Accidental Baby: Ryder & Trina's Story (Fake Marriage Romance Book 2)

by Ajme Williams

  There was terror at the suddenness and the ramifications of agreeing to forever, and yet, there was such happiness and relief too.

  “Yes,” I blurted. “Yes, yes.”

  He grinned and stood up, putting the ring on my finger and then pulling me in for a kiss. In the background, I think there was clapping, but in that moment, there was just me and Ryder.

  “I love you so much.” I said to him. I was close to the microphone, so my words echoed through the room, making me flinch.

  “You’re getting the hang of this public speaking thing,” he said.

  “Are we in public?” I tried to joke even though I was embarrassed.

  He laughed. “Yes, so behave.”

  “I ain’t misbehavin’.”

  “I love that song,” Harry said.

  “One more then,” Ryder said. “Then I’m taking my lovely lady home.” He winked at me and I left him on the stage to sing one more song.

  An hour later, we were home, and Ryder was doing delicious things to my body.

  “You’re not going to get tired of having just me?” I asked, as his hands massaged my breasts.

  “No. Will you get sick of my dick?”

  “Never.” I reached down to stroke it, marveling at its length and firmness. Even if I bought a sex toy, nothing would be as perfect in size as his real deal.

  “How long have you been planning this,” I asked.

  He repositioned himself over me, his face directly over mine, all our body parts perfectly aligned. “You mean proposing?”

  “Yes.” I ran my fingers through his hair.

  “Since high school.”

  I snorted. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I. When I stole your poem, I was hoping to impress you. Maybe I wasn’t thinking about marriage then, but I’d finally gotten the courage to let you know how I felt. Of course, it didn’t go so well.”

  “You could have just asked me.”

  “I could have. You could have told me how you felt about the song too.” He arched a brow at me, telling me I was at fault too. And I was. I’d gone off half-cocked as I often did.

  “But,” he continued. “No sense in worrying about could haves or should haves. We’re here now.”

  I smiled, but inside, I still felt a whole lot of guilt at how my fears and prickly behavior, as he called it, kept me from having all this for so long.

  “Of course, I got tired of waiting for my charm to wear you down, so I did have to finagle things a bit.”

  “Oh?” I widened my legs, wanting to feel the velvety tip of his cock against my aching pussy lips.

  “The first time we went to the senior center, I arranged for you to be there as well.”

  “You did?” My eyes narrowed. “Sinclair let you do that?”

  “Sinclair loves me. And you.” He rocked his hips, his dick rubbing against my clit.

  I sighed as it sent delicious sensations coursing through my blood.

  “I didn’t arrange the bet, but I did agree with you on your premise knowing you and Sinclair would dig in, and eventually, she’d challenge you to prove your side. I wanted to be the guy you proved it with.”

  I laughed. “You’re sneaky.”

  “I was a desperate man wanting to be noticed by you.”

  I grinned. “We did prove our points though, didn’t we? Being fake married wasn’t hard. Not for me anyway. I know I’m not the easiest to live with—”

  He thrust, his dick sliding inside of me until he was fully steeped in my body. “I don’t know, you seem easy to me.”

  “God, I love your dick,” I said as I grabbed his ass and held him deep inside me.

  “I love your pussy.” He kissed me, taking my hands in his and holding them over my head. His blue eyes looked into mine. “If I hadn’t already knocked you up, I’d want to make a baby right now.”

  “Before we were married?”

  “We’re not married?” he joked. At the same time, I understood he was also saying that even without a ceremony or a legal document, our hearts and souls were merged.

  I squeezed his hands and wrapped my legs around his hips. “I’m yours Ryder. Only yours.”

  His eyes turned emotional. “You make me so fucking happy when you say that.” He kissed me, and as his tongue danced with mine, his body moved, his dick massaging my pussy walls, building pleasure upon pleasure.

  I still wasn’t sure how I’d won his heart, but I knew I’d do anything to keep it. Including continuing my counseling and work to improve myself and my ability to trust, not him, because I trusted him implicitly, but trust myself.

  We took our time, resisting the urge to give in to our bodies' need to rush to release. Instead, our pleasure built in slow degrees, higher and higher and higher. His dick felt bigger, the friction more intense with each slow stroke.

  As our bodies moved together, I savored the feel of love emanating between us and around us. We were one. I wasn’t alone. I was complete. I was blissfully happy.

  “I need to come baby.” His voice was strained as he dipped his head into the curve of my neck. “Are you there, yet?”

  I’d been there for a time, lingering, teetering, savoring the shimmer of the edge of orgasm. “Yes. Come in me, Ryder.”

  He groaned, and his hips picked up speed. I arched, my body meeting his, thrust for thrust.

  As I hit the pinnacle, my body went taut, pleasure burst like a dam, rushing out and flooding my body. “I love you!” I cried out. “I love you so much.”

  He growled, thrust in hard, and ground his hips against me, releasing his essence inside me.

  “Yes, baby, yes,” He continued to move in and out of me, filling me. “Fuck…I love you…” He collapsed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.

  I savored his strength around me. I cherished this man who saw the real me, warts and all, and loved me anyway. I sank into his love, finally feeling like I was home.

  Wanna read Sinclair and Wyatt’s Story?

  Get Book one in the series - Accidental Love here.

  Read on for a sneak peek of Accidental Affair, featuring Mayor Valentine and his new assistant, Brooke.

  Pre order your copy of Accidental Affair here.

  Accidental Affair (Preview)

  Description

  I’ve been obsessed with my dad’s best friend for as long as I can remember.

  Does that make me a bad girl?

  Let me clarify.

  I’m not just mindlessly obsessed with him.

  I actually like Maurice.

  Letting him kiss me was a big deal for me.

  I’m still holding on to my V-card.

  And I want to hand it over to him every time I see him dressed in a suit.

  Lucky for me, I see that a lot because I work for him.

  Yes, he’s my boss and I should stop staring at him.

  But my heart doesn’t seem to care.

  So, when he needed access to his inheritance to help out my dad…

  I proposed a plan.

  A fake marriage.

  Zero expectations.

  No complications.

  Yeah, right.

  Who am I kidding?

  1

  Prologue—Brooke: Four Years Ago

  I enjoyed being away at school in Chicago, gaining some independence and experiences away from my small hometown of Salvation, Nebraska. With that said, coming home for the holiday break had been nice. The country air, vast farming landscape, and of course, seeing my father was rejuvenating after my first semester of college. It didn’t hurt that Maurice Valentine was spending more time with us, as well. He was still sweet, generous, and so handsome. Even better, his wife had left him recently, which meant he was single again.

  From the moment I hit puberty and noticed boys, I’d had a thing for my dad’s best friend, Maurice Valentine, or Mo. It didn’t matter to me that he was seventeen years older than me. All my teenage fantasies revolved around him. In my dreams, he’d show up on h
is horse, Bolt, wearing soft, faded jeans and a green plaid rancher shirt that brought out the green in his hazel eyes. He’d tell me he dumped his mean old wife and whisk me away to teach me what it was like to be a woman. Alone in the bathtub, that vision gave me my first and many following orgasms.

  I was smart enough when I was growing up to know that I had no chance with him. But now that I was eighteen and he was single, my prospects seemed better. Maybe I wouldn’t be the next Mrs. Maurice Valentine, but perhaps he could still show me what it was like to be a woman. I’d had some opportunities to lose my V-card in college, but except for a brief fling with Tucker Marshall that ended in us deciding we were better off as friends, I wasn’t that interested in the boys at school. Over all the years I’d had a crush on Mo, it never waned. That had to mean he should be my first, right?

  He showed up at my father’s holiday party a little earlier than the other guests. My father said that he thought Mo was handling his wife leaving fairly well, but not so much being alone in the house. I wanted to offer to keep him company there, but I kept that thought to myself.

  Mo looked even better than I remembered. He wore dark slacks and a green sweater over a t-shirt that made his hazel eyes pop with green. He smiled when he saw me, and my heart did flip-flops in my chest. Oh, how I longed for him to see me as more than his friend’s daughter or just a kid. I wanted to keep his bed warm now that his wife was gone.

  My father wasn’t a stranger to losing a wife, although in his case, my mom died when I was young. He dated a little bit after that but never got serious about anyone. Sometimes I wished he would, as I worried about him being here alone while I was gone. But now that the evil bitch Shelley had left Mo, he was spending more time with my dad, and I noticed a difference in my dad’s attitude with having his friend more present in his life again.

  The party was festive, and I enjoyed seeing all our friends from Salvation again. Dad enjoyed it a little too much, imbibing the eggnog with whiskey, although by the end, I think he was drinking straight whiskey. Even Mo looked a little bit lit, but not drunk. He looked so handsome when he was relaxed.

  As the party winded down, I helped people find their coats and purses and escorted them out, until it was just dad and Mo, sitting on the couch in the sunroom, looking out over the snow-covered prairie.

  “They’re all gone,” I said to them. I looked back toward the kitchen at the mess. I blew out a breath that puffed my bangs up. “I’ll get started on the cleanup.”

  “Let me help,” Mo said, standing.

  “I’ll help, too.” My dad tried to stand, but he wobbled.

  “Whoa there, Frank,” Mo said, reaching out to steady my father. “Maybe we should get you to bed.”

  “Nah, I can help.”

  I looked at my dad and shook my head. “Let’s get you to bed, Dad.”

  “I’ll take him. Why don’t you get some water and pain reliever?” Mo asked, putting his arm around my father.

  I hurried to the kitchen to get the needed remedies to help offset my father’s hangover tomorrow. By the time I reached my father’s room, Mo had my dad’s shoes off and the covers pulled up to his chin.

  “Dad, drink some water and take these,” I said, handing him the water and pills.

  “My daughter takes such good care of me,” my father said, grinning at me. “That’s what you need, Mo. A good woman to take care of you.”

  Mo flinched, and I felt bad. I agreed with my father’s assessment, but I knew it couldn’t be easy to be dumped, even by an evil bitch like Shelley.

  “It seems you got all the good women, Frank, between Laura and your daughter. You’ve been blessed.”

  “Ah, Laura. My angel.” My father turned his glassy eyes on me. “You’re just like her, Brooke. Beautiful. Sweet. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

  I smiled. I’d seen pictures of my mom, and while I didn’t think I was ugly, my mom was gorgeous. Had she left Salvation and gone to New York or Los Angeles, she’d probably have become a model or movie star. I had her blonde hair and blue eyes, but I was rounder than she had been. The freshman fifteen I’d gained in college meant I had even more curves.

  “Thank you, Dad. You get some rest now.”

  “What about the dishes?” my father asked.

  “Don’t worry about them,” I assured him.

  “I’ll help her, Frank. Get some rest.”

  “You’re a good friend, Mo.”

  Mo looked at me and smiled, amused by my father. Me? Seeing Mo smile like that made all my girlie parts light up.

  As we left my father in his room, I wondered if maybe I could convince Mo that I wasn’t his friend’s little girl. I was a woman now. A woman with needs. A need for Mo to touch me most intimately.

  “I haven’t had a chance to ask you about school,” Mo said as we set to work on the kitchen.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Are you enjoying your classes?” He dunked his hands into the soapy water to wash some of the trays.

  “For the most part. It’s all gen ed now. I can’t wait until I can focus on a specific area of study.”

  “What will that be?” he asked, setting a tray on the dish drain.

  “I haven’t decided if I want to study hospitality or public administration.”

  Mo laughed. “Coddling people or bossing them around?”

  “I guess so.” I took a chance and set my hand on his forearm. “I was sorry to hear about Shelley.”

  He stiffened slightly and then sighed. “It was only a matter of time. I should have known in the beginning, my life goals were too small for her.”

  “Any woman who doesn’t appreciate you is an idiot.”

  He laughed. “You’re an authority on men, now? Did you learn that in college, too?”

  I shrugged and pulled out a towel to dry the pans. “I know you. You’re a good person. She’s the one lacking, not you.”

  He smiled at me, and again my insides twisted in all sorts of ways. “You’re a sweet girl, Brooke.”

  Girl? I frowned. “I’m not a child, Mo. I’m all grown up.”

  His gaze inventoried my body, and I swore to God, I saw a flash of appreciation in his eyes. It was a wonder I didn’t spontaneously orgasm at the way his eyes lingered on my body.

  He gave his head a quick shake and went back to the dishes. “I guess you are.”

  We finished cleaning up, and he started to leave.

  Inside, I was screaming, no, no, no. “Would you like another drink before you hit the road?”

  He looked like he was going to say no.

  “A little company before going home?” It was mean to remind him of his empty house, but I was a desperate woman.

  He sighed. “Sure. Just a touch, though.”

  I poured us both a glass of wine and brought it to the sunroom.

  He arched a brow. “You may be grown up, but you’re not twenty-one.”

  “I’m at home and not going anywhere. Besides, if you don’t think there’s drinking going on at college, you’re as naïve as my father.”

  He laughed. “I might be old, but I do remember college.”

  “You’re not old,” I said, sitting on the couch, hoping he’d join me.

  “It feels like forever since I was eighteen.” He sat next to me, his gaze looking out over the cattle land behind the house.

  “Sounds like you could use some fun.” I angled my body in his direction, noting the sprig of mistletoe on the sofa table behind the couch. I set my wine down and picked up the little green sprig, holding it over his head.

  He glanced up and laughed. “It’s been a long time since I had that kind of fun.”

  Jeez, was his ex-wife frigid, too? How could she keep her hands off him?

  “Just a little kiss, Mo,” I cooed.

  He shook his head, but leaned toward me, tilting his head to kiss my cheek. I wasn’t going to accept a peck on the cheek. This was my chance to show Mo just how grown up I was.

  I tilted my head a
t the last second, pressing my lips to his. I gripped his sweater, knowing he’d probably jerk back, repulsed by my actions. He did flinch, but I held firm, dragging my tongue along his mouth. He moaned and parted his lips.

  Yes! I went in a full one-hundred percent, kissing him with all the passion I had. He tasted like wine and sexy man, just as I’d imagined he would. His tongue was soft as it lapped my mouth.

  He put his hand on my shoulder, and I was afraid he was going to push me away, so I moved it over my breast. My nipples were hard, and when his hand brushed over them, I nearly cried out as liquid heat rushed to my center. That’s where I needed the stimulation. I gripped his hand and shoved it under my skirt to my hot, throbbing pussy.

  He growled something that sounded like fuck, but I wasn’t sure as I’d ever heard him swear before.

  He set his wine on the sofa table, then pushed me back, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties and yanking them down.

  “So wet,” he murmured. His body slid down mine, his shoulders settling between my thighs. I might have been a virgin, but I knew what he was doing. I’d have rather had his dick, but he was touching me, about to go down on me, and I couldn’t hardly complain about that.

  His fingers parted my pussy lips, and he ran his tongue the full length of me. I cried out, gripping his head to hold him there. It felt so good. I never wanted him to stop.

  “Yes, Mo…yes.”

  He flicked his tongue over my clit, making me writhe. He sucked my clit into his mouth, and I was gyrating under his mouth as pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter. This was nothing like being in the tub, touching myself. It was so, so much better.

  His mouth moved down, and his tongue thrust inside me. It was the first time something other than my own fingers or the tiny little vibrator I had was inside me. Every neuron in my body lit up.

  “Yes…more,” I gasped.

  He was like a starving man, lapping at my pussy, drinking me in.

  He moved back up to my clit, swirling his tongue around it as his finger found my hole and pushed in.