Chapter One
"It was a beautiful ceremony I think," Lovie says as she sits at the vanity of the honeymoon suite. The small open section lets out to a bigger area with a king size bed that Quentin is lying in. He watches her as she adjusts the seat. Fresh from the shower, she has a towel wrapped around her hair and one around her body. She releases the top one to let her jet-black waves cascade down her back and over her shoulders. The white towel that barely covers her tits stops at the upper middle of her thigh and could hardly close on account of her full rump and more than sufficient hips. It makes him want to get up and rip the towel from her body and ravish her but he can't. He hasn't given her his wedding gift yet. As she lotions her body with his favorite scent, he moves to the side of the bed to the nightstand to fish out her present. She finishes just as he walks up behind her and puts the piece of lingerie up to her frame. They look in the mirror together. "Is this what you want me to wear?" She beams as she fingers the embroidery of the breast cups of the white halter chemise.
He nods before saying; "the white against your milk chocolate skin makes me so hot." He nuzzles her neck then pulls away to sit back on the bed to watch her put it on. He leans up and the soft glow from the room's lightening cascaded over his planed chest and torso. The muscles in his neck tightened as she moved between his legs. He allows the huge erection in his black silk pajama pants poke and strain for her delicious view. She licks her lips and swallows hard before the towel drops to her feet. After she puts on the item of clothing she turns to model it for him. Her natural 42/d breasts look as if they're about to pop out while the hem of the skirt barely covers her bubbled ass. His dick twitches, making her attention to go to his groin. In haste, she drops to her knees and crawls on the bed over to him. It's almost like her mouth is a heat seeking missile and his cock is the target. When she reached the apex of his legs she splays her hands over he silk clad toned thighs. Just as her hands go up to the waistband of his pants he quickly pulls her head back by the nape of her neck. His fingers entwine with the long locks and he jerks her head up to look at him, "You're hungry for it aren't you?"
"Yes sir...I am." she moans as her gaze drops to her object of pleasure.
"Rushing things doesn't get us anywhere does it Lovie?" He leans up and gets close to her face. They can both feel the other's breath on each other's mouths.
"No sir...I just wanted it so bad sir." She whines. His shiny jet-black hair is messy against his forehead and in a disheveled look, a stark difference from his usual clean and professional coif. Add to the mix his five o'clock and he was positively irresistible.
"I know baby I know...but we're married now...we got the rest of our lives. Now wait on the bed while I get the stuff."
"Yes sir!" He can't help but chuckle at her eagerness still after all this time. She is his now, forever and only his and the same for her. He shakes his head as he gathers everything they will need for the scene. His mind can't help but go back to how it all started. His head was in a different place then...
ONE YEAR EARLIER...
Quentin leaned against the cathedral and took a long drag from his cigarette. He looked up at the sky as the rain clouds shrouded around and cast a dark shadow over the church. He exhaled the smoke and said, "Rain on a wedding...Tears in a marriage." Just as he put out the square, the groom for the tearful union approached fast, and he looked pissed. Quentin just grinned and ran a hand through his coal-like 50's slick back pompadour then adjusted his tie to his "man in black" inspired Tux. Custom made, as always. He was slender in stature yet his torso still bulked and rippled with lean muscle and narrowed waist. In the winter he was pale but during the summer he was able to handle a nice dose of sun and not fear burning. Hence his healthy pink/bronzy tone to his hue that gave him a glow.
"Who are you?" Elliott Leary, or Eli to most, sneered once in earshot, "'Cause your not my best man. Can't be my best man!"
"Ah Eli chill out, she'll be fine."
"Who, Cindy or Jenna? You basically screwed them both over."
"Whoa whoa, she came to me and wanted to play a scene. She's the biggest cock slut at the company and Cindy..." He didn't even finish he just rolled his eyes. Eli nodded solemnly before he reached for his own cigarette. Cindy was the Bride-to-be while Jenna was the Maid of Honor. Coincidentally they were both women he'd fucked in the past month. See, they all were players for an online porn site about BDSM.
"But damn man...you really worked her over Quint. She has marks all over her; she looks as purple as the damn dresses man!"
"I know and I apologized to her for that. I-I just needed to work some things out."
"Work 'em out of the girls that like that shit not on the ones that have to be in our wedding dude!"
Quentin sighed and didn't have the heart to tell his friend that she
did
like it. He only ceded, "you're right...but what's done is done and I'll be glad to walk down alone."
"I bet you would," Eli said as they both chuckled. Quentin knew exactly what his best friend meant by that remake. He had a way with a woman that just exuded dominance. What better way to glorify that by walking down by himself. They always did what he said even if they weren't apart of the lifestyle. His banker, the florist; his favorite were female cops. He just about had and took every girl that struck his fancy. His blue-green eyes looked like magical gems that hypnotized the opposite sex. Medium sized soft pink lips that teased and a sharp nose that drew attention to his chiseled jaw made him the perfect specimen for the fantasies of most women he came into contact with. He had devastatingly good looks like an underwear model from the face down to the toned swimmers build. The only difference is that he didn't have to stuff. This gave him almost superhero abilities when it came to women. Asians, white, Spanish, Hispanic, Indians; it didn't matter but his favorite were black women. He had a craving for cappuccino colored beauties most of all but it was hard to find one willing to submit to him. They always got offended and thought he was trying to convert them back to slavery, which wasn't the case at all. Lately, the old porn grind was tiresome and he was left with that empty feeling that a lot of the veteran players talked about when they were about to leave. He promised he wouldn't feel like that ever but the more he denied it the more the feeling overwhelmed him. It wasn't his all his fault though; it was the women he was attracting...they were all hollow with nothing to offer. He didn't know what it all meant but he knew a change had to take place and soon or his frustrations were really going to hurt one of the girls and that wasn't what he was about.
"So what do you want me to do, not walk?" Quentin squinted.
