Just Married

by Rory Reynolds

  “I just don’t trust him.”

  Four weeks ago, those words were spoken with complete conviction. Now? They don’t ring true, not even a little. Kingston has done everything to make me feel comfortable. Every hoop I’ve made him jump through has been met with understanding and not one ounce of annoyance. It’s like the man has an unending amount of patience when it comes to proving himself. I set the boundaries, and he toes the line. Never once pushing me.

  The thing is… I need a push. Hell, I need a shove. I’m so scared of making the wrong choice that I’m stuck making no choice at all.

  My phone dings again and I cringe. Last night was everything I could have asked for and then some but in the light of the day… all my doubts came rolling back, and I panicked. Again. Had I not woken up tangled around him in my own bed, I would have run, but we were at my place, and there was no way out.

  I pasted on a smile and did my best to not show my inner freak out, but with the way he’s been reaching out to me… I’d say I failed pretty badly at acting normal. So, now I’m avoiding.

  Tammy snatches my purse, digging through it until she grasps my phone.

  “Pey. Thirty-seven notifications?”

  She looks appalled and I almost think she’s upset on my behalf, but then she shoves the phone at me.

  “This is fucking ridiculous. I’m done playing the supportive bestie. I won’t sit back and watch you sabotage your own happily ever after. That’s what this is all about, right?” she looks at me imploringly. When I say nothing, she shakes her head, her disappointment evident. “Look, I love you, but you need to sort your shit. The future you’ve always wanted is right there, waiting for you.” She points at my phone. “He might not be your Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor, but he is your happily ever after. You know I’m right.”

  Tears well up in my eyes and I nod. She’s right.

  “What if things don’t work out?” I ask, verbalizing my fear.

  Tammy grips my hand from across the table, squeezing firmly.

  “Peyton, there are no guarantees in life, but there are plenty of regrets to be had. That man loves you. And love is worth the risk.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. You can but this to the ends of the earth and it won’t change a thing. He loves you, and you love him, and that is all that matters. Leave the past in the past. It’s time to forgive him.”

  I leave our lunch feeling raw and vulnerable. I’m scared out of my mind, but Tammy is right. I am in love with Kingston. I just need to find my lady balls and admit my feelings to him. Keeping him at arm’s length isn’t working. Eventually, his patience is going to run out, and I’ll be alone. Not just alone, I’ll be a divorcée, which is the worst thing I can imagine considering the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be a wife.

  I decide it’s now or never.

  I take a deep breath and push through the doors to Kingston’s office building. I remember the first time I was here a couple of weeks ago and how in awe I was at the luxury of it all, but now I walk through the space with unseeing eyes. I check in with security and am glad that Kingston put me on the guest list. They won’t have to call ahead and verify that I have an appointment, which means if I chicken out between here and his office, he’ll never know I was here.

  The elevator seems to crawl as it ascends giving me ample time to freak myself out over what I’m about to do. When the doors finally slide open, I’m halfway to hyperventilating.

  I can do this.

  I can do this.

  Maybe if I repeat it enough, it’ll stick. Wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt, I step out of the elevator and take my first step toward my future. Butterflies fill my stomach as I make my way down the quiet hallway. When I get to his office, I’m shocked to find his bulldog of an assistant isn’t at her desk. I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s not here… I don’t think I could confess my feelings with an audience.

  My phone vibrates in my purse, and even though I’ve been ignoring it all day, I decide to answer. Hoping against hope that hearing his voice will bolster my failing confidence.

  “Hello?”

  His sigh of relief sends goosebumps down my spine. It’s as if he’s breathing for the first time at just the sound of my voice. That simple sound calms the riotous feelings that have been brewing in my gut.

  “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice is pained. “Please don’t shut me out.”

  I swallow thickly, not able to find the words I want to say. I want to alleviate his concern, but my brain and heart can’t seem to get it together and give me the words that will make it all right.

  “Tell me I didn’t fuck everything up.”

  My heart melts. I might not have my own words, but I can give him this.

  “You didn’t fuck everything up.”

  He blows out a breath and I can imagine him on the other side of the door relaxing into his chair like the weight of the world was just lifted from his shoulders.

  “We need to talk,” I say, my shaky voice betraying my nervousness.

  “Okay…” he says hesitantly.

  “But not on the phone. I need to see you.”

  “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you.”

  I chew on my lip, nerves making me stupidly silent again.

  “You could just open your door,” I finally say.

  I hear his office chair squeak, and then the soft padding of his feet as he crosses the room, and then I’m face to face with the man I love—my husband. All of my nervousness evaporates into thin air.

  Kingston’s gaze roves over me, concern etching his brow. I could kick my own ass for making such a strong, confident man doubt himself so thoroughly.

  “Pey—” he starts, but before he can finish whatever it was he was about to say—probably another apology—I throw myself at him.

  My arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and my lips crash into his. After a single heartbeat, Kingston’s mouth returns my fervor. His hands grip me around the waist and lift me until I can circle my legs around his body. His shoulders flex beneath my hands and a tiny thrill of excitement courses through my body at his strength.

  I’m so focused on kissing him that I hardly notice the fact that he’s carrying me across the room. One of his hands leaves my body followed by a loud crash as everything that was on his desk hits the floor. He lays me out on his desk, his lips never parting from mine. Not when he rips my panties from my body. Not when he frees his cock from his pants. Not when he thrusts into me in one long push.

  My nails score down his back, and I instantly hate the layers of clothing between us. I shove his suit jacket off his shoulders and blindly work the buttons on his shirt. I grow frustrated when I can’t manage to work the tiny buttons while he’s roughly pounding into me. Fucking me into delirium.

  Fuck this, I think to myself as my frustration mounts. I need his skin on mine. I grip the two sides of his shirt and rip it open sending the annoying buttons flying. Ha! Take that you stupid buttons. That’ll teach you for keeping me from touching my man.

  Kingston growls in approval when I rake my nails down his muscled chest. It’s as if that tiny bite of pain sparks some inner beast because his thrusts become more powerful until he’s fucking me so hard his desk moves. Each thrust he hits me so deep that there’s a pinch of pain, but it’s so fucking sweet that I’m begging for more. I can’t get enough. I’m starved for him.

  “Fuck…” he grunts, his lips leaving mind for the first time since I entered his office.

  “Yes,” I moan. “Fuck me.”

  His fingers dig into the skin of my thighs so hard that I know I’ll be bruised, but I don’t care. I’ll wear his marks with pride knowing that I drove him so crazy that he can’t help himself.

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, punctuating each word with a thrust of his cock. “My perfect fucking wife.”

  His thumb finds my clit and rubs it just the way I like. That’s all it takes to have my orgasm be
aring down on me like a freight train. My back arches as I scream out his name. My vision blurs as my pussy clenches down on his length. Kingston doesn’t stop. He fucks me straight through one orgasm and into the next until I’m completely delirious from pleasure and I can no longer tell if it’s one orgasm or a million.

  “Going to cum in this tight little pussy.”

  “Please…” I whimper, unable to do anything other than be at the mercy of his desires.

  He buries himself to the hilt and my eyes practically roll into my head as the heat from his release fills me. There is something so primal about how he makes love to me, and I hope it’s always this way between us. I never want to lose the madness that consumes me every time we come together like this.

  We both stay frozen in place, trying to catch our breath. Kingston is the first to move, but instead of getting up, he starts placing sweet kisses on my neck and jaw, slowly making his way to my lips where he languidly kisses me. Our hands roam over each other, not to arouse but to soothe. The moment is perfect.

  I break our kiss and look into his eyes. “I love you,” I say with complete and utter confidence. No longer do I doubt that we are perfect for each other. We still have a lot to learn about each other, and I don’t doubt that we will have some bumps along the way but I love Kingston, and I am done running from him—from us.

  I can tell I caught him off guard with my confession of love. I find his furrowed brow and not quite but almost frown adorable. I would laugh if my heart wasn’t in my throat as I wait for him to say something. He closes his eyes for a second and when they open again, there is disbelief written in them.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Kingston.”

  He kisses me then, long and deep, putting every ounce of love I know he feels for me into the kiss. I answer back with tenderness and acceptance. I’m ready to be his in all ways. He gently cups my face with his hands and my eyes prick with emotion.

  “I thought you wanted to talk?” he asks with a smirk.

  “I think we communicated pretty well myself.” I rotate my hips and squeeze his half hard cock that is still buried inside me.

  “Hmm… I suppose we did,” he concedes, as his cock hardens.

  This time, he makes sweet love to me. It’s not the frantic coupling of before. He’s telling me with his body that he loves and cherishes me. That I am his and he is mine. When we are both sated and replete, he carries me to the couch and sits, holding me on his lap. I snuggle into him, content.

  “What happens next?” I ask.

  “We live happily ever after, of course.”

  Epilogue

  Kingston—One Year Later

  Once again, I’m waiting at the altar for the woman I love to walk toward me, only this time she’ll be wearing white.

  “You nervous?” Theo asks.

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nervous to marry my wife?”

  “I suppose that does change things a bit,” he concedes.

  This last year has been amazing. After that day in my office, Peyton moved into my penthouse, and we’ve spent every moment possible building a relationship that will last a lifetime. Six months ago, I got down on my knee and proposed to her properly and vowed to give her the wedding of her dreams.

  She laughed, thinking I was being ridiculous, but when I told her I had the hotel booked already and that she should start making plans, she burst into tears and then got down on her knees to show her appreciation. We made love three times that night cementing our love and commitment to each other.

  The music starts up, drawing me out of my musings. My attention is automatically on the doors as I await the moment my bride appears. Tammy and Jillian are first to make their way down the aisle. I hardly spare a glance at them because there at the end of the aisle is Peyton. She slowly makes her way toward me, and if I wasn’t so determined to give her the perfect day, I would run down the aisle, throw her over my shoulder and carry her straight to our suite.

  She’s finally standing at my side, her father placing her hand in mine as he officially gives her away. Our fingers link together and get lost in each other for a moment before the officiant begins speaking. When it’s time to say our vows, Peyton looks up at me with such love I’m overcome with emotion.

  “I swear to love and honor you. You are my best friend,” Peyton looks at Theo and shrugs in apology. He chuckles and nods in understanding, looking at his wife the way that I am looking at mine. “We started out a little backward, but it’s made us stronger as a couple and I know that going forward we will continue to grow together.” Her hand falls to her stomach, and I look up in surprise a huge smile spreading across my face.

  “Really?” I ask, interrupting whatever the officiant was about to say.

  She nods, her smile brighter than any I’ve ever seen before. I whoop, sweeping her up into my arms and twirling her around. She throws her head back and laughs her joy. I set her on her feet and kiss her silly. Not stopping even when a dozen throats clear.

  “You might as well go ahead and finish,” Theo tells the officiant who is shifting on his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife… uh… continue kissing your bride.”

  And I do.

  And they lived happily ever after.

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  His Hellcat

  Chapter One: Blake

  How did I get myself into this mess? I mean, how bad can my fucking luck be really? I came out to this place to get away for a little while. To escape the jackass ex-fiancé that won’t stop calling and my whore of a best friend that put that ex in front of fiancé.

  Seriously.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Just, what the fuck.

  Here I am in the middle of nowhere; we are talking bum-fuck-Egypt kind of nowhere, and my shitty rental car gets a flat. Why am I surprised? Now, don’t think I’m one of those prissy bitches that can’t change a tire because my daddy taught me how to change a tire and the oil—plus a few other things I never had to actually do myself before—but that’s beside the point. I’d change the damn tire if there was a spare.

  Tipping my head back to the sky, I shriek out my frustration. The abrupt noise sends birds flying and small critters running away from the maniac walking down the middle of this deserted piece of back road hell. My feet are killing me. I was in no way prepared for this little adventure into hell. I walked in on Margo bouncing on Shane’s cock, threw the bottle of champagne at them and stormed out. I’m still wearing my red, four-inch stilettos and a sexy black maxi dress. Not to mention, I have on a silk and lace shelf bra that is pinching the fuck out of my tits. It’s the kind of bra you buy and only wear when you know it’s coming off soon. Fashion not function for sure.

  Another round of pissed off courses through me as my mind replays the vision of Margo’s anorexic body writhing on top of what used to be the love of my life. In a fit of rage, I rip off my shoes and chuck them into the tree line. The sight of them bouncing off of a tree and crashing through the underbrush is mildly satisfying. Several minutes later, I’m questioning the rationale of ridding myself of the shoes. Especially, since now I’m walking down a dirt road completely barefoot. And this fucking bra! Reaching behind me I unclasp the vicious thing and rip it out of the top of my dress.

  “Fuck you, Victoria’s Secret,” I rant as I drop the torture device to the ground. Instant relief sweeps through me and I relish in FMB. For those of you who don’t know what FMB stands for, it’s free my boobs. It’s that glorious time of day when you can rid yourself of the underwire, the lifting, pushing, and pinching and free the motherfucking tah-tahs.

  Free.

  My.

  Boobs.

  Bitches.

  Feeling a smidgen better after my brief throwback to feminism, I have a bit more pep in my step.

  I
have to be close to the cabin by now. I was only about ten miles away when the tire blew. Although, not a damn thing out here looks familiar, so I could be completely wrong. The years have changed this place more than I thought possible.

  I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking coming out here. My pissed off haze had caused my irrationally spontaneous, albeit necessary trip. I left the apartment, jumped in the first cab I saw, and ended up at the airport. When the lady behind the ticket counter asked me where I was going, I stared at her like I was a moron.

  How the fuck should I know something like that? Where the hell do you go when your entire life is back in your bed boinking like rabbits in heat?

  Home.

  You go home.

  That’s how I ended up walking down this godforsaken road barefoot and braless on my way to a cabin that I haven’t been to in nearly fifteen years. Since luck is obviously on my side, I half expect the cabin to be a pile of rubble when I get there instead of the sanctuary I seek.

  “Ah! There you are!” I can’t hold back the excitement when I see the rusty mailbox sitting on top of what use to be a four by four board cemented into one of those old milk cans. It’s still about half a mile up the road, but at least I’m nearly there. I can get cleaned up and hide away for a few weeks until I’m ready to deal with Satan and his slut-bag bitch.

  My excitement over the mailbox sighting lasts about three and half seconds before there is a huge crack of thunder, the skies open up, and it starts raining. Not just a nice spring rain. Oh no, we are talking a torrential downpour. I don’t know who the hell I pissed off up there, but this is getting ridiculous. Throwing my middle fingers out in the air and thrusting my hips in the ‘suck it’ motion I scream, “Fuck you mother nature! Yeah, you heard me, you fuckin’ bitch. Fuck you!”

  Several minutes later, the quaint little cabin is finally in my sights. Well, sort of, it’s more of a blur because of the waterfall I’m currently trudging through, but it’s there. I climb the three stairs up to the wrap-around porch and pray that the hide-a-key is still in its spot. Just as I reach up to the top of the door to feel for the key my wet and muddy feet lose traction, causing me to slip on the tile and gracefully fall flat on my ass. Okay, I lied. There was nothing graceful about my fall. I slipped, arms flailing wildly trying to catch myself (for the record, thin air doesn’t have any handles), then I crashed on my overly plump ass.