Mr. & Mrs. (The Mister Series Book 6)

by JA Huss

  I’m so fucking thirsty I might get down on my hands and knees and slurp it up.

  I grab the floating thing instead. It’s one of those bobbing keychains people use for boats, and it’s got two keys on it.

  She’s at the marina? Are you fucking kidding me right now? That’s like… so far away. That’s when I spy the sink in the corner.

  Yes! Finally, some good luck!

  I practically run over there, turn the water on and… see the sign above the faucet. Non Potable Water—Do Not Drink! ‘Do not drink’ has been underlined like a million times.

  I consider how sick I’ll get if I drink it anyway, and then decide I’m getting married tomorrow and I don’t want the hassle this risk brings with it.

  I look at the key in my hand and realize it’s got a name on it. Louise.

  Then I look at the two bikes out in front and smile. Because I think I have a key to one of those bikes and I’m gonna ride that fucker down to the marina and I’ll be hydrated and kicking back on a boat in ten minutes.

  I can handle ten more minutes.

  I get on the bike, trying my best to ignore the fact that it was made for a five-year-old, and insert the key. There’s a moment, right before I turn the ignition, that I think to myself, It’s broken. It’s not gonna turn on. It’s a setup. I’m gonna have to walk all the way back to the beach and I’m gonna die along the way. But none of that happens. Because the engine turns over and I laugh. I laugh loud and I say, “Fuck, yes!”

  I take off, still screaming, my knees all the way up to my elbows as I ride the tiny bike over the first ridge, then the second, and then I flip off Golden Balls as I whiz by.

  Day made.

  The hill looks a lot steeper going down than it did going up, and I give myself mental props for dealing so well, seeing as I’m still hungover, dehydrated, and on my way to a hell of a sunburn since I lost my shirt.

  The path is winding and diverts away from the house towards the marina. I crane my neck, desperate for sight of the dock, and then I see it and whoop again.

  I’m there. I’m fucking there, baby. “I’m coming, Miss Cookie! And I’m gonna spank you good for this wild-goose—”

  The engine sputters.

  I look down at the gas gauge and yell, “Nooooooooo!”

  The engine dies.

  I coast as far as I can, but there’s one more hill… and I just stop at the bottom and look up.

  Defeated.

  “You win!” I yell. I’m not sure what her point is to all this bullshit, but fuck it. I scream it anyway. “You win!”

  The only answer I get is the sound of a boat leaving the marina and I swear to God, if Cindy just took off in a boat and expects me to follow her…

  Well, I’ll spank her twice as hard when I get a hold of her perfect round ass. Because I will catch her. She’s not getting away.

  In fact my energy is back, so I get off the stupid kid bike and push it up and over the last hill, and then I sit on it side-saddle style and coast down to the boat house.

  Inside I hear… The Beach Boys. And what might be a fan going full speed. Then ice clinking in a glass, and I can’t take it anymore. I get off the bike and burst through the door, ready to give Cinderella the spanking of her life, and then… and then I see her.

  Naked. Sipping something cold and fruity. And holding another glass out for me. “Took you long enough, Detective. I’m practically drunk.”

  She’s got on a hat, white sunglasses, and there’s a mister in front of the fan, spritzing her lightly with water.

  “You’re a very bad girl, Miss Cookie.” I growl out the words.

  “I was kidnapped this morning,” she says, lowering her sunglasses and opening her legs at the same time.

  “By whom?” I ask, slightly less pissed off than I was a second ago.

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at him, Detective. But he held me hostage in a cookie factory until he heard you were coming to save me.”

  “Let me guess, he took you up to the stable after that.”

  “He did,” she coos.

  “That fucking pony bit me!” I say, showing her the back of my arm.

  “Oh, you poor baby. I’m gonna kiss it all better. In fact, I’m gonna kiss everything all better.” She pokes her tongue against the inside of her cheek and I laugh.

  “You dirty little bitch.”

  “And then,” she says, still using her fake Miss Cookie voice, “then he took me up to the garage and was gonna tie me up and leave me there forever. Until he figured out you hadn’t given up.”

  “I lost my shirt to that crazy midget horse. I’m fucking sunburned as all hell.”

  “I’m gonna rub sunscreen and lotion all over you, Detective. And I do mean… all over you.”

  Yeah, that sounds kinda fun. “And then that stupid bike was twelve sizes too small and I ran out of gas on the way down!”

  “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “I’ve got enough fuel for both of us. I’ll do all the work. I’ll get on my hands and knees if I have to.”

  Fuck, yeah.

  “And you got here in the nick of time.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask, plopping down beside her. Her breasts are bare and her nipples hard and erect. Just like my cock.

  “Because I was just about to give up hope and pleasure myself.”

  “Well,” I say, looking away, then at her again. “You can still do that.”

  We both laugh this time.

  But then she stops and her face gets all serious. Like she’s worried about me. God, I hate it when she worries about me. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

  “Me? You’re the crazy one who sent me on a wild-goose chase today! And where did you get all that blood in the kitchen house?”

  “Oh, the cookie factory, you mean? Please, Paxton Vance. My family ran a haunted house for years. You don’t think I know how to cook up some fake blood?”

  “Right,” I say, all my bullshit complaints fading fast. “Forgot about that.”

  “But seriously, Pax. What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “You got drunk last night. Really drunk last night. And you were singing an army song. Some might be wondering if you really wanted to marry me, or if you’d rather spend the rest of your life dealing with blood and danger.”

  “Ahh,” I say, understanding now. “That’s why you did this? You think I’m gonna miss it?”

  “Will you?”

  “Fuck, no,” I say, scooting in close to her. “Fuck, no. I’m not worried about that.”

  “Then what?”

  I sigh. Wondering if I should tell her what I did. Wondering what everyone will think of me when they find out.

  “Pax, just tell me what’s on your mind. You know I love you, right?”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Then tell me what’s wrong.”

  I sigh. Long and loud. “I did something bad, Cindy.”

  “How bad?” she asks.

  I look up at her and shrug. “Pretty bad.”

  She pouts her lips. “Well, you’ve killed people before and didn’t act this way. And I know you didn’t cheat on me, so that can’t be it.”

  “Cheat?” My laugh is so loud, it echoes off the ceiling. “Fuck, no, I didn’t cheat.”

  “So what is it?”

  “She’s gonna hate me, Cindy.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I did something she was one hundred percent totally against.”

  “I’m gonna punch you in the sunburn if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now.”

  “I invited my father to the wedding,” I say. “And he’ll be here tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four - OLLIE

  Walking into the bike garage is like going home. All growing up this was the smell I knew best. Oil, and transmission fluid, and brake dust. I love it.

  “So,” I say, placing my h
ands on Kat’s hips and swaying her a little. “Which bike should we fuck on?”

  “Hmmm,” she says, biting her fingernail. “That one?”

  She points to an old motorcycle that looks like no one’s ridden it in years. It’s a Shrike Bike, one my father made some time before I was born probably. And it’s got dusty ravens on the side.

  Katja walks over to it and brushes off the gas tank with her fingers. “Shrike Rook,” she says, reading the fancy painted script. “As in Rook, your aunt?”

  I bend down to look at the old bike. “Hmmm, I’ve never seen this bike in person, but I’ve seen pictures of it. I think it was my mom’s, but my dad said he wrecked it.”

  “Doesn’t look wrecked to me.” She laughs.

  “No, me either. I bet he lied. To make sure she didn’t ride it. I’ve heard stories about my mom in her younger days. She was wild. I can totally picture my dad smuggling it out here to Five’s island to hide it away.”

  Katja lets her fingers linger on the tank, taking off more dust as she walks around it. “Why not just sell it?” she asks.

  “Sell it? No way will my father ever sell this bike. It’s special. This was the first bike he ever built. And I think it had something to do with meeting my mom. But then… I remember seeing it in one of the old Shrike Bikes episodes. Back when he was doing the reality show. He gave it to Rook, gave it a new paint job, and then she sold it to my mom after Ronin told her she wasn’t allowed to ride it either.”

  Kat laughs. “You men. So worried about us.” But she’s being playful and her fingertips are walking up my button-down shirt, unbuttoning it as she goes.

  “It’s our job to worry,” I say, loving her attention. “For instance… I’m kinda worried about you right now.”

  “Me?” she says, looking up as she slides my shirt down over my shoulders. “Why are you worried about me?”

  I slip my hands inside her tank top and flatten my palms against the curve of her waist. Loving how warm she is. “Because I think you’re sad. I think you’re missing your sister. And wishing your parents were here to see you get married.”

  She nods, frowning for a moment. “I am missing them. A whole lot, Oliver. But I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to remember that I’ve got a whole new set of friends to help me now. And Mariel is still here. So I’m thankful for that. And your sisters—while a little scary at times—will help.”

  “They’d do anything for you, Katja. Anything.”

  She nods, letting my shirt drop to the floor so she can place her bare hands flat against the muscles of my chest. “I know.”

  She says it like she’s not sure. I’m sure, but I know them. I know the fierce loyalty that glues us all together. She’s just seen a little bit of that loyalty so far. But one day… one day she’ll have a problem and need help. And my sisters will come through for her in a way she can’t even imagine right now. One day she’ll understand.

  Just not today, I guess. And that makes me sad. Because I want everything about this wedding to be perfect for her. I pick up my shirt, dust off the seat and tank of the bike, then lay her back on it.

  She smiles, biting her lip. Because if she wants to fuck on a bike, she’s gonna get fucked on a bike.

  “Are you ready for more?” I ask, unable to stop the sly smile creeping up my face.

  “Gimme more,” she whispers, reaching for the button on my shorts. She pops it open and unzips the fly as I straddle the bike and maneuver my body over hers.

  I lean down and kiss her lips, pulling her shirt up as I do it. My hands rest on her breasts, gently rolling them in my palms as my cock grows hard with want.

  Her mouth is sweet and her tongue is cool. I kiss her gently, even though I know she’s as tough as any girl I’ve ever met. I want to treat her carefully. The way she deserves to be treated. I want to erase all those bad years and replace them with goodness. Kindness and love.

  “I never thought I’d find a woman like you.”

  “What kind of woman am I?”

  “Perfect.”

  “No one’s perfect, Oliver.”

  “Except you,” I say. “You’ve got it all. Beauty. Intelligence. Common sense.”

  “I did fall in love with you,” she says, smiling. “That might’ve been the best move yet.”

  “You falling in love with me was my luckiest break ever. You changed all my plans, Katja Shrike.”

  She giggles. “I can’t believe we’re getting married.”

  “We are,” I say. “And tomorrow is gonna be the most beautiful day. And we’re gonna spend forever and ever and ever connected to each other. Eternity,” I say.

  “Eternity, huh?” she asks.

  I kiss her soft, sweet mouth again. Whispering, “Infinity, baby,” right into her soul.

  She grabs my cock and holds me. Tight. I close my eyes and let the throbbing take over. The want and longing I have for her is indescribable.

  So we decide no more words are necessary.

  I pull on her shorts and she lifts and bends her legs, pressing them together so I can pull them off. And then she opens for me, the inside of her knees rubbing against the outside of my thighs as I gaze down at her wet pussy.

  She takes my cock out, pumping me slowly. I exhale, wanting more from her, just like she wants more from me. I want to do everything to her right now. Push my cock down her throat. In her pussy. Her ass. Eat her out, suck her clit, put my fingers inside her. Fuck her from behind, from above, from below.

  And like she’s reading my mind, she whispers, “We’ve got eternity, remember?”

  I remember. So I go slow. I let her go slow too. I ease upward, position myself right in front of her entrance, and fill her up as I stare into her eyes.

  She closes them for a moment. But just a moment. Like even she knows we’ve got so many more moments coming, but they will be perfect—too good to miss even a single one.

  “You’re my everything, Katja.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  We don’t fuck like animals. Or have the wildest sex of our lives. Maybe we’ll do that later, maybe next year, or next lifetime, who knows? But this time right now, we stretch time out. We break all the rules of physics as we move together like we’re just a single person now. Like Oliver and Katja cannot exist alone ever again.

  And I hear that song in my head. Our song. She gives me more… and more… and more…

  We come together.

  As one.

  Because that’s the only way we can possibly exist.

  Later, after we pull ourselves apart, we gas up the two adult-sized dirt bikes and head out to the stables for the next leg of our perfect day. The sun is shining and the temperature is rising, and honestly, everything about this day is bliss.

  Cindy goes galloping past us on a pony as we head down, and I look over my shoulder to see if she wants us to stop and talk, but she’s already disappeared around a bend in the road.

  No idea what my baby sister is up to, but she’s not with Pax, so fuck it. That, at least, makes me happy.

  When we get to the stables, we saddle up an old draft horse and ride double down to the marina. I haven’t ridden double since I was a little kid, and I definitely don’t remember loving it this much. But Katja, who it turns out has never ridden before, presses herself into my back as I lead us down the hill. She rests her chin on my shoulder, and wraps her arms around my middle, and we rock with the rhythm of a swaying back and the music of clopping hooves. She talks about the island, and the wedding, and her dress—which she is so excited to try on later tonight and see what alterations Rory has made.

  I hang on every word. I can’t get enough of her sweet voice in my ear. Her soft breath ruffling the tiny hairs of my neck.

  We leave the horse in a pasture to graze and decide we’d rather snorkel than dive—because who has time for diving gear? And neither of us want to be that covered up. Her bikini is a light tangerine color, and her hair is up in some makeshift bun, and she’s
got dirt and dust from the old bike smeared across her cheek before we dive in, but I think she’s never looked more beautiful. So I burn that image of her in my mind, and we hold hands and jump off the dock, and then we swim over the secret world that lives below the surface and… and it’s perfect.

  This island is paradise and I wish we could stay here forever and never go back to real life. Like Five and Rory did. Raise a little family out here on the beach and pretend we’re the only two people on the planet.

  When we’re tired and we’ve seen all the fish, we drag ourselves out of the water, feeling heavy and sedated. And we take the boat over to the little sandy island and plop down on a blanket under a palm tree shaped like an umbrella. I feed her muffins from the picnic we packed, and we drink bottles of exotic water, and she falls asleep in my arms once or twice, or maybe a couple dozen times.

  That’s where we are now. Living in bliss.

  “Should we go back?” she asks me, her words low, and throaty, and filled with satisfaction. “Won’t your family be here soon?”

  “Sure,” I say. “We can. But man, this is the life, right?”

  “It’s the best getaway ever,” she agrees. “I’d like to come back some day. When life gets to be too much, this is where we should come.”

  “I could live here,” I say, my eyes still closed. “It’s fucking perfect.”

  “Could you really, though?” she asks.

  “Could I really what?”

  “Live here.”

  “Hell, yes.” I laugh.

  “Wouldn’t you get bored?” she asks.

  “Bored? Nah, there’s so much do.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees. “But we did it all, right? I mean, realistically, what more is there to do here? We rode the bikes, the horse, saw the reef, and rested on the most perfect island. But there’s more to life than downtime, right?” She props herself up on one elbow and smiles at me. “Like shopping.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I mean, the grocery store is kinda far.”

  “So far! And what if you wanted like… a bubble bath? And you’re out of bubbles. You’d have to plan your bubble baths. Or what if you wanted to see a movie? Not a DVD, but a movie?”