Thousand Yard Bride

by Nora Flite

  His erection was massive—it always was. Tingling with anticipation, I scraped my nails down his stomach until he shuddered. His cock twitched, eager to be exposed. I was impatient; I pulled his briefs down, ogling his naked cock.

  Hunter laughed in his throat. "You act like you haven't seen it before."

  "I guess I'm just still impressed," I said, smiling shyly.

  "Good. I want you to be. Don't let that change."

  It came out like a command. My insides tightened, warm and excited. I loved when he got a little dominant. Even now, though I was the one undressing him and sitting on top, Hunter had a casual alpha male aura to him.

  Sliding up his legs, I perched my pussy over his throbbing length. Gingerly, I rubbed across him, grinding onto my clit. "Fucking hell," he hissed.

  Reaching between us, I nudged him until he was sliding inside. Hunter's thickness stretched me out, his cock-head scraping along my roof, colors dazzling behind my shut eyes. Nothing was as satisfying as burying him deep in my walls.

  Even if I didn't want to, my muscles flexed, drawing him deeper—fucking him helplessly. I was addicted to him by now. Maybe I had been from our first night together.

  "Jo," he whispered, holding my hips and guiding me.

  My belly arched in front of me, hiding most of Hunter's beautiful ink on his chest. I stopped caring about that soon, just riding him as my orgasm rose to the surface. It always happened too fast, so easy with him.

  Driving down onto his pelvis, I groaned and squeezed my teeth together. A single breath made my pussy twitch, another flooded me with delirious pleasure. Who needed a honeymoon in New York?

  "Fuck!" I squealed, shaking with the pulsing of my body. The tension snapped, pleasure exploding through my core and pussy, my being one big muscle that could do nothing but spasm and come and drool.

  "There you go," he coached me, holding my wrists. Thrusting hard, sharp, he forced me to hold still as his cock swelled. The burst of come was violent, I felt it hit my cervix—felt it soak into my brain.

  There was a uniqueness to having him finish in me. I'd never let anyone do this before Hunter. And I hoped . . . I never would.

  Hunter took my hand under the sheets. We were both lying there on our backs, catching our breaths. I realized that my belly made a bump under the cloth and I suddenly felt self-conscious. It was like Hunter could read my mind because he said, “You’re as amazing as the first time, Jo. Every curve of you is perfect. I'm a lucky man.”

  “I wish we could stay in bed all weekend,” I said.

  “You think you've got that kind of energy?" he teased, glancing over at me. His arms were folded beneath his head, the shape highlighting the lines that made up his muscles. No matter how many times I saw him naked, I was blown away.

  He watched me closely, whispering, "Did I make you forget your witty response?"

  My smile was frail. "I don't have one this time."

  Hunter blinked, the moment stretching as we studied each other, like we could find clues to what we were thinking. Or why we were even thinking it.

  Licking my lower lip, I said, "I love you."

  He crashed on top of me, his hand going to my stomach, thumb grazing my navel. "I couldn't keep going if you didn't."

  For the first time since moving in together, we fell asleep in his bed.

  23

  Hunter

  Was it weird that I thought Jo looked hot in her preppy clothes?

  Maybe it was the lingering endorphins from our night of heart-pounding sex, but I saw nothing but a sensual creature waiting to break free from that stuffy pastel outfit. It was more yellow than a school bus, but seriously, she was killing me with it.

  I'd barely finished adjusting my painful hard-on when my mom scurried our way, her hands clapping loudly. “Dear Jo, you look like you fit right in.” Then she called my dad over. He already had a drink in hand—I was jealous. “Look at these two. Don’t they look just perfect? I had that outfit sent to Jo this morning.”

  “They almost look like they belong together,” my dad said dryly.

  “We do belong together,” I shot back.

  “You can drop that act, son. I don't think Jo had time to plant any of her reporter friends in earshot.”

  I didn't want to spend the entire day sidestepping his verbal abuse, so I cut to the chase. “There's no act, but let me spell it out for you.” I put my arm around Jo and pulled her tight against me. "I love this woman. I love our child. Accept it or don't, I'm tired of caring."

  Wiping his mouth, he stared at me so fiercely I wondered if he was trying to make me combust from sheer will. “That’s preposterous. You’ve only known the girl for, what is it? How far along are you, Jo?”

  She put her arm around my waist, her touch reassuring. “Six months. A wonderful six months, even." Her over the top perky voice had me biting my tongue. Watching her turn my dad beet red was too amazing.

  “What is wonderful about any of this?” he growled, his drink spilling from his sharp gesture.

  My mom touched my father’s arm. “Honey,” she said to him, “Maybe this is for the best?” I was happy that at least my mom was on our side.

  “How could that possibly be?” he sputtered. “Our son is clearly being manipulated!”

  Jo shook her head. “I’m not manipulating anyone, Mr. Daniels."

  “I’m speaking to my wife,” he snapped at her.

  Her grip tightened on me, her tone dropping. "Then don't talk about me like that in earshot. I’m standing right here."

  “Well, you shouldn't be. You don't belong here. You don’t belong with my son. Daniels men marry suitable women. You're no one." He started to step towards us.

  Putting an arm out, I shielded Jo and came close to slamming my nose into my father's. He stepped back, startled at my quick movements. “She's the mother of my child,” I hissed, my lips pulling over my teeth. Slowly, a thin smirk grew on my face. "Jo means more to me than you could possibly understand, you hollow excuse for a piece of shit."

  His nostrils flared, eyes going dark as the bottom of the sea.

  “Come on," Jo cautioned in my ear. "We don’t need to do this now. Let’s just have a nice time today.” I let her lead me towards a table holding lemonade and other refreshments. My parents watched us go, neither of them speaking.

  I was happy to get away from them. It was a feeling I’d felt too many times. My mom would force me to do something, to go somewhere, and then when I was trapped there, my dad would let me have it.

  Jo's fingers cut into me like claws. Grunting, I gave her my full attention. She'd stopped dead in her tracks, and I saw where she was looking—no, at who.

  Benny was here.

  My mom didn't tell me that any other Hawks players would be at the charity tournament. When he saw us watching him he plastered a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Let’s just avoid him,” she mumbled.

  I was starting to think we should just jet the hell out of here. The event had barely begun and already my hackles were up. Why was I bothering with this again? Why did I let my family have such a hold over me?

  Because your dad can kick you off the team, I reminded myself grimly.

  In the background, Benny laughed at something. My fist cramped up from how hard I clenched it. I tried to put him out of my mind the entire day, but after a few rounds of croquette—most of which I planned to bomb, but my competitive side took over, like always—it turned out that his team and mine were facing off.

  After the sixth time seeing his fucking grinning face today, I wanted to beat him.

  I'd do it with my croquet mallet, if I could get away with it.

  My team consisted of Jo and some older friend of my father's. I vaguely remembered him from when I was little and my dad would sit outside, smoking away and pretending to pay attention to me.

  Unlike my father, Lance—or was it Chance? I kept forgetting—had a genuine smile and a positive air. “We have to take these guys down li
ke the clowns they are,” he said, smacking me on the back.

  “Down to the ground, dead in a mound,” Jo responded. She said it so flatly that we both gawked at her until she blushed and look away.

  Lance-Chance chuckled. "I like her spirit."

  Breaking our huddle, we took our spots and began the immensely uninteresting and really only entertained by the rich sport of croquette. I'll spare the details—there was lots of clacking, spinning balls, and high-fives as my team crushed Benny's.

  Really, that's the only important part, anyway.

  Jo cheered, trying to jump in place. I lifted her, helping her along. The look on Benny’s face was priceless. Especially when we stood next to my mother and accepted the ridiculously gold trophy. I wouldn't have even cared, except it was making Benny glower and I admit—I loved that.

  My mom asked me to give a speech, so I decided to rub it in a little more. “First, I’d like to thank my wonderful wife, Jo." Reaching out, I pulled her against me. In the crowd, my dad's face was melting into a mass of angry wrinkles. This moment couldn't get any better. "She’s been my rock, and she’s completely changed my life. If anyone here deserves a trophy, it’s her.”

  Then I heard somebody laughing; Benny. He shouted, “That’s bullshit, man, and you know it.” The crowd parted for him, allowing the asshole to join me on stage.

  A camera flashed—Jo gave me a nervous glance. Shit. This might get out of control. I'd been having fun, but if this went any further, Benny might lose it. “What are you doing?" I hissed at him under my breath.

  “I’m fucking sick of you," he shouted, his voice cracking around the corners. I'd never seen him so unhinged—was this because of the stupid trophy? "You have it so damn easy. You have everyone fooled. They think you’re some kind of fucking prince but I know what a piece of shit you still are. And I know the truth about you and Jo."

  Only my father had ever made me shiver with his cold smiles.

  Benny got to join that special shelf, now.

  "Don't," Jo said, her hands lifting to plead with him.

  He pulled away from us, escaping me as I tried to yank him back. I don't know if I could have silenced him, but I would have tried. Over the crowd his shouts stretched easily—he had their full attention. “You should all know that you’re being fooled! Jo and Hunter aren’t together. Nope. Not really. He fucked her. He knocked her up, and then to save his image, they got married to make it seem like some fairy tale. They think you’re all idiots!” He was laughing again. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I said, my hands involuntarily fisting at my sides.

  “Oh no? That’s funny, because I have proof!” Benny pulled out his cell phone. There were texts on the screen—or screenshots of texts. At first I was confused, why the hell would I have ever messaged Benny about anything? Especially Jo?

  Then my stomach began to eat itself. The screenshots weren't from Benny's phone, or from mine. They were from Reese's. Somehow, Benny had managed to get shots of Reese's phone, capturing a conversation I'd had with him the night I'd told him she was pregnant.

  Hunter: Tell me if I'm crazy.

  Reese: You're crazy.

  Hunter: She's got my baby in her, man. What can I do but marry her? Isn't it the only way?

  Reese: It's a shit plan.

  Hunter: It's my only plan.

  My eyeballs throbbed. I could barely stand. Swinging forward, I tried to grab the phone but Benny jumped off the stage, dodging me. "How the fuck do you have those?" I asked, my words moving faster than my brain, telling everyone around by my reaction that the messages had to be real.

  "You can thank Poppy for that," he said, backstepping further away. "She said Reese was really nice for helping her out at the wedding when she needed air. What a guy." Already people were crowding him, begging for more info, to get an interview.

  Jo made a weak noise, barely a croak. She'd gone pale as a sheet as the conversations among the crowd grew louder and their looks more disapproving. Her lips moved at me, spelling my name—begging me to take her away. As she crumbled to the stage, I caught her by her arms and cradled her against me.

  More cameras flashed. More bulbs blinded me.

  I’d had enough.

  Shouldering everyone aside, I lifted my wife and stomped off the stage. Someone was calling my name—no, multiple people were. Ignoring them all, I rushed through the bodies until Jo and I were in the empty parking lot.

  "Hunter," she said, her nails wrapping in my shirt. "We messed up."

  "I messed up. Sending those messages was so stupid of me." Reese couldn't have known. Poppy was slippery, she'd snooped on me multiple times. Getting Reese's phone and sending herself a screenshot of our conversation was exactly in her wheelhouse.

  "It's over," she whispered, holding her belly. "Your career is done. Mine, too."

  Setting her in the backseat of my car, I curled her against my chest and cradled her stomach protectively. It was warm and stuffy but we didn't care. There was silence here, a rare serenity.

  Now that our secret was out, I wasn't sure we'd find such peace and quiet ever again.

  24

  Hunter

  Jo immediately went into crisis management mode. I suggested we try to stop the story from coming out, but Jo shot that idea down, reminding me that Benny had made sure to out us in public, at an event where he knew there’d be multiple cameras and video-recorded evidence.

  When we got home Jo said she wanted to get to work on a statement we could release. My wife was one of the strongest people I knew, but I could tell she was having a hard time keeping it together.

  Her voice shook as she said, “I’ll think of something, Hunter. Tomorrow, you can release your statement. What that will say . . . well, I don't know yet. I just need to focus. See you in the morning.” She turned away and headed to the office I’d made for her.

  Just before she closed the door, I said, “Wait.”

  Her hand froze on the knob. “What is it?”

  I didn’t have any idea how to fix our situation but I did want to make her feel better, so I did the only thing I could think of—I put my hand around the small of her back, pulled her toward me, and kissed her long and slow and deep, as reassuringly as I knew how. “If only people knew how we felt about each other,” I told her.

  Our bodies met, meshing in spite of how her pregnancy created a ball between us. Locks and keys come in all shapes and sizes, ours still worked no matter if it had been warped. "Even if they knew," she said softly, "they wouldn't care. Gossip doesn't take into account if there's love involved in a scandal."

  With a final kiss on the corner of my mouth, she went into her office and shut herself away.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge, digging for a bottle opener. As I popped the cap, I saw my phone flashing on the counter. I’d put it on silent because of all the calls and texts I was getting from reporters.

  Jo had told me not to say a word until she could write a formal statement and come up with a strategy. I didn't even take a call from Reese—I was sure he was beating himself up, but I had to be safe. Cautious.

  However, when I saw that the call was coming from my parents’ land line, I knew I had to take it. I had to deal with my father before he got to Jo.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Son, your mother and I need you to come to the house,” my father said sternly.

  Sipping from the beer, I breathed out loudly. "Nope. Not happening."

  “It's not an option, Junior. Come over now. We need to strategize how we’re going to preempt the fallout from your dirty secret splattering all over the place and taking us down with you.”

  Snorting cruelly, I set my bottle down loudly. "Fuck. You don't even try to hide your real concerns anymore, do you?"

  “Get in your car and drive your ass over to the house. And do not bring Jo.” He didn't let me reply, he simply hung up. Shaking my head, I drank deeply—so deep I almost
choked from lack of air.

  Dizzy, I wiped my mouth and tucked my phone away. "No," I said to the air. "I don't think I'll be doing any of that, Pops."

  The next call came from a number I didn't recognize. I didn't answer, expecting another voice mail. Instead, a new message popped up.

  Unknown: This is Aldous. I know you, sir. I know you're too angry to come here at your father's request. Listen. You have to do this.

  Uknown: Ignoring him is worse.

  Unknown: For all of you.

  The ripple in my heart kept going, soaring through my veins and muscles until I squeezed my phone in disbelief. Aldous? He must have overheard my father's plan. Whatever it is, it must be serious. The point was well made—even if I didn't want to listen to my dad, knowing what he was up to would be better.

  I didn't want to bother Jo, so I left her a note on the coffee table telling her where I was going, that I’d be back soon, and that everything would be okay.

  I hoped that wouldn’t turn out to be a lie.

  I rang the doorbell and was greeted by Aldous, who looked more somber than usual. “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room.”

  “Thanks, Aldous.” Pausing, I added quietly, "For the heads up, too."

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Trust that everything will be all right.”

  I nodded before making my way into the dining room. My father sat at the head of the table, a monster of dark wood and polished shine that could sit twenty people. His drink was nearly empty. My mother was standing with her arms crossed beside him.

  The sight of them both, perched where they were and looking so serious, transported me back to my childhood. It wasn't a feeling I was fond of.

  Steepling his fingers, my father sighed. "You came. Good. Do you know why I asked you here?"

  “Because Benny had to get involved for some damn reason in my life, showing private messages to a crowd of socialites and media leeches, is what I’m assuming y—”

  “This isn’t about that anymore,” he interrupted. “What’s done is done. This is about what we have to do next.”