As I continue playing with her nipples, I slide my other hand through her hair and cup the back of her head. My tongue dances along her lip until she opens up for me and I slide right in. That’s not the only thing I want to thrust right in, but I’m pretty sure she’d never go for sex in a hospital bed. Just to test out my theory, I push my body up against hers and she moans into my mouth at the contact from my erection.
It could be because we can’t do anything or that there’s the potential for us to get caught at any minute, but I haven’t been this hard since I was a horny fourteen-year-old going through puberty and masturbating five times a day. That was really hard to do living in a foster home with a million kids running around all the time, but I made it work.
She whimpers as I slowly slide my hand out from underneath her shirt and down her body. My fingertips glide along the waistband of her leggings then she grips my hand.
“We could get caught.”
I smile at her and lazily respond, “I’m not fucking you in this hospital bed, Giselle, but I am going to get you off.”
Her lips form a perfect O and I harden even more thinking about my cock in that mouth. Before she can continue arguing, I slide underneath the fabric and find her pussy completely bare. Fuck yes, my girl is going commando. I claim her mouth as I flick her clit before sliding right into her wet hot heat. She’s beyond ready for me as I push another finger inside of her while massaging her tiny bud with my thumb.
My girl is greedy as she moans into my mouth and rides my hand, chasing after her impending orgasm. Giving her just what she wants, I pick up my speed as I thrust both fingers in and out while applying pressure to her clit. That gets her right where she needs to be as her movements become frantic and she’s screaming into my kisses. She rides each wave that overtakes her.
“Holy fuck.” Giselle breathes out while breaking our kiss. She lays her head down on my chest and her breathing comes out labored. Her skin is completely flushed, and she has a dreamy smile on her face as she giggles.
I try to pull her back to me, but Giselle laughs and says, “You know, this will be a great story to tell the grandkids—you proposing and ending up in the hospital with hives, not the whole getting me off part.”
Nope, not happening. I playfully place my hand over her mouth and say, “Don’t even threaten me with that. This story dies right now.”
“Oh yeah, and when they ask how you proposed, what are we going to tell them?”
“That their super romantic grandfather created a viral video and you said yes. All that stuff in the middle doesn’t really matter anyway. I mean, I could mention the mind-blowing orgasm I gave you, but I’m sure there’s a line there that shouldn’t be crossed.”
Giselle nods with a giggle and leans back down to kiss me, first saying, “Sure, we’ll go with that.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Giselle
Six weeks later
Second time’s a charm, I guess, not that I should have been planning the first time down the aisle. I will always have a place in my heart from Wren, but Anders has the whole thing. He has always had it, at least since the first summer I met him when I was still in high school. I don’t know why we fought our feelings for so long, but I’m so glad we’ve finally reached this day.
Of course all of the drama Anders wanted to avoid was blown up even more than either one of us could have imagined. It’s safe to say neither one of us made good decisions when it comes to our relationship…until now.
I take a deep breath and look at the woman staring back at me in the mirror. She’s confident and so beyond happy it’s ridiculous. I never in a million years thought I would be the kind of person I’ve become. I was always so insecure and didn’t ever trust myself to make any decisions. Not anymore though.
Tears fall down my face as I run my hands down the front of my gown. This time I went shopping all by myself, much to my mother’s dismay. It was just me, a bottle of rosé, and my laptop, and it only took me about thirty minutes to find the perfect dress. When my mom saw it for the first time, she just about had a heart attack, but I’m absolutely in love with it.
The dress itself is a pale rose color, but the real showstopper is the lace and tulle overlay. The corseted top is formfitting with thin spaghetti straps over my shoulders, and the skirted bottom is an elegant A-line. And that overlay?
It’s black.
We’re not a traditional couple, hell I give a middle finger salute to tradition. Our relationship definitely didn’t start the normal way either. I wanted something that was so completely me, and this dress is just that.
“No! Dammit, you can’t make me do it again. I won’t go get Anders so you can break his heart too,” Tinley says as she comes into the small room and quickly shuts the door behind her.
It’s entirely inappropriate, but I can’t hold back the laugh that bursts out of me. I can see how she’d come to that conclusion upon seeing me crying, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. “Tinley, calm down. I’m marrying Anders.”
She pulls a tissue out of the box on a side table and dabs at her eyes careful to avoid smearing her makeup. Taking a deep breath, she calms down enough and asks, “You are? What am I saying? Of course you are.” She comes up beside me and starts fussing, straightening parts of my dress that doesn’t need fixing. She stops suddenly with a gasp and says, “Wait—why are you crying then?”
“Because I’ve finally gotten everything I’ve ever wanted. I haven’t been living my life. It’s been floating by, and I feel like I’m finally enjoying it.”
“I’m so incredibly happy for you. Never in a million years did I think I would have a second sister in my life, but now I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. Now let’s get you out there so you can marry that smoking-hot husband of yours.”
Husband.
Now that’s a word I could get used to, and I plan on saying it as often as I possibly can from now on. When I was seventeen years old, I dreamed of marrying Anders, but I never thought I would get the fairytale ending. Now that I have, I just wish I could tell the past version of myself to hold on tight because my dreams will come true.
The familiar bats start flapping in my stomach as I leave the small room behind and head toward the aisle. The beginning notes of Ed Sheeran’s song “Perfect” start up, and I wait for Tinley to start walking. When it’s my turn, I can’t help but think today truly is a perfect day. Anders’ eyes light up more and more the closer I get to him, and all I can see is the love he feels for me.
The entire ceremony flies by in a complete blur. It isn’t until the very end when we say I do and Anders gets to kiss me as his new wife that I finally get to tell him the news. As we move apart, I lean in for a hug and whisper in his ear, “Congratulations, Daddy.”
He leans away from me with a confused look on his face. I’m not into kinky stuff like that, but I can see where his confusion comes in. I smile with the biggest grin and drop my hands to my belly. I had a feeling, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure until a few moments before Tinley had walked into the bridal suite. Blinking up at me was the word “pregnant.” That was the real reason for the tears in my eyes.
Anders’ eyes go wide, and he turns to everyone in the room, yelling, “I’m going to be a father!”
Cheers erupt around us as he kisses all over my face before dropping to the floor in front of me to pepper kisses on my still flat belly. People start making their way toward us to offer their congratulations, and Marek and Tinley are instantly at our sides. I get hugs and more tears from Tinley, which is more than I can say about my brother.
“Can we please go to the reception and get wasted now? I really don’t want to think about my best friend and my baby sister banging.”
Tinley flicks the bottom of his ear and says, “Be nice. You already knew they were doing it and now our family is just getting bigger.”
“Stop talking about my sister having sex. She’s not old enough for that.”
&
nbsp; Just to give my brother shit, I say, “You’re right, Marek. I will die a virgin. We went to a fertility clinic and they artificially inseminated me with Anders’ sperm.”
He rubs his temples and says, “Fuck, I need a strong drink right about now.”
My husband unbuttons his jacket and pulls out a flask from his interior pocket. I shouldn’t be surprised; he does own a bar after all. He hands the container to my brother, who happily downs its contents.
“Careful, I made that in the bathtub at work.”
A spray of strong liquor goes everywhere as Marek sputters on the liquid left in his mouth. “You better be fucking kidding me right now. I bet Fox has sex in that thing.”
“I was definitely kidding about where I made it, but not about the making it part.”
I might not have married a millionaire Hollywood actor, but I did marry the right man for me. He’s kind and so incredibly supportive of my career while having one of his own. I don’t know what kind of future is in store for us, but I do know it will be incredibly happy and fulfilling.
Epilogue
Wren
Six months later
“What day is it?” I ask as I turn off my TV. I could be talking to an empty room for all I know, but I don’t think my assistant has left for the day. Or was it yesterday that she was here? Hence my question in the first place.
When you can’t remember how many times your streaming service has asked you if you’re still watching, it’s probably a good indication to get up and eat something, or at least take a piss. Shit, when was the last time I did that, let alone take a shower?
I didn’t have a whole lot of time to mend my broken heart when Giselle left me at the altar. I left directly from the wedding venue to the airport for the shooting location of my next movie. We were working long, hard days that I barely had enough time to think about my lines let alone anything else. But we wrapped shooting and I’ve had a lot of time to think about things since I’ve been home.
Being stuck in my own head for an extended period of time is not something that I want to do. But I didn’t have another job booked following the film and I’ve become complacent.
Leaning down, I take a whiff of my pits. I haven’t worked out, so I don’t smell awful, but I’ve smelled better, that’s for sure. I should probably make my way upstairs at some point today and go to the bathroom.
Ember, my assistant, opens a bottle of water and asks, “Does it matter? What’s the last thing you remember?”
It’s been a while since I left my house. For a while there, the paparazzi were parked outside, waiting for a glimpse of the guy who just got his heart broken. Then the recluse lifestyle kind of stuck, and I haven’t really wanted to people much these days. Outside of Ember and the cleaning lady, nobody is coming and going.
It’s just easier that way.
A second bottle of water is sitting on the counter for me as Ember looks me up and down. “When was the last time you showered? You smell pretty awful.”
I shrug as I down the bottle. Shit, when was the last time I had water?
She gnaws away at her bottom lip before she finally says, “Look, I know I could get fired for this, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. What happened to you was awful. I get that, I do, but you can’t let one broken relationship dictate the rest of your life. Do you think she’s moping around and wasting her life right now?”
Giselle moping?
She got absolutely everything she wanted: a relationship with me that boosted her career and the guy she actually loves. I don’t think she had any intentions of using me when we got engaged, but it still hurt nonetheless. “Why would she? She’s the one who left me. Giselle is probably on her honeymoon right now having the time of her life.”
“Don’t let this ruin you, Wren. You’re so much better than that.”
“Yeah? And what would you have me do?”
“For starters, go take a shower. I’ll get some dinner delivered and maybe you can go through the stack of scripts waiting to be read by you or the piles of boxes of endorsement products. What happened was shitty, but life goes on. It’s okay to be brokenhearted, but you’re well past the ice cream for every meal phase and dipping into pathetic territory.”
Her hand flies to her mouth, probably terrified that I’m going to fire her, but that’ll never happen. This might be the first real conversation we’ve ever had, but she’s the only one holding my life together at this point.
Dinner?
I look out the window. Huh, look at that. Apparently, it’s dark outside.
“Why do you even care?”
“You’re a good guy. I don’t want to see you lose everything because you trusted the wrong person with your heart.” Her cheeks turn almost as red as her hair and she dips her head down, focusing on the label on her water bottle.
I’m not sure what she could be embarrassed about, but I thank her and amble away toward the staircase.
I stumble upstairs toward my bedroom. A nice long steam shower actually sounds like the thing I need right now, but an overwhelming pile of boxes stacked haphazardly in a spare bedroom gives me pause. What is all this crap? I have no desire to clean any of the mess up, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I wander in. It’s probably just a bunch of the endorsement shit Ember was talking about. Companies keep sending me stuff in the hopes that I’ll star in one of their commercials or post something on social media. Too bad I’m not about that life. Outside of a film set, I can’t be bought.
There has to be at least thirty boxes covering every surface of the room. The room echoes as I open and slam drawers until I find an old pair of scissors buried beneath a load of junk. What is this room even used for? It’s my own damn house and I don’t know what’s going on half the time.
With my handy tool in hand, I slice open the first box. The odor hits me before I can even check the contents. I don’t know what these companies are thinking when they create their colognes, but the last thing any man wants to smell like is an old lady who smokes a pack of menthols every day. I chuck it to the side without another glance and rip open another box.
I rifle through the boxes quickly, finding a bunch of junk I’ll never use—skincare products, liquor, jewelry, and more crap. A fleshlight and nipple clamps? What the heck am I going to do with those?
I heave a sigh of relief that I’m through the enormous pile then a nondescript box in the corner of the room catches my eye.
What could this be?
The packaging alone looks like it cost a fortune. It’s a chrome hard case in the deepest darkest black. I heave it up, and it’s heavy as shit. Rather than stick around in the beyond messy room, I wade my way through the trash and boxes then head down the hallway to my bedroom with my booty in tow.
I don’t know what I expected, but it’s pretty anticlimactic. Sitting inside the velvet-lined case is a pair of funky-looking goggles and some sort of black suit. The lenses go all the way across and look as black as the case they came in. Can anyone even see through those? I’ve never been snowboarding or skiing before, but these look like an accident waiting to happen. I guess that’s a ski suit if these are goggles. I lift up the lightweight slinky piece of fabric and think there’s no way it could keep someone warm.
“Oh, did you go through the endorsement packages?”
Ember stands in my doorway, leaning against the frame. She’s gnawing away at her bottom lip again as her eyes dart around the room.
She’s acting so weird today.
“I left a mess in the room. It’s all a bunch of crap though—unless of course you’d like some nipple clamps and a fleshlight. They were hot pink…the clamps, not the other thing. That would be a little weird, unless of course you wanted to pretend like you were doing it with an alien. Maybe Mr. Pink will see you now…”
Her mouth falls wide open and her eyes bulge while her cheeks redden intensely again. We’ve never had the type of close friends relationship some people have with their assistant
s. Ours has been purely professional, and I don’t think discussing the usage of sex toys is the kind of conversation she ever expected to have with me.
“Mr. Danzig, was that a Fifty Shades of Grey joke?”
“Was that inappropriate?” I run my hand down my face and cup the bottom of my jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m not really myself these days.”
She avoids eye contact with me altogether and walks away, leaving me alone again. My attention turns back down to the goggles in my hand then she suddenly appears at the door again. “Do you realize how much all of that crap costs? Most people would kill to be in your shoes.”
I notice her avoidance of the particulars in the boxes and I let her off easy this time. She seems to embarrass easily, and I don’t want to make things worse for her. Any other day, I’d probably give her crap for it, but I feel like shit and don’t want anyone else to feel bad right along with me. I’m not that much of a miserable bastard.
“So, send it to them. Or hell, take whatever you want. I don’t want any of it.”
“What about those?”
Why am I even still holding these?
I lift up the weird goggles and say, “I don’t ski. I don’t need these either.”
She giggles as she steps toward me and it sounds sweeter than honey. I can’t even remember the last time I heard a real laugh. “Those aren’t ski goggles.”
“Then what are they?”
She picks up the box and spins it around. There isn’t a label on the outside or a brand name of any kind, which is why I don’t know what they are. Opening it, she removes the foam insert and pulls out a shiny piece of card stock from the bottom. “Holy shit—these are those virtual reality glasses and suit from Vortex Solutions. They aren’t even available to buy yet, but the preorders are completely sold out and have been for over a year. They’re supposed to be a huge hit for the major festival circuit next summer. Apparently, you can attend the festivals at a cheaper ticket price through Euphoria instead of actually going in person. It’s supposed to be this full-blown immersive experience, like you can actually feel things when you’re in there. You have to try these out.”
Marry Me Page 16
