Not that propriety would matter, since Mark was my husband.
Shit!
“Wait, go back.” Now that I was covered, what he said was sinking in. “What do you mean, we’re married?” I’m afraid to admit that I squeaked the last, but under the circumstances, I’m sure it was understandable.
He sat down next to me on the couch, his leg alongside mine. I tried to ignore how nice and warm it was. Like my bed had been, before he woke me. He could come back to bed with me, a little voice inside my head said, and keep me nice and warm. And it wouldn’t be wrong, because he was my husband.
Mark set two pieces of paper, somewhat worse for wear, on our laps. Sure enough, our names and signatures were on the marriage license and certificate.
“But... how?”
“Have you been a witness to a marriage before?” He asked gently.
I shook my head. “This was the first time I was in a wedding. I’ve been to a bunch, but just as someone in the pews. You?”
He also had only sat in on weddings, not participated. “You thought it was ‘witness’ paperwork too, huh?”
I did a wry grin. “It was late, and I was exhausted. I looked for my name so I could be sure I was signing in the right place, but that was it. I just wanted to get them married so I could come back and crash. It had been a very long day.”
“Happy birthday, again,” Mark smiled, and nudged me with his shoulder. “At least it’ll be easy to remember our anniversary.”
“Or it’ll be doubly bad when you forget,” I joked right back. My head flopped back onto the couch. What was I thinking? Laughing about how we would be years from now on our anniversary? This wasn’t a real marriage, it was a joke! Neither of us meant to be married. “What do we do now? Can we get divorced as quickly as we got married? I presume we have grounds for an annulment, since neither of us intended to get married. Would that be better or easier to get?”
“We could not,” Mark suggested. “No, hear me out,” he started when I opened my mouth to interrupt.
“No.” Wow, that was quickly becoming my favorite word. “A minute ago you were banging on the door, pissed at being married. Now you’re trying to change your mind?”
He glanced down at my thankfully-blanket covered legs.
“Seriously? You’re that much of a dog?” The irritated look on his face should have stopped me. It wasn’t wise, but I continued on. “A turn of a lady’s ankle is enough for you to propose marriage? The bare hint of what may be above turns you on?” I flipped the blanket above my knees. “Oh no, now you’ve seen calves. I’m surprised you haven’t burst into flames yet.”
Mark shifted on the couch, suddenly facing me, and captured my mouth in a toe-curling kiss. When we parted for air, I blinked, open mouthed.
“May I continue?”
I nodded, not able to say anything.
“This is a first marriage for both of us, obviously.”
Drat, I was hoping he wanted to continue the kissing, not the talking.
“There are certain... advantages to staying married.”
“No, that’s illegal!” He lifted a confused eyebrow. “I saw a story on the news, just the other day. A couple of soldiers were court-martialed and thrown in jail for getting married for the housing benefits increase. You’re a soldier. We got married. I can do the math. I’m not doing it.”
He kissed me again, thoroughly. When he finally pulled away, he said, “That was the kind of benefit I was thinking of.”
“So I was right the first time?” He narrowed his eyes, but let me keep talking. “You just want easy access to the sex.”
“Okay, first of all–well, stop. I’m sorry to be blunt, but are you a virgin?”
I wasn’t sure if I was more shocked he asked the question, or more embarrassed by the answer. I’m not sure how it happened, but me trying to get off the couch and across the room turned into a wrestling match that ended with me under Mark on the couch. The blanket had fallen to the floor in the scuffle, and my husband’s denim-clad thigh was pressed between my bare legs, the warmth and closeness a new sensation to my upper thighs and privates.
“Well that answers that,” he said lightly. “Now will you listen?”
I tried squirming, and Mark ran a hand up under my shirt, resting it on my ribs, his thumb barely touching the underside of a breast. If I squirmed more, that thumb would be on new ground. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to move or not–my body was saying one thing, my brain another!
My mouth listened to my brain. “Yes,” it whispered.
The thumb started stroking gently. Oh goodness, the thumb was meant as a reward, not a punishment. My back arched, my body giving him more access, which also had the pleasurable side-effect of rubbing my clit against the rough denim. Forget talking. I reached up and pulled Mark’s head close for a deep kiss. I might just like this married business.
It was his turn to blink when we separated. He smiled, and my heart melted. Oh my.
“So I’m thinking, there are plenty of people with arranged marriages that don’t meet their spouse until the wedding day. What’s one more couple?”
It was hard to concentrate with his thumb making small circles on my breast. “Um. We’re not Indian? And it’s pre-marital sex that I don’t believe in, not... not knowing your spouse until you’re married.”
“You’re not just a virgin, you’re new to all of this, huh?” He emphasized his statement with pressing his leg into me more. I groaned at the sensation, and clutched at my husband’s back. Apparently I was the type of woman to scratch. Huh. Who knew?
“Yes, it’s new. I’d ask you to stop, but I don’t think I’d have a leg to stand on. Oh hey, there is yours again. Um, if you want to talk, you’d better stop that. Ahem. Anyway, we’re not an arranged marriage.”
“You don’t think Carlos and Glennys set us up?”
I sat up abruptly, banging our heads together. Ouch. “They did this deliberately?”
“What do you think?” He raised an eyebrow, which was a lot sexier than I think he knew.
“A blind date on steroids,” I said with a sigh. “Glennys knows I would never agree to another blind date, not after the last one.” He looked expectant. “That’s a tale for another day.” Good gracious, I was considering this! “So you want to stay married? This isn’t a valid marriage. Neither one of us meant to do this.”
He thought for a few seconds. “But the papers have been signed. In the eyes of the law, we’re married. It’s just a matter of if we acknowledge it.”
I laughed mockingly. “Just. You make it sound so simple.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
“We know nothing about each other! Yeah, I had a good time talking to you last night. I’d say yes to going on a date. But there’s so much we just don’t know.”
“I know you like this,” Mark said, and brought his leg, thumb, and mouth into action all at once. He didn’t play fair. His other hand slipped under my shirt as well, making my hands jealous. I tugged on his shirt from his jeans, and was pulling it up to run my hands across his skin when a throat cleared next to us.
CHAPTER 2
Mark stopped kissing me and looked up. I closed my eyes, knowing who was there.
“Sorry to interrupt, Abby, but the rest of the girls will be here any minute,” Jackie said. Right on cue, a knock sounded at the door. She moved to go answer it and Mark got off me.
“I’m sorry about that,” I told him, truly meaning it. I was quite enjoying myself, and looking forward to where it was leading. I got off the couch as well, and moved to where he was standing by an armchair.
“I’m not,” he said, sitting down and pulling me down onto his lap. He pulled my head close to whisper in my ear. “Your first time shouldn’t be on the couch.” I shivered, his husky voice turning me even more on. I could tell he was too, feeling his erection through his jeans. I wasn’t surprised that he put me on his lap to hide it from the bridal party. It was one thing to be interrupted by the
bride while making out, but it was a completely different thing to show the results of the make-out session to the rest of the girls.
“Legs.” Mark nudged my shoulder, pointing with his chin down at my bare legs. Oops. I dashed off his lap, grabbed the throw, and cuddled back up with him, now covered from the waist down, by the time the bridesmaids danced in.
Literally.
The conga line came by, with each woman handing me part of a mimosa–first the plastic flute, then a few drops of orange juice as justification of the time of day, then a very full glass of champagne was poured. By the empty bottle they put on the coffee table, they’ve been at it for a while. No wonder Jackie slept on the couch.
“Glennys told us the good news–congratulations!” Marcy said, raising her glass from across the room in a toast. I elevated my glass along with the rest of the girls, and sipped the contents while her statement sunk in.
“You were right,” I told Mark in a low voice.
He chuckled. “We’re off to a good start to our marriage if you’re already admitting that.”
I slapped him lightly in the chest. “Don’t get cocky. I mean Glennys and Carlos. That confirms it. They planned this.”
He nodded, looking around the room at the inhabitants. Glennys was conspicuously absent. “Now we just need to figure out why.”
I think I knew, but I wasn’t going to tell him.
“Oh hey, now that you’re married, you can have your birthday spanking,” one of the bridesmaids said with a gleam in her eye.
Oh, good gravy, no. I need to get less turned on at the moment, and having Mark’s large hand on my panty-clad rear wouldn’t get me any less aroused. “Sorry, but the window of opportunity passed. It’s no longer my birthday.”
There, take that.
“They aren’t going to give up,” Mark warned into my ear.
“Neither am I,” I whispered back.
“It’s your un-birthday! You need an un-birthday spanking!”
Shit. Okay, think fast. “Isn’t it your un-birthday as well?” Let’s see how she feels when the shoe is on the other foot.
“Ooh, yes! Move, Abby, so I can get over his knee.”
“No!” Great. I wasn’t going to let my husband spank five women.
“I think you lost,” Mark chuckled. “I won’t spank hard.” I drained the rest of my champagne, wishing the rest of the bridal party hadn’t already finished the second bottle. Maybe they’ll be too drunk to remember this tomorrow? I wouldn’t be so lucky. Then again, I’ll probably be replaying it in my dreams for the next few nights. Why was I fighting this again?
Mark scooted forward in the chair, and gave me a quick kiss on my forehead before flipping me over. The throw blanket fell off. Of course it would. Why would I get extra padding?
True to his word, my soldier used a light hand. Still, I yelped by the tenth smack. The girls giggled, but continued to count. I was glad they were, for I had no shot of keeping track. I was too busy trying not to die of embarrassment, and hoping like hell that Mark couldn’t tell the spanking was turning me on. Because, honestly, I was totally turned on. My dreams of being spanked were coming true, and other than the fact that my friends were witnessing it, the reality was living up to the fantasy.
My simple cotton panties–even though I was bland, my panties weren’t, Victoria’s Secret prints, thank you very much–did nothing to diffuse the heat from my husband’s hand. The nearness of his fingers to my privates made each spank that much better. The fingertips might lightly brush the area covered by the panties, or the heel of his hand might rub briefly after smacking the far cheek before lifting for another spank.
He stopped when the girls counted twenty-nine, and the party argued over the “one to grow on”. One hard one, some said. Between the legs, others insisted. Jackie settled it, saying it should be one hard spank between my legs. Great. If Mark couldn’t already tell I was horny, the wetness of the fabric would be a dead giveaway.
The thirtieth spank came right where the girls requested, hard enough to take my breath away. He kept his hand in place, cupping my heat. Yeah, he could tell. He shifted his fingers, stroking me, and I let a moan escape.
“Alright then, you lot had your fun. We’ll be in the other room.” He ignored the girls’ “oooh’s” and scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
Mark placed me gently on the bed, and curled himself around me. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, and wiped tears I didn’t know I shed from my face. I shook my head from where it was buried in his neck.
“I liked it,” I said softly.
Apparently I said it too softly, because Mark said, “Abby, honey, I can’t hear you. Can you say that again?”
Great. Not only did I have to admit my kink, I had to say it twice. “I liked it,” I said louder, but still quietly enough so not to be heard from the other room. I was very cognizant of their existence out there. “Not the pain,” I made sure to say. “But... I don’t know how to explain. The... nearness? Closeness? I mean, just being over your knee turned me on. So yeah, this is me. Leave now while you can.”
He only hugged me tighter. “I think this clinches why Carlos and Glennys set us up. He has mentioned a club before that he’s been to.”
I sat up straighter. “Glennys has been encouraging me to go to one with her. They must have met there, and decided to plan this all out. Let me guess, Carlos suggested you guys come here this weekend?”
He nodded. I could tell he was glad he distracted me from the tears. Good guy or not, a crying woman is always difficult to deal with.
“I just don’t get it. Why would she do this?” I fumed.
He shrugged. “To see their friends happy?”
“I’m sorry, Mark, but I’m not happy right now. I got married, pretty much without my consent. I’m tired, confused, just got my first-ever adult spanking, and am rather turned on. I’m not all that happy.”
My husband kissed my forehead. “Could you be?”
I didn’t answer, but also didn’t stop him from planting light kisses on my face. Biology and hormones took back over, and I let my hands explore his broad chest through his golf shirt. Strong, tight muscles responded under my touch, and he shifted to lie on top of me. He slid his hands beneath the waistband of my underwear, and cupped the buttocks he had so recently spanked. I arched my back, giving him access to the full skin, and he slid the panties down to my knees.
Laughter rang from the other room, and I sighed. I put my hands on his chest, pushing him away gently. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Like a flash, he was off of me, and off the bed. He tucked his shirt back in and apologized profusely.
“No.” I smiled, suggestively I hoped, and looped a finger through his belt loop, pulling him closer. “I can’t do it with them in the other room.”
He grinned like a five year old boy just given a new toy car. “I’ll go get a room. Don’t move a muscle.” He was gone in a flash.
I grinned at his enthusiasm, and stretched, hoping he returned soon. Stretching reminded me my undies were at my knees, and I pulled them back up, not wanting any of the girls to walk in. My bladder demanded attention, so I headed into the bathroom to perform my daily ablutions.
By the time I had finished freshening up, I had second, and third, thoughts about staying married. He was a stranger, for crying out loud! To whom I had just bared my rear and soul to. He wasn’t getting us a room for ourselves, he was running for the hills! If he was smart, that is. Why would I want him if he wasn’t smart?
Yeah, I wasn’t being consistent or logical. But my friend had set me up, and I didn’t want to be taken advantage of. Or take advantage of him, which it really felt like I’d been doing. I’d gotten my spanking. I didn’t need anything more. This wasn’t a valid marriage; we were going to get annulled. So having sex with Mark, while probably really nice, would still count as having sex before marriage. Since this wasn’t a real marriage. I woul
d be playing fast and loose with definitions, and my ethics and virginity, by staying.
I had convinced myself, and hurried to pack before Mark returned. I left the bedroom fully clothed for a change, my roller bag behind me. I threw the girls a quick wave and a “see you Monday,” and hightailed it towards the elevator. It dinged right as I arrived.
*****
“Going somewhere?” Mark smiled grimly at me, and waved me past his arm into the elevator. Shit.
“I... ah....”
“Save it.”
I slunk into the far corner of the elevator. Any desire to hit the Lobby button was squelched by my rather large husband standing in front of the control panel.
“You know what, to hell with it.” With that cryptic statement, he pulled the stop button on the elevator, setting off an annoying buzzer. He grabbed my roller carry-on hard-sided bag, rested his foot on it, and flipped me over his knee.
“Yipe!” This wasn’t the teasing, joking, fun spanks of the birthday spanking, even over my jeans. These smacks HURT. The spanking was quick but severe, getting its point across. Mark pulled me back up, then pressed me up against the back of the elevator, the metal don’t-hit-me-luggage-cart rail digging into my smarting rear. His body rested against the length of me, and his mouth captured mine for a toe-curling round of tonsil-hockey.
The squawk of the elevator phone broke us apart. Mark ignored the phone and pushed the stop button back in, and the elevator resumed its upward journey. I stayed leaning against the back of the elevator, blinking, not able to form any coherent thoughts. The only thing running through my mind was “hubba hubba hubba hubba!”
The elevator doors finally opened, and Mark led the way down the hall towards the room he got for us. He swiped the keycard, and waved me through the door. “Holy… cow,” I stopped myself from swearing, in case that would gain me another spanking. Or maybe I should swear. Geez, I was confusing myself. I didn’t know what to do. Or think. I was married. Honest to God married. To a guy who wanted to spank me. And have sex with me. In this room.
Birthday Bride Page 2
