by Violet Paige
I crawled toward her.
“Mrs. Hartwell,” I growled into her ear.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“I just like saying it. Calling you my wife when I fuck you.”
She shivered. “Keep saying it.” Her voice was raspy.
I reached between her legs. She moaned when I touched her clit. My fingers slid between her velvety lips, feeling how soaking wet she was. Eager. Hot. Needy for my cock.
I pumped my fingers inside her while she panted.
“That’s it,” I coaxed. “How many times can I make my wife come?”
“As many as you want,” she answered.
I laughed. “That’s right. I think the entire honeymoon for starters.”
I kissed her shoulder and made a path to her tit. God, she had perfect tits. I took one in my mouth, sucking it deep until she cried out.
“Too much?”
“No. It feels good.”
My fingers were slick with her. I roamed over her clit and she groaned, bucking her hips.
“No condoms,” I reminded her. It was instinct to grab one. I should be ripping into a foil packet right about now, but I wasn’t.
“That’s the deal.” Her eyes opened. “I want you to give me a baby, Jer.”
They were words that scared the shit out of me. I’d never let a woman who wanted a baby inside my door, let alone in my bed. But with Evie panting and wet underneath me, all I could think about was how I would fill her with my seed. That I’d fuck her every day until she had my baby. It should have terrified me, but I couldn’t wait to do it.
My solid cock bounced between her legs. She started to take short gasps for air and I knew her first climax was near. I pushed the tip of my cock to her swollen pussy. Her nails dug into my shoulders as I began to slice into her, with nothing between us. Shit. It felt good to fuck without a condom. Skin on skin.
“Oh yes,” she cried. “Oh fuck me, I’m coming like this.”
I grinned. I could feel her orgasm clinging to my dick as I thrust inside her. Fuck. She was hot. Sexy. And mine.
I began to fuck slowly as she rode the orgasm, but a switch flipped in Evie. Something primal. Something incredible.
Her hips moved like she was a belly dancer warming up for a performance. Where did she learn that trick?
I sucked harder on her tit, releasing it from my mouth before moving to the other side.
“Oh Jer,” she purred. Her hips were hypnotic.
“I’ve gotta see you do this from behind, baby.”
I rolled, flipping her on her stomach. I slapped her creamy ass. She wiggled backward, ready for me. I pressed my dick to her entrance and with a roaring slam I was inside her. The heat was blinding. We both groaned with pleasure.
“Show me,” I growled.
She grinned like a she-devil, and her hips began to rotate. In and out, side to side and back and again. Fuck. I’d never seen anything like it. The spasm in my spine started. No. No fucking way was I going to come this soon.
I reached between her legs, tugging on her clit. She moaned, throwing her head back. I had her. Another orgasm in my hands. I twisted lightly, while my cock was buried inside her.
“Oh shit. I can’t. I can’t,” she whimpered.
“Oh you can, baby. Scream.”
She shook her head. “I’ll wake. Every. One. Up.” She bucked wildly as I spread her legs wider, angling my shaft deeper.
“Wake them up,” I commanded. “Let them hear how I make my wife come.” Shit. I was getting off on this wife stuff. It was hotter than dirty talk.
“Jer,” she wailed.
I had pressed a finger to her sweet rosebud. My one hand clutched her clit and the other was filling her in a new way. I didn’t have to wonder for long how much backdoor experience she had. It was obvious she had none. God, I had married a backdoor virgin. Fuck me. As soon as I even began to breach that special spot, she came hard, screaming like a wild banshee. Her hands landed on the headboard. She held on for sanity while I fucked her from behind, creating one orgasm after another.
I pushed my finger all the way in and she hissed, eyeing me over her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Her breath was ragged. “How did you know—”
I cut her off. “I’m just making you feel good. Want me to stop?” I teased, knowing she loved it. She was so tight, but eager to stretch and learn. Her body yearned for it.
She shook her head. “No, don’t stop. It feels fucking amazing. I’ve just never—”
“Then let me be the first to christen my wife.” I winked.
She threw her hips back and I felt my spine tense again. I was a man lost this time. I slid my hand to her waist, digging my fingers into her soft skin. I couldn’t stop myself from climaxing. I pounded my cock into her, wanting to give her everything I had. I wanted to fill her. Soak her. I slid my finger in an out of her sweet virgin asshole as quickly as my cock moved in and out of her pussy.
“Oh fuck, Evie,” I rasped, slicing harder and faster.
I thought I saw stars, or maybe it was the gates to paradise. I didn’t know. Only that my body spiraled and shook. I breathed her name over and over until I had exploded every last drop of come I had inside her.
I didn’t want to move. My cock was happy right where it was—inside my wife.
Instead, I pulled her to me, lowering us both to the bed, so that our bodies were locked together in the sweaty aftermath of sex.
I kissed her neck. “Think you’ll remember your wedding night?”
She giggled. It was the sound of music. “Do you think you will, or are you worried we’re still too drunk?”
“Oh we’re definitely still drunk.” I ran my hand over her hip. “Drunk, married, and happily fucked.” I laughed. It sounded absurd. In less than twenty-fours I had altered the course of my life. It felt good.
“And tomorrow?” she asked.
I closed my eyes. “Tomorrow we deal with tomorrow.”
Twelve
Evie
When my eyes opened the next morning, I was hit with sunlight and the haze of what happened last night. For a second, I thought maybe I had concocted the entire thing. That would make more sense than believing I had run into Jeremy Hartwell after twelve years, had amazing sex in Bella’s cellar, followed by an arranged marriage proposal, a quick rendezvous to North Carolina, and a wedding in a special elopement inn tucked away in the mountains. Oh right, after flying on the private jet with our own staff.
A dream made a lot more sense than even one of those things.
“Good morning,” Jeremy’s deep voice called next to me.
Shit. It wasn’t a dream. I looked down. I was naked, under the covers, his body wrapped around mine. And it was an incredible chiseled body. Sculpted from hard work in the gym.
“Hi.” I didn’t know whether I should pull the covers up to my chin or make a run for the bathroom.
“Last night was unexpected, wasn’t it?” He rolled on to his elbow, propped up, staring at me.
I bit my lip. “Unexpected. Yes.”
His hand slid under the covers, palming my stomach. I shivered. It moved lower. I whimpered when he found what he was looking for.
He grinned. “I wondered what it would be like waking up married.”
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded as my legs widened and he massaged my clit. I was sore and swollen. I’d had more sex last night than I had in the past five years combined. My body was somehow both in need of rest and craving more of Jer.
“And I think it’s already fucking amazing.” He pushed a finger inside and I couldn’t contain the hiss between my teeth. It hurt in an exquisite way. I wiggled, urging him to keep going.
His teeth nipped my shoulder. He rolled on top of me. He was already as hard as steel. He settled between my legs, pushing his thick shaft inside me.
“Oh Jer,” I clawed at his back as he began to fuck me slowly. He was wider than any guy I had been with. It was going to take me a while to get used
to him. And after last night, it was even harder to do that.
He was letting me ease into it though. He pushed up on his palms. His biceps flexed and rippled. I admired his gorgeous body as he thrust with his full force.
There was a sweet and sexy sleepy look on his face. As if he was still waking up from the insanity of last night. We had been crazy and reckless. And now we were consummating that craziness in the Magnolia honeymoon suite. I didn’t know when I awakened if he was going to consider last night the biggest regret of his life. We were impulsive getting married the way we did. What if he realized he didn’t want the money this way? What if he could have married a woman he truly loved? What if he didn’t want a baby after all?
The doubts were there, but quickly disappeared when Jeremy brought me back to center with his glorious cock. It could do things I didn’t know were possible.
“Damn, you feel so incredible, Evie,” he groaned. He gripped my ass, squeezing it as he sank inside me. I arched, demanding he give me more.
That was the thing I had discovered about him. The more I got, the more I wanted. An inch wasn’t enough. One kiss couldn’t satisfy me. I wanted every part of him. More. I always wanted more.
My knees fell wide, giving him the deepest access I could offer.
“Does my husband like it deep like this?” I breathed.
A bead of sweat trickled against his temple. I reached forward, tracing the droplet. His skin was damp and warm. He ground into me harder.
“What did you call me?”
“You’re. My. Husband. Shit,” I hissed as he pushed deeper, throwing me off course.
He grunted, rooting himself inside me. He explored. He tested my limits. He challenged me.
“You belong to me now, Evie.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. I could tease him all I wanted, but he owned me now.
His eyes fired. He hopped from the bed, dragging my ass to the edge of the four-poster mattress. He stood tall over me. We had slept in a beautifully decorated honeymoon suite, but the décor was lost on us. All we cared about was having a bed. I hadn’t noticed there was a private fireplace or a balcony last night. I had been too distracted by my new husband.
“Deep like this?” he taunted.
“Jer,” I cried when he threw my ankles on his shoulders and drove into me with a possessive thrust. “Yes.” I nodded emphatically. “Oh God, yes.”
He delivered another thunderbolt of heat to my core. My eyes rolled back. I didn’t know which way was up or down. I couldn’t form words, or even remember my new married name. I only knew this man owned my body.
“Fuck, Evie.” There was another stroke of his cock before we both scrambled for more.
I rolled, twisting myself in a pretzel until I was pinned on my stomach, his heavy frame thrusting into me from behind. Holy hell, I loved it. I loved how huge he was. How he canvassed my body with his hands. How every time he pushed inside me, he was closer to coming hard. He breathed in my ear, taking my hands over my head. He locked his fingers between mine as we began to climax together. I felt his balls slap against my clit he was so deep.
“Oh yes,” I begged. “Please, please.”
“Please, what?” His teeth grazed my ear.
“Oh, I want you to come.” My clit was buzzing. Every time he slapped it, electric shocks sizzled to my core. I was only one breath away from igniting under him. The fuse had been lit. It was just waiting to take off around his cock.
“The dirty Mrs. Hartwell wants me to come inside her,” he toyed with me, squeezing his palms around my hands. It felt intimate and close. His voice in my ear. His chest sliding against my back. Our breathing ragged and faint.
“She does,” I pleaded. “So much.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m going to come, Evie.” He trembled behind me for a brief second before the release hit him and he slammed into me.
As if we were possessed, I offered more of myself, sucking him deeper, and he pierced deeper and harder. My core began to vibrate lightly, the fuse had reached the epicenter. I screamed as the fireworks sparked and shot through my veins. One after another, as if the grand finale was finally here.
“Don’t stop,” I whimpered.
“Never.” Jer pushed into me, hilting himself with a final grunt.
We both exhaled in exhaustion. We slumped to the floor together. I drew my knees toward my chest, wanting to hold his gift inside as long as I could. At my last in vitro appointment, the nurse had told me if I could lie still for at least thirty minutes, it would increase my chances of getting pregnant. It had to be the same thing after sex.
There was a knock on the door. “Room service.”
Jer popped up from the floor, looking over the bed. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”
“No. You can’t let anyone in,” I squealed. “Don’t.”
He laughed, reaching for one of the guest robes. I tried not to laugh when I saw Mr. embroidered over his heart. “We’re in the honeymoon suite. I think they know what people do in here.”
I reached up to the bed for a sheet and pulled it down over me so I was covered. I didn’t care if I looked like a kid playing ghost. I didn’t want anyone to see me huddled on the floor after that epic sexfest. Although, coffee and food did sound tempting.
Jeremy opened the door.
“Good morning,” the woman greeted him. “Breakfast is part of the elopement package.” She wheeled a cart into the room.
“Looks good,” he replied.
“If there is anything you or your wife need, let us know. You can always call the front desk.”
“Thank you.”
I heard them shuffling around and then she was gone.
“You can come out now, Casper.”
I threw the sheet off my head. “There was no way I was going to let her see my face, after what she probably heard me scream thirty seconds ago.”
He laughed. He wheeled the cart closer to the side of the bed. “Can I hear it again?” He winked.
I blushed. “Maybe.”
“Oh I intend to. Maybe every morning.”
He lifted the lids from the silver trays. There were pastries, croissants, platters of fruit, eggs, and bacon.
We sat on the floor with the platters between us. Jeremy poured two cups of coffee. I was starving. Other than the few bites of bread in between the Malbec, I hadn’t eaten. The food was delicious.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I broke off the end of a piece of bacon. “Hungover.” I smiled sheepishly. “And hungry.” I reached for the coffee. Caffeine was always my magic fix when I had too much wine. After breakfast I would see if there was complimentary ibuprofen in the bathroom.
“I meant about our arrangement?” He grinned. “Any regrets?”
How could I regret the kind of sex I was having? There was no way I wouldn’t be pregnant in a few months at this rate. It was a dream come true.
“None.” My answer was confident. “This was the best decision I could have made.”
“I think so too.” He plucked a strawberry from the fruit platter. “I’m surprised as hell we actually went through with it.”
“It was your idea.” I eyed the croissants.
“Doesn’t mean you would agree to it.”
“And what if I hadn’t? Would this have been your plan? Find someone to marry and claim your inheritance?” I asked. As soon as I said it, part of me wanted to take it back. I didn’t want to know the answer. Loveless marriage or not, my ego was already involved.
He huffed. “Hell no. Everything fell into place last night. That’s how I see it. If I hadn’t gone to Bella’s, I’d be waking up alone in my New York apartment.”
I bit my lip and my shoulders relaxed. The slight twinge of jealousy that had started to flicker faded. He wasn’t on a quest to find any woman. Last night, I was the woman.
“So is that where we’re going? To your apartment?”
“After this blissful North Carolina honeymoon?” He r
aised his eyebrows.
I inhaled, taking in the room from my vantage point on the floor. “The room is great, but I don’t think six hours at the Magnolia Inn counts as a honeymoon.”
He bit into a Danish. “Why not?”
“Honeymoons are usually vacations, Jer. You know people go to the Bahamas or Mexico, or they do the whole European thing. Sometimes they’re gone for two weeks. It’s more than breakfast on the floor.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “I have to talk to my lawyer. We need to make our marriage public. The sooner we do that, the sooner we have access to the money. I need to be in New York today.”
“Right. Of course.” I didn’t mean to frown. There was a lump in my stomach. It shouldn’t be there twisting with disappointment. What? Did I expect an exotic honeymoon with this marriage? How far off the deep end had I gone? Did sex with Jer make me process information differently?
“You can always take a trip if you want. You can go anywhere. Do anything. I’ll cover it. Have you been to Europe? It’s on me.”
The sour pit in my stomach grew larger. “Thanks.”
It sucked. And it was shitty. But I needed these reminders. This wasn’t a marriage. This was an arrangement. I needed to write it on my hand, or set a daily alarm on my phone—Jeremy wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my best friend. And even though that piece of paper on the table said we were married, he wasn’t a real husband. He wasn’t going to be protective or jealous. He didn’t need me. He didn’t love me. I was a means to an end. A voluntary ticket to a fortune.
“But maybe you should let me know where you are if you do take a trip.”
I stared at him. “I’m not going to just leave. It seems like the timing would be off, don’t you think?”
“I guess that’s true. Not a very convincing start to our story if you take a vacation on your own.”
