by J. L. Beck
Ok, maybe Brandon was a little bit right about the lovebird thing.
34
Epilogue
Six weeks later.
My legs are draped around Reed’s hips and my arms are slung around his neck while he carries me into the kitchen. His hands are on my ass, holding me up with ease as he walks through my small apartment. We are both completely naked, as we usually are when we are home.
Clothes are so overrated. We had started going nude the day Brandon moved out and into his new apartment. He decided to stay close after my almost death and is working on getting his own security business up and running. Reed is working with him, they ended up becoming good friends over the last few weeks and are now becoming business partners as well.
It feels good having my brother home, but nothing feels as good as having Reed live with me. We are together every free minute, usually doing something naked. Like we are right now.
“Are you sure you are up for this?” Reed asks for the fifth time.
“Yes, I told you, Dr. Martin cleared me today. I am completely healed and can resume all physical activities,” I tell him again. “Now, bend me over the kitchen table and do me really hard.”
Until now, we were only able to engage in lighter impact activities. I have been waiting eagerly for my bullet wound to heal so we can move on to the more satisfying stuff. I literally have been dreaming about this from the moment Reed walked into my apartment. Every time we sat at this table I imagined him taking me from behind, making the table move with every hard thrust.
He sits me down on the edge of the table, the cool wood on my naked butt cheeks. I put my head in the crook of his neck and start nibbling. In my most seductive voice I say, “Please.”
He takes a step back and looks at my pouting face. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and his all too kissable lips are still swollen from the make-out session we had in the shower a few minutes ago. I’m about to beg some more, but then he grabs my legs and in one swift move flips me around. I almost cum right then from excitement and anticipation alone. With one strong hand he pushes me down on the table. His touch tender but firm at the same time.
I put my head down and grab the edge of the table with both hands. Reed starts caressing my upper thigh, my ass, and my lower back. Then he leaves his hand on my back pushing me down gently. In one push he drives into me all the way. The feeling is so intense I think I might pass out. He keeps plunging into me. Every thrust harder and more powerful than the last. My cheek is glued to the table top and my hands are still clutching the sides.
This feels even better than I imagined it. Every thrust carries me closer to the release that has been building in my core. The table is making squeaking noises on the floor every time Reed pushes back into me. I moan and cry out in pure ecstasy. I’m sure the neighbors can hear us, but right now I don’t care if the pope hears us.
When I finally cum, the orgasm is so powerful that I see black spots in my vision. The tremors of pleasure make my whole body spasm. Reed keeps thrusting into me, until every last wave of pure bliss has rippled through me. With one last hard thrust his hands tighten on my back. I can feel him flex and pulse inside me with his own release. Then he collapses on top of me.
One minute I’m sprawled out on the table, the next I am being carried to bed. Reed covers me up with a blanket and crawls under it himself. He drapes his arms around me and pulls me to his body as close as he can. I think if he holds me a little bit tighter, I won’t be able to get enough air. I don’t mind though, he can have me however and wherever he wants to. He can have me in the bed, on the couch, in the shower, even on the carpet, and most definitely on the kitchen table.
Thank You for reading, I hope you enjoyed this steamy novella. If you did, please be so kind and leave a review.
Ivy Young is doing everything she can to keep it together. Forced into an arranged marriage by her cruel parents she knows she has to escape.
Escaping the church is easy, but figuring out where to go from there is impossible. And then she runs into him, a ruggedly handsome man with eyes that pierce her soul. Instantly, she’s drawn to him.
Bishop Williams is a bad boy with tattoos and a history of being a player. He doesn’t believe in love—until he helps a runaway bride escape her parents and soon-to-be groom.
One look, and he knows he can’t just leave her there. One taste, and he’s head over heels.
Neither of them have ever been in love. Not until now, but happily ever afters are hard earned, and with Ivy’s parents searching for her, theirs may not get a chance to bloom.
Will this runaway bride finally find true love?
35
Ivy
I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror. It’s my wedding day—a day most women wait their entire lives for. For me, however, it’s the one day I can’t wait to be over. Forced into a loveless marriage by my family, I’m drowning in misery.
“You look beautiful, Ivy.” My mother coos, a smile on her lips. I don’t understand how she could be so happy knowing her daughter is being married off to some rich guy.
“I don’t want to do this,” I mumble under my breath.
The happy smile on my mother’s face falls, and instantly, she morphs into the Wicked Witch of the west.
“Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do. It’s all part of growing up. Plus, I don’t understand how being married to Joseph could be so bad.”
Of course she wouldn’t understand. She married my father for her own family status, but none of those things mattered to me. Money, power, your last name—I couldn’t care less. When I got married, I wanted it to be because I loved the person, because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them, not because I needed to up my family's social status.
“I don’t want new shoes or purses.” I shake my head. “I want real love. Joseph doesn’t even care about me. How can he marry someone he doesn’t care about?”
“Don’t be absurd.” My mother shakes her head, giving me a look of disappointment. “Ready yourself. You need to go meet your new husband in ten minutes.” I lift my gaze from the floor, my feet already aching from the stupidly tall heels I’m wearing. My mother slips out of the room without another word, and I let the tears well in my blue eyes.
My cheeks are a soft pink, my lips painted red. I look beautiful, but feel anything but. I’m a fraud, giving into my families wants and needs. At twenty years old, I’m giving up on the idea of love. My parents don't help of course. They've been pushing me into this for well over a year, trying to convince me every chance they got, until I eventually gave in.
Giving myself one last glance in the mirror, I walked toward the door. The dress I’m wearing clings to my body like a second skin. It’s beautiful, but not something I would have picked out myself.
Opening the door, I step out into the hall. The entire upstairs part of the church has been taken over by the wedding party. It’s eerily quiet as I walk in. Everyone has made their way down into the actual wedding area. I walk down the hall briskly, my heels clicking against the wood floor. I make it about halfway when I hear it: a masculine grunt followed by a moan.
What the hell?
“Yes, stick it in my ass, Joseph. Fuck me...fuck me hard…” I stop dead in my tracks, not wanting to believe it.
“Fuck...fuck…” Joseph's deep voice vibrates through me, and my heart breaks a little. He’s having sex with another woman on our wedding day?
On our wedding day!
I stand there for a long moment, knowing what I have to do. Slipping out of my heels, I start back the way I came. I need to run… I need to run far, far away. I don’t care that I’m leaving my family behind, and I care even less about any of my belongings. Does my family really matter if they’re forcing me to marry a man who could so easily cheat on me, on our goddamn wedding day?
Tears swim in my eyes, making it hard for me to see as I scurry down the steps. I need to get out of here before my parents realize
I’m missing.
I walk slow even though my body urges me to run. I make it down the steps, and only then do I bolt toward the doors. The church has many entrances and exits, and I’ll try every single one if I have to. I push the side door open, and almost sigh feeling the chill of spring air against my hot skin.
Voices sound behind me, and I grab at the fabric of my stupid wedding dress to make it easier to walk. I step outside, suck in a quick breath of fresh air before I break out into a dead run. My feet slap against the cold concrete as I race down the small path behind the church. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, but anywhere is better than here.
I hurry down the sidewalk, around the church, and into the alleyway. My heart pounds deep inside my chest, and all I hear is the swoosh of blood in my ears. I keep running down the alley and turn the corner, peeking over my shoulder to see if anyone’s following.
As soon as I’m around the edge of the wall, I collide with a brick wall—a wall that’s warm, and smell a lot like sandalwood. My nose wrinkles and my cheeks warm as I compose myself enough to gaze up at the person.
A man.
I feel his large hands on my arms as he steadies my swaying body. My eyes move up his large torso. He’s built like a brick house. His biceps bulge, and an array of black ink peeks out at me from beneath his shirt.
I peer up at him. He’s tall, his body looming over mine, but strangely I’m not afraid. In fact, I feel safe, which was a weird feeling to be having for being held by this complete stranger.
Dark blue eyes pierce my own, holding me in a trance. He’s a beautiful man, but there’s a ruggedness about him that makes him simply perfect. His nose is crooked, and he has a small scar above his left eye. The disheveled mop of midnight black hair makes his eyes stand out more, and I couldn’t miss the sharpness of his jaw. I want to reach out and touch it just to see if it’s as sharp as it looks.
The sound of feet pounding against pavement meets my ears. I twist in the unknown man’s hold. They are coming for me. They are going to drag me back to that stupid church and force me to marry Joseph, even after he cheated on me.
Tears sting my eyes, and I speak without thinking.
“Help me. Please…help me.” I fist the cotton of his t-shirt, never wanting to let go. I don’t know who he is, good or bad, but I don’t care.
Anything is better than going back.
36
Bishop
She is beautiful—breathtaking. I want to smash my lips against her plump ones and claim her. Her eyes pierce mine, holding me in place. The warmth of her bare skin beneath my hands leaves me hungry with need.
I want to strip her bare and sink deep inside her…
I want to hear her moan my name, feel her, feel her pussy quiver around me…
Why the hell am I thinking these thoughts? I just met the woman, surely I can’t just jump into bed with her.
Then, she whispers, “Please...help me,” and I’m done for. I don’t know her story—why she’s wearing a goddamn wedding dress in the middle of the street—but I don’t care. She wants my help—she needs me, and there’s no way in fucking hell I’m not going to give her whatever she needs.
My car is two seconds away, and I’ll be damned if I let this tiny little woman down. I unlock my blacked-out SUV and open the passenger door. I pick her up by the hips, ignoring the way the material of her dress makes my skin itch. She weighs nothing, but has curves in all the right places. I secure her inside and slam the door closed just as a big, burly man wearing a black suit rounds the corner. There’s a fury in his eyes, and his fists are clenched like he’s ready to fight.
Just try to take her, I snarl inside my head. My possessiveness over this woman is irrational, but feels right.
“Have you seen a woman in a wedding dress?” he sneers, his eyes wild as he looks up and down the street.
I clench my jaw. “Nope, can’t say I have.”
“Fuck.” The man blows out a frustrated breath and turns back around. “She fucking escaped...fucking Christ…” He continues cursing as he walks back the way he came.
Escaped?
The thought of anyone forcing someone to do something irritates me beyond measure. I need to figure out this woman’s story. Walking over to the driver’s side, I climb into the car. As soon as I close the door, trapping us inside together, my mouth starts to water.
She smells like sugar and vanilla. An image of me tasting her skin, nibbling on her clit, enters my mind.
Would she taste as good as she smells?
“Did he see me? Please tell me he didn’t see me. Did you tell him I was in here?” Her words come out rushed, and despair coats each one, pulling at my protective instincts.
All I can think about is calming her, making certain she knows she’s safe—something I’ve never cared to do for another woman.
“Shhh, he doesn’t know you’re in here, and he didn’t see you.” I reach out, placing my hand against hers. Her skin is warm, her scent tantalizing, and I have this strange urge to pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her.
At my words, she calms, but her body still vibrates with fear. What the fuck is going on?
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay you.” She sniffles, peering up at me.
“No need to repay me, Bambi, just tell me what the hell is going on before I go find that asshole and rip him a new one for upsetting you.”
She smiles, revealing perfectly straight white teeth behind her red-painted lips.
“It means a lot that you’re helping me. No one helps me.” Her smile slips, a frown taking its place.
Moving of its own accord, my rough palm cups her snow-white skin and I lean into her face.
My cock hardens, and I have to swallow down the arousal. It has been a long time since I’ve been with a woman. I’m done with one-night stands, done with the whole I pay for dinner and a movie in exchange for some fun in the sack. I don’t want sex unless it means something to me, and I’ve had yet to find someone it mattered with.
“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” I nearly growl, but I don’t want to frighten her. She nuzzles into my touch, making my blood pressure spike. Fuck, she’s gorgeous, and clearly on the run from something, yet she’s nuzzling into my touch like she’s never been touched by a man who cares.
“That man was my soon-to-be husband. My parents were forcing me to get married to him, then I heard him…” her bottom lip starts to tremble, and tears fall from her beautiful eyes, “having sex with another woman a few minutes before the ceremony.”
I want to squish that fucking bastard for making her cry. He doesn’t deserve her tears, and her parents they are assholes. They can all fuck off. What kind of man cheats on a woman as beautiful as her...on her wedding day?
A fucking idiot.
“What’s your name?” I ask, wanting to pull her into my lap.
“Ivy.” I lick my lips, her name swirling around inside my head.
“Okay, Ivy, do you have anywhere to go? A home? Friends?”
She shakes her head, and a few strands of ash blonde hair escape from behind her ears. I brush the hair from her face, staring deep into her eyes. She has nothing, no one, and her horrible parents are trying to marry her off to some bastard. There’s no way in hell I’m going to leave her here on the side of the road for them to find her. She has nothing, no one, and that speaks to me—it fucking screams.
I have to protect her, save her.
“I suppose you’re coming with me then.” I pull away, grinning. Her brow furrows in confusion.
“What do you mean I’m going with you?”
I start the SUV and put it into drive, pulling away from the curb. “You’re going with me, as in, I’m taking you with me to my place. I can’t let you stay here and risk your parents finding you…” I chance a glance at her as I drive toward my home. Fuck my plans for today. She’s more important. “Unless you want to be found? I can
turn around and take you back to him.”
“No. No...please don’t.” She jumps up, twisting around in her seat, her voice rising. My heart swells in my chest. I don’t know her, she doesn’t belong to me, but a part of me wants her to.
“Okay, so you’re coming with me.”
“Why?” she asks a moment later.
“Why what?” I know what she was asking, but I don’t have an answer. I feel compelled to protect her...and that feeling has only grown since finding out her parents intended on marrying her off to some douchebag.
“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me. You just see some woman in a wedding dress and offer to help her? Do you do this often?” A smile pulls at her nervous lips.
“More like never. And I can’t really explain it. I just feel compelled to help you.” I shrug.
“Am I safe with you?”
Her question has me white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I would never hurt you, or any woman for that matter.” My response seems to ease her, and she settles back into the seat.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way if that’s what you’re thinking. I just…” She nibbles on her bottom lip, and I find myself wanting to replace her teeth with mine. The need to kiss her is consuming me. I bet she’s still a virgin, her pretty pussy untouched in all ways.
Fuck, don’t even think about it.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. If I were a woman, I would ask the same question. But...a real serial killer probably wouldn’t tell you he is one, so don’t make it a habit to get into cars with random men, okay?” I wink at her.
