by Ker Dukey
Her feet stutter to a stop, but she doesn’t turn around. After a long pause, I can’t help but chuckle when she lifts her hand and flips me off.
“First, we drink beer. Owl roars, slapping me on the back.
God, I wanna stab the asshole in the eye. That smug fucking smirk of his when he scooped me up outside the motel room and kicked the door open, carrying me over the threshold before throwing me on the bed. He hadn’t forced me to have sex with him, thankfully, but that hasn’t stopped me from wanting to rip the prick into pieces.
He had taken delight in the fear in my eyes when I thought he was serious about consummating the marriage. I know it will come sooner or later—sex. However, I couldn’t help but wrestle with the traitorous way my body had reacted to his kiss and the way his erection had pressed into my stomach.
“Well, that went okay.” Slade yawns as he drops into the chair. “Think Owl believed us anyway.”
I nod and flop onto the bed, kicking off my boots. “Although, you could have been less of an ass.”
The prickle of tears blurs my vision, and I turn my face away from Slade. What the hell have I just done? I’m married. As though it only just dawns on me, the choked sob I’ve been trying to trap inside bursts from me.
“Hey,” Slade whispers.
I feel the dip of the mattress behind me but shake my head and curl further into myself. “Please, don’t.” I shrug away from him when he gently lays a hand on the top of my arm.
“It could be worse.” He chuckles. “You could have married my brother.”
I nod, a laugh mixing in with my cries. “Yeah.”
“Turn around, princess.”
I shake my head and wrap my arms around my trembling body.
“Turn around.” His tone is sterner, but his touch is gentle when he guides me around to face him. His smile seems sad, and he wipes at one of my tears with his thumb. “I know it’s pretty shitty, but I need you to know that I will never hurt you. You don’t need to be scared of me.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “What? Were you just pretending to strangle me in the church?”
There’s a flare of anger in his eyes and he clicks his tongue. “Look, princess, you think I wanted this? I’m paying the price for your and my brother’s fuck up!”
I rear back, staring at him with wide eyes. “How the hell was him killing three people my fuck up?” I shout, rage coursing through me with his heartlessness. I’m sure he’s bipolar. One second he’s tender and compassionate, and the next he’s full of anger and cruelty.
“Oh, come on, Avery,” he bites out. “Are you telling me Brenner just attacked you all for nothing?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”
He shakes his head and rises from the bed. “Bullshit! I know he’s a dick at times, but even he’s not that vicious.”
I laugh coldly. “That’s exactly what Brenner is! He’s your brother and you can’t see what he is!”
He spins around and I scramble up the bed when he slams his hands either side of me and cages me under him.
“Be very careful, princess. You may be my old lady, but Bren is my blood brother. He will always come first!”
I almost feel sorry for him; his ignorance will only lead to his downfall.
“I’m sure he will. I don’t expect to come anywhere in the list of things that mean something to you!” I spit. Why the hell I’m getting so emotional over his statement is beyond me, yet a part of me hoped I do mean something to him. It’s insane; I know that, yet I can’t help the jealousy from twisting my thoughts. I hate his brother, and it makes me want him to hate him too. It’s crazy. Perhaps I’m crazy.
“Jesus!” He jumps back off the bed and spins around. Running his hands through his hair, he keeps his back to me. “Married for all of an hour and you’re already a pain in my fucking ass!”
“And you’re already a fucking asshole with a naive sense of loyalty.”
This time, fear renders me immobile when he grabs hold of both my arms and yanks me off the bed. “I warned you, princess!”
I fight against him when he drags me across the room to the chair, but he’s too strong. Forcing me to bend over it, his large hand on the back of my head holds me down.
“Please don’t!” I whimper, struggling pointlessly when he pushes my dress up and over my butt. “Slade, no! Please!”
My fingers dig into the cushion of the chair, and I bite down on the pillow when he rips at my panties, shedding them quickly with one hand.
I squeeze my eyes closed, preparing myself for his brutal intrusion. However, a shocked gasp leaves me when, instead of forcing himself inside me, the crack of his palm on my ass shoots burning pain through me.
I stiffen, stunned when another crack on my skin releases my teeth from the pillow.
“What the hell, Slade?”
He doesn’t answer me, just continues to bring his hand down on my ass over and over until the pain starts to recede and warmth spreads over my skin. Heaviness fills my belly and mortification trickles through me when I feel how wet I’ve become. I squirm beneath him and, again, bite down on the cushion. This time, it’s not to face being raped, it’s to refuse the moan of pleasure stuck in my throat that’s mocking me.
“Slade!” My voice is breathy, embarrassing.
His breathing becomes as thick as mine and his smacks become firmer yet more irregular. Just as I’m about to shame myself and beg him to slide one of his large fingers inside me and get me off, his weight vanishes and I hear the slam of the bathroom door.
I can’t move for what seems like forever, the heat on my cheeks as scorching as the throb of my behind. Confliction twists my mind every which way. I shouldn’t have been turned on. I shouldn’t have allowed him to do that. Who the hell does he think he is? And the fact that every strike of his palm on my flesh had made my pussy twitch has me closing my eyes in distress as I come to terms with what the hell just happened between us.
Someone hammers on the door, startling me, and Miranda hollers. “Put her down for a couple of hours so we can toast the newlyweds.”
“I don’t want to go out,” I quickly say, jerking my dress down when Slade reappears from the bathroom.
“Fuck. We gotta put the effort in. Get your boots back on.”
“No. I don’t want to go out.”
“Do you need me to smack that ass again?” he taunts. My mouth drops open and my eyes narrow. Motherfucker. Is he being serious?
His brow quirks and I huff, dropping to the bed and pulling my boots back on.
Two minutes later, he’s opening the door and dragging me out.
“Damn, girl. If you look a hot mess after one hour, what the hell will you look like by morning?” Miranda cackles, combing her fingers through my out of control hair.
“She likes it rough and me in charge.” Slade grins, winking at me.
Dickhead.
We arrive at a barn bar. It’s full of hicks and I miss home. I never thought I would, but damn it, I do. Life feels like a dream I’m not really present for. The music is country and loud, and the dance floor has line dancers enjoying themselves. Owl orders our drinks and begins mocking a guy who is out of step with the music.
“Would you believe I know this one?” Miranda grins and saunters off to the dance floor.
Slade’s cell phone rings and Owl excuses himself to “drain the snake” as he put it.
Slade doesn’t answer the call and just watches Miranda make a fool of herself. She is worse than the guy who can’t keep up and is doing her own thing, much to the distaste of everyone else. Slade’s cell phone rings again, and he sighs, agitated, before answering with a growl. “I’m busy! What the fuck do you want?”
It’s noisy in here, but I’m close enough to Slade to hear the female on the other end of the call.
“No. I’m busy, and you know the rules. I call you, not the other way around.”
The music cuts out and her voice becomes clear as she whines, “I�
��m horny and you told me not to sleep with anyone else.”
My heart stampedes in my chest. I don’t care who Slade puts his dick in, but after what I’m sacrificing, I shouldn’t have to hear about it on our wedding night. I didn’t want to come out in the first place. I move away from him and study the pictures adorning the wall behind the bar. Bull riding is worshipped here. I notice a jukebox on the back wall and sidle up to it, checking the music they have. I see the Eagles and my heart rate skitters. Hot tears brim my eyes as memories of my mom flit through my thoughts. She would be tutting at me right now and telling me not to lose myself to my own heavy thoughts.
“Hey, darlin’,” a southern accent says, and a person moves way too close for comfort. “You need a nickel?” He grins, his breath heavy with beer. Licking his lips, he looks me over. “You don’t look twenty-one.”
I’d cried my makeup off earlier and look like shit now. Young, miserable shit.
His eyes drop to my cleavage and he smirks. “So, how old?”
“Eighteen.” I’m bored of him, this place, and this stupid charade.
Pointing down at my tits, he prods one. Actually sticks his grubby, dirty fingernail into my tit. “They real?”
“Are you real? Like for real?” I bark, pushing at his shoulders.
Before I can do anything else, Slade is in his face, steam rolling off him in waves. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
The guy holds his hands up. “I didn’t know she was taken.”
“The wedding ring not obvious enough? No one touches what’s mine.”
The room expands around me as all eyes look our way. Owl grabs the guy from behind and positions him near the bar.
“I didn’t even know! She didn’t say anything about being married,” the guy says.
Slade reaches into his boot and pulls out a blade.
“Slade, what the hell?” I breathe, trying to get his attention, but it’s like talking to a character on a TV screen; there’s a barrier between us and my words are not getting through. Miranda grabs my arm and pulls me away.
“What a fucking pig. Did he hurt you, precious?” she asks.
I turn to her. “Stop them!”
She bats her false eyelashes and smiles broadly at me. “He’s protecting your honor. There’s nothing sexier than that. Give it to him extra good tonight.”
Screams ring out and the bartender calls for help.
I can’t see what’s happening because they have their backs to me. A few seconds later, the guy drops to the floor, hollering in pain, and Slade walks up to me and drops something in my drink. I look down and screech, dropping the glass. “No one touches what belongs to me.”
“You cut off his finger.” I gag.
“He was lucky he didn’t put his whole hand on you.” Slade shrugs, curling his arm over my shoulder and waltzing me to the door. “I’ve had enough entertainment for one night.”
“Wakey wakey, princess.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the intrusion of the light threatening to blind me if I grant it access to my retinas. My exhausted body, from too little sleep, disputes the fact that it’s already morning.
“Mmm,” I mumble, turning over and refusing to enter the real world. Dreams and nightmares keep me from reality, and I hope for that little moment longer in the freedom of my mind. Sanity, that’s all I crave. That, and the fiction my mind enables me.
Slade shakes me and I curl my lip, yet still refrain from waking, praying he’ll get fed up and leave me alone soon.
“Time to go home, Mrs. Walker.”
“Don’t ever call me that!” I grumble, tiredness and the images of last night’s severed finger making me grumpy.
“Not a morning chick, huh?”
I roll my eyes, even without opening them. “Sharp guy, huh?”
He huffs. I’m glad I’m annoying him. After last night, I think it’s a given that my actions irritate him. That’s clear from the sore ass I’m sporting, thanks to him. He had no right to do what he did; I’m not a little girl. Even my dad never spanked me. One or two punches to the face, but never the humiliation of a child’s spanking.
“I brought you bacon and waffles.”
As if his words conjured the food, the delicious aroma penetrates my drowsiness and I’m suddenly alert to the rumble in my belly. Slowly opening my eyes, I find my ‘husband’ standing over me, jut watching me. His plump lips are damp and the heated expression he wears as he gazes at me renders me motionless for a moment.
Steepling his fingers together, he runs the tips over his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, Avery. I’m a bacon man through and through. Yet this morning, I find myself craving something different. Something much more tasty.”
His cryptic statement has me frowning, and it isn’t until his eyes drag slowly down my body that I find myself looking down.
The sheet has pooled at the base of the bed and I’m sprawled across both sides of the king on my stomach. The shirt Slade had given me to sleep in has risen above my waist, and the new pair of panties I put on after he shredded the last pair has, mortifyingly, tucked themselves into the crack of my ass.
Heat burns my cheeks and I quickly snatch up the sheet. “I’m not sure why it should bother you!” I spit. “After all, you got a closer view last night!”
His lips twitch with humor, my indignation amusing him. “I can still feel the sting on my hand, princess.”
“Oh, fuck you!” I bark when he rubs his hands together with glee.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he draws a cigarette from the pack with his teeth and lights it, blowing out a smoke ring with precision.
“I’m sure this room is non-smoking.”
He shrugs and takes another drag, yet again blowing out the smoke gradually.
Giving up and refusing to give him any more entertainment, I sort out my shirt beneath the covers then slide out of bed to grab some food.
“So, home, huh?” I ask around a delicious mouthful of bacon. “Mmm, this is good.”
He nods, grabbing his lemon tea from the side and taking a sip. “Yep. Time to meet my brothers, but we’ll take our time, stopping here and there so your bruises can go down more. The make-up is doing a good job but I’d better take home an unblemished bride.”
My belly flips nervously and I wince, the piece of bacon I’ve just swallowed wedging itself into the center of my throat.
“Don’t panic, princess. You’re mine. No one will touch you again.”
“It’s not the others I’m worried about,” I mumble.
His laughter is loud and free, but instead of alleviating my fears, he just smirks at me.
“Is this how it’s gonna be?” I ask, shoveling a piece of waffle in my mouth that’s way too large. “You making fun of me always?”
His smirk grows wider and I chomp down on my food to stop myself from flying across the room and tearing that stupid, mocking look off his face.
“I love it when you’re all riled up, Avery. So, yeah. Maybe. It’s fun.”
He continues to watch me eat and I look around the room for a distraction.
“I love how you eat with such dedication, like you really enjoy it.”
My gaze moves back to him and I shrug. “I like food. Why is it such a ‘thing’ when girls enjoy food?”
“I imagine you eating cock with just as much vigor.”
I choke on the slice of waffle I’ve just chewed. Tears run from my eyes, yet instead of helping me out, Slade watches me with an amused expression.
Eventually, he sighs. “Come on. Time to take you home.”
Home.
My heart sinks. It isn’t home. Some rundown club in the middle of the fucking desert will never be home to me. Like the dutiful wife I now am, I take a long breath and do as I’m told. He said he doesn’t care if I go to college. Maybe this can be a good thing, and with him, I’ll get more freedom than I would with my father. This could end in a positive way after all.
“Well, you look better
than I feel,” Miranda booms as we step outside the hotel room. I thought they would have left by now.
I groan and reply. “I didn’t drink, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Why was that? I can’t put my finger on it.”
Owl roars, waggling his index finger in the air. Miranda laughs at his bad joke about last night’s mishap.
“Thanks again for coming all the way down to celebrate with us. It means a lot to both of us. Right, princess?” Slade wraps his arm around my neck, tugging me against him and too close to Owl, who smells of week old sweat. I’m thankful for my strong gag reflex.
“We sure are.”
“You’re pregnant,” Miranda announces, and I freeze. Is she talking to me? “That’s why you weren’t drinking.” She screeches. “You didn’t have to have a moonlight wedding, darling. Times have changed. We can have babies before marriage.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I bite out, sharper than necessary.
“It’s okay. We can keep a secret.”
“Princess, are you pregnant?” Slade beams, picking me up and squeezing me, making a show of my torture.
“No. Put me down.” I squirm, digging my fingers into his flesh. His eyes spark and he lowers me down, slapping my ass.
“Well, the way you beg me for cock, it won’t be long before you’re giving me a son,” he taunts, and I want to punch him. My head swims with unease. The floor feels uneven.
“Easy there, princess,”
“Are we going or what?” I ask.
Waving to Miranda, I jump in the truck and wait for Slade to say his goodbyes.
We’ve been driving for almost an hour when Slade reaches forward to turn down the radio. “You know I was only joking about giving me kids soon, right?”
I shift on the leather and look out the window. The trees bow in favor of the sun and my arms wrap around myself in comfort.
“You didn’t say kids. You said a son.”
I sense his eyes shift from the road to me and back again. “That’s just men, princess. We all joke about wanting sons.”
I turn to look at him, my stare fierce. “But it’s not a joke. You really do want boys. My father wanted me to be a boy and blamed my mother for me having a vagina, like she purposely made me that way just to spite him, and then when she died, he took out his aggression on me.”
