Rouge: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Tattered Curtain Series)

Kian

There was a time when I thought I’d never see Lacey O’Shea walk down the aisle toward me.

But here she is, my beautiful bride, gliding toward me in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, all smiles with her gorgeous blue eyes sparkling back at me. Half of her strawberry-blonde hair is braided in a crown, tied with a red silk ribbon. The other half flows in loose curls behind her shoulders, showing off her low neckline and all the fading bruises I gave her on my boat last week.

Everywhere Monroe touched her, I left a deeper mark, and since then, I’ve given every inch of her the same treatment. That night, she’d wanted me to choke her like I’d done before, but I wasn’t having it. Instead, I stayed close to the surface of her fair skin so I wouldn’t reinjure the muscles in her throat while I erased the marks another man made. As soon as I see mine on her now, I smirk and she gives me a coy smile back.

Moira O’Shea was appalled when Lacey arrived at her dress fitting with the purple-and-blue evidence of my possession. She was already on the fence about meshing modern wedding practices with traditional, like Lacey and I wanted—not to mention her daughter’s choice in groom—but seeing my hickeys was too much for the woman. She tried to put off the wedding, but my bride wasn’t having it and insisted on the following Saturday—today—or not at all.

Lacey had already verified in front of a judge that our wedding license is legitimate. In the eyes of the law, we’ve been married from the moment I tricked her into it. So this is for the Garde, not us. Lacey was ready to call the whole thing off, but she and her mother allegedly compromised with a high neckline that matched the rest of the Irish lace on her long, flowing dress.

But when I proposed, I cashed in on the bet we made and told her not to cover my marks when we got married. I wondered if she’d be bold enough to defy her mother, but I shouldn’t have doubted my fiery bride.

Moira’s in a bloody state, though. From her aghast expression and reddening cheeks, it seems my wee firecracker didn’t warn her that she was going to make good on my bet. Another rebellion against the Garde from my queen of diamonds, with many more to come.

Fecking hell, I love her.

Once she arrives at the altar, her father kisses her on the cheek and she smiles brightly at him.

The O’Shea is finally home with his name cleared and the true perpetrator of the crimes has mysteriously vanished. Most believe Monroe went on the run after being found out for framing Charlie O’Shea and nearly killing Lacey. Everyone else is keeping their fecking mouths shut, no doubt worried sick while waiting for the O’Sheas and McKennons to enact their revenge.

Despite everything I’ve done for the O’Shea, the arsehole scowls at me before “giving Lacey away.” I couldn’t give two shites what the man who tried to sell his daughter thinks, but thankfully, I don’t have to address it.

He leaves her beside me without incident and sits next to Moira, whose dark red and silver dress matches the silk ties and maid of honor dress in the wedding party. I wish my own mam was here to sit beside her, but I know she’s watching from above, pleased as can be that her son finally found his dance partner.

As Charlie stretches his arm along the back of the pew, he nods to my father standing behind me as my best man. It’s mad to think that just a month ago, we all hated each other with a passion and blamed our woes on one another. Color me a romantic, but I believe love can overpower even the darkest of histories. Of course, a mutual thirst for revenge helps, too.

Lacey hands Roxana her bouquet of red, pink, and soft white camellias. I clasp my bride’s hands in mine, careful of her wrist in its cast and I take in the fading marks my lips made on her slender neck.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispers under her breath with a shy smile.

I lean in, brushing the shell of her ear with my lips as I speak my filthy thoughts just for her.

“Like what? Like I want to fuck you in front of all these people and God himself?”

“Kian!” she hisses back at me and her freckled cheeks turn a delicious rouge that I want to nip.

But the priest clears his throat and I step back to stand across from her with a savage smirk.

“Sorry, Father. Please, proceed.”

He frowns in disapproval. Maybe he did hear me, then. In fairness, he might be right to judge me. Fucking my wife isn’t a sin, but the way I go about it is.

The priest goes into his litany of rituals and Lacey and I are unable to take our eyes off one another as we follow them, ignoring the hundreds of Garde members in the audience.

I’ll admit, it was a power play to invite every family head in the Garde to attend our wedding. With the huge guest list, those that tried their damnedest to keep us apart can see how many support us in—and outside—the society. We are a force to be reckoned with.

It’s been hardly over a week, but I’m sure many in the audience believe they’ve dodged a bullet and maybe even gotten off scot-free, but Lacey and I have just been biding our time. Once she and I have a child, Charlie O’Shea has promised us both that he’ll make the unprecedented decision to step down from the Keeper role and give it to us. We’ll take on the secrets of the Garde and ruin those who tried to destroy us. It’s a long con, but I’m a patient man. I had to be to wait for Lacey. And hell, if all goes well right after this, I’ll have a McKennon in her tonight.

The priest gives me a pointed look and Lacey’s suppressed giggle tells me she knows I’ve been daydreaming about us again.

“The rings? I announced that the couple has decided to exchange them prior to the vows.”

“Ah,” I turn to my father for the rings and catch Merek and Tolie behind him, smiling their support from ear to ear. I return one of my own until my father deposits both of Lacey’s rings into my palm.

When I face Lacey again, she has a silver band for me.

“Repeat after me,” the priest begins and I focus on Lacey’s sky-blue eyes as I take her ring finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed, Lacey.”

Her eyes round at the sight of the emerald-cut red diamond I’ve added to her simple silver band.

“Kian…”

I was expecting a joke about how over the top it is, especially after I made fun of her first one, but she gazes at it in reverence, and pride expands in my chest.

“Your turn, tine,” I murmur.

She inhales deeply before taking my left hand and easily fitting the thicker wedding band on my ring finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed, Kian.”

“And now for the vows,” the priest prompts us.

I keep hold of Lacey’s left hand as I face my father again. He, Merek, and Tolie still grin like fecking fools as they give me their ribbons.

Lacey receives Roxana’s and lightly tugs the red one from her own hair. I take mine from the inside of my coat jacket, and together, we hand all six ribbons to join with the priest’s. Combining old and new might be unorthodox for St. Patrick’s of Las Vegas, but it fits Lacey and me perfectly, and the priest was happy to oblige.

We cross our hands between us, with my left gently holding hers on top and our right hands underneath. The priest gathers the various shades of silver, red, and green and wraps them around our joined hands like an infinity knot. Once we’ve been fastened together, he places his hands over the binding.

“What has been bound together, let no man unbind. What God has joined together, let no man separate.”

With my bride’s hands securely in mine, it truly feels like it’s just the two of us.

I stand straighter and lightly squeeze her hands, careful of her cast. Even though this wedding is for the Garde, now that we’re in front of everyone who thinks they matter, I want them to know how important she is.

“Lacey O’Shea, from the moment you were promised to me, I knew you were mine. Outside forces tried to separate us, but as I’ve said before, cha robh dithis riamh a’ fadadh teine nach do las eatarra. A fire lit between us when we’d never met before, and we’ve proven that nothing can keep our two flames apart.

“I’ll have you. I’ll hold you in sickness and in health. We’ll live, we’ll thrive, and we’ll fight to keep those flames burning. You’re the love I always believed in. You’re my queen of diamonds, and I’m your ace of hearts. Here to fight your battles and stand beside you when you want to fight your own. Is tú mo rogha, Lacey. You are the one I choose.”

Her eyes glitter with happy tears by the time I finish. When the priest turns to her to have her repeat after him, she interrupts him.

“I-I’ve got my own this time, actually.”

Even though my poker face is one of the best, I can’t stop myself from splitting into a broad smile. My wife is full of surprises.

During our brief rehearsal earlier today, she never mentioned doing her own vows. Granted, I was quite preoccupied with scoping out the back rooms of the sanctuary to pay proper attention.

The priest waits for me nervously because she went off-script, as if I would stop my own wife from saying how she feels. I cut a glare at him in response. He’s a Garde priest and a McKennon supporter, but that sexist shite stops now. My wife is my equal. My partner in crime.

She ignores the priest and lightly clears her throat.

“Kian McKennon, I didn’t know who you were when we first met, but the rest that followed, I couldn’t have gotten through without you.” There’s a pang in my chest at the harsh reality of her words, but she keeps going and I don’t dare stop her now. “You held my hand in the shadows and led me into our light. You are the man I want by my side. To have and to hold. To raise a family. You said, ‘is tú mo rogha.’ I remember when you taught me that phrase.”

My brows lift slightly and my cock twitches at the memory of the moment I taught the phrase to her as her “safe word.” A smile forms on my lips as my heart races to hear what she says next.

“Those words mean safety to me now, just like you do. I want to live my dreams by your side. I’m your diamond, but you have my heart. Now and forever.”

My chest swells and I lean in to kiss her, but the priest throws his hand out.

I glare at it and rumble low, “Get your hand out of my way, Father, or I’ll break it. What God has joined together, let no man separate, yeah? Nothing comes between me and my wife.”

The priest’s eyes widen and he yanks his arm out from between us before blurting to the congregation.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”

Just as she did during our first wedding, I kiss her before the priest can finish. Her tongue teases the seam of my lips and I encircle her waist with my arm to bring her closer. My hand cradles the back of her head to gingerly tip her chin up so I can get an even better angle.

The organ rushes to play and the crowd stands and cheers. When Lacey wraps her arms around my neck, I lift her in a bridal carry and rush to the side, completely bypassing the aisle.

“Mr. McKennon, that’s not where—” the priest calls, but my father laughs beside him.

“Let it go, Father. The lad’s on a mission. Also might not want to go back there for a while, if you know what I mean. Rest assured, if they break something, we’ll add it to the tithe tenfold.”

“Got that fecking right,” I mutter, making Lacey laugh against my lips.

I back into the annex room door that I found earlier today, pushing it open to dip inside. I can’t wait any longer for her.

Despite the fact that she was a rebel about the Garde’s archaic rules before marriage, she put her foot down after I proposed to her on the boat. She refused to have sex with me again until our wedding night, and although I managed to bend her rules a wee bit, we didn’t break them. It’s been barely more than a week, but it’s felt like a goddamn eternity.

“Kian! The guests! The reception. We have to go mingle.” She giggles.

“Oh, you and I are going to fecking mingle, Lacey McKennon. You told me we had to wait until after our wedding. Well, that was our wedding, wife, and I’m not waiting another second.”

I push aside the vestments and robes that were hastily stacked on the communion table. Mrs. O’Shea made the church move the altar because it “didn’t fit with the aesthetic of the wedding.” I thought it was a ridiculous ask then, but I have to admit, I’m grateful for it now.

Once there’s a spot for Lacey, I set her on top as gingerly as I can manage with the desire riding me right now. I dive my tongue into her eager mouth and spread her legs to fit myself between them.

“Kian, God, I’ve missed you.”

“It’s your fault, tine. I would never torture you so brutally, but now you’re going to pay for making me wait.”

Before she can protest, I kneel in front of her and push her long, flowing dress up. My mouth waters at the sight of her bare pussy already gleaming for me.

My voice is rough, “You’re not wearing panties underneath your wedding dress?”

She smirks down at me. “Let’s just say I had a feeling where this night would go.”

I grip her arse underneath her dress and pull her forward for my feast.

Her thighs drape over my shoulders as I swipe my tongue up her center, already damp with arousal. My thumb massages her clit, but I use my mouth on her entrance, soaking it with my own spit to get her ready for me. My wife sits on the communion table, and I dine on her like she’s my last fecking supper.

She cries out and tugs my hair, sending pleasure-pain shooting down my spine and straight into my cock.

“Jesus Christ, that feels so good.”

“Go ahead and pray, baby. You’re going to need it.”

“How do I already want to come? Oh my god, you were right. It was too long to wait.”

My tongue twirls around her clit, making her moan my name and her thighs tense against my ears. I shove my tongue as deep as I can inside her core and curve it up while my thumb works her clit furiously.

But when her voice pitches higher and her dancer’s legs begin to tighten around my head, I rip myself away from her.

“Kian! What the hell?”

“That’s what you get for denying me.” I smack her inner thigh, making her hiss and glare at me as I stand. “Now you’ll get no mercy from me, wife.”

I quickly free my cock from my slacks and her eyes widen. The barbell I know she fecking loves is already glistening thanks to the precum weeping from my tip.

When I glance up, she’s licking her greedy lips with all her focus still on my cock. I wrap my hand around her nape and capture her gaze.

“I have half a mind to make you get on your knees and apologize properly, but I’ve missed your sweet pussy for too goddamn long.”

On the last word, I shove into her cunt in one thrust. She’s already drenched from my mouth and her own arousal, so I don’t give her time to adjust to my size or my piercing, and I pump into her at a fierce speed. Despite my threat, I’m careful with the rest of her, making sure I don’t reinjure anywhere that’s tender even as I drive into her already swollen pussy with long strokes.

She hooks her arms around me and scratches my nape with her uninjured hand. When her pussy begins to flutter around my length, she tries to tug me closer with her stilettos on my back, but I spank her just below her arse. She mewls her submission before relaxing around me and I smile wickedly as I fuck the rebel out of my fiery wife.

“Say it, tine.” I kiss her neck where I’ve marked her so many times already. “Say it for me.”

She doesn’t need her safe word, but she knows what I’m asking for anyway.

“Is tú mo rogha, Kian. Always.”

A growl of approval rumbles from my chest and I drive into her so hard that the table slams against the wall with every pounding thrust. She cries out my name over and over until her pussy squeezes the fecking life out of me, setting us both off.

She moans my name before biting my neck above my collar like she’s trying not to scream. Her fingers squeeze my suit jacket right over her tattooed bite on my forearm, and I lose my rhythm entirely.

What should be pain becomes instant euphoria and ripples through my body straight to my cock. On my last thrust, I shove into her, sealing myself inside her tight pussy as I fill her with my cum.

We’ve talked about getting pregnant right away. The doctor said once she has surgery on her wrist and recovers, it will take her a while to be at peak dance performance. It was Lacey’s idea to try for a baby in the meantime.

I splay my hand over her lower belly and whisper into her ear. “If fucking on a communion table doesn’t get us pregnant, I don’t know what will.”

She laughs against my neck and pulls away to kiss me. I remain locked inside her, making sure all my cum stays where it needs to.

“I’m up for trying again and again until it works.” She giggles. My cock jolts at the sound, making her pussy contract in kind and we both hiss at the pleasure before I reply.

“We’ll try again and again and again. Whether it does or doesn’t work, I’ll still kneel to worship this sweet cunt to show your body my appreciation.” I brush a chaste kiss over her lips before I meet her eyes. “But no matter what happens, you’re following your dream.”

Her eyes light up and a hopeful smile lifts her freckled cheeks. “You’re part of that dream now, too, you know.”

“You’re bloody right I am, and I’m following you every step of the way.”

“Don’t follow. Walk beside me.” She smiles and pulls at my tie, tugging me closer to whisper against my lips, “I love you, Kian McKennon. Is tú mo rogha.”

“I love you, too, Lace. I chose you then, I choose you now, and I’ll choose you every day from here on out, mo thine. Is tú mo rogha.”

~ END ~