My Barefoot Wedding Novels & Stories

We finally had our wedding at dawn. No elaborate ceremony. No hundreds of witnesses. Just Knox officiating in the backyard of the new Steel Vipers clubhouse, with Sienna and Hammer as witnesses. I wore jeans and a leather jacket. Albert wore his cut over bandages still healing from multiple assassination attempts. It was perfect. "Do you, Eva Cross, take this man as your husband? To stand with him in blood and chrome, in violence and peace, until death claims you both?" Knox asked.

God, her legs. They were completely bare. The hem of the white shirt barely covered the very top of her thighs. They were stretched out over the length of the chair, smooth and pale and practically glowing in the morning light. The slight bend of her knee. The soft, heavy curve of her calf tapering down to her bare feet. Marcus was nailed to the floor. His heavy boots felt like they were cast in solid concrete. He told himself to turn around. Turn around right now, Marcus. Walk away. You are getting married. She is your father's wife. You are crossing a massive, unforgivable line right now.

"Here, try this on, then we need to buy you some swim trunks. I don't think my elderly aunts are ready to see my fiance in his sexy speedos just yet." "Ugh, I hate this. Why can't your cousin get married in the city like a traditional wealthy family? This is beyond normal. This is what people with cartoon hearts in their eyes do." He took the shorts into his hands and walked straight to the changing rooms while Callie followed behind him before taking a seat on the nearby sofa. "Well, seemed that my cousin loves her future husband and they want to marry barefoot under the sun." Callie retorted from the other side of the curtain while she waited for Brody to try on the shorts.

After I was done, they stared at me for a while before Emily burst out laughing. “I think it’s brilliant!” She exclaimed. I never allowed myself to hope, but in those moments of weakness when I did take the time to think about it, I had always thought I would have a mating ceremony like the one I just described. The omegas got married in the forest with just the normal forest flowers around them. They had wild flowers in their hair and walked down the aisle barefoot. The wedding I went to just felt so happy that I wanted that same kind of happiness.

It didn't have to be a fantasy or a mere wonder anymore. Because now, we were married. I practically shivered as he ran his fingers over the bare skin of my back. My dress fell around my hips, leaving me only in the little lace panties I’d gotten specifically for the occasion. I’d built cups in my dress, leaving me with a beautiful open-backed design for my wedding dress, and no bra on.

Drew told me of their little jog the moment they arrived, saying she jumped out of the car and ran barefoot for three miles in her wedding dress to get here. “I wasn’t going to miss my own wedding,” she says as she reaches my side. “I would never allow that to happen,” I whisper. “You’re mine, forever, little mate.” Grinning, Fiona takes my hand, and we turn to the officiant, ready to start the rest of our lives together.

I said. “You already have it,” she whispered. We didn’t plan a wedding. Not in the traditional sense. No dress fittings, no guest lists, no choreographed dances. We had a beach, two witnesses, and the sound of waves wrapping around our vows like a promise older than time. Lucas flew in. Priya cried. One of the village elders read a poem in Balinese, even though we didn’t understand a word. It didn’t matter. The sentiment lived in the cadence.

John ran barefoot through the grass in tiny suspenders, tossing flower petals ahead of schedule. And Johnny? He stood at the end of the aisle, nervous as hell and grinning like a fool in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. They didn’t want big. They didn’t want fancy. They wanted real. The sun dipped low as Alli walked the path toward him, her bouquet a wild mix of sunflowers and cotton stems. Every step she took felt like letting go of the last thread of fear. When they joined hands, the world fell away. Vows came soft and raw—promises made with tear-glassed eyes and quiet smiles. The officiant pronounced them husband and wife. Johnny kissed her like a man who'd survived the fire and was fi

The celebration that followed was joyous and relaxed, barefoot dancing on the sand, champagne in plastic flutes, and a spectacular seafood feast served on long tables beneath strings of fairy lights. As the sun began to set, casting the beach in golden light, Jake found himself standing at the water's edge with Emma. "I never thought I'd see Richard Jenkins-Whitmore dancing barefoot at his son's same-sex wedding," she observed with a smile, nodding toward where Richard was awkwardly but enthusiastically attempting to follow David's lead in a traditional Australian bush dance.

Three months later, my injuries were completely healed. Arnold and I had our wedding on a private beach at Tenver Island. We didn't invite a huge crowd—just our closest family and friends. I wore the wedding dress Arnold had designed himself. Barefoot, I stepped onto the soft sand, walking toward him one step at a time. He was standing under an arch covered in flowers, dressed in a white suit, smiling brighter than the sun. The ocean breeze lifted my veil, and my lips curved into a smile I couldn't hide.