Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“You can do that after the debauchery.”
“I’ll be up all night!”
“That’s my evil plan. Fasten your seat belt, Bottom Boy.”
“Oh, Daddy,” I say as I put my arms around his neck and jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Guess you weren’t as worried about me being too tired to marry you as you let on.”
“I’m only going to be satisfied if you’re wobbling down the aisle.”
“Then I guess we have a lot of work to do,” I say with a chuckle before his lips smash down against mine and I feel the familiar grip of his hand on my ass.
Take me, Daddy!
I’m in good spirits, whistling like a moron.
After the night I had with Daddy Jackson, I’m sore in all the right ways, and I definitely think I’ll be wobbling down the aisle, just as he’d planned. I can’t even sit at the desk in our suite as I work on my vows.
Well, work on them is an exaggeration. Stare at the sheet of paper that just says VOWS at the top is more like it.
The day has finally arrived, and they’re still not there.
The right words were supposed to come to me.
Not just the right words—the perfect ones.
Like my perfect ceremony.
Everything else is finally starting to come together. Catering and the photographer have verified they’ll be on time. The guys are all getting dressed in their groomsmen getups. And Gary is taking care of the little details here and there to ensure the least amount of stress for me, which I greatly appreciate.
Frustrated, I tap the pen against the sheet of paper rather aggressively.
Still whistling, I turn to the floor-length mirror, assessing myself in the tux. My ass looks particularly hot in these pants. “Damn, you really do have a knack for tailoring a tux, you talented little runt.”
The door opens, and I turn to see Gare-bear pop his head in. “Hey, the photographer is about to get here, so we’ll need you for some photos. That work?”
“I’ll head on down.”
I fold the blank sheet of paper and slip it and the pen into my pocket before brushing off my white button-down. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I notice a black smudge across the shirt.
What…
I’ve gotten the smudge all across where I wiped on the front.
…the hell?
I reach into my pocket and pull out the pen I’d been intending to use to write my vows. The top is busted. I knew I was tapping it hard when I’d been struggling to think of my vows, but clearly, in my stress, I hadn’t realized my own bottom superstrength.
Shit, shit, shit.
I turn back to the mirror, noticing the black that’s all over my hands and shirt.
I freeze up, staring, as my thoughts scatter and the blood drains from my cheeks.
Fuck…me…
8
Jackson
I look at myself in the mirror, taking in my broad shoulders covered in the jacket of my dark suit, the scruff on my face that my boy loves so much, and the light dusting of gray in my short hair, and I realize that though I haven’t changed much physically since I met Derek, I’m a different person. That I’ve grown and changed into someone I never knew I could be, someone I didn’t know I wanted to be, and it’s all because of him.
He’s made me happy in a way I never was, in a way I never knew I could be or had been missing. Not that my life before hadn’t been great. I’d been in love with Steph once, and I would love her until the day I died. She is my best friend, but Derek? He’s my heart. He’s shown me possibilities I never would have imagined, and damn it if I don’t start to tear up, which is really fucking embarrassing even though I’m standing in a room alone, having needed a minute.
The door creaks, and I see a reflection similar to mine step up behind me.
“You look great, Dad,” Zane says.
“But?” I ask because I know my son, and there’s some sort of teasing jab coming.
“But I mean, I obviously look better. You have to work with what you’re given, though.”
A laugh starts deep in my chest and tumbles out of my mouth. Christ, I think I might be the luckiest man in the world—marrying Derek and having the friends and family I do by my side.
“Oh God, you’re going to get emotional, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“I might get a little emotional,” I tell Zane, turning around to look at him. “Thank you.”
“For what? You have absolutely nothing to thank me for.” The playfulness is gone, and he’s looking at me with serious eyes that are so damn similar to my own. A swell of pride expands in my chest that we raised such a great man.