Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  Crosby lifted his own flask in the air, careful not to draw too much attention to the few people who’d arrived early for the celebrity wedding. “I was a one woman man the moment I looked at Kerry, but thanks anyway. And thank you heathens for dressing up for the occasion.”

  “Don’t thank us,” Paddy said with a wide grin. “Your bride-to-be put the fear of god into each and every one of us.” Despite being in the U.S. for more than two decades, Paddy’s accent was as strong as it was the day he landed in Hollywood.

  “Thanks anyway,” he said and took another swig. With the amount we’ve been drinking today, I wondered how drunk we’d all be by the time the reception rolled around. “Let’s hurry up and get me married so I can get rid of this stupid tie.” Crosby tugged on his bowtie uncomfortably, smiling as more guests entered the ballroom.

  The band members took their seats in the front row, none seemed at all bothered that he’d asked me to be his best man, and I wasn’t bothered that he chose me to avoid alienating any one of the Hard Five.

  “You ready for this?”

  “Been ready for ages. I would’ve done it in Vegas weeks ago if Kerry would have agreed to it, but she said she was only getting married once and wanted to do it up right.”

  His expression softened the way it always did whenever he talked about Kerry, and I wondered what it might be like to have that kind of love. If that kind of love was really real, or if it was just something we all thought we were supposed to feel.

  “Better you than me,” I told him with a friendly clap to his back.

  Crosby laughed. “You say that now, but when you meet the woman who turns you inside you, trust me when I say you’ll be singing a different tune then.” At my disbelieving look, he grinned. “After dealing with groupies since I was a teenager, I was as cynical as they came where women were concerned. But Kerry blew those assumptions out of the water.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I told him honestly, my attention drawn to the curvy blond in a sexy green dress that made my tuxedo pants feeling a bit more snug in the groin area. Trish had slipped in behind the last arriving guests, and the green halter dress hugged her round tits and slim waist before falling in loose folds around her thighs before stopping at her knees. Silky blond hair fell free in loose, touchable waves and a shiver passed through me at the memory of those same silky locks brushing against my thighs. My sac.

  “Seems like you already have some personal knowledge,” Crosby said with a snicker.

  Whatever sarcastic remark that was about to fly out of my mouth was stopped by the start of the music, the procession of Kerry’s childhood best friends and maid of honor went quickly before the bride made her entrance. Kerry was easily one of the most beautiful women in the world with her thick black hair and oversized grey eyes, but today in her designer wedding gown and love shining in her eyes, she was magnificent. The one hundred or so wedding guests’ gazes were riveted on her, but none more than Crosby, whose eyes held a suspicious shimmer as she sashayed towards him. “Lucky man,” I whispered to him.

  “Don’t I know it,” he shot back, eyes never leaving Kerry in case he missed one moment of her walk to him. The evidence of that knowledge was written all over my buddy’s face, the way he and Kerry couldn’t stop smiling at each other throughout the ceremony or the way they couldn’t stop touching each other.

  “Save that for the end,” the judge performing the ceremony admonished with an amused grin when Crosby pressed a kiss to each of her hands.

  “Sorry, but my woman looks incredible, doesn’t she?”

  “Aye, she does,” Paddy called out, his flask raised in the air along with the rest of the band, as well as Crosby’s parents and Kerry’s parents and stepparents.

  After that, the ceremony flew by, keeping true to Kerry’s wishes not to have a long stuffy wedding. A few heartfelt words of love, the exchanging of the rings and Crosby and Kerry were taking a little too much enjoyment from their first kiss as man and wife. “I now present to you, Kerry and Crosby Wicke,” the judge announced proudly over the roar of the crowd.

  The newlyweds wore giant smiles as they kissed the entire way back up the aisle. Outside the smaller ballroom, Kerry stopped and turned to me and her maid of honor, Traci I think her name was.

  “Pictures in fifteen minutes.”

  “We’ll be there,” I assured her. “Try not to get too mussed up, or your kids will know what a nympho mommy was back in the day.” Crosby snickered and tugged her away before she could say something in reply.

  Thankfully photos weren’t as painful as the horror stories I’ve heard over the years. Maybe it was because Kerry hired an in-demand photographer who gave crisp directions and wasn’t fussy about every little detail. Or maybe it was because Kerry wasn’t a diva. Either way, I was grateful, because I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the green dress Trish wore, eager to see if it was as soft as it looked.

  And because I was too curious about what sexy as sin lingerie she wore under it, if she wore anything at all. Who knew good girls wore such racy underthings? I never would have guessed that under the plain outfits she wore in the bakery, was a man’s fantasy. Now that I knew, I could never forget it.

  “Keep the crowd tame,” Crosby told me. “I’m taking my woman for a moment of privacy before the craziness begins.”

  “Tame? This crowd? I’m not a miracle worker, just keep the quickie quick and everything will be fine. Or not, since you opted for an open bar.” Crosby rolled his eyes and carried his bride away from the second, larger ballroom located in the heart of the French Quarter, and I escorted the maid of honor inside.

  “There’s a keyboardist over there I desperately need to flirt with,” Traci said with a dimpled smile and hurried off, which was fine by me because my gaze was already scanning the crowd for the curvy blonde invading my thoughts.

  I spotted Trish with Paddy. They were doing shots and laughing like old friends and it brought me up short. Was she a groupie? I remembered the way she’d danced with the drummer in Vegas and the kiss she pressed to his cheek. It wasn’t a sexy, I want to fuck you kiss, not by any means. But the current picture made me wonder. Still, she was too fucking sexy when she laughed and my feet carried me over to her. And Paddy.

  “Oh quit yer glarin’ at me, Mase. She’s a fan, not a groupie. Too bad,” he added with a gleam in his eye. “As sexy as hell fan who makes me feel older than dirt.”

  Trish grinned at the wink he sent her way and laid a hand on his forearm. “Old? No one talks that way about the guy who played the best drum solo in rock history. Trust me, I’ve wallowed to it at least a million times in my life, maybe a billion.” Trish poured another round of shots, adding a glass for me. “To Paddy, for getting me through my teenage years without ending up in prison or a psych ward.”

  “Hear, hear, love.” He lifted his glass and knocked back the shot with a smile. When Paddy leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek, I wanted to punch him. But it was such a platonic move I knew I couldn’t without seeming like an asshole. “It’s so nice to know there are still real fans out there, and not just star fuckers.”

  “That’s me. A real fan. And to show you how much of a fan, I made a special beignet tower with a Nutella ganache for my favorite drummer.”

  Paddy’s face lit up like I’d never seen in all the years I’d know him and he smacked another, louder kiss to her other cheek. “Oh Trish, love, it’s really too bad you don’t want to shag me. Make this fucker work for ya, lass, ye deserve it.”

  A light blush stained her cheeks, giving me a glimpse of the good girl I’d had an antagonistic relationship with from the day we met. “I don’t know what you mean, Paddy.”

  “Sure ye don’t. Make him work for it anyway.” And with a knowing wink for her and a too hard clap on my back, Paddy was gone.

  Trish turned those smiling blue eyes up at me, looking dark and sexy all made up with thick eyeliner and mascara that gave her a smoldering cat eye look. “Mason,” s
he purred and licked her lips, which told me she’d had more than a few shots with Paddy. “You look handsome all cleaned up, just a hint of tattoo showing.” Her voice was low and husky, more evidence of her arousal that made my cock pay attention.

  “Thanks, Cupcake.” I leaned in close enough to see the moment her pupils dilated, and her gaze glazed over. “And you look so fucking hot all cleaned up, that I can’t wait to get you all dirty. Wet and dirty.”

  She gasped and that sound shot straight to my cock, making me hard and achy. Ready to sneak her off to some dark corner for a quick taste of what I had in mind.

  “Yeah? Well play your cards right and I might just let you.” Before I could respond the music began, and it was a song that had Trish squealing and scrambling to her feet unsteadily. “I love this song,” she exclaimed and grabbed my hand, dragging me to the dance floor.

  Like all men who think with their dicks, I didn’t tell Trish that I didn’t dance. I let her lead me out onto the dance floor, put my hands on her waist and let her grind against me while the song played. And the next song. And the next one. For two hours she shook and shimmied all over me until I was pretty sure one touch of my cock and I’d shoot my load off like a fucking rocket.

  “Trish,” I whispered. “One more song like that and I’m gonna lay you out on the floor and relieve this ache in my pants.”

  “Promise?” She asked with a mischievous grin that made me groan, before dragging me to our table. With Hard Five. “Hey guys, enjoying the scenery?”

  “More than you know sweetheart.” Jared, the bass player grinned as his gaze landed on a curvy redhead eye fucking him from another table.

  “Great!” She plopped down and kicked off her shoes, reaching for a glass of champagne with a wide grin. “So thirsty!”

  “Water?”

  Trish shook her head, sending those sexy waves tumbling around her bare shoulders and I reached out to touch a lock that had fallen across her left breast. “No thanks. I have a taste for something else.”

  “Oh yeah, what?”

  Without missing a beat, she licked her lips and leaned in close. “You.”

  It took me about half a second to get to my feet and drag her away from the ballroom. “You’re in trouble now.”

  “Can we make it quick trouble? I don’t want to miss the first dance.”

  Of course she didn’t, because underneath her sexy lingerie and wildcat nature in the bedroom, Trish was, at heart, a good girl.

  Trish

  Waking up after partying all night with rock stars was a novel experience.

  As was the throbbing headache and the overheated man furnace I was pressed up against. I couldn’t remember much after watching Kerry and Crosby sway around the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple, but my body remembered what had happened right before that.

  In a fit of erotic bravery, I’d told Mason exactly what I wanted from him, and he’d dragged me off to a supply closet and showed me exactly what was so great about public quickies. It took less than three seconds for my anxiety to pass, which was exactly how long it took Mason to remove my green silk panties, shove them into his tuxedo jacket and slip his tongue between my soaked folds. After that I was all in, wrapping my legs around him while he fucked me up against the door. I should have felt ashamed, or maybe embarrassed that I’d behaved the way I did, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but giddy. Brave. Satisfied.

  It was the single hottest quickie of my life. Okay so it was also the only quickie, at least if you didn’t include a few quickdraw lovers in the past. But another question tugged on my brain.

  “How did I get here?” I didn’t have a room reserved because I intended to drive back to Belle Musique after the reception ended.

  Mason groaned and shifted, turning towards me and pulling me on top of him. “You can’t resist me, that’s how.” He thrust his morning erection up against me and I couldn’t fight the moan that slipped out. “And you’re already wet for me, Cupcake. Good morning to me.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed off his chest, intending to roll away, but the arch of my back combined with the thrust of Mason’s hips and his long, thick cock slipped inside easily. As easily as a thing that big could slip inside anywhere, that is. “Oh, yes!”

  I knew there was something I was forgetting, but when Mason grasped my hips to hold me still and thrust up into me, the only thing I could think about was the way my skin tingled with heat and desire. The way he filled me so wickedly and the orgasm rushing its way to the surface. It was slow and deep, too intense for what this was. I mean, I didn’t know what it was other than mind-bogglingly good, but the intensity was uncomfortable. Deliciously uncomfortable. “So fucking tight, Cupcake.”

  “So big and thick,” I panted out, and at my words Mason flipped our positions so he was on top, rooting deep as he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked so hard I swear, he pulled my orgasm out of me. “Mason!”

  He reared up and tossed my legs over his arms, pounding hard and fast until he released his own roar of pleasure. “Cupcake, you undo me.”

  I let my hands slide up and down his slick, hard muscled chest because the man’s body was a work of art in more ways than one. That’s when I noticed something weird.

  “Where in the hell did this come from?” I held up my left hand and showed him the heavy silver band on my finger. On the ring finger.

  “Maybe you bought it last night out in the Quarter.” He said it so easily, so nonchalantly which led me to believe he remembered more about last night than I did.

  “The Quarter? When did we go out there, and why on earth would I buy a plain band and put it on this finger?” I asked because I refused to call it what it looked like. Absolutely refused.

  “Settle down, Cupcake. It’s a souvenir.”

  “Yeah, then why do you have one too?” My gaze slid to his left hand which currently gripped my right breast, and the silver band on his finger. That finger.

  That got Mason’s attention. Finally. But he shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “It has to be a joke. No big deal.”

  My shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. No big deal. Of course we didn’t get drunk-married. This isn’t Vegas, it’s New Orleans.” Yeah, that made sense. This was real life, not a romcom with Julia Roberts or Anne Hathaway. Real life. My real life, which meant not exciting or dramatic, or anything close to a romcom.

  “Maybe the guys decided to prank us. Whatever happened, it wasn’t that. Trust me, Cupcake.”

  I don’t know why, but I did. “You’re right.” Relief rolled through him as he rolled off me, leaving my body feeling empty and cool without his heat. “I think I’ll take a shower.”

  “Want some company?”

  Hell yes, I did. This thing with me and Mason couldn’t last. Wouldn’t go anywhere beyond another lost weekend like this, so I resolved to enjoy it. “Depends on what you have in mind,” I told him and slipped from the warmth of the bed. “Something dirty, I hope?”

  “Just ask, Cupcake.”

  I had a very particular shower fantasy I wanted to act out, and Mason was just the man for the job. I turned about a foot away from the door and grinned. “I’d much rather just show you.” My eyes slid down to his big, naked body and the way his cock thickened and grew had me licking my lips. “This is more of a show than a tell.”

  “Cupcake,” he groaned and fisted his cock, which only made me hotter. And made me more aware of the moisture sliding down my leg.

  Oh, shit. Condom. Or rather, a lack of a condom. “Um, Mason?” I diverted my gaze, wondering how in the hell to start a conversation like this. I wished I was one of those worldly women who could just casually toss it out there without nerves, but I wasn’t. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, that’s the idea.” Mason’s voice sounded far away, like I was under water, because apparently there was something on this planet that was somehow more important than the fact that I’d just had sex without a condom for the first time in my life. With
a man who I had no real relationship with.

  “Remember that whole prank thing from earlier?” I turned to him with a serious expression and held up the blue and pink paper with a giant silver seal on it. “I don’t think it was a prank.”

  Mason still looked unconcerned. “That definitely isn’t real, Cupcake so let's get back to the shower talk.”

  I wanted to believe him, so I let my eyes scan the document, landing on both of our birthdays, lack of previous marriages and the waived waiting period until I saw the one thing that said this was no joke. “It’s signed by Judge Fontenot.” He’d officiated Kerry and Crosby’s wedding.

  “All marriage licenses require a waiting period, Trish. It has to be a joke.” He stood and yeah, the sight of him naked and still hard was enough of a temporary distraction to make me forget the seriousness of the situation.

  “Except it says here that Judge Fontenot waived it on account of we’re both Louisiana residents.”

  Finally, the words sank in and Mason snatched the certificate from my hands, his green eyes taking in every word. Twice, based on how long it took him to go through it. “Hey Cupcake, if you wanted more of me, you only had to ask. Not get me drunk and then marry me.”

  I smacked his rock hard midsection, turned away and locked myself in the bathroom before I turned the shower all the way to hot. I was married. To Mason.

  The bane of my existence.

  The best sex I ever had.

  My husband.

  How in the hell did that happen? Why can’t I remember?

  Mason

  “What do you mean we seemed like we knew what we wanted?” Trish was more of a spitfire than I gave her credit for as she stood staring up at a respected judge, doing her best to intimidate him.

  Judge Fontenot stood on his doorstep in a Hawaiian print shirt, jeans and flip flops, arms crossed with an amused look on his face. “I asked if you were sure Mrs. O’Malley and you said yes, at least a dozen times. You can ask all of your friends, who, I might add, also tried to talk you both out of it.”