Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  I stand up. “I know you would, Ang, and I appreciate it.”

  “You’d better. I’m so happy for you, Drake. I truly, truly am.” She shakes her head then and presses her hands to her cheeks. “I’m not going to cry. I’m not. But I love the life you have now. You deserve every last bit of it.”

  I walk over and give her a hug. “You’re welcome to move here. Live with us till you find a place of your own.”

  She nods. “I know. The kids would love that. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to give up Dad’s old place yet.”

  “Don’t give it up. Rent it out. It’ll always be there if you want to go back to Kinsleyville.” I touch her nose. “You have to do what’s best for you sometimes. Whatever the hell you want.”

  “Don’t tell me that came from you? That’s what Bella always says.”

  “She knows,” I say, smiling at the name of the wise, wise woman I’m about to marry. “Knows it better than all of us.”

  She shakes her head again. “I know. And I just came up to tell you that Sheriff Wallace is here. Pictures are about to start.”

  I grin. “Is he wearing his uniform?”

  “Nope. I think your mother-in-law threatened him with some seriously criminal conduct if he did.”

  From the moment I asked him to be my best man, Rodney has insisted we wear our uniforms instead of tuxedos. Once Gary took over the founder’s seat at the Oil company, I resigned, and went to work for the sheriff’s department. They needed an extra man part-time.

  I love it, even if he gets up my ass sometimes just as much as any decent boss.

  The force is good for a part-time gig. I get to put my military training to good use, and it also keeps me on the inside of the Briar trials.

  They’re still fighting all the charges, but it’s hopeless. They’ll never get off.

  North Earhart Oil had a whole team of lawyers that are representing everyone from Bella to Edison, and every minor thing in between. The other thug that was arrested with Avery’s decoy flipped on them long ago. The list of crimes he’s connected Avery to seems never-ending.

  I loop an arm around Angie’s shoulders. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  A show is exactly what it is.

  Molly’s show, and she loves every hot second. Bella and I are her stars, but we don’t mind because with Molly taking care of all the details, we can just focus on each other.

  She’s more than stunning in a floor-length white dress that makes her look like a princess, and when she looks at me, with those eyes shining bright and clear and lively green, I feel ten feet tall.

  Pride fills me as I claim my woman in front of all our friends and family. There’s no lack in laughter and fun as we celebrate our union after the ceremony with food, drinks, and dancing aplenty.

  At sundown, after I’ve spent what feels like forever at Bella’s side while she chattermouths away with her old friend, Alexa, Molly comes over and asks if we’re ready.

  Bella nods.

  Confused, I ask, “Ready for what?”

  “Your departure,” Molly says. “What else?”

  “Departure where?” I ask Bella. We never made plans to take a trip, just talked doing it next year.

  She leads me off the dance floor, flashing a grin back over her shoulder. “You’ll see.”

  Edison stands outside of the big, white tent.

  He has a wreath of roses around his neck, and I pinch my lips together at the look he gives me, shaking my head.

  Poor bastard. He’s damn near as overdressed as me.

  I give him a pat on the rump, fully able to relate.

  It’s not all bad, though.

  Beside him, there’s another horse. A big mare Bella bought several weeks ago.

  Edna, our saddle.

  “Up you go,” Molly says.

  Still able and willing, I swing into the saddle, and then make room for Bella to sit on my lap when Molly slides a short set of steps beside Edna.

  Bella climbs the steps and then turns, sitting down on my lap with both legs hanging over one side of the horse.

  Scooting back as much as I can, I ask, “Got enough room?”

  “Plenty!” She takes the reins. “It’s not far.”

  Then she nods to Edison. “Lead the way, bud. Let’s go.”

  We’re pelted with bird seed as we follow Edison around the tent and then into the field. Now, I’m curious.

  “Just where exactly are we going?” I ask.

  “The cabin,” she answers, wiggling her perfect little ass against me. “There are too many guests for us to have any privacy tonight.”

  Shit. She really has thought of everything.

  Still, I’m surprised. “My old place? There wasn’t much to it.”

  “Oh, you’ll see. Patience, hubby.”

  My cock stiffens. I kiss the side of her neck and run my hand down her neckline, pausing on those lush tits. “Good idea.”

  She leans against me, arching her back to show how much she likes my hands there. “Told ya. Details, details.”

  A short time later, I hoist Bella down in front of the little cabin with the soft glow of lights pouring out of the windows. As soon as I’m off Edna, she loops her arms around my neck.

  Looking at me, she says, “Take Edna to the barn, Edison.”

  He flashes his teeth, this big horse smile that doesn’t show a hint of age. Then he nudges the mare with his nose, and they take off walking, side by side, back toward the ranch.

  “I’ve done a little redecorating inside,” she says.

  I love the excitement in her eyes. “You have?”

  She nods.

  I scoop her into my arms and step up on the cabin’s porch. “I’ll take it from here.”

  She laughs as I swing open the door and carry her inside.

  A king-sized bed sits in the center of the open space. There’s a table with champagne, cherries, whipped cream, and various other trinkets.

  After slowly undressing her, I use them all judiciously.

  Slowly, sensually, because I want tonight to last forever.

  I lick the cream off her breasts and the champagne off her stomach. The cherry’s the only thing I’ll allow between her legs, other than my tongue.

  Nothing could improve her sweet pussy. Nothing.

  Dragging my tongue along the length of her, I love how she lifts her hips, spilling out this feminine groan that tells me I’ve done right.

  I lick her again, this time faster, smothering her clit with my tongue before I come up again. “Goddamn, darlin’. Need this pussy bad.”

  She arches a finger, beckoning me up, and then I’m on top of her.

  Tonight, I’m more than just her husband.

  I’m this crazed, feral, rocket thrusting thing hellbent on emptying myself in my wife as many fucking times as I can before dawn.

  Pulling her legs apart, I plunge my cock in. Then we go with our old familiar rhythm, and a new one that’s frantic, sweet, and tonight, perfection.

  “Fuck, Bella. Never get tired of this. Never fuckin’ ever.”

  Heat flushes her cheeks, and it isn’t just her first O. It just drives me on, fucking her straight over the cliff, loving how she moans real sweet for me when her pussy clenches, licking my whole shaft in velvet.

  I thought just having her without a rubber was heaven the past few months. But I had no clue what it’s like to take my wife. My heavenly, sinfully sexy, real wife.

  It drives me this special kind of crazy that doesn’t let up for nothing.

  Just like tonight.

  She never gets a rest. The instant she’s done twitching, I twirl one nipple between my thumb and finger, till her hips lift off the bed and I can feel her heat dripping down my balls.

  Still rock hard, I slide my cock deeper, holding her legs against my shoulders while I crash into her again and again, rocking this box spring to hell and back.

  Fuck, it feels so good, and I nearly come before she’s hit her second O.<
br />
  Don’t want that, not yet, so I just sink deeper, rooting myself in her, the better to run my hand down her sweet face and suck a fresh mark on her throat.

  “Not again! What did I tell you about hickeys?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “That everybody’s gonna know what we were doing if I’m not careful.”

  “Yeah, exactly, and you know –”

  “That’s the point, Bella. That’s what I know more than anything. Come on, Mrs. Larkin. Can’t give you a better diamond than the one you’ve got, so you’ll have to settle for a love bite.”

  She’s not protesting. Not anymore.

  I take that as a sign to nail her deep, and a minute later, I’m pumping her into ecstasy again with my own sweet release not far behind.

  “Darlin’, right now! Come for me.”

  She does. Always so responsive, it fucking ends me.

  My ass clenches as I grind my hips into hers, as deep as I can go, hurling manic ropes of my seed into my wife for the very first time.

  Didn’t just mean I’d mark her skin. Tonight, I’m branding her from the inside out.

  Won’t be long before she’s off her birth control. Then we’ll get to work on those kids, and it’s gonna be just like this, simple and sexy and fiery as hell.

  She knows it, too, as she wraps her legs around my hips, sucking me in so deep I know I can’t pull out again. And I don’t want to.

  We ride the passion together, mouths stealing each other’s air, the bed rocking beneath us.

  I hold my dick inside her long after I’m spent, wishing we could stay like this forever, warm and full.

  After what seems like forever, I roll off her, smiling back at how she smiles at me.

  “Happy, Mr. Larkin?”

  “Hell, yeah. Long as you’re the Missus, I think happy might be all I’ll ever know.”

  * * *

  Thanks for reading Accidental Knight!

  Curious how life unfolds on the Reed ranch seven years later?

  See what Drake and Bella's family looks like long after the Happily Ever After in this special flash forward read - https://dl.bookfunnel.com/yejujloz9k

  Then read on for a preview of another fabulous marriage mistake romance, Accidental Romeo.

  Accidental Romeo Preview

  Special Delivery (Wendy)

  Of course, I’ll deliver the cake.

  Why not? It’s not like anyone – ANYONE – would possibly remember that Blake Paumer stood me up for junior prom. Or how embarrassed I was to go back to school that following Monday, after everyone had already heard about it.

  Of course, no one remembers.

  That's because it didn’t happen to Rochelle. If my sis was ever stood up for prom, the entire world would remember how crushed she’d been and who’d done the smooshing.

  Just like today, when no one would ever make the golden daughter deliver a cake to the very person who’d left her waiting at the front door for hours all those years ago.

  I wrap my fingers tighter around the steering wheel as a sense of self-reproach strikes.

  Fine. So the cake isn’t technically for Blake, but it's for his father. And Blake will be at the retirement party, guaranteed.

  I glance up, glaring at the red light that hasn't changed in the last century.

  “C'mon! There’s no one coming in any direction!” I moan to myself, turning up the radio.

  It doesn’t help. The light doesn’t change, neither does my mood.

  How could it? I have nothing else to think about.

  There’s a hulking marble sheet cake with Congrats on your retirement! written in buttercream frosting sitting on the seat beside me, and this red light perched on a chilly Saint Paul street just might be the longest in history.

  The party hasn’t started yet, and whether it starts hours from now or not, Blake will be there, helping with the prep work. Along with his wife, Heather.

  My best friend, once upon a time. She hadn’t even had the guts to tell me she’d convinced Blake to take her to the prom instead of me. When she did finally fess up, she’d had the nerve to say she didn’t think it would bother me because I wasn’t in love with Blake like she was.

  “Finally!” I hit the gas as the light turns green and cross the intersection carefully because I don’t want the cake hitting the floor.

  Heather was right.

  I hadn’t been in love with Blake. But I had wanted to go to prom. Rochelle was at college then, so it had been my turn to shine. The mousy little sister. Who wasn’t nearly as pretty or smart as her older protégée.

  To this day, it burns.

  No, I don't care if it's a little irrational.

  I don’t care if it was eight years ago, and that I was just sixteen. Missing that prom still pisses me off.

  Almost as much as it pissed me off four months ago, when Heather asked me to bake her wedding cake because nobody could possibly do a better job than our small family-run bakeshop.

  We did our job too well. That's why she's hit us up again for her father-in-law's party.

  I glance at the cake on the passenger seat of my mother’s ancient mini-van and wonder once again, as I did while baking Heather and Blake’s cake, if I should have sabotaged it.

  A cup of salt in place of sugar, or maybe just one egg, or a couple strategic tablespoons of cayenne pepper...

  No, I'm not that bad a bitch. No matter how incredibly tempting it had been.

  Wendy Agnes doesn't do passive-aggressive vengeance.

  I shake my head as I focus on the road again, taking the corner slowly, and let out a thankful sigh that the road ahead is clear of traffic.

  The day isn't all bad. I’ll arrive in plenty of time with an immaculate cake. I’d never do something like that.

  Plus, acting on my revenge fantasies would hurt Midnight Morning far more than it would anyone else. The coffee shop and bakery will be mine someday.

  And I've gotten over the whole prom ordeal, too. Mostly.

  I wasn’t truly psycho upset over baking Heather’s wedding cake, either. I love baking.

  It’s weddings I’m sick of.

  So sick I could yak up my lunch in my own purse. That's thanks to Rochelle becoming the ultimate bridezilla, which shouldn’t shock anyone.

  Especially not me. I’ve lived in her wake my whole life.

  Too bad her wedding is only two weeks away, and just like her prom, I’m dateless. Again.

  I close my eyes, trying not to hear the inevitable pecking at my future wedding-trial.

  “Poor little Wendy!” Aunt Charlotte will say. “She’s still never had a real boyfriend, has she?”

  Mother will just shake her head. “No. She hasn’t. Poor thing.”

  No excuses, no rational, no offense taken. Just agreement so mortifying it already makes me want to shrink into the ground until I wind up on the other side of the Earth.

  I hear Australia's nice. At least the kangaroos there will be friendlier than my relatives.

  That’s how it goes, though. And always has.

  No one will point out my other accomplishments, like the two years I spent in Europe in culinary school, or that I baked pastries in Buckingham Palace. For the Queen’s birthday celebration, no less.

  It's just as well, because if mother did say any of that, she’d follow it up by pointing out how I didn’t date anyone overseas. Then she’ll give her patented, cringe-inducing advice – if I’d simply wear some makeup and do more than clip my hair up, I’d stand a better chance.

  Better chance than what? Being stood up again? No freaking thank you.

  I'm still in my own muddled head when something flashes.

  Movement, just outside the passenger window. Before I can make out what, it jumps the curb and flies out in front of me.

  “Holy –” I slam on the brakes at the same horrible instant I realize it’s a kid, wrenching the wheel to keep from hitting them.

  The van bounces like it's about to burst apart as it scales the curb be
fore jolting to a stop.

  Oh, God. My hands are shaking and my heart pounds up my throat as I look through the windshield, eye to eye at the boy standing mere inches in front of the bumper.

  Thanking God all the while he is still standing!

  “Hey, are you all right?” I ask, throwing open the door and jumping out.

  “I-I d-didn’t see you. Sorry, miss.”

  He’s clearly shaken.

  So am I. I could have hit him. Flattened him.

  “How'd you miss it?” I ask, pointing a thumb at the van. “It’s red! A huge red blob!”

  Just like you could've been! I think to myself, shaking my head.

  Sighing, I step forward and flip the black hood off his head to get a good look at him. He’s a good-looking kid. Young. Early teens, maybe.

  I want to grab him, shake him, but that’s because I’m so upset. He is, too, so I try to pull myself together.

  Take a deep breath. My nerves are literally shot. Breathing doesn’t help one iota.

  His eyes are cast down at the pavement.

  I glance in the same direction. Notice how one end of his skateboard is crunched under the van’s driver's side tire. The other end caught behind the bumper.

  A sense of relief washes over me that it's only his skateboard.

  “That could've been you,” I say, shaking in my boots all over again.

  God, that was too close. This is all too close for comfort.

  He nods and bites down on his quivering bottom lip. “I'm really sorry.”

  I should let him go. We all make dumb mistakes when we're young, right? But something holds me back.

  Feeling like I need to drill down how easily this could've been a whole lot worse, I ask, “What were you doing? Where were you going so fast that you couldn’t even see me?”

  He glances around, as if looking for a place to flee.

  Then I see more. Like the shallow, anxious guilt curdling his young face.

  I know what I’m looking at. I also see the hands shoved in his coat pockets, fidgeting, far too much for just the cold. “Show me your hands.”