His Virgin Bride

by Kara Hart

  “Chill out,” he says. “It’s just one surgery.”

  “You need to chill out,” I tell him. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my subordinates. Do you know how these med-school newbies look at us? They think we’re Gods, man. They look up to us. We’re supposed to be their teachers. So when we’re accused of failing or messing up a procedure, they’re going to go back to their rooms and tell the whole fucking staff about it. You better believe I’m pissed. I’m fucking livid. I’m fucking—” I have to stop myself and take at least ten deep breaths before I can calm the hell down.

  “Jesus,” Neil sighs. “You were shaking in there. What was I supposed to do? Let you slip?”

  “I wasn’t going to slip,” I say. I look through the window and watch Scott work his newbie magic. He’s doing good in there. That’s something, right?

  “I wasn’t going to take that chance,” he says. “Look, how many years have we worked together? Remember when you first came here?”

  I laugh, feeling a bit ashamed of myself. I’m starting to cool down a bit and I don’t know how to handle it. “Yeah. I remember it all too well,” I say.

  “I took a lot of risks with you.” He throws his arm around my shoulders and sighs. “You were unorthodox, set in your ways. I had to teach you how to follow the rules. Remember?”

  “I never followed the rules though. I was always set on my own path,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, but every time you veered too far south, I had to teach the basics. I’m not taking any of the credit away from your successes. All of that was because of you. But you know that without anyone acting as your center, you’d be out on a reckless path,” he says.

  “Shit,” I whisper to myself. I place my wet palms across my face. I breathe into the hard callouses. I see her face. Olivia. Fuck, I hate admitting that I’m wrong. I especially hate telling someone else that they’re right. Sometimes you just have to admit the truth. It doesn’t matter how it might make you feel. The truth is the damn truth.

  “It’s fine, brother,” Neil whispers.

  “No, it’s not. You’re right. There’s something inside of me that gets off center every now and then. I push so damn hard that I go a bit crazy. I need to chill out, maybe,” I say.

  “Just take a week off. Stop working so damn hard. You’re going to give yourself a stroke,” he says.

  “Hey, at least I’d be in good hands,” I mutter.

  “Seriously, man. Stop worrying about that girl. Stop worrying about work. Just sit at home, drink a little, smoke a little if you have to. Do something to take your mind off of the real world. You’re going through a lot already with your family. Do yourself a favor for once,” he says.

  I nod and run my hands through my hair. “You’re right. I can’t argue about it anymore. Scott can take care of this. I’ve taught him well enough and he needs to prove himself on his own anyway,” I say. “I guess I’ll just head home and stare at the television screen.”

  “Finally,” he says. “You’ve come to your senses.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter back. I wave and walk out, into the hallway, grab my briefcase in my office, and head home.

  I’ll just head home and stare at the television screen. That sounds nice, to do nothing for once. Of course, when I step one foot into my house and hear the emptiness echo off of the walls, I can’t even bear to sit down. It’s not like me to do nothing. I always have to have my eye on some kind of gain.

  I call Olivia. It’s the only thing I can think of to do. When she answers, I’m actually surprised. “Hey,” she says. “It’s a little early for that date, isn’t it?”

  I check my clock on the wall and it says 4:30 PM. “Yeah, I guess it is,” I say. “But I’m off early for the day and I’m bored out of my mind.”

  “Why don’t you watch a movie or turn on the TV, or something?” she says.

  “Why does everyone tell me to do that? It’s not like the TV screen has healing powers or something,” I laugh.

  “It’s just early! I wasn’t ready,” she says. “I’m wearing my pajamas and I haven’t showered in a day. It takes time for a girl to get ready.”

  “You think I give a damn about what you’re wearing?” I tell her. “Look, I’m coming over, so you better get ready.”

  “You’re the worst,” she says. I’m fully surprised when she doesn’t protest, however. She’s got this chipper tone to her voice that tells me I can get away with just about anything.

  “See you soon,” I say.

  She scoffs but whispers, “Fine.” I hang up the phone and throw on one of my nicest suits. I spray my cologne, the special bottle I save for special occasions. Today was pure shit, but somehow, I feel like a million bucks. Of course, that doesn’t last as long as I thought it might.

  When I turn around, I see him staring back at me. On the dresser, across from my bed is a family portrait, shot at least fifteen years ago. It’s everyone. My mom, my sister, me, and my father. We’re all… so damn happy, which was kind of a rare thing to capture. Family is one of those weird things. You never quite know how to navigate it, but you also know that you want to keep it around.

  My father would staunchly put his foot down, declaring that the bond is everything. I’d disagree until the cows came home. Yet, as the days go by and begin to feel much shorter, I start to understand his ramblings. This doesn’t last forever. Hell no. It’s a blink of an eye, a snap of a finger. And then the curtain is closed and it’s gone forever.

  I walk over to that picture and look at my mother. She’s smiling so damn big. It’s an honest smile, not one of those forced mannequin looks they usually make you do at the photo places. She looks beautiful. The look on my father’s face is pure pride. He’s proud of the family he ended up with. He wouldn’t have asked for anything more or less.

  What am I doing on this earth? Saving lives, sure. That’s the go-to line for any doctor. “I’m saving one life at a time. Get off my back.” It’s the kind of line that can get you out of a traffic ticket. Eventually, that all wears thin. What am I really doing here? It better not be pouring my soul into work. Work is just a means to an end. It’s security. Sure, I save lives, but I’m not a magician. I’m a human being like everyone else.

  I’m not doing shit with my life. Well, not really. When you look into the past, you get an abstract idea of the future. You see what used to be important. Childhood. Youth. Family. These things will be forever ingrained inside of me. I can take one of two paths. I can either let it all go, like dust, or start something meaningful.

  My mind circles back to Oliva. Beautiful Olivia. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not to mention, she’s so completely untainted that I’d be a fool to let go. So what am I waiting for? Trying to continue this bachelor lifestyle will be the end of me. Soon enough, I’ll be in my forties. I can’t continue down the same road forever.

  I take a deep breath and walk out to my living room. I sit on my couch and try to collect myself. My palms start to sweat. My knees are shaking against the fabric. It’s obvious what I need. My father has laid it all out for me. I need something good in my life. I need something beautiful, something stable and nice. I don’t need myself anymore. It’s just so fucking obvious…

  I need a wife. And Olivia is the perfect woman for that job.

  Olivia

  “So when’s the wedding?” Josie texts me.

  “Stop asking,” I say. “I’m never getting married.”

  “So what is this all about then?” she asks. “Just sex?”

  I throw the phone and watch as it bounces off of the mattress, landing onto my pillow. It vibrates a few more times, letting me know that Josie is insistent on being the most annoying friend I’ve ever had. I know she keeps bringing up the marriage thing because she thinks it’s funny to tease, but after hearing it so many times, you have to wonder, when will it end?

  I focus on getting ready for tonight. A nice hang out before
he takes me to a fancy dinner. No sex. I have to keep telling myself. Stay strong, Olivia. But when I think of him, wearing that sly smile and maybe a clean suit, I feel a rush in my body, an excitement I cannot contain.

  When I hear the knock on my door, I’m standing in front of my mirror, wearing no bottom. I scramble to find my skirt. “One second!” I yell out. The door knob turns. Of course, I didn’t lock the damn thing. “I said, one s—” It’s too late. He has already taken the liberty of walking into my apartment.

  I run into my closet, but he gets a glimpse of my butt as I duck and hide. “I love that booty,” he calls out.

  “You promised!” I yell.

  “I know, I know. I won’t do any foul things tonight. I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says.

  “Good,” I tell him. I turn around and dig through my piles of clothes, until I find the white skirt I was looking for. I stand up and turn back around, only to find him standing right in front of me, staring at my half-naked body. “Hey!” I shout.

  “What? I said I would keep my hands to myself,” he laughs.

  “Not funny,” I say. My face feels hot, like flames pushing against my skin. I jump into my skirt and button the front. I push past him and he jumps aside.

  “What’s wrong? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says.

  “You said you’d be on your best behavior,” I say. I stop at the end of the hall. I turn around and see the dissatisfaction on his face. I walk back to him and sigh.

  “I’ll keep my eyes off you and my hands to myself. There. Happy?” he asks.

  I bounce on the edge of my toes and feel my heel hit the ground three times before speaking. “I don’t know,” I say.

  “What don’t you know?” he asks me. I stand close to him. Our fingers are inches away from each other.

  “Things,” I say.

  “Pretty vague,” he smiles.

  I look away and focus on the spinning fan above us. I look back at him and make up my mind. “Maybe you shouldn’t keep your hands to yourself,” I say. “Maybe it’s not nice to do that.”

  I feel my fingers twitch forward. They graze his own. He grabs ahold of my index finger and pulls me forward. I can’t stop looking at his lips. I can’t help but want to reach out and touch his abdomen again, to feel the muscular ripples. We both lean forward and I know I’m about to feel bliss. We’re going to take this to my bedroom. He’s going to take me, again and again, and promise me the world. He’s going to—

  Right when his lips are millimeters from mine, something happens. He pulls away. “No,” he whispers. “Not tonight. I promised I’d be good and I’m going to keep my promise.”

  “Fuck our promises,” I say, somehow out of breath, completely flustered.

  “Hey, this is your doing. Plus, we’ve got a reservation,” he says. “We should probably get out of here pretty soon. I booked it for an earlier time.”

  “Wow,” I mutter. I laugh to myself. “Who are you?” I ask him, as he holds the door open for me.

  “I’m just a nice, honest man who stays true to his word,” he says.

  “Bullshit,” I laugh. “No man in the history of mankind has ever said those words and meant it.”

  “No man, except for me,” he says. “I’m the first and the last.”

  “How special.” I roll my eyes, but he squeezes my hand and pulls me toward him.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he says.

  We walk down the staircase, laughing about nothing in particular. For the first time in a long time, I realize that I’m happy. I’m happy just walking with the guy. I’m happy when I feel his touch, when I hear his voice. Dammit, I’m happy and, of course, that makes me scared.

  We get into his nice car and he speeds to the restaurant. “Best oysters in the world,” he says. “You wanted oysters, right?”

  I laugh. “I did say that didn’t I?”

  When he parks, he runs outside to grab the door for me like a true gentleman. He takes my purse and walks me inside. A booth is in the corner of the room, completely set up for both of us. A bottle of champagne stands erect, on the center of the table.

  “Here you are, madam.” James pulls a chair out for me. I sit down, flattening my skirt. I catch his eye fixed on my ass. I smile, arching my back ever-so-slightly for him.

  We order our food. Well, he orders everything for us both. Two lobster tails, oysters, and an order of the best caviar they have. Right now, I’m just downing the champagne at an alarming rate. James. I like him. He’s different from most men.

  I’m honestly surprised. The total bill is going to cost at least two hundred dollars. “This place is insane,” I whisper to him. “You really didn’t have to take me somewhere this nice.”

  “I owe you it,” he says.

  “For taking my virginity?” I smile. Underneath the table, my feet slip out of my shoes. I rub the edge of my socks against his ankles. He gives me a sly smile back, but doesn’t touch me. He keeps to his word.

  “I wish I could take it all over again,” he says.

  “Yeah? Does it turn you on to think about?” I ask him. “You took my innocence, James. I was so pure until I met you.” I smile and bite the edge of my tongue, teasing him. My hand falls firmly against the top of his pants. I run my fingers across the top edge, until I get to the top buckle. I stop myself and take another drink.

  He gulps loudly, reaching for his glass. “Shit,” he whispers.

  “Come on,” I say. “Tell me. Do you think about it a lot? My first time…”

  He slowly nods. The restaurant feels silent, even though it’s full of people. I put my hand back down on his pants, but this time I move toward the center. I feel it. His hard cock pushes against the fabric like a metal pole. I grip down harder. He breathes, slow and steady. I move my hand up and down for a second and then stop. I look at him. He can barely contain himself. I unzip his pants under the table.

  “I think about your first time every single day. I think about the way you felt when I first slid inside you. I think about your body all the fucking time,” he says. “I just want to worship it. You’re perfect.”

  He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, sharply. “You shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers. I feel his underwear in my hands. I pull his cock out from the hole. I pull it all out and feel his hard, compact balls.

  “Shouldn’t I?” I ask him. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  He doesn’t protest when I lick my fingers and spread my saliva around his shaft. I move up and down, slowly stroking him. He grows harder in the palm of my hands. His eyes are wide and unsteady. He closes them for a second, only opening them to look down at my cleavage. I slowly undo the top button of my shirt.

  “Here?” he asks.

  “Where else?” I ask back. He looks around, but can’t find a simple solution.

  “The bathroom,” he says.

  “No. I like this. It’s more fun this way,” I say.

  We stare intently at each other. I just want to be bad. He makes me want to break all of the rules. He reaches under the table and touches my thigh. I slap his hand away. “No touching,” I whisper.

  “You’re torturous.” His voice is strained. His senses are on high-alert. He keeps looking around for our food, but it’s not coming anytime soon.

  “Am I the best you’ve ever had?” I ask. He moves his head up and down, very slowly. “Am I the sweetest you’ve ever tasted?” Again, he nods very slowly. “Do you want me to wrap these lips around your cock? Do you want to touch me? What do you want to do to me? Do you want me to eat your cum?”

  “Stop,” he whispers. This time his voice has lost all the edge it once had. He says, “stop” once to me, but it’s almost as if he’s telling his body to stop. His body twitches and toughens up. I know what’s coming. I place one hand against his chest and feel his strength.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper. “You can cum for me.”

  He blasts off like it’s the
fucking mission to Mars. His cum lands on my hand. I take the dinner napkin and wipe myself off. “You’re insane,” he whispers back. It’s funny watching him squirm and try to zip himself back up. The food comes within a minute, of course.

  “Would you like anything else?” the server asks.

  “Anything more and I think I might pass out,” James laughs. The waiter doesn’t seem to get the joke, but I’m on the inside. That’s when I start to get the real idea. I’m slowly, but surely falling for this guy.

  James

  I didn’t expect the hand job under the table, but I’m not complaining. I thought she might have wanted to keep her distance from that sort of thing, but apparently, she’s kinkier than I thought.

  She’s amazing. That was amazing. But in all honesty, it throws a pretty big nut in the gears. I came here to set everything straight. I came here, really, to ask her if she’ll be my wife. I’ve got the damn ring and everything. Problem is, she’ll have wanted me to court her pretty hard. I’m sure of it. And I’m not certain that asking right after a hand job is appropriate.

  So I wait and watch her enjoy the food. She spoons the caviar onto crackers. She dips the lobster tails until they’re dripping in butter. She drinks her champagne, swallowing every last bubble. And all I can fucking think about is fitting my cock inside her tight, little pussy.

  She smiles and sets her champagne glass down. She burps and covers her mouth, turning red in the face. “Oops,” she laughs. I just smile at her. “What? Why are you being creepy?” she asks me.

  “Nothing,” I say. “You’re just cute. You’re really fucking cute.”

  “You’re kind of handsome, I guess,” she winks.

  “No, I mean it. I’m picturing what it might be like to actually date you,” I say.

  Her expression completely changes. She goes from playful to serious. “Stop, James,” she says. “You’re like ten years older than me, first. Second, I just don’t trust your little honest-Abe game.”