by Joanna Wylde
Five months later
Marie
I drove past our old elementary school on the way to the church. Jeff and I loved that playground—in the summer Mom would drop us off there before heading in to work a block away. We’d check in with her every couple of hours, feeling very mature. The familiar ache of sorrow and loss hit me, a stealth attack.
I missed him.
Jeff’d been messed up, way more messed up than I’d realized, but that didn’t change that he was my brother or that I’d watched him die right in front of my eyes. At least the nightmares were getting better. For the first few weeks I’d been terrified to sleep because he’d visit me at night, accusing me of killing him while his brains dribbled out his mouth. Thankfully, I hadn’t had one of those nightmares for two months now and most days I didn’t even think of him.
Today wasn’t like other days though.
I pulled into the parking lot and grabbed my dress bag. Mom was going to be pissed—I was supposed to be there almost forty-five minutes ago but I’d been delayed. The church coordinator glared at me as I walked in, grabbing my arm and rushing me downstairs to the bathroom. There I found my mother looking like a dream in an elegant, Grecian-style, peach-colored wedding dress.
“Oh Mama,” I said, feeling tears spring to my eyes. “You look so beautiful. John’s gonna die when he sees you.”
Her face crumpled at the word “die” and I swore under my breath. Mom was fragile these days and I still wasn’t sure how to deal with that. I was used to her being the strong one, because she’d suffered so much and always survived. Now I’d become the strong survivor.
“You need to get dressed,” she said, forcing herself to smile again. Joanie, her longtime beautician, clucked at Mom to sit down so she could finish up her makeup. Her hair was already done, swept up in keeping with the Grecian style, little ribbons woven through it along with fresh flowers.
An hour later we waited in the back of the church. The last of the guests were inside and then John came out to stand at the altar. The music started and I reached over to take Mama’s hand, squeezing it. John’s daughter Carla walked ahead of us carrying white lilies. She was hard to read and I still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about our families being joined. I guess it didn’t matter, because she wanted her dad to be happy and that was enough to make her overlook our oddities. The wedding march started and I took Mama’s hand to give her away.
It should have been Jeff’s job.
I wondered if he could see us from wherever people go after they die. I hoped he knew Mama was finally happy. Then I stopped thinking about Jeff because the stunned, almost worshipful look on John’s face as we came down the aisle filled my heart. I put their hands together, popping up on my toes to kiss first his cheek and then hers. I liked him. I liked him a lot, actually. He adored my mother and the feeling was mutual.
I stepped back and took my spot next to her as maid of honor. The minister started talking and that’s when I let myself look over at Horse for the first time. He stood strong and tall next to John’s grown son, Paulson. They wore matching tuxes, which I’d never imagined Horse would be willing to tolerate. He’d done it with grace though, telling me I’d find a way to pay him back.
I blushed, because that’s why I’d been late. He’d already started collecting.
They held the reception in the old Eagles lodge, where John was a lifelong member. Their first dance together was beautiful, and somehow Mama resisted the urge to smash cake on John’s face. She hadn’t been married to my father, so this was her first wedding. That seemed to please John in some weird way. I guess he liked the idea of being her only husband. Horse held my hand all through dinner, stealing little glances at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. It made me a little nervous—I knew him well enough to realize he was up to something. That could be very good. Once when he’d gotten that look, he’d taken me up to Canada for a surprise weekend at a gorgeous bed-and-breakfast.
Of course, last week I’d seen that look on his face the instant before Maggs dumped a bucket of water on me from the second floor of the armory.
I stood talking to Denise next to the dance floor when he struck, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me out of the room to cheers and whistles. My mom’s voice was the loudest, something we’d be having words about later. I squawked as he hauled me up the stairs and out onto the roof. Then he set me down and I saw a blanket covered with red rose petals.
My eyebrows raised.
“I get that this is probably some romantic gesture, but what have you done with my old man?” I demanded, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “This isn’t your style, babe.”
Horse grinned, looking almost sheepish. Wow. Didn’t know Reapers could do sheepish.
“Your mom’s idea,” he said. “She said I couldn’t be trusted not to fuck things up. This is the price I paid to keep her from following us up here. C’mon.”
He took my hand and led me over to the blanket, standing in front of me and kissing my lips very softly. Then to my utter shock he lowered himself to one knee and took my hand.
“I feel like an asshole because this is so corny,” he said, shaking his head. He started to get back up and I grabbed his shoulders, pushing them down hard.
“Ouch,” he said, glaring at me.
“Just say it,” I burst out, glaring back at him. “Don’t make me get my gun.”
“Fuck, am I ever going to live that down?” he asked, shaking his head. “You know they’re calling me your bitch at the armory now, does that make you happy?”
“I’m aware. Not my fault I had to save your big, bad, biker ass. You know what they say with guys who—”
“Shut the fuck up, Marie,” Horse said, rolling his eyes. “You gonna let me do this or what?”
“Okay,” I replied, feeling a little giddy. Sure it was corny, but it also kicked ass.
“Marie Caroline Jensen, will you do me the honor of being my permanent bitch?”
I smacked him on the side of his head as he burst out laughing, then aimed my foot for his nuts. He grabbed me, shoving me down onto the blanket and covering me with his body, still shaking with laughter.
“You’re going to ruin my dress.”
“I guess your mom was right—I am fucking this up.”
“Do it right or I’ll say no.”
“Marie Caroline Jensen, will you marry me?” he asked suddenly, looking right into my eyes. I bit my lip, trying to decide how long to drag it out. Maybe a little longer…he’d used the “b” word, I should probably make him suffer. I looked away, refusing to meet his eyes as he stopped laughing and grew still.
“Marie?” he asked, his voice suddenly strained. “Oh fuck, don’t do this to me, please. I—”
“Yes,” I said, catching his eye and smirking. “I’ll marry your big, dumb ass but only because you said the magic word.”
“Fuck? You’re right, that is a magic word. Let’s test it out.”
I burst out laughing, which only lasted for a few seconds before his mouth took mine, kissing me deeply. I felt the length of his erection between my legs and realized that whatever damage he’d already done to my outfit was probably just the beginning.
He stopped kissing me long enough to lift himself and pull up my dress. That’s when he discovered I’d left my panties off. He growled in approval as I giggled, covering his face with kisses while he fumbled with his fly. Then his cock was out and pressing into me, sliding into my wet depths with a singular focus that drove me crazy.
Horse thrust into me over and over, touching me deeper than I’d imagined possible before him. I wrapped my legs up and around his waist, holding him to me and tilting my pelvis just the right way to make the most of his hard length.
“Can’t believe you’re stupid enough to marry me,” Horse muttered, sitting up and lifting my hips, one of my favorite positions because now every stroke drew the round lip of his cock head across my G-spot with a force that drove me insane.
He knew it too, and he grinned at me as I flew over the edge, moaning and arching my back. Two more strokes and he followed, spurting deep inside.
We came down together, panting under the stars, the faint sound of Mom’s reception floating up from the open windows below. After what seemed like forever, Horse sat up and I joined him, pulling down my dress as demurely as possible considering I’d just been fucked senseless on a roof. I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, looking out over the lights of the valley.
“No second thoughts, right?” he asked.
“No second thoughts,” I said, feeling warm and happy all over. Then I held up my left hand. “Did you forget something?”
Horse smiled at me, looking very pleased with himself again.
“Yeah, I brought it for you.” He stood up and walked over to one of the rooftop air conditioning units. He grabbed a small, black bag and brought it back to me, dropping down onto the blanket. Then he reached in and pulled out a box.
A too-big box.
I narrowed my eyes and took it from him to discover that—in addition to being too big for a ring—it was way too heavy. I opened it and found a large, semi-automatic black pistol.
“It’s a .38,” he said proudly. “I know you’re a .22 girl, but it’s time for us to take the next step in our relationship. I think if you start practicing you’ll get used to the feel of it. This is a great piece because—”
“I swear if you say one more word I’m shooting you,” I growled, thoroughly disgusted. Of course he’d buy me an engagement gun.
Stupid biker.
“At least take it out of the box and see how it feels in your hand.”
I shrugged and picked it up, wondering how many anniversaries we’d have before I needed my own private bunker to store my weapons. But as I pulled it out, a beautiful, sparkling silver engagement ring came with it, tied to the trigger with a short thread. It was gorgeous, not so big that it was tasteless but still absolutely stunning. It held a large blue sapphire with small diamonds on either side. I loved it instantly. Horse pulled it loose and I held out my hand for him to put it on. Then he took my chin and looked right in my eyes.
“Love you, babe. Are you still planning to shoot me?”
“Love you too,” I replied, grinning at him. “I haven’t decided yet about shooting you though. I’ll get back to you on that.”
“So you want to stay up here a little longer, just the two of us? Or do you want to go downstairs and show your mom your new bling?”
I laughed at him, leaning against his side as he wrapped an arm around me.
“Does it make me a horrible, shallow person that I want to go flash this thing around to everyone?”
“I’m fine with that,” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “Then you need to call Maggs and Em—it took everything I had to keep them from crashing the reception. They’re having a party for us when we get back to Coeur d’Alene. Picnic wants you to make potato salad. I told him no fucking way you’re cooking for your own engagement party.”
“Really?” I asked. He shook his head.
“Naw, I told him I’d do whatever it took. Love that shit. It’s the bacon that really sets it apart.”
“Baby!” my mom squealed, rushing out onto the roof. John followed her, along with Denise. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait. Tell me all about it! Did he screw it up?”
“Go on, go to your mom,” Horse said, rolling his eyes. He stood and took my hand, lifting me to my feet. Then he smacked my ass, pushing me toward my mom and her new husband. “But when she’s done with you I’m taking you home to celebrate.”
I lifted to my toes to kiss him and then ran over to show Mama my new ring. I decided to leave the gun with Horse.
At least for now.
About Joanna Wylde
Joanna Wylde is a freelance writer who worked as both a journalist and a fundraiser before finding her niche in erotic romance. In April 2002, The Price of Pleasure was released as an ebook and quickly found a receptive audience. Jo is married and lives in north Idaho with her husband, David.
Joanna welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Joanna Wylde
Aquamarine Prince
Be Careful What You Wish For
Catherine’s Awakening
Dancing with Dionysus
No Regrets
Saurellian Federation: Dragon’s Mistress
Saurellian Federation: Garnets or Bust
Saurellian Federation: Gladiator’s Prize
Saurellian Federation: Jerred’s Price
Saurellian Federation: The Price of Freedom
Saurellian Federat: Price of Pleasure
Saurellian Federation: Serendipity
Saurellian Federation: Survival’s Price
Print books by Joanna Wylde
Aquamarine Allure anthology
Glamorous Garnet anthology
Saurellian Federation: Jerred’s Price
Saurellian Federation: The Price of Freedom
Saurellian Federation: Price of Pleasure
Saurellian Federation: Saurellian Survivors
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Reaper’s Property
ISBN 9781419944673
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Reaper’s Property Copyright © 2013 Joanna Wylde
Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky
Cover design by Fiona Jayde
Photos: RomanceNovelCovers.com
Electronic book publication January 2013
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