toward us in a silver wedding dress. My father composes himself with a slow inhale, a murmured curse of wonder leaving his lips. “I’m so damn blessed.”

“We want you to be happy, Dad.” I pat him on the back as Molly walks up the aisle, scattering her petals.

My throat seizes up and I blink hard.

One day she might be walking up here on my arm. And I’ll be watching my little girl get married herself.

The thought is both overwhelming and bittersweet.

“I know, and I love you even more for it, Son,” my father murmurs, completely transfixed by Halliday.

Vincent’s playing the piano to one side, and the notes of the song drift sweetly on the warm breeze. I allow each one to sink into me as I allow myself another indulgent thought.

Maybe one day I’ll be standing where my father is, watching Tate walk toward me.

Please, God.

I feel her absence today like a hole in my heart, surrounded by family and friends. All the people I love.

She should be here.

But the job she was offered was her dream. I couldn’t let her go back on her word and turn it down. Not for me. Not even for Molly.

“She found the candy before I stopped her,” Sinclair apologizes as she slides into the front row of seats.

My father chuckles as Molly flings petals about with delight from her purple candy-stained fingers. She reaches the top of the aisle after lots of ‘awws’ from the seated guests and holds her arms up to me with a proud grin.

It takes everything in me not to bawl like a baby.

“Good job,” I whisper, scooping her up into my arms.

We watch as my father and Halliday recite their vows, and Molly points to the two pictures set up on a small table at the head of the aisle, positioned so they face the two of them.

“Who dat, Daddy?” she whispers in a sweet voice.

“That’s Halliday’s sister, Jenny,” I whisper back. “She’s in heaven too.”

“Like Grandma?”

“Yes, like Grandma,” I reply. I’ve told Molly about my mother, even though they never met.

My mother would have loved Molly.

“And Uncle Shade,” Molly adds, pointing at the second photograph on the table and mispronouncing his name.

“Yeah. Like Slade,” I answer, staring at the photo that’s like looking into a mirror.

A lump forms in my throat, making it hoarse as I grip her tighter. Just me and her. The two of us. Like it’s always been.

“Daddy sad,” Molly whispers.

“Daddy’s okay,” I reply.

She gazes at me with wide eyes, then pulls me closer by tightening her arms around my neck.

The moment her soft little mouth presses a kiss to my cheek with a mwah sound, my heart cracks.

“Love you, Daddy,” she tells me.

“Love you too, Sweetheart,” I choke. “Daddy loves you too.”

Jenson’s holding Molly’s hands and performing silly dance moves with her in the center of the dance floor. Her head is thrown back in delight as giggle after giggle spills from her.

“He’s found someone to hang out with who’s the same age of mental maturity as himself.”

I snort as Vincent hands me a fresh glass of whiskey.

“I think Molly’s more advanced, personally. And she wears a bear onesie better than him.”

“True.” Vincent chuckles.

We watch the two of them for longer before he asks, “So how are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” His tone implies he thinks I’m talking bullshit.

He knows me so well.

“I’m… wondering how she’s getting on,” I admit, begrudgingly.

“Tate’s a smart girl. She’ll be able to handle herself.”

I drink some of my whiskey so I don’t have to form an answer that’s any more eloquent than a grumbled grunt of agreement. One that also hides the unnecessary flare of jealousy that strikes me as Vincent speaks about Tate with a small hint of familiarity.

She went on one date with him. One. And she told me she didn’t want comfortable.

But the whole idea of her with any other man makes me damn un-comfortable.

Because she’s mine.

At least, in my head she always will be.

And Vincent’s right. She is smart. She’s incredible. And I know she’s got this new job in the palm of her hand. But I still struggle with the fact she didn’t want me to help her iron out the finer details of her contract. It took a lot of persuading for her to relent and allow Jones to assist her, on the understanding that I stepped back and let her take the lead.

She wanted to do it herself.

She got this job off her own merit. And after all the ways I’ve interfered, I get why she wanted to negotiate it on her terms.

I just wish I knew how the hell she was. We haven’t spoken since I left for Cape Town a few days ago for the wedding.

The day I played to her in the street and told her I loved her.

The day she graciously declined my offer to help her set up things for her move to LA.

The day she also said she just needed time.

I’m trying so damn hard to give it to her, when all I want to do is call her and ask her how she is.

She’s in LA today, signing the contract for her new job.

When Molly and I get back to New York it’ll only be a couple of days until she leaves for good.

I’m praying to God the time she asked for results in her coming back and telling me she wants to make things work.

I can fly over there as much as possible. And fly her back to visit.

I’ll do whatever I can not to lose her.

Even though the churning in my gut tells me I already did.

“How’re things with you?” I ask Vincent, aware that I’m being a rude, self-pitying asshole.

“Good. Great, actually. Life in the shadows has it’s advantages. You know there’s a porn site where groups of guys are dressing up in balaclavas and banging people in organized orgies while playing live recordings of The Maestro’s music?”

“Really?” I smirk.

“There are those who need to hear the music. And those who need to feel the music, I guess.” Vincent chuckles. “Whatever man, I’m just happy it’s spreading joy.”

“And potentially STIs,” I clip, earning myself a chuckle from him.

The band slide seamlessly into another song and Molly continues dancing with Jenson, surrounded by other guests, all dancing, including Uncle Mal and Aunt Trudy. Everyone around us is having a great time. My father’s sitting beneath a fairy lit veranda talking softly to Halliday with one hand stroking her bump tenderly as she gazes at him with nothing but love in her eyes. Sinclair’s melded to Denver’s side, one hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes at him as he looks like he’s grumbling to her about something. But his hand is still low down on her back, caressing her with tenderness.

Even Killian is sitting at the bar, flirting with one of the wait staff.

Everyone is together. And happy.

I clear my throat, then drain my whiskey.

“Another?” I invite Vincent, gesturing to the bar.

His attention moves from something behind me and settles on my face.

“Nah, Buddy. I think you’re about to be needed.” He slaps me on the back and wanders away.

My eyes snap to Molly, expecting her to be looking for me. But she’s still happily dancing with Jenson without a care in the world.

“She makes a very cute flower girl.”

I spin at her voice.

“Tate?”

My eyes probably look like they’re in danger of falling out of my head.

She’s not in LA. She’s here.

She’s here.

I stare at her for a few long seconds, drinking her in like a lone man in the desert who’s just seen a mirage. A lush, tropical oasis that’ll save his life.

She gives me a shy smile, her eyes glittering. “Hi, Sullivan.”

“You’re supposed to be in LA.”

“I was. Now I’m here.”

“Now you’re here,” I echo roughly, staring at her like this will all make sense.

None of it should matter to me. She’s here. But it does matter. It matters more than anything.

I pushed her away once, thinking she was chasing her dream. But it was the wrong one. This time it’s right. And as much as it pains me, I need to know she’s not giving it up.

“Much quicker than I planned. My flight wasn’t supposed to get in until tomorrow,” she says.

“You had a flight booked? To Cape Town?”

Her eyes flick around at the wedding guests before coming back to meet mine and seeming unsure, like she’s wondering if she made a mistake. I’m still unable to believe that she’s here, right in front of me. Flesh and blood.

“I did. I wanted to see you. But then Jones ushered me onto a private jet.”

Something inside me homes in on that information. “Private jet?”

“I told him I was planning on coming here to talk to you, and he said he could help. He must have made a call to Huck because it looked a lot like the jet Huck borrowed from a friend to bring me back from tour. All silver inside.”

My narrowed gaze flicks to my father, catching him looking at us. He smiles knowingly, before turning his attention back to Halliday.

“Always useful to have friends willing to… help out,” I comment. “How did the meeting go?”

Tate breaks into a smile. “Really well. They agreed to everything I asked for.”

“They did?” My heart lifts. “Did you ask to work four days a week so you can come home for long weekends?”

I don’t catch myself quick enough to stop the word ‘home’ from slipping out.

Her eyes pinch. “No… I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?” A growing sense of dread starts winding its way around my windpipe, inching up slowly like a poisonous weed that’s determined to destroy everything in its path.

This is it. The final goodbye. She’s come to tell me it’s over. She doesn’t want to put us through the strain of long-distance, even though I’m more than willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.

I haven’t allowed myself to consider it not working.

I can’t.

“Tate—”

“I know we talked about it last time I saw you, but…” She sighs. “That’s not what I want, Sullivan.”

I struggle to hold it together as my breath comes in jagged pants.

I’ve lost her. She didn’t even want to try. I messed things up that badly that she couldn’t even bring herself to try in case I screwed up and hurt her again.

Now I’m going to have to explain to Molly that Tate’s gone again.

And just like the first time, it’s because of me.

She takes my hands and strokes them. I want to whip them away before the pain of knowing it’s the last time she’ll touch me takes over. But at the same time, I close my fingers around hers, pulling her closer until our bodies are flush, our chests grazing.

I don’t want to let her go.

“I understand,” I breathe, my throat burning as she looks into my eyes.

I can’t look away. I want to sear the sight of her into my soul, so I have something to remember her by when I go to hell after what I’ve put her through.

I ruined us. I broke us.

I deserve this.

I should be grateful that she came to break it to me in person. That’s Tate all over. Kind. Sweet. Thoughtful.

But all I feel is anger at myself.

“No. I don’t think you do,” she says, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her one last time. I haven’t felt her lips against mine since the night she lifted me up off the floor and held me together when I thought I was going to shatter into a billion pieces.

The last time I kissed her it was tinged with the salt of tears.

“Sullivan,” she urges, pulling me out of my head. “I didn’t ask, because I want something else instead.”

I fight the glimmer of hope away that’s poking at my heart like an incessant itch. If I let it in and I’m wrong, then I don’t know what I’ll do, or how I’ll survive.

“What do you want?”

Her eyes are glassy, her voice thick with emotion. “I told them if I couldn’t work remotely from New York, then I wasn’t taking the job.”

I stare at her, speechless.

“I said I’d love to work with them. But that I loved two people in New York more. And without them, I wouldn’t be able to write any songs, because their loss would be louder inside me than anything else. So, if they wanted songs, then I’d need to stay in New York in order to write them.”

The itch cascades like a waterfall, transforming into a rushing blur of thundering noise.

“You love two people in New York more?”

She nods. “Molly and my dad.”

She bites her lip, failing to hide her smile.

“I mean you, Sullivan,” she whispers, reaching up to stroke my hair. “I love you. And I’m staying in New York. With you and Molly.”

“You are?”

She nods.

I exhale shakily.

“Thank you.”

I cup her neck between my hands and tilt her face up, searching her eyes.

“I love you, Tate. I love you so fucking much.”

I don’t care that my voice cracks as I speak. I don’t care that I’m trembling. I don’t care that my head’s so light I’m in danger of passing out.

“I love you too,” she whispers, drawing my eyes to her soft lips.

“Please, say I can kiss you,” I choke. “Show me you mean it. That you’re really in this with us.”

“My heart’s always been with you and Molly. Always.”

She still hasn’t moved closer, despite her reassuring words. Despite the way her pulse is thundering erratically beneath the pads of my thumbs like it’s beating out my name in morse code.

“Please, Baby,” I beg.

Her breath hitches, and for an agonizing second she’s silent.

Then she nods.

One tiny, subtle movement.

But it’s all I need.

My mouth descends on hers with fevered hunger.

I waste no time in making her mine again, tasting and exploring every inch that I’ve missed. Molding us back together, piece by piece.

I groan into her mouth, and she pulls back, biting her lip in a smile. “Sullivan?”

“What?” I groan, slanting my mouth over hers and kissing her again.

“People might be looking.”

“People can mind their own fucking business,” I rasp, kissing her again. “You came back to us. You think I give a flying fuck who sees me kiss you? Besides, they’re all family and friends. They’ll see us kiss plenty at our wedding.”

She pulls back again, and I chase her, letting out a desperate growl at being denied.

“What?”

“You said you’re staying in New York,” I explain in response to her shocked expression.

“I—”

“Tate. If you’re coming back, then be assured, I will not fuck up again,” I say with conviction.

Her eyes widen.

“I’m not making that mistake again. You’ll be my wife… One day,” I add, to ease her into the idea, even though my mind is already formulating a plan to make that day as soon as fucking possible.

She blinks before laughing. But stops abruptly as she studies me.

“You’re serious?”

“Have you ever known me not to be?”

Her mouth drops open but before she can answer, a small tornado dressed in tulle runs over and crashes into us.

“Tate!”

I hoist Molly up into one arm. The beautiful smile on her face makes my chest fit to bursting.

“That’s right, Sweetheart. Tate came. And aren’t we happy to see her?” I wind my other arm around Tate’s waist and pull her closer.

Molly nods eagerly and holds her arms out. Tate moves closer so she can wrap them around her neck.

My grip on them both tightens as they embrace, protected inside my arms.

My girls.

“Dance, Daddy?” Molly asks sweetly, her eyes bouncing between me and Tate.

“Absolutely.” I smile at her.

“Go on. I’ll…” Tate gestures to a table with some empty seats by it.

I arch a brow at her as I say to Molly, “You want to dance with both of us, don’t you, Sweetheart?”

“Yay!” Molly claps her hands in delight.

Tate’s eyes shine as I tip my head toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”

I take Tate’s hand, keeping Molly held in my arm as I lead us in-between dancing couples. I turn and pull Tate into me, holding her close with my hand on her lower back.

She slides one hand up around my collar, placing the other around Molly.

The band moves into a cover of Ed Sheeran’s “All of the Stars”, and Molly rests her head against my shoulder, gazing at Tate with a magical smile, made all the sweeter by the innocence in it as Tate sings the words of the song softly to her.

I hold them both in my arms.

And we dance.

We dance until Molly grows heavy in my arms and her eyelids wilt. But still, my little girl fights sleep, not wanting to miss a moment. But as Tate smiles, first at her, then up at me, I realize.

Life will give me so many more moments like this now that I have them both.

“Molly gave me a reason to carry on after losing them both,” I tell Tate softly. “And so many times I thought I was screwing it up.”

“Sullivan,” she breathes, her eyes pinching with emotion. “You weren’t. Look how happy she is. You’re an amazing dad.”

I look down at Molly, settled happily against me, still fighting sleep.

My heart swells in my chest and I pull Tate closer.

“Then I met you. And I didn’t look at it as a challenge that I was failing at anymore.”

She blinks, tears building along her lashes. “How do you see it now?” She sniffs.

I smile softly. “As an adventure.”

“Sullivan.” She wipes at her eyes.

“Sorry to break up the happy reunion.”

Tate’s head snaps up as Sinclair holds out her arms, gesturing to Molly.

“But Denver and I want a dance with Molly.” She throws Tate a wide grin. “Hi, Tate.”

“Hi.” She smiles back.

“Glad you could make it,” Sinclair says as she takes Molly from my arms.

Denver’s beside her, and he tips his chin at Tate. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Tate replies, before biting her lower lip and smiling up at me.

Sinclair’s grinning, watching our exchange.

“Sullivan? Why don’t you show Tate around? There are lots of really romantic spots around the property that I’m sure she’d like to see.” She winks at me, then flicks her gaze toward Denver. “Aren’t there, Brute?”

Denver’s gaze burns into hers and he clears his throat and reluctantly agrees. “There are. Lots.”

Sinclair giggles at the gruffness in his voice, before tipping her head at me, and motioning for us to go.

It’s the first time my blood hasn’t boiled at the insinuation of my sister’s sex life before. In fact, right now I’m planning the ridiculously extravagant gift I’ll get her for her next birthday.

“Let’s go,” I say to Tate, even though I’m already marching her off the dance floor, my rapidly hardening dick making it near impossible to move without urgency.

“Sullivan?” She laughs. “Won’t people wonder where we’ve gone?”

“They won’t be wondering, they’ll know.”

“Oh my God.” She presses her hand over her eyes as I stalk to one of the entrances of the main house. The door’s wide open to allow people to come in and out to use the ground floor bathrooms.

I turn back and sweep her up into my arms, making her gasp.

“Sorry. Was I not moving fast enough for you?” She giggles.

I stride inside the house and carry her straight up the sweeping staircase to the upper level. My footsteps are strong and purposeful as I take us down the hallway, past Molly’s bedroom, and through the door opposite it that leads into my suite.

I place her onto her feet and lock the door behind us.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” Tate exclaims, her head swiveling to look at the four-poster bed with sheer drapes secured back around it, and the balcony that overlooks the ocean.

“You can admire the view after.”

She turns and her eyes drop to my chest as I waste no time yanking off my shirt.

“Oh, right.” She bites her lip, lifting her heated gaze to mine. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Sure is.”

I step toward her, and our breath mingles in the hot, loaded air. For a few heartbeats, we just stare in longing, drinking one another in.

“Tate?” I whisper.

She licks her lips. “Sullivan?”

The trust in her eyes as she looks up through her lashes at me has my dick throbbing painfully against my zipper.

I stroke some strands of hair back from her eyes, groaning softly as I allow the back of my fingers to trace down the side of her face, over her neck where her pulse is fluttering beneath her silky skin, and to her collar bones.

“Am I fucking you or making love to you first?”

“I get to choose?” She bites her lip playfully, matching my low, raspy tone. I’m barely holding back from throwing her beneath me on the bed, tearing her panties out of the way, and burying myself to the hilt.

“If it makes you feel better, call it choice. But I’ll be doing both multiple times before the night is over. You can just decide how you want it first.”

Her eyes drop to the tented bulge in my pants and her lips curl up.

“You think you can do slow right now?” She wraps her palm around my shaft and squeezes.

“Fuck,” I hiss, gazing through hooded lids at her.

She strokes me through the material and pre-cum leaks so fast from my slit that a wet patch appears on the front of my pants.

“I can do slow,” I force out through gritted teeth.

With skilled hands, she slides down my zipper and pulls my heavy cock out. I let out a tortured groan as my balls hike up to my body, desperate to unload inside her.

“Are you sure?” she teases.

“Tate,” I warn. “I need you back on my cock, where you belong. So give me an answer I can work with.”

She tilts her face up to mine, her tongue darting out and swiping delicately at her plump lower lip.

“Fucking,” she whispers. “Fuck me first.”

I grab her face and crush my lips to hers, making her gasp in surprise. Maybe she expected me to throw her down and sink inside her straight away. And as much as my cock is begging me to do just that, I want to kiss her first.

I need to kiss her, because my brain is still processing the fact that she’s here.

And she’s staying.

She’s mine.

“You’re beautiful. So fucking sexy,” I pant roughly as I descend on her neck, assaulting it with kisses that I know might leave marks. She can wear them and show the world that she’s goddamn mine until I get a ring on her finger and call her my wife.

The thought makes the throbbing end of my cock leak all over her pale blue dress.

“I ruined your dress,” I grind out, baring my teeth to the swell of her cleavage as I bend to pull it into a biting kiss.

Tate shivers in my arms, her nipple tightening into a steeled peak beneath my exploring hand.

“It’s fine. I can clean it. I have new dryers from my landlord at my place, remember?”

Even though I know she’s teasing, the idea that it might still be her place when we return to New York, and that she might want to live apart sends a rush of white-hot rage-filled panic through me.

Her dress pays the price.

Her body is pulled toward mine, making her tits heave with a shocked gasp as I grab the neckline and tear the thin fabric right down the center.

“Now I really fucking ruined it.”

“Oh my God.” Her eyes are wide, but they quickly drop to a lust-filled haze. “I liked this one,” she says, her cheeks all flushed and pretty.

“I’ll buy you a thousand just like it.”

I rake my eyes down her body ruthlessly.

“You’re even more incredible than I remember,” I say in awe.

I drop a hand to my dick and squeeze it, unable to help myself as I lick my lower lip, eyes greedily ravaging her tits that are spilling out of her bra.

“Fuck yeah, Baby. You got even sexier.”

I gather up a slick load of pre-cum and let go of my dick. Using the tips of my fingers I paint her heaving cleavage until it’s shining with me.

“Do you like this bra too?” I bite my lip as I reach for it.

Before she can answer, I’ve forced my fingers through both thin lace cups and shredded them so her dusky pink nipples poke through.

“Sullivan,” she gasps through a shocked laugh.

“You know the panties are next, Tate. Fuck me, I need to see that pussy of yours. I’ll incinerate anything that’s in my way of being with you.”

She looks at me with a heady intensity.

We both know I’m not just talking about clothes and sex anymore.

Her eyes stay glued to mine as I lower my head and seal my mouth around one nipple. She sucks in a breath and sinks her hand into my hair, tugging it from the roots. I smile around her as I suck harder and lap at her with my tongue.

If I ever doubted that she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed her, then her needy whimpers blow any doubts from my mind.

“I need to make you come,” I groan, my attention on her breasts ramping up in intensity until I’m grazing them with my teeth and delivering little nips alongside open-mouthed, sucking kisses and licks. “Fuck, Tate. I need you coming on my face and my cock, Baby.”

She moans with wanton need as I pick her up and place her onto my bed.

I hold her eyes as I remove my pants and underwear, until I’m standing at the foot of the bed, naked with my dick in my hand.

I give it a much-needed stroke.

“Look at you, Baby,” I tsk. “Lying there with your pretty dress all ruined and your tits out like you’re aching to be fucked.”

“Oh God,” she whimpers, arching up in the air and presenting her perfect nipples to me for sucking on again as I kneel on the bed between her thighs.

“That what you want? To be fucked?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Please, Sullivan,” she pants. “Take away the emptiness I’ve felt without you.”

Her words make my throat thicken instantly, and our eyes lock.

“I’ll never let you go again, Baby. I swear.” My voice comes out hoarse and tortured.

But it’s what she needs to hear.

It’s what we both need.

Her eyes soften, love and lust glazing them as any last hints of doubt that could have been lingering there drift away.

She wriggles on the bed beneath me as I drink her in. Content to just look at her and bask in the glory of being able to call her mine again.

“Show me,” she whispers.

I snap out of my haze as the soaked fabric of her panties rubs against the crown of my dick.

Looking down between our bodies I tut like I’m disappointed.

“What’s this?”

“What?” She wriggles more as I sit back on my heels and watch the way she’s desperately trying to rub herself against my rock-hard dick.

“This?” I repeat, dragging one knuckle down the center of the blue lace that’s darkened into a wet strip. “All this”—I lick my lips slowly—“wetness. It’s leaking out of your greedy little cunt.”

She shudders as I drag my knuckle back up, circling over her clit.

“Now I know why you asked for fucking first,” I say as I cinch the soaked fabric of her panties between my thumb and forefinger and pull it up toward her clit so that the swollen lips of her pussy spill out either side of it.

The resulting look is filthy and fucking fabulous.

She gasps as I lean down and suck one side past my lips.

“It’s because…” I move to suck the other side, loving the gasp that comes from her pretty little mouth. “You know you’ll not be able to take my cock slowly. Your wet little cunt’s too greedy. It wants to be stuffed full of it, coming on it as I fuck you hard and fast, doesn’t it?”

Tate whimpers.

“Doesn’t it?” I nip her clit through the tightened fabric.

“Yes!” she cries, her thighs trembling around my ears. “Yes.”

“You need to come for me, Baby?” I choke out, emotion building in my chest as I circle her clit with the tip of my nose, breathing her in, but purposefully making myself wait before I allow myself a full taste of her.

I need to savor it. Burn it into my memory.

I almost lost her.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “Make me come, Sullivan.”

I screw my eyes up, a guttural sound like that of an animal in pain rushing past my lips as I yank her panties to the side and press my open mouth to her.

Her taste explodes on my tongue, filling my senses, overtaking my head, becoming the only thing I can focus on as I sink into her, devouring her with rough, desperate sucks, licks, and kisses.

“Baby,” I utter, diving even deeper into her until her wetness is coating my tongue and gliding down my throat. “Don’t ever leave me,” I beg. “Don’t ever fucking leave me.”

Her hands work their way into my hair, holding on for dear life as I bring her to the edge.

“Sullivan…”

She’s trembling and writhing beneath me, her voice filled with a dizzying lust and wanton heat.

“You taste so good.”

She whimpers, her thighs shaking either side of my head as I eat her out with increased determination.

“Oh God,” she whimpers.

I sink even deeper, lapping up every quiver of her pussy and swallowing down all the slick arousal that’s dripping out of her.

“Come on my face, Baby. There’s a good girl now.”

She tenses, and her grip tightens on my hair making my dick surge with a wave of pre-cum, that drips onto the sheets.

The incredible sound she makes the moment she lets go is one I’ll replay over and over in my head for the rest of my life.

“Sullivan! Oh my… Sullivan!”

She screams. My girl fucking screams my name as she squirts a jet of warm cum into my mouth.

I drink it down with a smack of my lips before sinking back into her, hungry for more.

“Jesus Christ, yes, Baby. That’s what I’m talking about.”

She whimpers and pants and wriggles, not knowing what to do with herself. I clamp my forearm over her hips, pushing her into the mattress as I work her back up with my tongue again.

“Sullivan!”

Her orgasm rolls into another delicious wet scream of my name.

If the band wasn’t playing so loud then there’s no doubt the whole wedding party would hear her.

I’m going for a third when she pulls my hair so hard I wince.

“Need you,” she pants, “inside me.”

I kiss her trembling skin, loving the way she sucks in a breath as my lips graze her puffy, silky little clit.

Tugging her panties down, I bring them to my nose. Her pupils blow wide as I jerk myself off at the same time as I take a deep inhale.

“I’m going to need to keep these.”

“Are you?” she breathes, her eyes sparkling.

“Fuck yeah.”

I drop my hand and scrunch it around the base of my cock, the other cupping my balls. I grunt as I jerk myself off again, this time with her panties wrapped around my shaft.

She watches me with flushed cheeks as I put on an obscene show, allowing my pre-cum to run down the sides of my length and sink into the fabric alongside her own arousal.

“It’s been a long time, Baby. Maybe I should come first before I fuck you. Paint those juicy tits of yours instead. Otherwise you’ll have me leaking out of you for days.”

“I want that.”

Tate holds my eyes, a dirty glint in hers.

I press my lips together in a tortured grunt.

“Fuck, Baby, you’re killing me.”

She smiles and I almost blow on the spot. “Come here.”

I discard the panties aside and do as my girl wants.

Settling between her legs, she widens her thighs on instinct, inviting the pulsing head of my dick to slide through her wetness.

“You sure?” I rasp, hovering on my arms above her, our faces only a few inches apart.

I don’t know why I’m asking. I’ve just devoured her like a starving man.

But this?

This feels like the final part of the puzzle. Like once we do this, that’s it. She really is back. She really is mine.

Forever.

“I’m more than sure,” she breathes, stroking my cheek.

“So am I.”

I hold her eyes as I push forward and finally thrust inside her after months of being apart.

“Tate,” I choke, my voice betraying me as I bottom out inside her tight wet heat.

Her breath puffs against my lips and she takes my face between her hands.

“I love you, Sullivan Beaufort,” she says, her body rippling around me, relishing every inch of me being back inside her, where I belong.

“I love you too, Tate Miller,” I say thickly. “I love you so, so much.”

I press a kiss to her lips, and she smiles against my mouth.

“What is it, Baby?” I rasp as I pull almost all the way out before sinking back inside her with a shudder.

Every muscle in my body is taut, dangling on a pinnacle of losing all control.

“I thought the making love came after?” she says, kissing me again.

This time I smile against her mouth and bring our foreheads together.

“My girl wants to be fucked, does she?”

Her responding gasp as I pull back and thrust inside her with a little more force tells me all I need to know.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say, pressing a final light kiss to her lips before straightening up on my arms and widening my knees so she’s spread out beneath me.

She’s stretched, pink, and glistening, my cock stuffed inside her and making her so full that her swollen little clit has pushed free of its hood.

“Now there’s a sight,” I admire with pursed lips as I begin pumping my hips, watching the way her pussy stretches around me like it’s only just managing to take me all.

“So good,” Tate whines.

I keep a punishing rhythm as I drink her in, sliding my eyes up her body to where her tits are bouncing up and down her chest.

Fuck, she’s right back where she belongs.

I’m going to love this woman for the rest of my life.

The realization hits me in the chest like an arrow to my heart and I let out a groan as my cock swells inside her.

“Tate. Fuck, Baby.”

She widens her legs, gazing up at me.

“Harder. I need you to fuck me harder. Make me forget what it was like during those months where I didn’t feel you inside me.”

I pound her into the mattress, loving the way she throws her head back with ecstasy. Loving the way she cries out my name and her body clamps down on me like it never wants to let go.

She wants me to make her forget.

But I want to remember.

I need to remember what it was like without her. How I almost lost her. So I know I’ll never be so fucking stupid ever again as long as I live.

“Sullivan,” she moans my name, and a familiar tightness hugs my slicked-up cock.

“You going to come, Baby?”

“Uh-huh,” she manages to utter through a panted whine.

“Good girl. Let it out,” I coo, jerking my chin forward and pushing a little deeper so my pubic bone rubs her exposed clit.

She comes with a cry, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to hold my gaze.

“Good girl,” I choke. “Your cunt’s milking me, Baby. Jesus Christ.”

I can’t hold it any longer, as she spasms around me, I let go.

I come so hard my eyes water, and my hearing muffles.

“Tate,” I grunt. “Oh fuuuuckkkk….”

The only thing I can focus on as I unload months’ worth of pent-up sexual longing is her eyes.

Beautiful, trusting blue eyes that sparkle up at me like I’m her goddamn man.

I am her goddamn man.

“I love you.” I kiss her roughly, sliding one hand to her neck and holding her in place as I thrust, making our mixed cum spill out over our thighs. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We’re a sweaty, slick mess of hammering hearts and heaving chests as I slowly fuck the last pulses of my orgasm out inside her. Her body flutters around me with the aftershocks of hers.

I drop my forehead to hers and a serene smile paints itself over her face as we finally catch our breath.

“I didn’t even congratulate your father and Halliday yet. Or say hello to any of the other guests. I’m so rude.”

“Don’t worry, he knows you got here safely on a private jet.” I smirk.

“What? How?”

She waits for clarification, but I kiss her instead. She’ll figure out my father’s the one who owns a private jet with a sterling silver interior soon. He bought it for Halliday as a present so her parents could visit from England.

I’d usually hate anyone interfering with my personal life.

My father knows that.

Yet, he did it anyway.

And I need to thank him until my voice gives out.

Tate returned to me. Us. After the tour. And now.

She came back to me and Molly where I desperately wanted her to be, and where my father could see she belonged.

“Besides, you’re not a guest,” I inform her.

“Oh God. I wasn’t even invited. I’m a wedding crasher!” She squeaks and it’s adorable.

I chuckle and her eyes narrow playfully.

“It’s not funny. There are members of your family here that I haven’t met before, and now they’ll have a bad impression of me.”

I kiss her neck, savoring the scent of her that surrounds me.

“You’re not a wedding crasher, Tate. You’re one of us.”

“What?”

“Family,” I state. “You’re family now. You don’t just get me and Molly; you have to take us all. But there’s no going back.” I flex my dick inside her making her body clench around me. “We’ve consummated your return. You’re mine now.”

She chews her lip, her eyes sparkling.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that. I always wanted a bigger family. And lots of babies.”

I groan and kiss her.

She winks at me and I’m a fucking goner for her all over again.

“Beauforts stick together,” she muses.

“We do, Baby.”

I’m already growing hard inside her again at her mention of babies. The idea of Tate with a baby bump, growing a little brother or sister for Molly is like a shot of adrenaline to my dick.

“But if any of my family think they’re getting even a second of your time tonight, then they’re mistaken.”

I kiss her again.

“Because now…” I start pumping my hips, sliding in and out of her, nice and slow and deep. “Now I’m about to make love to the woman I’m crazy about.”

Her eyes mist.

“I love you, Tate,” I breathe.

“I love you too, she whispers, pulling me into a tender kiss that has my heart swelling.

Our hands entwine, fingers wrapped together as we move in harmony.

Like a perfect song.

One I’ll be playing on repeat.

Always.