"Good," he says, his voice uncharacteristically husky. "Because I was going to keep asking until you said yes."
I wrap my legs around him and pull him close, reaching my hands down to help him unfasten and unzip his pants.
"Not so fast, little lady," he whispers, planting a kiss on my lips and trailing a warm, wet path with his mouth down my neck and across my chest. "Help me get this dress off of you."
With a little bit of shimmying and unzipping and awkward giggling, we work my dress off over my head, and he makes quick work of my bra.
He sucks one nipple and then the other into his mouth while I watch his eyes nearly roll back into his head. "I've been staring at these things for a week. You wear too many layers over them, you know that?"
"Five days," I say. "You've only been staring at my melons for five days."
"Hush your smart mouth before I give you something that'll hush you up."
"Oooh promise?" I say with a wicked laugh.
He paints wild, open-mouthed kisses down my body, across my belly, and spreads open my legs.
I relax back into the cushions and watch the stars. The feeling of his fingers spreading me open, his soft murmurs, and the sensation of his lips against my most sensitive skin, force my eyes closed.
The way he massages his tongue against my heat is almost too much to take. I reach down and lace my fingers through his hair. His hat has been set aside, so without thinking I pick it up and put it on my head.
He looks up at me and sees me, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "If you're gonna wear my hat then you better let me watch you pinch your nipples."
"What has one to do with the other?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says. "But you're gonna do it."
I move my hands slowly over my skin and do exactly what he tells me to do. I like this side of him. If this is what being married to Smitty is going to be like, then I'm incredibly happy I signed up for it.
He runs his tongue around my clit several times before flicking it with the tip. The fire inside me builds to an inferno, pulling me closer to incinerating with every second. The sound of him gently sucking my clit into his mouth is so erotic that my orgasm flashes through me like hellfire. I release against his face with a scream of feral happiness that echoes across the creek.
"Oh my god, Smitty."
"My girl," he says, keeping up his adoration of me with his mouth and his magic, rough fingers. "All mine."
"All yours."
I hear him opening a condom and when I open my eyes, we're face to face again, sharing a velvety kiss. His pants are history, his shirt is still on, and there's something incredibly hot about being naked underneath this lean, strong body with a layer of material between us.
He teases my opening with the tip. "I'm ready," I whisper.
Inch by inch he sinks into me, stroking in and pulling out, stroking in and pulling out, until he's fully seated. The movement of Smitty's thick cock sets off even more waves of pleasure. We rock and thrust together like this, slowly, lovingly, under the stars, until we've both been satisfied.
"I've never slept outside before," I say later, wrapped up in his arms with him spooned up behind me under the blankets.
"Get used to it if you're gonna marry a cowboy."
"Am I marrying a cowboy, or are you marrying a wedding planner?"
He laughs and squeezes me against him. "We should work that out sooner rather than later, city girl."
I sigh. "What am I going to do with my country mouse?"
"Tell you what," he says. "We can do both. We can live here at my house, and stay in the city whenever you want. And you keep your office downtown if you want to."
"I think I like that idea. Then you can teach me how to work a ranch."
"And I can hire enough people to work the ranch while I help you out with your business. If you want."
I giggle and snuggle deeper against him, very close to drifting off. "Of course I need your help. You're the official high shelf assistant."
We keep talking, planning everything out until we both drift off to sleep.
Nothing makes me happier than planning, except being able to plan everything out with my Smitty.
Epilogue
One year later
Ally
Not a single thing about our wedding is perfect, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
First, one of my bridesmaids goes into labor an hour before the ceremony. I told Wren when she found out she was pregnant, I could move the wedding date up, but she demanded that I didn't dare do that.
"Besides, having a super pregnant bridesmaid is good luck," she had said to me when accompanying me to the wholesale flower market to decide on what I wanted in my bouquet.
I didn't mention to her that my dream spot in the butterfly garden at City Park was booked out two years in advance, so I was secretly relieved at her insistence.
I had a fabulous time planning my wedding with Wren, whose own wedding had been a surprise to her.
When she went with me and the other bridesmaids and my Grams to help choose dresses, it was Wren's opinion that clicked with me. I had always thought my Grams' endorsement would matter the most. I love my Grams, but the wedding stuff brought up all kinds of things she never got to do with my biological mother.
I had Taffy flashbacks when Grams got upset because I wasn't going to wear her dress from fifty years ago. It's beautiful, but it just wasn't me. Too much lace and not enough glamour. I had always had my heart set on a form-fitting dress with some sparkle, some sequins, and feathers along the bottom.
I fell in love with that exact dress the moment I tried it on, but when I came out of the dressing room, everyone was underwhelmed except for Wren. Maybe it's the objectivity of someone who hasn't known you all your life. Maybe she didn't think I was getting too big for my britches. Who knows, but when I saw the look on her face, I knew it was the one.
She reacted as if the dress was already a given. "You'll need to skip the veil with this dress," she said, fluffing my hair. "You'll need old school Hollywood curls and an asymmetrical headpiece instead. And simple flowers, not roses. Tulips or calla lilies. Basic, because this dress is the opposite of basic."
I knew then that Wren and I were going to be friends for life.
Later, when we tasted cakes together, I asked her if she regretted not getting to plan her own wedding.
"Not at all," she'd said through a mouthful of banana cake. "Too much pressure. I'm not much for spending money on myself. I mean, I'm coming around, don't get me wrong. Sam gets frustrated because I never think to treat myself. He has to be the one to schedule my pedicures. I just never think of it on my own, and pregnancy brain has made that even worse. I'm having a blast watching you treat yourself and that's all the wedding excitement I need."
Not only does Wren go into labor an hour before the ceremony while we're having our makeup applied at the hotel across from City Park, but she also has to be carried off by her husband, with Wren shouting, "It's my first baby. This could take all day and it doesn't even hurt that bad!"
As Sam carefully picks her up and carries her down the hall away from the remaining bridal party, I hear him mutter something about if it were up to Wren, she'd have the baby outside like some kind of hippie with a witch doctor brushing her down with herbs. "…And no child of mine is gonna come into the world without the presence of a person with an actual M.D. behind their name." Hearing him say that makes Wren laugh and it makes me happy.