His Virgin Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Kara Hart

  “No, it’s not Renata. Remember the man from the park?” I ask him, gently.

  “The stranger? I thought you told me not to talk to strangers,” he says.

  “Yes, but he’s not a stranger. I’ve known him for a long time,” I say. He’s your father. He’s your daddy. He fucked me and left, only to return six years later. Surprise. “You can play PlayStation if you finish your homework fast.” Bribery. It’s the only thing that works on kids.

  “Deal!” He smiles and runs to his room to finish all of his homework as fast as he can.

  I still don’t know what I’m going to tell Walker. On the outside, I hate his guts. But I’ve been secretly wishing he would come back for years. There’s so much I wanted to ask him. I even had fantasies of cussing him out for leaving me all alone with a son to raise. Now, that seems insane. I can’t just tell him. The whole thing is just so fucking complicated.

  And Aidan is a blessing. No, he’s an angel. He’s so perfect in every way. I always wished he had a daddy. I can tell he wants one so bad. Someone to throw the ball with, to watch way too violent movies with… I can picture it. I didn’t expect Walker to come back. Maybe it won’t be such a cluster fuck when he gets here.

  The doorbell rings right after I’ve cleaned the whole house. Only problem is, I look like total shit. I’ve got an old pair of jeans on, complete with a Motley Crüe band t-shirt I bought in college. “Coming!” I yell.

  My hand touches the doorknob and my mind is racing. I take one last look and I don’t see any toys lying around. Aidan is quietly working in his bedroom. Oh, God, this is all such a bad idea.

  I open the door slowly and peek my head out. “Welcome,” I manage to say. Welcome? “Come in.”

  It’s sickening how good he looks right now. He walks in holding a giant bouquet of flowers, bottle of red wine, and a couple grocery bags of food. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek. My body tenses up and then I smell his cologne. Fuck, he smells so good. It’s his smell. I miss it so much.

  “Thank you.” I blush. “You look okay, too.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs. “These are for you, darling.”

  He hands me the flowers and I put them up to my nose and smell the arrangement. I hate to admit it, but they’re beautiful. They look so fresh, as if they were just picked today. He must have spent a fortune on them, not to mention the food and wine. No, I tell myself. Don’t fall for his charm again. You know what happens when you do, Erica.

  “You have a beautiful home,” he says, as we walk into the kitchen. “Is it okay if I grab some pans and get to chopping? I bet we can finish half this bottle of Merlot while the meat simmers.”

  “That sounds nice,” I tell him. My mind darts back to Aidan and I start to feel that familiar melancholic feeling creep inside my body. I think he can sense it because he comes around me and starts to massage my shoulders. “Come on, Walker. Don’t.”

  “Sorry,” he says, taking his hands off. “You just seem a little tense is all.”

  Tense? Are you kidding me? You don’t even know what tense is, guy. Try raising a kid on your own for five years and talk to me about tense. “Yeah, maybe a little. Rough week at the office.”

  “I understand,” he smiles, chopping up a large onion. Somehow, he manages not to shed a single tear while doing it. It’s just another thing I resent him for. “This is going to be the best pasta you’ve ever tasted. Guaranteed.”

  I’ve opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. I quickly take a big gulp for myself and pour some more in. He watches me with careful eyes, though he doesn’t say anything. “A Brit making the best pasta I’ve tasted? You know I’ve been to Italy, right?”

  “I’ve taken a handful of cooking classes. This is something I pride myself on,” he laughs. “No, really. This one is special.”

  I toss him a strawberry-colored apron and I watch as he carefully ties it around his perfect waist. His biceps bulge as he moves his arms behind his back, and when he starts the actual cooking, it’s hard not to look on with lust.

  With the beef simmering and the sauce on a low heat, he comes back across the bar of my kitchen and sits next to me. “So, I know you hate me,” he starts, “but you don’t know how good it feels to be back here, with you. To be next to you… God, it’s like an early Christmas present. I feel so fucking blessed.”

  It feels good for me too, obviously. I haven’t felt the presence of a man like him in so fucking long. In fact, this is the first time I’ve had any men over. “I don’t hate you,” I say. “I just don’t understand it.”

  “Understand what?” he asks me, sipping on his wine. “Why I left?”

  “No, it’s not that,” I sigh. Okay, it’s time to ask him what I’ve been wanting to ask him for years. “Why didn’t you call me? You said you would call me.” I feel choked up even asking him. I breathe through my nose slowly, trying to keep the tears at bay. As a mother, I’ve managed to become an expert at this.

  “You’re right,” he says. “I fucked up. I didn’t know how to find you again. I lost all of my contacts when I went overseas, but it’s no excuse. I should have called.”

  “You don’t understand,” I say. “You can’t begin to understand.”

  I let a few tears fall from my eyes. There’s no use in holding back. He places his warm, strong hand against my cheek. He moves it up into my hair and I feel his fingers run through the thick strands. “Try and make me understand. Teach me to understand,” he says. But he has no idea. He doesn’t know about Aidan and how hard it’s been to give him a decent life. I’m always at work. He needed someone to be there for him and all he had was me.

  “I—” The words are impossible to get out. I’m so close to telling him the truth about my situation, but it’s so hard to let myself do it.

  “Tell me,” he says, gazing into my eyes. I’m still struggling, so I close my eyes. I allow myself to get calm and then I open my eyes and I do the unthinkable.

  I let my body direct me. With tears streaming down my face, I feel gravity pull me. My lips crush against his. I smell him, I taste him, oh fuck how I’ve missed him. I pull away and open my eyes.

  “I want to tell you something,” I say, choking on my words. “But it’s not going to pretty. It hasn’t been pretty for me, quite frankly.”

  “I’m all ears,” he says, opening his eyes, in a daze. “Tell me anything.”

  “The boy,” I choke even harder. “The boy you met yesterday.”

  His eyebrows rise with confusion. “Your friend’s child? The little bloke?”

  “The little bloke,” I repeat. “That little ball of sunshine…”

  Fuck, why is this so hard to say? Why can’t I just come out with it?

  “What about him?” he backs away a little, which makes it even harder to spit out. The beef starts to burn. I can smell it. But he’s not turning away from this. He knows something serious is happening. He probably knows exactly what I’m going to say, but does he know Aidan is his son too?

  “He’s my son,” I cry. “He’s my son. He’s my son. He’s my beautiful boy.”

  He pulls his hand away from my hair. He’s startled. It’s obvious. Men are always like this when they find out the consequences of their actions. “You met someone else after me?” he asks. It’s not registering for him. “Who was it? No, forget I even asked. It’s not like I’d know him anyway.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” I ask him.

  “I don’t mind that you have a son. I just wish you would have told me,” he says.

  “You wish I would’ve told you? What? Am I supposed to tell you everything that’s happened in the last six years, in full detail? Mind you, you didn’t even bother to fucking call me once when you were over there!” I yell.

  “Mom?” Aidan asks from his room. I close my eyes hard, as if that’ll solve all of my problems. Just shut it all out, dammit.

  “Mommy’s okay, baby! Sorry for yelling,” I say
. Walker looks at the hallway to his room and then back at me.

  “Wait a minute,” he says. “How old is he?”

  “He’s five years old,” I tell it to him straight. “He grows faster every day.”

  He moves out of his chair and runs his hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re lying,” he says. “You must be lying.”

  “I’m not lying, Walker,” I say. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

  “The boy,” he says, staring at me with a look that’s both angry and sad. “I left six years ago!”

  “You did,” I say.

  “He’s mine, isn’t he?” he asks, keeping a fixed gaze on me. “No. It’s impossible. We were safe. I remember it.”

  “Condoms break,” I tell him. “Shit happens. Life happens. And then you get left with everything beautiful and awful, all at once.”

  He moves toward me again. “I wish I had known,” he says. “Fuck, what have I done?”

  “What have you done?” I get pissed. “You brought the most beautiful little boy into this world. But don’t you worry. I don’t expect you to stick around. I don’t want you as his father, anyway.”

  “You can’t just kick me out of his life like this,” he says. “I didn’t know. I had no way of knowing. Let me see him.”

  He starts walking toward the hallway. “Don’t you dare!” I tell him. “That isn’t your right. You can’t just walk into my home and do whatever you like.” The beef is completely burnt. The sauce has turned into a goopy, hardened mess. The pasta is way past done. I turn off all the heat and angrily run after him.

  It’s too late. Aidan hears that something is going on outside and he gets curious. “What are you weirdos doing out here?” he asks, walking out into the hallway. Walker and I stop and I’m just staring at him, wondering if the world is about to implode on me.

  “Hey there, big guy!” Walker says, kneeling down. “Remember me?”

  “Yes,” he says, glancing at me to see if it’s okay. I can’t even react. The whole situation was doomed to begin with. I should have never allowed him into my home, but I had to tell him.

  “What’s your name?” Walker asks Aidan.

  “Aidan and I’m five years old,” he says.

  “Five?!” Walker exclaims. “Man, you’re an old bugger, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not old!” Aidan laughs. “I’m just a kid!”

  “Well, I don’t know. You look old to me,” he says. “Have you been taking care of your mom well?”

  “Yes. And I finished all of my homework so I can play video games all night. It’s allowed,” he says.

  Walker cocks his head at me. “Kids this young play video games now?”

  I shrug, feeling utterly defeated. “They do a lot of crazy shit,” I say.

  “Mom!” Aidan yells, angrily. “You owe a dollar to the swear jar.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry.” I fake a smile and pull out a dollar. It’s been done. Walker has found his way to Aidan and of course, he’s doing a bang-up job. That’s not the point, though. The point is, he can’t just keep doing what he wants without asking me first. This is my boy. I raised him with my own hands and he came out of me. I went through nine months of hell to get him here, all by myself. I deserve a little respect.

  Walker stands up and turns to me. “He looks just like me,” he whispers.

  My eyes widen. “Please,” I whisper. “Don’t tell him. It’s not fair for you to let him know.”

  “I want to be here,” he whispers. “I deserve to be here. I want to help you. I have money. Let me help.”

  “Just. Stop. For a second, please,” I say. I turn back to Aidan. “Go back to your room, baby. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he shrugs

  “Nice to meet you, Aidan!” Walker calls out with a big smile.

  Aidan waves and runs into his room, stomping. Walker turns to me and I’ve got all the rage in the world right now, though it’s not all his fault. I brought him over here. I knew what might probably happen. I think maybe, just maybe I wanted it to happen. I don’t know anymore.

  “I’m so sorry, Erica,” he says. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to come home all these years. I never had the chance. I couldn’t find a way.”

  “You could have called. You could have written. You had options. I didn’t have shit. I wasn’t given the same choices. I had to carry a fucking baby inside me for nine months by myself. Do you know how that felt? Do you even care?” I’m shaking. I’m livid. I just want to make the pain go away, but it’s incredibly hard to let it all go.

  “I can’t imagine what you went through. I don’t intend to justify my actions. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong, Erica,” he says. “But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to end up in London again. That was the worst six years of my life. I’m here now. I’m with you.”

  He walks toward me, slowly. He places his hand around my waist. I gulp down, feeling my body betray me as always. I get flashbacks from that first night, in the women’s room, together. It was so wrong, yet so exciting. He was so charming and wild, and dangerous. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him, but I wanted to experience something different. God, those were different times. I miss it so much.

  I think that’s why I accept what’s about to happen. That kiss earlier. I’ve been searching for something as warming as that and he has too. “Did you have any women over there?” I ask him. “Tell me the truth. I’m done being angry.”

  He frowns. “I didn’t have anything worthwhile over there. No women. No vices. Just heartache and pain. I just dreamed of you the whole time and getting back to where I was,” he says. “I swear, Erica. Some nights, I would lay in bed and I could smell your scent. To this day, I remember the way you felt, the way you talked, the scent of your perfume. God, I’ve missed you. Don’t you miss me?”

  “Yes, but… it’s so fucking hard, Walker. I can’t trust you anymore,” I say.

  “Do you trust me right now?” he asks, hand sliding down the front of my jeans. I’m wet. So fucking wet. I haven’t felt this way in years. I tremble with passion, with fear, and with the understanding that this is all so wrong, and yet, I can’t turn away.

  “No,” I whisper. “I don’t trust you.”

  His fingers spread my wetness around my clit. He slowly moves two fingers inside of me, massaging against my g-spot. “Good,” he whispers.

  Our lips meet and everything just feels so fucking good. His free hand moves toward my breasts and with such wild passion, he grabs them, while kissing me tenderly. “I want to be inside you again,” he growls. “I want to fuck you senseless.”

  The whole thing scares me, I’ll admit. But that’s where the excitement comes in. He slides the button on the front of my jeans through the hole. It pops out. I do the same for him. Only the two zippers are standing in the way of us now, but when I look at where we are, I have to rethink everything. Mom problems…

  “Come,” I say, putting my finger to his lips. “Shh…”

  I pull him into my bedroom, down the other end of the hallway, and hurriedly lock the door behind us. He slams my back against the wall and rips my jeans off. I slip out of my shirt and watch as he undresses himself. He quickly comes back to me sliding his fingers back inside me, finger-fucking me against the wall.

  “You bastard,” I moan, closing my eyes. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Let it all out,” he says. “Because I’m the son of a bitch who’s going to make you squirm.”

  “Fuck,” I moan, looking down at him. He’s got me balanced against the wall and he’s waiting for my pussy.

  “Give me that cunt,” he says with a filthier mouth than I remember him having.

  He wraps his mouth around me and kisses my wetness. I’m fucking throbbing. I’m angry. And I’m ready to unleash all of my pent-up rage and melancholic fury. I’ve been wound so tight these last few years. I haven’t had an orgasm in years, but feeling his whole mouth around me and seeing his strong
body hold me against the wall, while I sit on his fucking face, turns me on to no end.

  There’s no point in dragging this out. This is as raw as it can get. I feel his tongue slide all around my pussy and my ass, and I just let it all go. I’m aching and it feels like pins and needles all around my body. Soon, it becomes all the more intense. It’s so intense that I can’t hold it down. “I’m going to cum,” I whisper. “Oh, fuck me.”

  “You taste so fucking sweet,” he says. That’s the line that nearly shoots me out of my body.

  I can barely hold on, but he’s got me in his grasp. My body shakes and my pussy is contracting and expanding at an alarming rate. Fireworks shoot in my eyes, my heart explodes, and ecstasy radiates throughout.

  I can feel his cock against my leg. When he picks me up in his arms, I’m ready for him. He crushes his lips against mine and holds me tenderly, like I’m his one and only. I’ve missed the warmth he once gave me, even if it was so fleeting. He’s so strong and powerful, and he says, “I’m with you, always.” I don’t know what to believe. Right now, I just want to fall into him, over and over again.

  “Just breathe,” he whispers.

  I feel him enter me. He just holds me in his arms, while standing. Both hands are tight around my waist. I clutch around his neck and kiss his warm face. I close my eyes and feel him, thick and way too big for me. But he keeps pushing, until he’s deep inside.

  It feels amazing.

  I’m selfishly devoted to his cock as I start to block out everything that has happened between us. There’s anger, sadness, and pain, but right now, I need some relief. I need him. I gyrate my hips all around his thickness. I’m dripping around his shaft. I want to feel him in every way possible. I want to lose myself completely.

  He falls back on the bed, slowly. I begin riding him like his cowgirl. I smile and let my hair down. My hands fall flat onto his muscular chest. He feels so fucking good, so right for me. I grip down and push my hips, so that he’s deep inside me. We’re moving slowly, but it’s with a hidden intensity.

  With his hands around my waist, he soon starts to take control. Thrusting his hips forward, his cock moves in and out, so hard that I can hear it echo throughout the room. “We have to be quiet,” I whisper.