Chapter 1- Mrs. McAllister
🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Pretty much all of it
Ryan's POV
Mikaela blinked up at me, her eyes locked on mine like she needed to make sure I meant every word. Like she was scared this was the emotional crash after a brutal day and not the real thing.
But I didn't flinch. Didn't look away. I couldn't.
Her lips trembled into a smile as her eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she whispered, voice catching on the single syllable. "God, yes.”
She let out a shaky laugh and pressed her forehead to mine, both of us still damp from the shower, towels barely clinging to us, our skin warm and hearts wide open.
"I didn't think I could love you more than I already do," she said, voice thick with emotion. "But somehow, you keep proving me wrong."
Her hands found mine, fingers threading together like they'd always belonged there, like they'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"I don't care if it's in a chapel, a parking lot, or this hotel room. You're the only thing that matters, Ryan. If you want to marry me tonight..." She paused, breath hitching as her smile deepened. "Then tonight, I'll be your wife."
I didn't realize how much I needed those words until they left her lips. The relief. The joy. The quiet, fierce kind of love that made everything else; every loss, every misstep fade into the background.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I said.
She wiped her cheeks, laughing through happy tears. "Okay, then. Let's get married."
And just like that, the weight of the day disappeared. Because no matter what Vegas had taken from me on that track, I was about to win something far more important.
💍💍💍
Mikaela's POV
Later That Night- Las Vegas
We didn't need a show. No white dress. No heels. No bouquet. Just adrenaline, damp hair, and two hearts too full to wait. Just us.
Ryan called in a favor to one of his team's PR contacts, and somehow within the hour, we had rings, a marriage license, and directions to a tiny wedding chapel tucked just off the Strip. It looked like something out of a movie; twinkle lights, a velvet curtain backdrop, and an officiant in a rhinestone blazer who greeted us with a knowing smile.
"I can't believe we're doing this," I whispered, lacing my fingers through Ryan's as the neon sign buzzed above the entrance.
"I can," he said, eyes steady. "This just feels right."
No posts. No announcements. No WAG group chat meltdown. Just two slightly damp people in love, riding the high of adrenaline and emotion.
The officiant cleared his throat. "Ready?"
Ryan nodded. "More than ready."
We stood in front of the velvet draped altar; him in jeans and a team polo, me in leggings and his hoodie. My hair was still damp, pulled back into a messy braid. And still... it felt perfect.
"Do you, Ryan McAllister, take Mikaela to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
He squeezed my hand. "I do."
"And do you, Mikaela Hunter, take Ryan to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do," I whispered, barely holding it together.
"By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, you may kiss your bride."
He kissed me like the world had stopped turning. Like every second had led to this one. His hands cupped my face and his kiss was soft, tender, passionate, like it held everything we'd fought to feel again. Love. Trust. Belonging. No aisle. No flowers. No crowd. Just the vow of his mouth pressed to mine. But it was real. It was ours.
We stepped into the neon lit night, laughter and love trailing behind us like a second skin. Street tacos. Blinking signs. Strangers who didn't know what they'd just witnessed.
Ryan pulled me against his chest, tucking me beneath his chin.
"Mrs. McAllister," he murmured.
"Damn right."
He grinned. "Now let's go find champagne, a photo booth, and maybe Elvis."
I laughed, already dizzy with happiness. "Only if I get to sing karaoke after."
"Oh, it's already happening."
Hand in hand, we disappeared into the Vegas night. Two rings richer and secretly married.
💍💍💍
Hotel Suite
Mikaela's POV
The door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly the world went quiet. No photographers. No fans. No track noise. No drama. Just us. Married. Dripping in adrenaline, sin, and the kind of love that left your ribs aching in the best way.
Ryan kicked off his shoes and loosened the buttons on his polo, eyes never leaving mine.
"Mrs. McAllister," he said low and raspy, like the name itself did something to him.
It did something to me too. My heart thudded, loud and certain. I stepped closer, one slow breath at a time, until the space between us was nonexistent.
He looked down at me like I was his entire goddamn world. "How the hell did I get so lucky?"
I grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging him down until our mouths met in a kiss that started soft, but didn't stay that way. He kissed me like he had something to prove. Like this wasn't just lust or adrenaline. Like this was home.
His hands slipped beneath the hem of the hoodie...his hoodie, oversized and soft and clinging to damp skin. But his touch, it was anything but soft. It was fire, claiming every inch like he hadn't already memorized me in every position we could manage in a tour bus, a motor coach, and a Nashville recording booth.
My breath hitched as his palms smoothed up my sides, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. "God, you're incredible," he rasped.
I pressed back against the hotel room wall, my heart pounding like the bassline to one of my own songs. "Ryan..."
"I need this off." His voice was low, rough, desperate.
I lifted my arms in surrender, and he peeled the hoodie away like it offended him. I wasn't wearing anything beneath it. That was on purpose. His eyes went feral
"No more barriers," I whispered.
"No more waiting," he echoed, and then he surged forward, hoisting me up like I was weightless. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the hard press of him already against me, his body pulsing with need. His grip was bruising and commanding all at once, like he still couldn't believe I'd said yes.
The bedroom door flew open, banging against the wall, and he carried me straight through into the room and laid me down in the bed.
He hovered above me, his lips trailing from my throat to my chest, down my stomach. "Tell me this is real."
I tangled my fingers in his hair, breathless. "It's real. We're married. You're mine now."
His lips curved against my skin. "Damn right. Then his mouth moved lower and I stopped thinking entirely.
Every kiss and touch was a vow; hot and slow and sinful. His hands roamed my body like he had all night and the rest of our lives to relearn it. He kissed every freckle, every scar, like it mattered. Like I mattered. He didn't just undress me, he unraveled me.
When he finally moved over me, it was with a groan that sounded like a prayer. He paused, foreheads pressed together, breaths uneven. "You're so goddamn beautiful."
I pulled him closer. "Then stop staring and ruin me, McAllister."
His eyes changed instantly; predator sharp, heat rising off him like a lit fuse. "Baby," he growled, "you have no idea what you just asked for."
He ruined me with his mouth first; slow, unrelenting, filthy praise whispered between gasps as he teased me until I was a shaking, begging mess. He took me apart like he owned me, like every moan was his to earn and every orgasm his to command. His hands were everywhere; gripping, guiding, pinning. His body moving with hard, delicious precision, like he was built to wreck me and knew it.
He didn't stop when I came. Not even close. He flipped me, dragged desperate, wrecked sounds from my throat as he pushed deeper, rougher, lips brushing my ear with gravelly promises of what else he planned to do. My thighs shook uncontrollably, overstimulated and craving more, caught between pleasure and the ache of being completely and deliciously undone.
And through it all, he watched me like I was his favorite sin. Like he couldn't believe I was real and wasn't about to waste a second of proving I was his.
By the time he finally collapsed beside me, I was ruined in every perfect, aching, breathless sense of the word. And I'd never loved him more for it.
We didn't stop when we came down from the high. We slowed. Shifted. Found new rhythms. There were lazy kisses and tangled limbs, whispering secrets between giggles and moans, breaking for champagne sips that tasted like strawberries and sin.
I didn't remember falling asleep. Just his hands still on me. His wedding ring glinting against my hip. His name still echoing in my bones.
Hotel Suite, Sometime Around Midnight
Ryan's POV
She was all over me; bare skin, wild hair, sharp nails digging into my back, and I swear, I'd never felt more alive. We'd made love twice already, slow and aching the first time, fast and breathless the second.
Now, she was straddling my hips, her wedding ring glinting under the chandelier light like it had always belonged there.
"You should see the view from up here," she teased, dragging her fingers down my chest.
"I've got the best view right here," I said, hands gripping her thighs, then sliding up her stomach to cup her breasts.
Her laugh melted into a low, wicked moan as she rolled her hips again, slow and deliberate, grinding against me with sinful precision. My hands gripped her tighter, fingertips digging into her skin as she pushed us both closer to that thin, fraying edge between pleasure and complete fucking madness.
"You said something earlier..." she murmured, breath hot against my ear, voice a velvet tease.
"Hmm?" I was already gone ; dizzy, obsessed, absolutely starving for her.
"That you were just getting started." She dragged her lips down my jaw, her teeth grazing my skin before she whispered against my throat, "So show me."
I snapped. Flipped her beneath me in one fluid motion, her gasp swallowed by my mouth crashing into hers. My hands roamed; greedy, demanding as I pinned her down and slid into her with one brutal, perfect thrust. She arched, nails clawing at my back, that sound she made punching the breath from my lungs.
"That what you wanted?" I growled, hips slamming into hers again, again, again, until the headboard cracked against the wall and her cries turned into incoherent pleas.
"More," she choked out, eyes wild. "Don't you dare fucking stop."
I didn't. I fucked her like it was the only thing that could save us; rough, deep, filthy, until sweat slicked our skin and the air was thick with moans, gasps, the slap of bodies colliding in perfect, chaotic rhythm. And still, I couldn't get enough. She was my sin, my salvation, my fucking wife.
By the time I collapsed beside her, every muscle trembling, every nerve fried, she was wrecked; lips swollen, hair a mess, body humming with the aftermath. And when she finally looked over at me, eyes lazy and ruined, she smirked.
"Told you you were just getting started."
An Hour Later
She was on top of me. Again. Hair wild, eyes half lidded, my name a rasp in her throat. Her wedding ring flashed as she braced herself on my chest, riding me like she had something to prove.
Somewhere between rounds, she stole one of my plain white undershirts and using the black sharpie I carried around in the pocket of my fire suit, she scrawled "Mrs. McAllister" on both the front and the back. I added "property of "and my autograph signature.
As much as I loved seeing her wear my name, the shirt had to go.
"I married a menace," I groaned, watching her fall apart in slow motion.
"You married a rockstar," she corrected, hips rolling with lethal precision. "And you love it."
I grabbed her hips, holding her down as I thrust up hard enough to steal her breath.
She gasped, nails digging into my chest. "Ryan..."
"Say it again."
"Husband."
That was all it took. We tumbled over the edge together, sweat slick and tangled and completely, irreversibly gone.
💍💍💍
Mikaela's POV
3:12 AM
I lay sprawled across Ryan's chest, both of us flushed, boneless, and blissfully wrecked. The sheets were tangled, the strawberries were half-eaten, and the champagne bottle lay empty on the carpet.
I glanced at the room's mirror. My reflection looked completely undone; hair wild, lips kiss swollen. The words Mrs. McAllister were still scrawled across his T-shirt in Sharpie. We'd added a heart and a devil emoji during a particularly drunk giggle fit between rounds three and four.
"You good?" he asked, voice hoarse with use.
I lifted my head. "Are you kidding? I'm fucking phenomenal."
He smirked. "We just got married. I had to make sure I left a solid first impression."
"Babe," I said, kissing his chest. "You started with a proposal in the shower and followed it up with five orgasms. You're doing amazing."
"Only five?"
"I stopped counting after five." I hit him with a pillow.
He caught it, flipped me underneath him again, and kissed me until I forgot my own name.
💍💍💍
The Next Morning, Vegas Hotel Suite
Mikaela's POV
I woke up warm. Dazed. Deliciously sore in all the right ways.
The sheets were half kicked off the bed. A room service cart was overturned in the corner. My thigh still had a faint handprint on it. And Ryan was sprawled beside me, one arm flung possessively over my waist, his face buried in my neck like he'd crawled into my soul during the night and hadn't found a reason to leave.
His wedding ring glinted in the morning light; gold, bold, slightly askew on his finger like it had gotten a little too much action.
I smiled, stretching with a wince. "Pretty sure I have a concussion... from the headboard."
A deep, low groan came from beside me. "I told you the champagne would hit different after orgasm number five."
I laughed and immediately regretted it. My abs ached. "I need ice. And a chiropractor. And maybe a priest."
Ryan cracked one eye open. "No priests. Just a very committed husband who intends to make his wife beg for mercy again before checkout."
I raised an eyebrow. "Did we break the nightstand?"
He smirked, sleep rough and smug. "That's why there's a second one."
Before I could fire back, he rolled over and pinned me beneath him, the sheet slipping scandalously low on both of us. His fingers found that spot that always made me squirm. "Morning, Mrs. McAllister."
"Hi," I breathed, looping my arms around his neck.
His voice dropped, all gravel and heat. "You're glowing."
I snorted. "That's sweat and sex and possibly dehydration."
"Still counts." He brushed his nose against mine. "You married me with wet hair, no bra, and my hoodie. You think I'm not gonna spend every damn morning worshipping you for the rest of our lives?"
"You can worship me later," I teased, grinding just enough to make him growl. "Right now, you have a job to finish."
He didn't need to be told twice.
Later....
"Wanna break the internet again?" I asked with a devilish smirk?
Instagram Post: @mikaelahunter-mcallister
📸Photo: Mikaela straddling Ryan's lap on a velvet couch in their Vegas suite. She's in a white t-shirt with Mrs. McAllister written in Sharpie. He's shirtless, messy haired, both wearing wedding rings. Champagne bottles in the background.
Caption:
Married him with wet hair, his hoodie, and halfway drunk on adrenaline. wouldn't change a damn thing. 💍🔥🍾
#MrsMcAllister #VegasWasWild #marriedAF
Top Comments:
@cassielayne:WILD. UNHINGED. OBSESSED.
@hollymarie: Is this a wedding post or a thirst trap?? I'm sweating. Also, I've been planning your April wedding so... do I cancel? jk (sorta)
@brittanylucas:I NEED TO KNOW HOW MANY POSITIONS WERE TESTED BEFORE THE LICENSE WAS SIGNED. Asking for science.
@ryanmcallister14: You wore nothing but my last name and a smirk. That's all I remember 😏💍🔥
Driver Group Chat + Cody
Dylan: Tell me this is a prank.
Bryce: Bro skipped the bachelor party?? Rude.
Dylan: I give it a week before NASCAR throws y'all a party at the track.
Cody: Did Elvis do the ceremony or not?? I need answers.
Ryan: She looked too damn good to wait.
Ryan: She said "wreck me." Vegas delivered. 💍
Dylan: Wait until Radioactive gets this audio.
WAG Group Chat
Holly: I. Am. SHOOK.
Cassie: Mikaela Hunter McAllister?? I need merch.
Mikaela: ...so about that brunch I was gonna host next weekend 👀🍾
Mikaela: We went 400 miles, hit the wall, and still found energy to elope and break the headboard. 💍🔥 #MarriedInVegas
Holly: Be honest...are you pregnant? Is that why you rushed the wedding??
Mikaela: Ryan didn't drink all that champagne by himself 😂 ...although I might be now. Kidding. Maybe. 😉
Boomerang Video: Mikaela in the mirror wearing Ryan's button down and her wedding ring. Lipstick smudged. Hair a mess. Bite mark on her shoulder. The caption scribbled across the screen in red:
When you marry your favorite sin 🔥💍
#WifeMeUp #MarriedAF #HoneymoonCarnage
💍💍💍
Ryan's POV
Honeymoon Suite
After the news broke, the hotel upgraded us to the honeymoon suite. Room service showed up with champagne, chocolate dipped strawberries, and a handwritten note: Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. McAllister.
Mikaela leaned against the pillows, wrapped in one of my button downs, unbuttoned enough to short circuit my brain.
"Umm... I could get used to this," she said, her voice warm and teasing.
I fed her a strawberry, watching her lips as she took the bite, slow and smiling. "So could I."
The race had kicked my ass yesterday. But right now? This woman? My wife? This was the win I'd never stop celebrating.
She pushed the strawberry away and climbed into my lap, her lips brushing mine. "You already spoil me."
I kissed her, deep and slow. "Just getting started."
💍💍💍
Mikaela's POV
I woke tangled in white sheets and warm limbs, Ryan's arm draped across my waist like he had no intention of letting me go. His hand rested low on my stomach. Possessive. Protective. Mine.
I rolled over, chin propped on my hand, and just stared at him. Tousled hair. Bare, tattooed chest. The soft rise and fall of sleep. My mouth went dry. He was perfect and all mine.
"You're staring," he muttered, eyes still closed.
"You're naked," I said, tracing a line down his chest.
He cracked one eye open. "So are you. What's your point, Mrs. McAllister?"
God, I'd never get tired of hearing that.
"My point is... you look good like this. All soft and sleepy and completely mine."
"Damn right I'm yours."
Then he flipped us, pinning me beneath him like he hadn't just vowed to spoil me for life, though, clearly, he intended to make good on that promise immediately.
Instagram Story- @mikaelahunter-mcallister
📸Photo: Ryan asleep, hand on her hip, wedding rings glinting in the morning light.
Caption:
Woke up next to this guy... and yeah, I'm still blushing. 🍓🔥 #MarriedLife #StillGotIt #SpoiledAndLovingIt #PeepTheNameChange
Ryan's Twitter Post
Tweet:
Married life's got a hell of a good start. Strawberries, champagne, and a wife who knows exactly how to keep me on my toes. 🍓🍾🔥 #MyQueen #ForeverStartsNow
📸 Instagram Post- @RyanMcAllister14
Photo: Mikaela in bed wearing only his T-shirt, grinning up at him, the marriage license in the background on the nightstand.
Caption:
When Vegas hands you a flat tire and a forever wife in the same weekend...
I think I still won.
#ElopedLikeAChampion #HusbandLap #WorthThePenalty 😏🔥
Twitter @RyanMcAllister14
No biggie, just married the girl of my actual dreams in Vegas tonight.
Tire luck? Still bad. Life luck? Elite.
#DriverOfTheWife
Twitter- MikaelaHunter-McAllister
Guess I'm @RyanMcAllister14's problem forever now 😇
#Eloped #InfinityTimesInfinity #SorryNotSorryMom
