The Marriage Dare

by Wylder, Penny

  “It’s the real thing," I say. "Monica and I knew each other when we were younger. We reconnected and we decided to get married. It's as simple as that." I leave out the rest of it, because winning someone's hand in marriage in hand of poker isn't good PR. Plus, it's nobody’s business how or why we reconnected.

  She sighs. "Fuck. Okay, the video of you sucker punching that guy is already all over the Internet. People were filming.”

  “Of course they were," I say, taking another sip of my drink. "It's Las Vegas. They probably thought it was some kind of show until later."

  "It doesn't matter what they thought," she says. "All that matters is that that video will be all over the news tonight, if we don't have something to combat it with. What the hell did he say to you to make you hit him?"

  I tell her. Every single word. It’ll be burned in my brain for a long time. But I think I can actually hear Rose smiling. "Well, shit. I can definitely work with that. That's an easy spin into defending her honor, and it will lay some of the groundwork for the rest of it. And you guys are already married?"

  "Yeah," I say, nodding even though she can't see me. "We signed the papers today."

  "I wish you would have waited. It's way easier to spin a love story when you have something to look forward to."

  I laughed. "Spin all you like. Frame it like this: we met up again after not seeing each other in a decade. We fell head over heels in love, and we didn't want to wait to get married for the sake of the wedding. But we’ll be planning one so that we can celebrate with all our family and friends."

  "And by ‘all our family and friends,’ I hope you don't mean her father."

  I finish off the last of my drink. "I doubt it," I say, "but I'll have to check with her."

  “Please, Daniel. I’m serious. There are some things that spin won’t fix, and this is one of them. I can separate her from him in the media. I can make it a different thing. But if he’s at the wedding that’s a psychic link between her and her father that I will never be able to break. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “And you’re going to have to tell me the real story,” she says.

  I shake my head. “That is the official story.”

  Rose sighs again. “You know better than this. I can’t protect you fully if I don’t know the whole story. And the NDA we’ve got will literally bury my soul under a ton of rubble if I break it. So stop pussy-footing around and tell me the story.”

  I do, though I’m not happy about it. I do lessen a few of the details of the rift between Monica and me, but for the most part, I’m honest. Especially about the part where neither of us expected it to go this well or this fast. Thankfully, she’s all business.

  “Okay. Good. I think I can work with this, but while I’ve got you on the phone, I want to review some media requests—some for this and some not—and see if you want to do them.”

  “Sure.”

  Just then I hear the door behind me open, and I turn on the couch to see Monica coming out of the bedroom. She’s not wearing a stitch of clothing, and fuck, if looking at her isn’t the best thing in the world. It hasn’t been that long, but she must have woken up and found me missing. She still looks sleepy and peaceful, and I smile at her as Rose starts listing off the first media pitch.

  I think that Monica is going to come and sit with me on the couch, but I’m wrong. Instead, she comes and stands in front of me, and without any prompting, sinks to her knees. My cock goes instantly hard. Impossibly hard, given that I’ve already come twice today.

  When I wanted to humiliate her, I wanted her like this. I wanted her to feel what it was like to be beneath someone else so thoroughly. Now I don’t need that, but seeing her kneel in front of me is hot as fuck.

  And she doesn’t waste time either, pulling at the waistband of my pants until I lift my ass and let her pull them off me. She strokes my cock up and down, making it jump and jerk because it’s already so hard and ready. When she takes me into her mouth, I have to clench my jaw so I don’t moan into the phone. But I can barely think, barely breathe.

  God, she’s so good at this, and when she sinks down so my cock slips into her throat, I almost come right then. “Rose,” I say. “Can I actually call you back?” I don’t wait to hear her answer before I hang up. “Fuck, Princess.”

  She grins, batting her eyelashes at me. “Am I being a good wife?”

  “The best wife,” I tell her. “I think I can reward you.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes are sparkling. “How?”

  I lift her off her knees and pull her onto the couch. “Trust me.” She squeals but doesn’t protest. “What are you doing?”

  Leaning over her, I part her legs, and lick her pussy from top to bottom. God, I could live off that taste. The sweetest desert there is. “Only one catch,” I tell her, pulling away.

  “What’s that?” Her eyes are already glassy with pleasure.

  I fit my cock to her lips and push into her mouth, and she takes me eagerly. “Don’t stop sucking my cock. Not even when I make you come.”

  She sucks me hard, and I have to close my eyes for a moment. I’m going to have just as much trouble concentrating as she is. I know that. I lean back over her pussy and lap at the wetness there. I love how quickly she becomes aroused for me. The idea of fucking her mouth didn’t turn her off in the slightest. I am a lucky man.

  I seal my mouth over Monica’s clit and suck it as hard as I can. She groans on my cock, and I like the way it feels on me. “Keep moaning for me, Princess,” I say as I lick my way to her entrance. She does, making sounds that I’ve only ever heard in porn, and these are so much better because her mouth is gagged with my cock.

  Her moans only grow louder as I invade her pussy with my mouth, plunging deep and tasting her sweetness. I work her in long, lazy strokes. Enough to arouse her but not enough to send her over. Not yet.

  Circling her clit with my tongue, I move faster, sending her higher and higher. Until she’s screaming around my cock and not even sucking anymore because she can’t. I know she can’t. I consume her like she’s my last meal, and I swear to God that I hope she is. She’s shaking under my mouth, suddenly coming, flooding my tongue with her flavor. I drink all of it.

  And I keep going, licking and sucking and eating her until she goes over again. My cock falls from her lips and she can’t stop moaning and saying yes. I love the sound of her climax, the way her voice goes raw and rough and uneven. I can’t get enough of that sound.

  I release her, pressing my cock back between her lips. “Keep sucking,” I say, pressing deeper, and she does, but I’m in control now. I press myself completely into her, slipping into her throat until her lips seal around my base. “How do you like your reward, wife? Is this a good one, for being an excellent wife?”

  A moan is all she can do to respond, but I watch as her pussy grows wet before my eyes. Yes. She likes this. I close my eyes, thrusting into her mouth and throat, and I let my orgasm rise up from the deep. The texture of her tongue against my skin is driving me mad, and the sensation of popping in and out of her throat is sending me over the edge.

  “Fuck, Monica, I’m going to come down your throat.” I hold her head still, and she opens wide, letting me pump in hard and fast. I’m fucking her mouth exactly the way I would her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Monica reaches up, and touches her clit, her beautiful fingers circling and teasing. On her hand, is her wedding ring. Fuck. She sucks down on my cock, and I plunge deep one more time, orgasm ripping through me from the base of my spine. Monica sucks hard, swallowing everything I give and more, cleaning my cock and drawing out the pleasure for every last second.

  Flashes of light burst behind my eye. Nothing but light as I poured myself into her naughty mouth. And she deserves an even better reward for that. I snatch her wrist away from her pussy, sealing my mouth over her clit and licking it. Again and again and again until she’s gasping and shaking a
nd saying my name. Her hands are gripping the couch so hard that her knuckles are white, and I smile against her skin.

  One more for good measure. I press two fingers into her pussy, finding that rough patch inside that makes her scream, and lick her again. It only takes seconds before she’s coming, voice echoing off the walls of our suite.

  And then she melts, body going limp, and I catch her, lay her out on the couch and spread out beside her. Her eyes are sleepy again. “Hi,” I say.

  “Hi,” she says. “I woke up and wanted more. Now I’m sleepy again.”

  “Well, you can have more anytime you want.”

  She blushes pink and smiles. “Do you have to call that person back?”

  I stroke my hand down her side, savoring the feeling of her skin. “No, it can wait. We covered anything important.”

  “Okay.”

  “Should I take you back to bed?”

  She grins shyly. “For a nap or more sex?”

  “I don’t see why there can’t be both,” I say, standing and lifting her into my arms.

  She giggles, and it’s the best damn sound in the world.

  12

  Monica

  I wake up, drowsy and feeling nearly drugged. I'm not, it's just because I didn't get very much sleep in the night. The morning sun is shining through the windows of the suite, and I stretch under the sheets feeling the sweet ache of my body. I’m wearing nothing but my wedding rings, which is the same way I've woken up for the last three days. I don't think there's been more than a few hours between our stints in bed. He can't keep his hands off me, but I'm exactly the same.

  We've basically been in hiding. On the advice of his publicist, public outings together haven't been on the top of the priority list, which is totally fine for me. I'd far rather stay in our hotel room and fuck my husband than deal with reporters. She thinks it'll be good to give the public time to accept us as a couple while she works spin. It's given me some time to think about the wedding, since that's important for public image. Daniel insisted that I do what I want with the wedding, and don't let anybody push me into something I don't want. Which is nice.

  But I haven’t been looking at any of the media or the news, because I don’t think that would make me feel good about anything. And the fact that Daniel has been intentionally avoiding that subject confirms it. It’s fine. I’m used to it. I’m sure they’re calling me a gold digger and all kinds of other names. But if Daniel doesn’t care, neither do I. Or at least I try not to.

  I roll over, and unlike the last few days when I've woken up, the bed is empty. That's too bad. I'm sure that if Daniel were here, just rolling over would have him pulling me against him and we'd end up entangled for the next hour or so. Instead, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. There are a lot of messages. There have been over the past few days, especially from people that I haven't heard from in years. Suddenly, being married to a billionaire makes me interesting enough to talk to again.

  I don't answer those calls. If you weren't willing to be my friend when I was going through the hardest period of my life, then you don't get to be my friend when things are suddenly looking better. There is a message from Alex's assistant, confirming that she'll be over at noon to deliver my wardrobe sketches and talk about them with me. And to possibly start talking about the design of my wedding dress.

  There’s a message from Daniel too, and I click it open.

  Sorry I'm not there to help you wake up this morning. Duty calls. As much as I wish I could ignore everything and stay in bed with you, people are starting to get mad that I'm ignoring their messages. Call me when you have the chance.

  I dial his number and roll over so that I'm on my stomach and hugging a pillow. I can pretend that I'm lying on Daniel's chest. It won't work though, because Daniel is a furnace, and I never get enough of his warmth. The phone rings, and after a couple, he picks up. "Hello?"

  His voice is so fucking sexy over the phone, deeper than it normally is. I miss it already. I know it's partially the honeymoon phase, but it's also just him. "Hi," I say, my voice still scratchy with sleep.

  He chuckles when he hears it. “Good morning, Princess.”

  "You told me to call you."

  "I did," he says. "Besides wanting to hear your voice since I couldn't be there to wake you up, I wanted to ask you something.”

  "Shoot."

  "How would you feel about having dinner with my parents tonight?"

  My stomach jolts. He's mentioned a couple times of the last few days that he wants me to meet his parents again. Under normal circumstances, meeting somebody's parents wouldn't make me as nervous as this does. "Are you really sure they want to meet me?" I ask. "I can't imagine that I'm in their good graces. Especially right now."

  "They actually don't know yet," he says. "They try not to pay attention too much to gossip columns. More than one misunderstanding about me and my life has come from that, so they generally get their news straight from me. So if they have seen a story about you, they won't believe it until I tell them."

  "And you don't think they're going to be pissed? If you were that mad at me, I can't even think about how much they feel."

  His voice is gentle. "They will love you because I love you. I swear."

  “Okay," I say, even if I'm not sure that I believe it. "What's the dress code for this dinner?"

  "Monica," he says, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “How many times I have to tell you that you can wear whatever you want?”

  "I know that I can wear whatever I want. But this is your parents and I want to make a good impression. Please just give me some kind of direction. Are we going to their house? Are we going to a fancy restaurant?"

  "Their house. It won’t be fully formal, but not fully casual either. Wear something nice that you feel comfortable in, that's all I ask."

  "Alex will be here in an hour," I say. "She'll help me pick out something, I'm sure."

  "Yes, she will. I have to go," he says. "And I likely won't be able to make it to pick you up because there's a lot of things to catch up on. I'll have a car pick you up to take you to my parents’ house at 6 o'clock, okay?”

  I nod, even though he can't see me. "Yes."

  "I wish I was there with you, Princess.”

  “Me too.”

  The silence hangs in the air, full of our unspoken words. Finally, Daniel says, “Think of me today." And he hangs up.

  As if I’m going to do anything but think about him. Especially when I get up and get myself into the shower. I'm filled with memories of the last shower together, which was yesterday. Daniel ended up on his knees in front of me, making me come over and over again before he took me against the wall. Fuck, I want that again.

  I don't know when this rabid desire will stop, and I'm not sure that I want it to.

  The table full breakfast food is there again, and I eat my fill before getting dressed. I never see anybody put the food out, but I hope I do at some point because it's delicious.

  Alex shows up right on time, breezing in with a bag full of fabric samples and a big sketchpad. "Hello, hello," she says. "I see in the past couple days a lot has happened between you and Daniel."

  I can’t stop the blush that rushes to my cheeks. It's true, though. "Yeah," I say. "I guess so. I've been kind of ignoring the news."

  She looks at me sympathetically. "I would say that's probably a good call."

  I laugh. “Yeah."

  She sits down on the couch and deftly changes the subject. "So, ready to see your clothes?"

  "Absolutely."

  Just like Daniel had predicted, Alex has created a collection of clothes that suit me more perfectly than I could have chosen for myself. She took all the elements that I liked of the clothes that she showed me and expanded on those. Every sketch is tasteful, delicate, and understated. "Well," I tell her. "Daniel said that you were good, but this is more than I ever imagined.”

  “Thank you.”

  "All of these are pe
rfect."

  She grabs her bag of fabric samples and lays them out on the coffee table. "Just tell me which of these fabrics you like the best, and we’ll use a combination of them.”

  We spend a few minutes going through the different fabrics, and she explains to me things about them like how they feel, how they’re made, and the benefits of some compared to others. When we finish, I'm feeling much more relaxed. "Alex, I was wondering if you would help me put together something for tonight. I'm going to have dinner at Daniel's parents’ house, and I want to make a good first impression."

  She raises an eyebrow at me. "You don't think you'll make one?"

  "I don't know." My hands fidget in my lap even though I try to keep them still. "There's a lot of history between our families, and not all of it is good. I know that Daniel doesn't care what I wear, but I'll feel better if I'm wearing something that I feel confident in."

  She places her hand on my shoulder. "In that case, I'm happy to help."

  I hear my phone ringing in the other room. Only a few people actually call me now, so it might be important. "Excuse me," I say. "I'm going to answer that, and then I'll be back and we can talk about it. Maybe we can also talk about my wedding dress."

  Alex beams. "Girl, I have so many ideas for that."

  "I can't wait to hear them," I say, as I exit the room.

  I left my phone in the bedroom while I took a shower and forgot about it. I'm half expecting to see Daniel's name on the screen, but the number that I see makes my blood run cold. It's the number for the correction center where my father is being held. I almost don’t answer it. I almost convince myself that it’s okay to let him go. But decades of me trying to win my father’s approval win out. I press answer. “Hello?” I hear that familiar recorded message that I’m receiving a phone call from an inmate. “Accept.”

  “Hello, Monica.”

  I swallow. “Hi, Dad.”