Blood Always by Ramsower Jill

Author:Ramsower, Jill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jill Ramsower, LLC
Published: 2020-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

***

We took a handful of photographs—after I’d convinced my dick to calm down, of course. Then we escaped through a shower of rose petals to the waiting Rolls Royce Phantom I’d borrowed from a friend. I’d lacked the foresight to pick something with chauffeur’s glass, which meant keeping our short ride G-rated. I wasn’t one to put on a show. I was entirely too territorial to let other men draw pleasure from my woman. Her breathless moans would be all mine—not some driver’s spank bank fodder.

We used the ride to discuss some of the reception details since I’d worked entirely with her mother on the planning. I had figured her mother was keeping her up to date on the arrangements, but considering the questions she asked, I started to doubt that was the case.

What an odd creature. I didn’t know a single woman who would approach her wedding day with no clue what was happening—whether she was marrying her childhood sweetheart or a man she’d never met. Women lived for their wedding, but not Maria. She was a venus fly trap, sophisticated and deadly, while other women were the pretty pink of a simple garden rose. She may be complicated, but there was nothing boring about Maria Genovese—no, Maria De Luca.

The primal creature inside me purred and rubbed against its cage at the sound of my name tied to hers.

Yep, I was totally fucked.

The next five hours, I was no more than a kid killing time before he was allowed to rip into his presents. Maria played the perfect blushing bride, welcoming guests and glowing with a radiant happiness I knew to be a show. She had sworn to me she could play the part, and I’d been skeptical, but damn if she hadn’t proven me wrong.

I introduced her to my brother Gabe and his wife, Mia. The two women appeared to hit it off rather well, but Mia was one of those people who got along with everyone. Nona, on the other hand, was not. However, she was on her best behavior at the reception, primarily focused on wailing about her Tito growing up and placing unwanted wet kisses on my cheeks.

I treated the evening like a giant to-do list, checking off items as we moved from one to the next.

Welcome procession. Check.

Toasts. Check.

Dinner. Check.

Cake cutting. Check.

We had a dance floor with a DJ, and that was the one bearable portion of the wedding circus. We kicked off the dancing with a sensual first dance to a young woman singing a sultry version of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. I wanted to ask if she or her mother had picked the song, but it felt invasive, even though she was now my wife.

My wife.

I wanted every man to see Maria in my arms and hear the warning in my posture—this woman is mine. Fuck with her, and you fuck with me.

After the traditional first dances, I was stunned to see Maria dance with her sisters and cousins.

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