CHERISH Read online

  Cherish

  Copyright © 2016

  by Dani Wyatt

  also included is Promise

  Copyright © 2016

  by Dani Wyatt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover Credit:

  Cormar Covers

  Interior Design and Formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  Table of Contents

  Cherish

  Wedding Night Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twnety-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Baby

  Excerpt from PUSH

  Excerpt from FORCE

  Bonus Content ~ PROMISE

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  About the Author

  A NOTE TO MY READERS:

  I appreciate every one of you.

  This book is dedicated to the lusty imaginations in us all. May you wet your panties at least a couple times while you enjoy CHERISH. XO

  Sordid fun and other dirty shenanigans

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  www.ddwyatt.com

  [email protected]

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  If you like your romance with a side

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  Newsletter

  Click HERE if you haven’t yet read PROMISE.

  I’ve included the entire book here as FREE bonus content.

  If you have already enjoyed PROMISE, get started with a bonus wedding night prologue before diving into the Conclusion of Beckett & Promise’s story, CHERISH.

  “That’s right, let me feel all of it, babe. That’s your job, to cum for me.”

  She’s coating my cock with another creamy orgasm, my name on her lips and her flavor on mine. I can still smell her sex, sweet and heavenly in my nostrils.

  We’ve been at it all night. The first pink of the sunrise–the same shade as her battered pussy–sneaks through, bathing the windows in its glory. They're floor to ceiling in this suite and it's a beautiful day. Right now, if you asked me the name of the hotel, I wouldn’t remember. Every one of my brain cells is engaged in the wedding night activity of spraying my seed inside my wife until I’m sprouted in her womb.

  I’m a driven, single-minded fuck and her pleasure is my duty. My dick has his own agenda as well. I haven’t cum anywhere but inside her for the last ten hours of marathon pussy-eating and bride worship. Who knows, there could be a little Beck or Beck-ette inside her already, but I’m an overachiever. Nothing makes me hotter than the thought of claiming her in a way everyone can see.

  Jesus, look at her. The sunrise is no match for her beauty.

  “Slow, I want to watch your pussy work.”

  “I need to cum,” she whispers, her voice raw from hours of orgasm and screaming my name.

  “Cum for me then. Get those fingers down between your legs and touch yourself. Make your pussy rock my cock.”

  I can’t decide which view of her I like best when we fuck. They are all divine, but this way, with me sitting, leaning back on the fifty fucking pillows upon this massive honeymoon bed, certainly has its benefits. She’s facing away from me, gliding her slick, sore cunt up and down my ever-ready dick, leaning her body forward while she moans pleasure and pain. Her hands are squeezing the tops of my legs for support. My fingers are spreading her ass cheeks, pulling them apart so I can get the best view of all of what's mine.

  Promise chokes out a little fuck-hurt sound as she lifts one hand and settles it gingerly on her swollen, pink slit. Her fingers start rubbing and her hips sway and pulse as she pants. Her lush ass is bouncing in time with her movements and I’m mesmerized by the way her pussy opens and pulls my thick meat in and out.

  She’s got me so hard, the vein on the top side of my dick looks like a damn tendon standing up. Her tight-as-hell snatch is stroking me off and my balls are giving me that tingle for the tenth time since I practically knocked the fucking door down to get my bride into this suite, to lay her down and spread her legs. I’m loading up another deep delivery of seed and I know she's ready for it.

  “Good girl, take it all, babe. I’m the only one that will ever give you this. My wife cums for only me.”

  Her fingers circle her clit while she bleats. They dip down on her down-stroke, tapping at the base of my cock and sending jolts of pleasure all the way down into my damn toes.

  My eyes are fixed on where we connect. There is nothing more magical nor stunning than watching our bodies move together like this. Slick and dripping with her juice and my cum, my fat cock is glistening and she’s soaking us both from above.

  There’s a silence even in the sex noises around us, an ethereal thread winding through our coupling, like the universe. Sure, we’re breathing hard; Promise is making her magical sounds and our bodies slap and slip together, but there’s still a stillness. It's something close to divine, being with your woman like this. Not any woman, your woman.

  There’s only one of those, and if you are lucky enough to find her then everything and everyone else that came before is a joke, a lukewarm version of touching the surface of the sun. Every time I cum inside her, I’m giving her a part of my soul. She can have it all—it belongs to her already.

  “Beck . . .” she mutters in half-pain, half-ecstasy.

  “Take what’s yours and give me what’s mine.” My voice catches as her pussy latches on, milking me with the first grip of her orgasm. “That’s my girl. Give me that cum; I want it all.” I quickly loose one hand from her ass, suck my thumb in my mouth–getting it spit slick–and then glide it slow and
easy into her tight little asshole as she lifts off.

  Her hand between her legs stops its rhythmic self pleasure. She drops her fingers lower and gives my balls a gentle squeeze, and the next thing I know we are both praising the damn Lord.

  The walls of her snatch open and slam shut on my dick, over and over again with her climax. I’m right behind her. My balls empty until it’s all dry heaves but she’s racking up a few layers of multiple orgasms and I pulse my thumb in and out of her ass until she’s covered in sweat, quivering and panting.

  Listening to her cum, knowing I did that for her, even after all the orgasms she’s had in the last few months, it still makes me feel like a fucking god. I want to give her the best, every time, to make sure she never, ever thinks of anyone else.

  With the sun rising above the horizon, the sky lights up pink and orange. And it hits me that we've just moved from our wedding night into our first morning as husband and wife.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.” I let my thumb slip from her tight hole, listening to her sigh when I do. My other hand comes up to graze down that perfect indent of her spine, watching the goose bumps rise on her heated skin as I traverse downward. Her hair’s a mass of waves and curls held on the top of her head in a sex-messy knot.

  “Good morning, Mr. Henderson.” She giggles and wiggles her ass, my never-say-die dick staying as deep as he can as she leans back against my chest and her hair catches in the day-old scruff on my face.

  “Nothing will ever come between us.” The combination of our fluids drip down and soak the sheets under my ass. I love making her this wet. This dirty. Full of me. “You are mine, forever, you understand that don’t you?” Promise sighs and I don’t wait for an answer. “I’ll give you anything and everything you want, babe. But, I’ll love you so much, you’ll never need anything, I promise.”

  Beckett

  There is no fucking way this is happening. I’m going to kill Louis. Track him down and murder him in fifty, fucking painful ways.

  But right now Promise is the only thing I care about.

  She looks like I feel, like a train just came down the tracks and took her along with it. Her face revealing a mixture of pain and utter disbelief.

  I can't find the right words.

  “Babe,” I say, but the word must have been silent because there is no visible reaction from her.

  The chaos of her suitcase sits on the bed. Tousled lumps of clothes, ready for a honeymoon that will never happen. Like someone hit the pause button on the happy ending to your favorite movie.

  I should be fucking my wife six ways ‘til Sunday right now, that’s what we should be doing. My anarchist dick doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything else; he just wants what’s his.

  A low hum comes from the air ducts over our heads, but it can't drown out the triple time beats of my heart, racing in my chest. It rises until I can feel the stabbing pressure behind each eye.

  “Babe, look, I . . .” I let the words hang in the air.

  What can I possibly say to her that would make any difference right now?

  Promise raises her eyes, but she doesn’t look my way. She looks at the door to the apartment. We haven’t opened it since the fire. It’s still padlocked shut, the master key in the hands of the fire marshal. She's just staring at the door. Louis said he would send a crew over while we were in Fiji. Disaster control. Get it back to new. Only the investigator has no intention of opening it back up. And now we know why.

  She’s just staring at the door, her hands moving randomly like she herself doesn't even know what to do with them. She reaches up and one hand goes to her neck. Her fingertips shake as she starts to zip-zip-zip the tiny gold cross back and forth on the chain.

  Detective Northrup’s voice is still echoing in the high ceilings and in my head. Two minutes ago he was at the front door, blowing up what was going to be the sweetest, breeding sex fest Fiji’d ever seen. My dick primed and ready to fill her sweet cunt with as much cum as it would take to secure my baby inside her. Instead, four little words: Jordan, Louis, plane, and Cairo, have all but destroyed our little honeymoon dreams.

  Promise’s eyes are doe-like and spilling over with silent tears. I try to catch her gaze, try to grab it and hold her eyes while I lean against the metal door.

  Our own dreams of happily ever after filled with tropical water the color of her eyes, a hut on stilts, my tongue mapping every inch of her body are still fresh. But the detective just destroyed all of that. My plans for hours spent lapping between her legs, for sinking every inch of me into every warm ripe place . . . those plans are now a distant memory.

  And over everything hangs this fucking cloud that is Louis. I want to rip his throat out with my bare hands, but I can't leave her. Even though I'm fighting the rising darkness. Even when my vision starts to tunnel, I know I have to stay.

  The two strides separating me from Promise feels like a chasm. She’s right. I told her to sign that custody agreement; I told her Louis was an upright guy—the one I trusted most in this fucked up world.

  Seems like shit keeps coming home to roost on my doorstep, because this is some fucked up, next level bullshit that I didn’t see coming.

  I cross the space between us, then hesitate. Her opal blue eyes narrow, her gaze coming to rest on my face. Her lips tighten.

  “Promise, I’m sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.”

  All I can think of is having her next to me, in my arms. I pull her into my chest and her body stiffens. I don’t give a shit; she can push back, she can punch and bite and scratch. I’m not going anywhere.

  Her hair smells like coconut and ginger my thoughts turn to of being naked in that little hut for the next two weeks. Even with the shit storm that just landed around us, my mind is still obsessed with it. Still wrapped around how I wanted to make sure there would be a baby in her belly before we got back stateside.

  Now that little dream is over. Fucked. I count off the fucked up shit in my head. Her piece-of-shit mother has turned up. Louis is off to fucking Cairo with Jordan, and I have no fucking idea why.

  And from the look in Promise’s eyes, she is about to go nuclear on my ass.

  “How is this . . .” she sobs. “How is this happening? We have to follow them. Right?” She is muttering into my chest and I squeeze her against me until I hear her groan in discomfort and fear. “We have to follow them . . . Beck, we have to.”

  “Babe, we’re getting him back,” I say with as much certainty as I can. “Let’s get down to the station first. See if anything your mother says proves helpful. Fuck, are you even ready to see your mom? Or we could keep her separate from you. You tell me what you need, babe, I’ll make it happen.” I release my crushing hold on her because it’s been more than a few seconds since I felt her breathe.

  “I can’t . . . I can't believe she’s here.” Her voice turns to stone, cold and emotionless. She shakes her head vigorously. “I don't want to see her. I can't.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll make sure you don’t have to look at her.”

  “But I do want to see her, maybe, I think. Oh, I don't know, it's just so hard.” The stone cracks and my little girl is melting against me, and now I’m the one who can’t take a breath. The weight of her life is on my chest—all the times I promised her I would never let anyone hurt her again.

  I can’t be another disappointment to her. My lips come down to rest on the top of her head. I kiss her and breathe in her tropical scent. I'm trying to slow my heart, but it's not working.

  “How can I see her? I have nothing to say and so much I want to say, and I’m afraid if I see her I’ll—” She turns her face and presses it into my chest, her hands covering her cheeks. “I don't know!” she screams.

  “I’ll be right there. Babe, I'll be there with you if you want to see her. But I’ll tell you right now, if shit gets crazy and she unleashes on you or I even think you’ve had enough . . .” I take a breath, steadying my fury. “If I think you need out, I’m pulling you
. You can kick and scream, but I’m not letting her hurt you. Not anymore.”

  “This is all so crazy. It’s like I’m not allowed to be happy. Or Jordan. Like we’re cursed.” She shakes her head. “Jordan. Why Cairo? God, Beck, what are we going to do? I have to get him back. I have to. Why wouldn’t Louis tell us? It’s something bad. It has to be something bad. If it wasn’t he would have told us. Would have let us know.” Her voice shakes and my heart is aching for her.

  “We will get him back. I fucking promise you Jordan is going to be all right.” I tighten my grip around her shoulders, giving her the sense that I know what I'm doing. But my mind is spinning trying to decide how to fix this.

  Promise pushes back against my hold, wriggling and straining to unlock my arms. She lets out a low grunt as her body twists and I loosen a few inches so that I won't hurt her, but I can't let her go. Not completely.

  “We need to go,” Her voice is hard. “Come on, we need to get moving.” But it's like the strain of movement does something to her and she breaks.

  There is a second of pause before I hear the worst sound in the world—one I swore I would do everything I could to never have to hear again. The heels of her palms dig into my chest as she pushes away with all her strength. The raw sobs start and I feel like I might crumple to the ground.

  She spins and her ivory colored hair flies in an arc as she turns her head, wrenching away from me, breaking the last of our physical contact as tears glisten against her flushed cheeks.

  I don't know what to say, but I have to say something. “I don’t know what the fuck Louis is doing. But I know him.” Even as the words leave my lips I’m confused by them. I can't believe I'm defending him. But in my heart, I know that it's true. I know Louis. “There’s got to be some reason; he cannot be some evil mastermind. I would have seen it.”

  Promise is in mid-step, but she stops. She was going for the bed, for her suitcase, but now her fingers are rubbing over her cheeks.

  “How well do you really know anyone?” Her frustration comes out as anger. “Beck, you're the one that said you didn’t know anyone outside of your SEAL brothers. You said that. Have you ever met Louis’s family? Has he ever talked about family? A girlfriend? His past? I mean, what do you really know?” Her voice is desperate. The words come out in chokes between the tears and it hurts because she’s right.