our eyes into one ring. That took the value from ten grand to probably in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars. The blue diamonds were set down into the platinum though, so I wouldn’t have to worry too much about knocking them loose. Based on the color, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d chose the raw stones and had someone mount them.
And then I noticed the prongs holding the jadeite stone in. They were in the shape of a cat’s claw. Most people wouldn’t see it, but I had right off the bat.
And then, where the gems met the band, the platinum had little indentions that gave the idea of a feather.
The muscles around my heart constricted and I suddenly had more emotions than I could handle. I’m certain it wasn’t this detail alone that made me start crying. It was a combination of all of it — the prop vest proclaiming me as PROPERTY OF FROST, and then the ring that he hadn’t merely walked into a store and bought, but had worked with a jeweler to design something that represented who we are. Green and blue, cat and owl. He’d included something from our human sides and animal sides.
I looked up and met his gaze. “Green and blue. Feather and claw. You and me. Forever. Yes, Frost. Yes. I say yes to us, in whatever form that means.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Frost
The whole thing took less than five minutes, so we still had time to find our way off the stage, let everyone see her ring and vest, and then be standing beside the brothers I’m closest to when we counted down to the new year.
And we entered the new year engaged. I was making Cheyenne mine in every way I knew — by biker tradition, by human tradition as well as law, and within our kinky sex life.
But that meant I belonged to her, too. And so, after I gave her a kiss to remember as we rang in the new year, I told her, “This is more than you belonging to me. It’s me agreeing to be yours. I’ll be your old man, your husband, your Dom, your lover, your owl, and the man you’ll wake up beside for the rest of your life.”
“And I’ll be your kitty cat, your submissive, your wife, your ol’lady, and the pussy you’ll wake up beside for the rest of your life.”
I kissed her again, held her, and wondered just how I’d managed to get so fucking lucky.
She pulled me down, put her mouth to my ear, and whispered, “It’s next year. I get orgasms again.”
I’d intended to make her wait a few hours, but I wanted to make her happy, so I threw her over my shoulder and made my way to the back of the room. I’d give her a few orgasms and then bring her back to the party. She more than deserved them.
My brothers made room for me to walk through, and everyone in the room was clapping and cheering for us when we went through the doors. She beat on my ass with her hands and tried to get me to put her down, but I kept her where she was down the flight of steps, through the hallway, and into my room. I bounced her onto the bed so she landed on her back, and went to work on her boots.
Sex scenes in the movies go from dressed to undressed — you never see them having to deal with boots that take two minutes to get off.
“Unzip your jeans and get your fingers around your clit, kitty cat. Watch my fingers unlace your boots, and know they’ll be inside you in a few minutes.”
Her eyes went a deeper green, her pulse sped, and her lips plumped up a tiny bit.
I removed her boots, jeans, and tiny little thong, but I left her vest and shirt on. I wanted to fuck her from behind while she wore the vest. My cock throbbed in my pants just thinking about it.
She’d gone a week without an orgasm. Eventually, she was going to go a month, then three months. Beyond that depended on her sanity. I’d jacked off so many times to the idea of making her go a full year without an orgasm, but I wasn’t certain we should do it. If she thrived on orgasm denial, it would work, but she’d been so stressed the past two days, I wasn’t certain we’d ever get a