His Virgin Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Kara Hart

  “So that means we’re going out partying?” I ask her.

  “Yes!” she exclaims. “Yes it does!”

  “Well, I’m sorry to burst that bubble of yours, but I don’t think it’s—”

  “A good idea?” She gives a devious smile and a “sexy” wink.

  “Exactly,” I laugh, but remain proud of myself for not giving in.

  “Nothing is a good idea to you,” she says. “Will you just go? You can leave after an hour of being there.”

  “Why do you want me to go so bad?” I ask her. “What are you planning, girl?”

  “Jarod from Women’s Studies is going to be there. He invited me. We’re kind of… I don’t know. Never mind. It’s stupid,” she says. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a handwritten note.

  “Tell me,” I say, “what’s on that piece of paper?”

  “He loves me,” she says. “Like, is obsessed with me.”

  “Gross,” I say.

  “If he was weird, it would be. Unfortunately, he’s another perfect specimen, almost like your doctor but without the years that men need in order to grow up,” she says.

  “Men never grow up,” I whisper.

  “I hear you, sister.” She raises the note high in the air and closes her eyes. “But I have to go. It would be rude of me not to.”

  “You really like this guy, don’t you?” I ask her. “Oh, fuck. Josie, are you falling for someone?”

  “Don’t test me,” she says, eyes creased. “I’ve never loved anyone, ever.”

  “Me neither,” I sigh.

  “You’re coming with me to the party,” she says. “Bring the doctor if you’d like, but it might be weird bringing a guy in his thirties to a college party.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” I say. Underneath the table, however, I text James saying, “What’re you up to tonight?” I hold my breath and wait for his response.

  Olivia

  The music is blaring against the walls of the house. Outside, we walk up the driveway, asphalt crunching beneath our heels. “What’s up with Michael?” Josie asks me, before opening the door. I shrug. “Come on, I know you texted him.”

  “I honestly didn’t,” I say. “I’m here for you tonight. I’ll stay for an hour and then I’m leaving.”

  “Fine,” she sighs. I open the door and a billow of fog comes pouring out. The music grows a hundred times louder. College kids are sitting on the couch getting wasted. Some are dancing. Others are standing around, smoking cigarettes with men and women. Everyone is trying to get lucky tonight. Only a few will go home with someone. The rest will head home alone, feeling absolutely defeated.

  “Where the hell is he?” Josie asks.

  “Maybe he’s outside,” I suggest.

  Secretly, I reach into my purse and click open my phone. “Miss me?” It’s James. He has finally responded to me. I click my phone shut and close my purse. He’s annoying me. He can wait.

  We walk past the sliding glass doors, past the beer pong losers, and head outside toward the bonfire in the backyard. “There he is,” she says, waving at her guy. His eyes light up and he smiles like he’s containing a secret of sorts. “Isn’t he cute?”

  “Sure. He’s cute,” I say.

  “Miss me?” he asks her. I nearly burst out laughing when I hear him say that. Is that some pick up line every guy uses with a new girl or something. I look at my phone again and James has texted me a second time. It’s a simple question mark and it’s staring back at me.

  “Maybe a little bit,” I quickly type.

  “Not really, but I did have fun the other night,” Josie tells Jarod. “Jarod, this is my friend, Olivia.”

  “Good to meet you,” he says. His eyes quickly move from me, back to her. “So, about the letter. I’m sorry. I kind of got a little dramatic there.”

  “Tell me about it,” Josie says.

  “Can we talk in private?” he asks her. His eyes look at me in the peripheral.

  “Don’t mind me,” I laugh and walk over to the sidewall of the backyard.

  I grab my phone and lean against the cold brick. “Why don’t you come by my place tonight?” he says.

  I laugh to myself and shake my head. Not going to happen. If he really wants to see me again, he’s going to have to try harder than that. “To talk?” I text him.

  “We could do more than that,” he immediately responds.

  “What about the restaurant? You don’t want to wine and dine me anymore?” I ask him.

  “It’s too late for that. We can get breakfast in the morning. I’ll wine and dine you anytime, woman,” he says.

  “Prove it,” I text him.

  Three dots light up on my screen. He’s typing. Almost a minute later, I get a picture response. It’s a picture of a nice table layout. There are two wineglasses, a fork and a knife, and three hundred-dollar bills. “Good enough?” he asks.

  “Getting there,” I say. Okay, he’s got me. The offer is tempting. But not tonight.

  “Olivia!” Josie calls out to me. She waves me over. “Come hang out with me!”

  At this point, Jarod has mingled back to his friends, although I’m not sure why. When I walk up, I tell her, “I can’t stay here much longer, Josie. You know how much I hate these things.”

  In the front corner of the backyard is a wild pack of frat boys and they’re all loudly screaming over each other. One of them has a can of unopened Coors in his hand. He gathers the troops and makes a grand announcement. It’s something along the lines of: “I’m going to down this whole can in less than three seconds!”

  The whole party cheers in support, as if it’s the biggest feat known to man. The guy sticks a key into the side of the can and opens it. He greedily slurps the beer and four seconds later it’s gone. Everyone cheers and I seem to be the only one who doesn’t appreciate that he didn’t complete his real objective of downing it in less than three seconds.

  “Stupid,” I mutter to myself.

  “You’re such a buzz kill,” Josie says.

  I ignore her and look over at Jarod, who is now talking to some bimbo who is scantily clad and very eager to agree with him on every talking point. “What happened with Jarod?” I ask her.

  She rolls her eyes and groans to herself. “Oh, I don’t fucking know. I said one thing and he got all pissed off,” she says. “Men. You know? They’re so easily hurt.”

  “Well, it’s not as if he was the one, or something. What did you say?” I ask her.

  “I said that he needed to chill out on the letter thing. I think I damaged his poor, little ego,” she says. “Oops. Sorry, bud.”

  “Men are weird,” I laugh. “Seriously though, I’m going to go. You want to get out of here or what?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugs and looks back at Jarod. “I think I’m going to stay. He’s all angry now and I love that angry sex. You go ahead. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Suit yourself,” I say. We hug and I dip out of the party as fast as I can. As soon as I pull out, the cops arrive to the driveway. Thank God.

  At the stop sign, I grab my phone and check it. More question marks from James. “Alright,” I type, “I’ll come over. But this is friendly. No trying to get wild.”

  “I’ll be a good boy,” he says.

  So I turn the car around and head in the direction the maps tell me to take. This is a dumb idea, but as long as he keeps his hands to himself, things will be okay. Who knows? Maybe he’s a really good guy who just wants to get to know me better? Maybe he’s boyfriend material…

  James

  “See you soon,” I tell her.

  Shit. All I’ve been doing lately is thinking about that woman. When the going gets tough in my own life, I just think about her and things start to feel better. It’s the way her ass looked, propped up in the air for me. It’s the way her eyes shine against the dim lighting of her flat. It’s the way she smiles, so innocent and adventurous.

  Fuck me. I’m done for. Olivia will be th
e death of me. There’s no denying that. I’ll die with her ass in my hands.

  The knock on my door is louder than expected, and when she simply opens my door and walks in, I’m caught off guard. “That was fast,” I say, jumping up from the couch and quickly hiding the Snickers wrapper that was left on the table earlier.

  She just observes the place and ignores me. “I was at a party not too far away,” she says. She picks up a ceramic art piece and examines it, putting it back down gently. I don’t interject and tell her that it cost me a good two thousand dollars. “I thought, why not go to the weird doctor’s house?”

  “So I’m weird now?” I walk up to her and place my hands around her waist. She smiles and nods her head. “How’ve you been sweetheart?” I kiss her and breathe in her scent. My hands run up her sides and I’m almost tempted to rip off every article of clothing. It’s a shame that I’m semi-respectful.

  “I’ve been okay,” she says, as my lips pull from hers. “And you?”

  “Same. Work. Family shit. You know how it goes,” I say. “Come in. You want the tour?”

  “I’ll skip the tour,” she says. “But I will add that this is a lovely home. Like, I look at your place and I just know that I’ll never be able to have something as nice as this. You’re damn lucky, James.”

  “Trust me. It’s not worth the effort,” I laugh and lead her into the kitchen and living room area. “When I was in college, I had an insane amount of debt that was collecting. I couldn’t help but think that I’d never be able to afford a real life, but somehow it just happens if you keep at it. Especially in this business, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure my juice bar will give me millions,” she says. She walks past me, into my room, and sits on the bed. “What’re you doing out there?” she asks, waving me in.

  “I was getting the wine,” I say.

  “Bring the bottle. Might as well hang out in here, right? The living room is kind of stale,” she says. God, I’m starting to get in deep, aren’t I? Already, she’s making it pretty damn clear for me, making sure she knows who’s boss. Well, if I’m the boss in the bedroom, and she’s the boss outside, I’m completely fine with that arrangement.

  “Alright,” I tell her. I walk in the bedroom, open the bottle up and hand it her. I sit down next to her as she takes a huge swig and hands it back.

  “Lovely,” she says.

  “It’s a rare one. At least that’s what they told me. I don’t know shit about wine,” I say.

  “If you did, I’d have to stop seeing you. I’m a simple gal, James. You’re a bit posh, but you ride the line enough for me to stay curious.”

  “I try to remain a man of the people.” I wink and she laughs, putting her hand against my thigh. Her face turns a light shade of red and she clears her throat.

  “A populist, huh? That’s pretty hot,” she says.

  “You college girls love that kind of thing,” I say.

  “How can we resist?” she asks.

  Enough of the small talk. Enough of the beating around the bush. She knows what I want. She understands the lack of complexity of the situation, but she won’t give in. I hand her the bottle of wine again, after taking a sip myself, and she drinks it down like water. I laugh at her comment out of courtesy, but now is not a time for words, nor laughter.

  As she pulls back on the end of that wine bottle, I imagine those same thick lips around the head of my hard cock. I can’t fucking help it. These are the things that run in my brain, first and foremost. I reach out and place my palm across her cheek. I feel her smooth skin and she closes her eyes. “Let’s not talk,” I whisper. She nods her pretty little head.

  Our lips slowly gravitate toward one another. As they reach, I can feel my cock growing, reaching for her as well. We’re all just reaching for the void of pleasure, a hole that promises us the future and so much more. ‘I love you,’ I could whisper, because in these moments, I feel a strong emotional bond, pouring from my heart. Yet, the doctor in me can’t accept the diagnosis.

  Love is oxytocin. It is a mere chemical reaction that happens within our body. It floods our bloodstream and enters the brain. We’re all made to make these types of reactions on a daily basis, but the feeling can’t last forever. If it did, there would be no point to living. Love? I’d rather give in to lust’s willful arms. It feels better in the end.

  Her tongue slowly slides against mine. I pull back and bite her lip. She twitches slightly and grows hungrier for me. “That’s right,” I whisper. “You’re my one and only.”

  Do I mean that? Hell no. But there’s no denying that I want her to stay here, with me, for as long as this plays out.

  “You don’t mean that,” she says, pushing me away.

  “Come on,” I sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

  She looks down, deciding what to do. I’m a prick. I can’t control myself. I’ve heard it all before. “If I could take back what I just said, I would, but I can’t,” I say.

  My cock is aching for her. I need her, dammit. I need her now. She looks up at me and there’s a split second where I think she’s going to slap me, or storm out of the room. Yet, out of nowhere, she gives me a sly smile. “Keep talking like that,” she says. “It turns me on.”

  I look down and grin. She’s wearing a white crop-top and high-waisted jeans. She’s fucking hot as hell. Shit, maybe I am in love. No. But there’s something more here and I need to find out what it is. She’s different from the rest of them. I place two fingers in the front of her jeans and pull her forward.

  “Come here, babygirl,” I whisper. “Be with me.”

  I’m not in the mood for the rough shit. I’m in the mood for some heavy, deep feelings, type of sex. I want us to enjoy each other, from the bottom of our souls. Tonight, I want to get as close to heaven as I possibly can.

  “I’m yours,” she whispers and closes her eyes.

  She falls down, her back against my mattress. I unbutton her jeans, one by one. Each time it clicks through, a wave of pleasure shakes me. I slowly pull her jeans down, past her ankles. When I see that she’s not wearing any panties, I smile. “I guess you’ve been waiting for this,” I say.

  She nods her head. “Just a little bit.”

  I kiss her thighs, up to her pelvis. I lick around her sweet pussy, simply to tease her. She wiggles a little bit, as sharp breaths of air burst from her lungs. The other night I made her a woman, but she hasn’t learned all there is to know. Not yet. Tonight is another lesson from the doctor.

  I pull her forward, from her hips. My tongue falls flat across her clit and moves in a circular fashion. She tastes so fucking sweet. She tastes new. My cock is throbbing to an almost painful degree. I stroke it while my tongue moves toward her lips. I want to lick every inch of her body. I want to cover her, head to toe.

  So I fucking do.

  I grab her legs and prop them over my shoulders. I go to town on her, licking every single inch of her pussy. I slide two fingers in and curl them upwards, against her g-spot. She lets out a large sigh of pleasure, but it’s not good enough for me. I want to make her cum, for real.

  My whole mouth is around her. I know she’s loving every second of it because she grabs the back of my head and pulls my hair. She pushes my head back onto her and thrusts her hips forward, grinding herself. Now, she’s teaching me how she likes it and I’m all fucking ears.

  When her legs begin twitching, I glance up at her face. It has turned red and she bears the look of slight worry. Her eyes are absent, focused on something going on deep within her. I keep myself focused on her. I double the pressure. I tell her how beautiful she looks, how incredible she is. Her eyes grow more distant. Her breathing, more erratic. I place my hand on her stomach and I can feel it begin to tremble, with every muscle beginning to spasm in her body.

  I want her to cum. I want to push her over that edge and watch as she hits the bottom. That’s exactly what I want for her. Pure pleasure. Total warmth and goodness. Then, right as she goes running back
into my arms, I’ll give her my own pleasure and I won’t stop until I’m finished.

  She moans loudly, stuttering her words. She tries to alert me that she’s losing her grip, but words don’t matter right now. I already know her. She’s as predictable as I am.

  Tongue pressed against her sweet lips, fingers moving in and out, feeling every corner of her, and lips gently sucking when need be, I’ve spun a web for her and she’s stuck. Finally, she tilts her head back. Her pelvis twitches to an undeniable degree. Her legs dig into my back. It actually kind of scares me when it all goes down, the sheer madness of our lust.

  Her moans are louder than anything I’ve ever heard. “James!” She digs her heels even harder. Her nails go into my thick locks of hair and they pull. By the time this is through, I might not be alive, but it’ll be well worth it.

  I release myself and stand over her. I watch her move against the mattress, complete with an absent smile. Her thighs close around her hand, twitching mindlessly. I grab them and force them open again. I lean down and kiss each shaking breast, each perfect nipple. I feel down to her stomach with each hand. I grab her hips and pull her closer to me. I slide it in and feel her warmth pull the curtain back over me.

  When I’m inside her, I’m lost. I’ve completely forgotten about the self. It’s just her and me, blindly flowing into each other. Family is everything. Bullshit. There’s this too. There’s a wide range of experiences and not one of them is everything.

  She opens her eyes and stares at my body. She loves how powerful I am. Control is her fantasy and she wants to lose hers. Her mouth drops open, speechless. I hold her thighs up in the air, pounding away. I control my breathing, but ultimately falter. She feels so fucking good. When I move in as deep as I can go, it feels even better.

  I let go of one thigh to grab a fist of her ass. I feel the soft skin, so smooth against my fingers. Youth, it seems to say. I fucking love it. How can any woman compare to Olivia? It’s almost impossible. I grab her thigh again and force myself forward. We kiss, hard, as if we are scrambling to find some air within each other. Heavy breathing with forced heavy petting is what we’ve fallen into, and her hands scramble to touch my hard figure.