His Virgin Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Kara Hart

  The waitress comes back with two drinks and a large check. I slam down a couple hundred dollar bills and smile. “Keep the change,” I wink, trying to act nice, despite the fact that I don’t think she deserves any tip.

  “But I think it’s sort of the opposite,” she says. “You can’t really trust anyone in this city.”

  I laugh hard at that one. She’s right about that. “Well, I’m going to have to agree with you there.” I smack my knee. “I’ve met just about everyone in this town and they’re all hiding something. Question is, what’re you hiding?”

  She smiles wide. “More than you know, Marshall.”

  God damn, that turns me on. What is she hiding? All I can say is that whatever it is, I want to know. I’m guessing it’s in between those legs. Those sexy legs, the legs that should be wrapped around my face. The pleasure I could give to this woman… She has no fucking idea.

  “We should get out of here. I’ll take you home,” I tell her. She nods and I feel the urge to grab the thick of her ass. Instead, I grab her hand and feel each ridge of her fingers against mine.

  Outside, the hot wind wraps around our faces. I feel drunk, but I feel good and present. I want to take this woman to her house. I want to feel in between her legs. And I want her to invite me up. Anyway, that’s the way it’s playing out in my head. Who knows if it’ll work?

  I pull her close to me when we get to the car. “You’re impatient,” she says, but she’s smiling.

  “I know what I like,” I say. “I know what I want.”

  “Oh yeah? You sure about that?” she asks, daring me to do something, to act.

  We move close to one another as if we’re pulled by the earth’s gravitational force. Slow. Slower. Even slower. Our eyes close and then I feel it. Our lips crash together, heavy and deep. She falls back, ass against the door of the car. Some cowboy whistles at us and I have half a mind to pummel the bastard, but I can’t even focus on that right now. I have this woman and she’s giving into my every desire.

  “Fuck,” she moans as I drag my lips to her neck. I kiss the curve down to her chest bone. I kiss along every ridge, stopping at the most tender spots. She tastes sweet, like sugar. This woman is dangerous. This woman is going to be my end. I know it. But I have to keep discovering her.

  Our breaths are hushed and the world around us has turned into a dark haze. Her legs spread on their own. My knee rises up to her pussy. I can feel the warmth radiating from her. I reach down. I feel the edges of that classy black dress. She’s so fucking fine. I’m aching. She’s moaning. We’re both ripping at our clothes. Right when I touch the soft skin of her thigh, she pulls back and says, “I can’t. Fuck. I can’t.”

  She’s panting for air and avoiding all eye contact with me now. “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, but I know it’s already too late. Something inside her has set her off. I’m not sure what it is, but this is a losing game. I’m a gentleman. I know when it’s time to back off.

  “I just can’t, okay?” she sighs. “Fuck.” Her eyes have turned to fire.

  “Okay, no problem.” I lay my hands off her and back up. I unlock the car and watch as she walks hurriedly to the other side.

  “Just drop me off at the corner of 31st and Garfield,” she says, staring out the window. She’s tense and sitting fully upright, as if she’s ready to fucking strike. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I’ve done to piss her off this much. None of it is making any sense to me.

  “I can take you home. It’s a hell of a lot safer that way,” I tell her truthfully. 31st and Garfield is not the best area. It goes against my morals to drop a young, striking woman off by herself around that area.

  She won’t have it. “No. Not my house. Just do what I ask, okay?”

  “Fine. Sure thing. Sorry, honey,” I say, taking a deep breath.

  My cock is still hard, pushing the top of my jeans up slightly. I adjust myself and turn the car on. I take off. As we drive, she rests her head against the window of the car. She stares out at the passing lights, idly. I have no idea what’s on her mind. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit. Tonight’s different. Tonight, I’m aching to know. I’m aching to make things right.

  Virginia

  I run my hands through my hair. It feels abrasive, instead of silky, thin instead of its normal thickness. I look in the mirror and notice the dark rings under my eyes. “God, I’m disgusting. In every way,” I tell myself. This whole thing… it’s weighing on me bad. I hate knowing how this is all going to end. I loathe thinking about it, but I can’t stop myself. I’m panicking. I’m going to go to prison. I’m going to lose everything, including the chance to get away and live the life of my dreams.

  How could this be? Why are Craig and Elroy fucking everything up? I should have never trusted two men to come up with a steady plan. Of course there would be some shakiness to all of it. All I can think is, “This is fucking bullshit.”

  I almost fucked that man. I almost let him grapple with his innermost desires. Worst thing is, I think I actually wanted it. I think I wanted his hands to touch me, to grab me, to pull me in deeper. It’s that look in his eyes that does me in. He looks at me like I’m a treasure, like I’m a cut above the rest. I’ve never really felt that before, but now I have the chance to pursue it in the most fucked up way ever.

  I shouldn’t do it. I mean, I couldn’t even go through with it. How could I? But I deeply wanted to. God, I’m so fucked up. I’m not a girl that plays games? Fuck, I play the best games and it always starts with myself. My own battles… it’s just not right. I’m not right.

  Craig calls the new burner phone that I bought earlier this morning. “What’s the word?” he asks me.

  “Nothing,” I sigh. “What do you want? Do you have a plan?”

  “We have something cooking up,” he says. He mumbles something to Elroy in the background and then says, “45 minutes outside of town. There’s a small local place. No CTV.”

  “Security? Police?” I say, turning my head in paranoia to see if anybody could be listening or watching me. I’m in my house. I don’t know how it would be possible, but I don’t want to take any chances.

  “Of course, some security. Nothing we can’t handle,” he says. “Police will get there fast, no doubt. We’ll have to get a vehicle.”

  “Why can’t we go at night like last time?” I stupidly ask. Of course, we can’t. We have no materials left since the first hit.

  “You know why we can’t. That took months of planning, months of buying the right stuff,” he says. “No. This time, we do it the old school way. In and out. 90 seconds or less. Hopefully less.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I say. “Not at all. It makes me sick to think about.”

  “We’ll be fine,” he assures me in a calm voice. “You’ll do great. Just grab what you need to grab, while I do the yelling. In and out. Remember.”

  “We need to meet,” I say. “At least, go over things better.”

  “Sure thing,” he says. “Hey, listen. I saw you with that Marshall guy.”

  When he says that, I take a seat, quickly. I don’t know how he’s going to react. He’s already expressed to Elroy in the past that he thinks I’m too wild, too crazy. What’s he going to think now?

  “Yeah?” I try and keep cool. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Then what are you doing? Are you sabotaging us? There’s people I’ll let know. I’ll bring you down with us,” he says.

  “Keep your enemies closer,” I say. “Anyway, it’s not like anything crazy has happened. He thinks I’m just another cute girl at the bar.”

  He sighs loudly and talks to Elroy again. Finally, I hear the phone switch over. “Craig wants you done.” It’s Elroy’s voice.

  “Yeah, well. What do you want?” I ask him. Elroy’s had a crush on me since, well, forever. But he’s not like Craig. He’s a standup guy. I just don’t like him in that way. Elroy will have my back on this. I know he will.

  “I
want you to come to your senses, girl,” he says. “This isn’t a game. It’s life or death.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s that extreme,” I argue.

  “No? I think it’s worse. We could go away for a very long time, V,” he says. “You really want to get out and see that the world’s changed, that you could have had kids but missed the chance, and that you could have lived a real life if you just chilled out?”

  “I didn’t have a fucking choice, okay? He came at me at the bar,” I tell him. “What was I going to do? Tell him to fuck off? I was scared. I was scared for my goddamn life.”

  “You should have kept your mouth shut and kept walking. He’s just another horn dog who wants to fuck you. Big deal. There’s no need to talk to the man,” he says. “What did he want anyway?”

  “Exactly what you just said. He wants me,” I say, shielding my eyes. The whole thing is just so stupid. I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this mess.

  “Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep his eye on you. You really think he doesn’t know you’re involved in the hit? Really?” he presses me.

  “Just let me deal with this. Your secret’s safe with me. You have nothing to worry about,” I plead. I place my head against the table. “Look, just leave me alone. And don’t call me on this number again. Goodbye.”

  “V! Wait, I—” I hang up the phone.

  Do I really like this... this… cop? No. I don’t like him. But now I’ve done myself in. I’ve given into the idea of the unthinkable and now I have to keep him close, especially after this next job. I need to make sure he has no idea what’s going to happen next. I think I’m about to make the worst mistake of my life.

  Marshall

  I’ve waited for her to call me for days. Fucking days. I don’t get this woman. First, she acts like she wants to straddle my cock, then she acts colder than cold toward me. What’s her angle? Is she game or is she going to keep stringing me along? Better yet, what’s she hiding in that brain of hers? Must be some kind of trauma. Maybe I want to back off.

  Of course, just as I decide to, I feel my pocket vibrate. “Sorry about the other night,” she says. “I overreacted.”

  “It’s not a problem,” I type. “It’s your choice. If you don’t want to hang with me, you don’t have to.”

  “No. I do,” she says. “I really do.”

  “What about tomorrow night?” I ask her.

  “Sounds good,” she says.

  Sounds good? Great. I think I was wrong about this woman. She lives for the game. She lives to play tricks on guys like me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Adam says. We’re sitting at his house, whiskey bottle on the table, but we’re barely even drinking. I’ve tuned out again. I shouldn’t be focusing on what my cock wants. I should be in the game, trying to catch these bastards.

  “Nothing,” I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. “I’m listening. Go on.”

  “Look, I’ve found three possible sites that could point to where they’re going to hit next,” he says. “Here, here, and here.”

  His fingers point at this last bank, one a little far away, but it’s a damn good guess. “It’s big enough. It would be hard to rob though. How much security do they got over there?”

  “Not as much as you think,” he says. “Two. Sometimes three if they’ve hired on too many people for the year.”

  “Hm,” I sigh. I can’t concentrate as much as I want to. My head isn’t in the game. I keep thinking of her. Her waist. Her ass. Those perfect, supple breasts. God dammit.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “It seems too convenient.”

  “I’ve got a hunch that these guys are about justice, or at least they think they are. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, they’re nothing but money stealing criminals,” he tells me, looking confident with himself. “It’s a big bank. It’s not a conglomerate, so they could get away with it. They do a lot of shady loans over there. Very poor area. The people wouldn’t give a damn if it were hit. In fact, they’d probably celebrate it.”

  “Just like they did over here,” I nod. “Sure. You’re probably right about that. But what about this one right here?” I move his finger over to the left, maybe twenty miles south.

  “Too small,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Marshall. I just don’t see them hitting that one. It’d be easy, but there’s not a lot of money in it.”

  “That’s exactly my point,” I say. “They already did their big hit and it made national news. They’re not that cocky. They can’t be.”

  “Don’t underestimate the stupidity of a criminal,” he says.

  “Don’t underestimate the brains of a criminal,” I correct him. After a few seconds of thinking this through, I tell him, “Fine. We’ll go your way on this one. You deserve to call the shots every now and then. You’re a big boy.”

  “Shut up, man,” he folds up the map and takes a swig from the bottle. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

  “I know you won’t,” I mutter. But deep down, I know they’re going to get away with this one too. They almost always do, if they’re smart enough. And these guys sure are smart enough. It takes three or four to really take a motherfucker down, and when it happens, I’m going to be the man who does it.

  Virginia

  “You still haven’t shown me your place,” he says, with a sly smile on his face. He calmly looks into my eyes as he takes another shot. I’m still sipping on my first, heart beating quick and irregular. My temperature has gone up and I know I’m glistening in the yellowish light of the bar.

  “You don’t want to see it,” I tell him. “Trust me. It’s a shithole.” It’s not really a lie. It is pretty bad. Clothes are strewn everywhere, I haven’t vacuumed in months, and dust lines the tops of my cabinets. I thought I’d be out of the country in a few days. I didn’t expect to be in this insane predicament. Still, even if my apartment was spotless, I wouldn’t offer to show him. He’s already gotten too close to me. He expects to get much closer.

  He puts his hand on my kneecap and I nearly spill my drink from jumping. “You okay?” he asks me, slightly angry, I think.

  “Yeah. Sorry I keep doing this. I’m just not used to—” He laughs, cutting my sentence short.

  “Used to cops? I get it,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  “No,” I laugh a little sarcastically. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Sure I do, darling,” he says, pointing at a bottle of something. The bartender knows exactly what he wants and he pours him another one. “Everybody hates the police nowadays. They think we’re bad men. It’s a shame, really. I pride myself on being good. In multiple ways.”

  I get the idea. But he’s downright annoying. He’s got this heather-grey undershirt on that tucks in right at that V-formation that forms underneath his perfect abs. The shirt hugs tight against each and every curve of his muscles, and for a split second I wonder what it would be like to feel between those lines, to kiss each ripple of flesh.

  I gulp my drink down and feel my thighs start to grow warm. I’m doomed, so doomed. “Well, that’s great. You’re the one good cop that’s out there. A real small town hero, right?” It comes out bitchy and I know it, but I can’t help it. I can’t hear this guy brag about how righteous he is when he knows that deep down, we’re all prone to being bad every now and then.

  “Now you’re getting rude,” he says.

  “Sorry. Again. But what makes you think you’re such a great guy?” I ask him. His eyebrows arch upward as if he’s never pondered the question before in his life. “I mean, what gives you the right to take another man’s freedom away from him?”

  “You’ve been watching too much of the local news, haven’t you?” he laughs. Then, he heaves a sigh and relaxes a bit. “But I get it. Don’t you worry. I really understand. There’s something to what you’re saying. But it’s like I told you a few days ago. I grew up watching really bad people get away with flexing their power. There were no checks and b
alances. Now, I’ve dedicated my life to stopping those people.”

  I nod, even though I’m sure he doesn’t get what I’m saying. If he did, he wouldn’t be pursuing this line. “Let’s just hope you don’t turn into one of those people, yourself. It’s a real fine line.”

  This date is already off to a rough start. Why are we talking about this crap? Why do I always have to interject with my brazen opinion? Normally, it doesn’t get me anywhere, and I’m sure it won’t take me anywhere nice with Marshall. I want his attention focused on me, not my criminality.

  “Let’s talk about nicer things,” I let up with a smile.

  “Better yet, let’s dance,” he says, twitching his brows up and down. He kicks the stool back and holds his hands out in front of him, bending slightly to the old country music. I turn to look at the empty dance floor and laugh.

  “There’s nobody dancing, Marshall. It’s embarrassing,” I say.

  “Aw, come on. Live a little. You’re always so damn tense,” he says, spinning me around. I awkwardly turn and waddle my feet.

  “I can’t,” I tell him, feeling so embarrassed already. The old bartender starts clapping to the music and he hollers a “Yeah!” in my direction.

  “You know you want to,” he hums. “Be my girl tonight.”

  Be my girl. Be my baby. Be my woman. The thought of that feels good. To be somebody’s anything makes me smile, and I actually start laughing as he pulls me toward the dancefloor.

  “There we go!” he says. Warmth floods my body like sunshine, like those good days I can remember, from back when I was a child. I step back and find a small groove, and I follow his lead.

  “Dammit,” I say. “I can’t believe I’m dancing. I haven’t danced in over a decade.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” he says. “Well, now’s your chance to be free again.”

  The thought is funny to me. That dancing with him could somehow be freeing in anyway is almost an oxymoron. He’s my enemy. He’s the man that wants to lock me up forever. Only, he has no idea. He’s ignorant to the whole damn thing.