He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Iris Morland

  Right then I didn’t know what compelled me to take my wedding dress out of its garment bag. I hadn’t looked at it since before I’d moved in with Liam. I’d considered selling it, but that would mean admitting I’d never get to wear it.

  My heart squeezed as I took in the lace detailing, the tiny pearl buttons below the open back. I set it down on the bed and undressed, knowing that it’d be tricky to get the dress on without assistance. But I didn’t care.

  With some finagling, I was able to get the dress mostly on. A few buttons I couldn’t reach, but it didn’t matter.

  I’d lost a little weight since the whole breakup, and the dress hung loosely around my breasts. Why are my boobs always the first to go? I thought dryly.

  I put my hair up in a bun and gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror I’d brought from my apartment.

  I didn’t hear the front door open. But I didn’t need to hear his voice to know that Liam had come home and caught me wearing my wedding dress that I’d bought to marry another man.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Liam

  “You look beautiful,” I said. I came to stand behind her, both of us gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

  She did look beautiful, more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined. When I stroked a finger down her spine, she shivered. I kissed the side of her neck.

  “I can just see you, a trembling, virgin bride on her wedding night,” I whispered in her ear. “I start unbuttoning your dress, one by one, revealing your body to me inch by inch.”

  “Liam—”

  “You’d be shivering, blushing, afraid but also curious. Aroused.” I bit a cord in her neck, which made her moan. “You’d be wet for me by the time I’d stripped you naked.”

  Seeing Mari in this wedding dress made me half mad with wanting her. After last night, I’d told myself I should let her go. I’d only break her heart. I didn’t need some bloody card reading to remind me of that. Even if a hundred psychics came to tell me that one thing, I wouldn’t need to hear it because I already knew it was the truth.

  But Jesus Christ, I wanted to prove that stupid card wrong. I wanted to prove old man Gallagher, Da, even Niamh wrong. I wanted to be the man no one—not even myself—thought I could be.

  All those thoughts slipped from my mind just as quickly as Mari’s buttons slipped through my fingers. She’d missed some, which made her seem human. Vulnerable.

  I wanted her so fucking much I was about to burst with it. I’d go insane with wanting her. And the insane thing was that I’d already fucked her. So why did I crave her with this much intensity still?

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t try to remind her that this wasn’t going to last. Or was I reminding myself?

  “Tell me to leave you alone, and I will.” I’d said the words before. This was the first time I wanted her to tell me to let her go, though.

  I could see in the mirror that her pupils were dilated. Her nipples were already hard against the silk bodice of her gown.

  “Should I want you to leave me alone?” she finally replied, even as I pushed the sleeves of her gown down her arms.

  “Yeah, you should.”

  You should run, Mari. We both should.

  “I’ve always done what I should do, you know. I did the right thing because it was always safer,” she said.

  I kissed her shoulder, licking at a freckle there. “Am I safe to you, then?”

  “Hardly. You’re the most dangerous thing I’ve ever known.”

  She sounded so…resigned. It made me angry. I had to force myself not to rip that gown right off of her—the gown she’d bought to wear for another man. Intense, fiery jealousy sped through my veins.

  She’d agreed to marry that piece of shite. She’d taken his ring. She’d bought this dress, thinking about how she’d get to be his wife in every possible way.

  “You want me,” I said, almost viciously. I pushed the dress down until it puddled at her feet.

  “Do you want me?” Mari countered.

  She looked like a warrior, wearing only her bra and panties, her chin lifted. I turned her head and kissed her until she gasped into my mouth.

  I unhooked her bra, her breasts spilling free. I turned her around and leaned down to take one pale pink nipple in my mouth at the same time as I pinched the other.

  Mari inhaled sharply. She pressed her hands against my shoulders, like she wanted to push me away. When I increased the pressure of my mouth, she moaned.

  “Liam,” she said. She tugged on my hair. “Oh my God.”

  I lifted my mouth away and looked into her glassy green eyes. Then I blew a stream of air on one swollen nipple. She shuddered.

  I sucked on her other tit, loving how silky her skin was, how she arched and moaned with every pull of my tongue. I wondered if I could make her come just from playing with her tits.

  “Did your fiancé ever touch you like this?” I said, sounding possessive and almost angry. I tugged at her hair. “Did he ever kiss your tits or lick your pussy for hours?”

  Mari had flushed to the roots of her hair. “You can’t ask me that.”

  “Why not? I’m your husband, aren’t I?”

  “I should know everything about you. Every nook, every cranny. Every fold of your pussy, how you like your clit stroked. Do you like it hard or soft? How many fingers can you take inside that tight pussy before you push me away? I know you like one. How about two? Or even three? We both already know that you love my cock.”

  “Liam—”

  “You don’t know? Or you won’t tell me?” I licked her ear. “I bet you know exactly how many fingers you can fit inside your pretty pussy. You can’t tell me you haven’t fucked yourself, a ghrá geal.”

  “I don’t like to use my fingers,” she admitted. “I just use a vibrator, usually.”

  “On your clit?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  I pushed her panties down, exposing her mound. She’d shaved this morning. Her bare pussy made my cock harden painfully.

  “Show me,” I said. “Show me how you rub your clit, wife.”

  Mari didn’t protest now. She was too desperate to come. When she parted her outer lips, I could see how wet she was already, her clit having already emerged from its hood.

  “Show me,” I repeated, growling.

  She began to lightly tap her clit, her back arching. She slowly increased the pressure as she rubbed that swollen nub.

  I couldn’t help myself: I took out my aching cock and began to stroke it as she touched herself. Pre-come had already leaked from the head, making it easy for me to glide my hand up and down my shaft.

  Mari’s eyelids lowered as she watched me.

  “Every night since that night in your hotel room,” I rasped, “I’ve thought of your pussy clenching around my finger. How you got my palm so wet. How I could hear how juicy you were as I fucked you, wishing it had been my cock instead of my finger. When you finally let me taste you, it was like tasting heaven and hell at the same time.”

  Mari’s mouth opened wide. “Liam…” she squeaked.

  “Are you coming, sweetheart?”

  “I’m so close, so close.”

  She grabbed my arm with one hand, like she was about to lose her balance. Her pussy was totally exposed, completely open to my gaze. It was so lewd and sexy at the same time that it took two more pumps for me to start coming.

  My balls drew up before I came on Mari’s pussy and fingers. I groaned as I watched her rub my come against her clit. Christ, she was going to fucking kill me.

  I reached down and helped her rub that little swollen bud. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” I said in her ear. “Covered in my come as you rub yourself?”

  “Liam, Liam.” She hung on tightly. Soon she gave into my fingers, as if she knew I’d give her a better orgasm.

  That’s right, wife. I know how to make you scream.

  She came with a shout. She crumpled against me, but I swung her into my a
rms and carried her to my—our—bedroom.

  “You’re mine. No matter who you bought that wedding dress for—you’re mine,” I said.

  Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed. She wrapped her arms around my neck and drew me down for a kiss. I kicked her legs open and notched my cock at her tender entrance. She was still shivering, her pussy contracting so that it was a bit of a struggle to push inside her.

  “Liam,” she gasped.

  “Fuck, you’re tight for me, baby.” I rammed into her, not caring if I was too hard or too fast. I wanted her with a desperation that scared me. “You still coming for me as I fuck this pussy?”

  She couldn’t speak. I laughed darkly and pounded into her relentlessly. But I needed more. I needed everything she could give me.

  I flipped her over. “Get on your knees,” I said.

  She did as I said, which said how lost she was in her own desire. Mari in her right mind would’ve told me to eat shit for being so bossy. I yanked her to the edge of the bed as I stood behind her. I parted her folds, teasing her entrance, loving how pink and swollen she was. She moaned and shimmied her hips.

  I didn’t give her time to relax, though. I slammed back into her and pounded into her until her moans turned into yells.

  I wanted her to unravel. I wanted her to feel how much I was unraveling because of her.

  I rubbed her clit in rhythm to my thrusts. “Come for me,” I said. “One more time, a ghrá geal.”

  “I can’t. I can’t.” Her voice was muffled.

  “Yeah, you can. You can do anything.”

  I rubbed her harder. When I felt her clench around my cock, I gave a shout of triumph. She screamed her release at the same time my own release hit me. I poured myself into her until my come overflowed and dripped down her slit.

  I could only collapse beside her, utterly spent. We were both damp with sweat, but I didn’t care. I pulled her into my arms and held her until she stopped shivering.

  We didn’t say anything for a long moment. We didn’t need to. I pushed her hair from her face, loving the contrast of the red against her pale skin. Inspiration struck right then.

  “Stay here,” I said, walking naked into the living room to grab one of my cameras. I fiddled with a few lenses, considering which one would work best for this.

  When I returned, Mari hadn’t budged. She was lying on her side, one eye open and watching me languidly.

  I began to take photos of her, the click of the camera the only sound.

  “Oh,” said Mari. She pulled the sheets up. “Wait, what are you doing?”

  I grinned. “Stay in that pose. Yeah, perfect.” I looked at the photo I’d just taken, and I groaned. “Fuck, you’re sexy. Lay back down for me.”

  Mari rolled her eyes, but she didn’t protest again. Now that she’d been thoroughly fucked and was in a haze of post-orgasm happiness, she was the perfect model, all ease and sensuality. Each photo I took was better than the last.

  I’d told myself Mari wouldn’t become my muse. But she’d become my leanan sídhe, and I couldn’t regret it. Even if she killed me in the end.

  “A ghrá geal,” I said. “My gorgeous little wife.”

  After I got back into bed with her, she said, “What does that word mean? You never told me. Not the vampire one. The other one. I tried to look it up, but I have no idea how to spell it.”

  My heart clenched. You bloody idiot.

  Thank God for Gaelic’s ridiculous spelling rules. I didn’t want to explain that one right now.

  “It means ‘wife,’” I lied.

  “Oh. That’s not as exciting as I thought it’d mean.”

  I looked into her eyes and tilted her chin up. “Maybe not, but I mean it. Things have changed between us. And I’ve been wondering if we shouldn’t see where this leads.”

  My heart pounded so hard I felt sick, especially when Mari said nothing. When she rose from the bed and began to get dressed, I knew I’d misstepped.

  Bollocks, bloody, bloody, bollocks.

  I’d caught feelings for her, and goddamn it all, she didn’t feel the same. I felt instantly like utter shite. What a damn idiot I was.

  “You can’t tell me you don’t feel what’s between us,” I said in a low voice.

  She shrugged “It’s just sex.”

  “It is not just sex. Don’t fucking lie to me or to yourself.”

  She flinched, but being the goddess she was she didn’t burst into tears. She just lifted that pointy chin. Staring down at me, her lowly servant in front of his queen, she said, “You were the one who made the deal, Liam. Six months and we were done. Are you reneging?”

  I got up from the bed, not caring that I was buck naked. “No, I’m not reneging. I’m changing the terms.”

  “I have to agree first, you know.”

  “You’re going to stand here and act like you didn’t just scream my name as I came inside you? That you didn’t try to seduce me last night? You care. I know you care. You’re just too scared to admit it because it’s easier for you to stay in the bubble you’ve created.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “No? You almost married a man who you didn’t even like sleeping with. You stay at a job you don’t like when you know you could do something else. You’d rather be miserable and safe than take a risk and be happy for once. Just admit it: you’re a coward.”

  She paled. “Now you’re just being deliberately cruel.”

  Her voice wavered, but she didn’t back down, either. She just walked out of my bedroom without another word.

  Two days later, I knew I’d fucked up badly. Mari wouldn’t speak to me. She wouldn’t let me touch her. She just looked at me like I’d tried to drown a sack of puppies in front of her.

  I’d never had anyone look at me like that: with disappointment that I existed.

  Well, except for old man Gallagher. But I didn’t give a shite what he thought about me.

  “Let’s try smiling without teeth,” I said to the couple I was taking photos of at a park in the city. The guy was one of those people who look constipated every time he smiled for a photo. Flipping through the ones I’d taken already, I knew it’d be a struggle to find a decent one.

  The guy smiled without teeth, but he widened his eyes so he looked like a serial killer. Fucking hell.

  His fiancée looked up at him and scowled. “Why are you making that face?”

  “I’m not making a face,” he countered.

  “These pictures are supposed to be romantic. Why aren’t you taking them seriously?”

  “Like you took my knitting class seriously? You laughed when I gave you that scarf for your birthday.”

  “Because it was ugly!”

  The bickering only continued, like I didn’t even exist. Whatever. They were still paying me by the hour. If they wanted to fight about knitting, that was their problem, not mine.

  “Do you even love me, Phil? Do you? Because there are times I’m not sure you do.”

  “I bought you a ring, didn’t I? I think that’s a sign that I love you.”

  “It was only three carats. Three. Carats. And it wasn’t even a diamond. You know I didn’t want a sapphire!”

  I sat down on a bench and began to go through my phone. I’d texted Mari this morning, telling her we needed to talk, but she hadn’t responded. But there was a Read at 10:32 AM receipt below the message. Great. My own wife refused to answer my texts.

  When the bickering turned into a tousle—mostly the woman pushing at her fiancé’s arm and him rolling his eyes—I decided I’d had enough. I put my fingers to my lips and whistled loudly.

  The couple stopped.

  “Look, you two can kill each other for all I care, but I have work to do. Either you want photos, or you don’t. But I’m billing you for this time regardless.”

  The two considered me. Then each other. Then realizing they were literally wasting money, the guy muttered, “Let’s get this done.”

 
Those photos? Suffice to say they were unintentionally the most hilarious and worst photos I’d ever taken of two people supposedly in love.

  That was what love turned into, I reminded myself as I packed up my camera and tripod. I’d gone out on a limb, and had fallen so hard my nose was broken. Hadn’t I told myself this would happen? That I had to let Mari go?

  I just hadn’t realized that it would be Mari rejecting me. I’d always been the one to turn women down. Yeah, it hurt my pride, but it hurt the thing inside me that resembled a heart even more.

  Was this love? Because if it was, it was bullshite. I’d be better off alone than dealing with this.

  It wasn’t like I’d got a great example of love with my parents. Da had given up everything for Mam, and then he’d turned around and left us all to starve. If love existed, it never lasted. It was better to end things now.

  I told myself that, but it didn’t make me feel better.

  Walking to my car with heavy steps, I watched a man sit down next to a woman on a bench a few yards away. The woman had bright red hair like Mari’s.

  When the woman turned so I could see her profile, I realized it was Mari. And that man? He was holding her hand—like he had a right to touch her.

  But when that man leaned over and kissed her?

  I didn’t think. I only reacted as red filled my vision.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mari

  There are many things in my life that I never expected to happen. Including my almost-husband and my current husband battling it out in the middle of a park like two of the biggest idiots in existence.

  My morning had started peaceful enough. I’d bought coffee and sat down to wait for David to show up. I’d considered bailing at least five times, though, but the lure of getting my favorite eyeshadow palette back was too much to give up.

  Besides, if David wanted to grovel and apologize some more, who was I to stop him? It wasn’t like he’d convince me to get back together with him.

  David showed up ten minutes late. “Were you waiting long?” he said.