by Tara Lain
“Speaking as the man who drove your monument to the origins of the hybrid vehicle across the country, I beg to differ.”
Harper clicked his seat belt and crossed his arms. “So if it’s my car, how come you’re driving?”
“Because I know where we’re going.”
“Irrefutable logic.” And with that, Harper surrendered to the delight of being completely in Remy’s power. Still after dreaming out the window for about fifteen minutes later, he sat up straighter. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He knew the road they were traveling. “Are we going to dinner in Fayetteville?”
“Most likely.”
But it was hours until dinner.
Remy wound around downtown a bit and then drove up College Avenue to a square brick building. He pulled into the parking lot.
Harper frowned. “Isn’t this a county government building? Have we missed some kind of license? Jesus, Remy, I think I filled out about a hundred forms to get Merty up and running.”
“You missed one.” He seemed to be holding in a laugh.
“I don’t think so.”
“How about a marriage license?”
“Wha-what?”
Remy’s face got more serious. “I want you to have a big ceremony and invite the governor or whatever you want to do, but the fact is, I don’t want there to be any question about who we are to each other, if for no other reason than we own River Oaks together, and there’s my business, and—”
Harper threw his arms around Remy’s neck despite the console. “Yes, yes. I don’t need the governor, for crap sake. If he came to a gay marriage in this state, he’d lose his next election anyway. All I want is you, darlin’.”
“I thought we’d get our license, go to the hotel and clean up, and then get hitched by a justice of the peace.”
“Sounds perfect. Although, if you want to get married while we’re inside, it’s fine with me.”
“Hey, let me be a little mushy.”
“Deal.”
Hand in hand, they walked into the clerk’s office and signed for their marriage license. When the clerk saw Remy’s name, his face lit up. “You’re Remy Merced.” He extended his hand. “It’s an honor, sir. The Merced family’s done a lot for this state. I heard you had become, uh, engaged. I’m proud to be able to say I issued your marriage license.”
Remy smiled and shook his hand, and they walked away with their license. Eyes followed them everywhere, whether because they recognized Remy or disapproved of their mutual genders they didn’t know—or care.
Back outside, though, Remy said, “That’s why I thought a quiet ceremony at a justice of the peace would be better.”
He drove for about a half hour to a beautiful, sprawling farmhouse set in wide gardens and fields with a barn behind.
Harper stared. “Is this where we’re staying? How did you ever have time to plan all this?”
He laughed. “There are one or two people at Merced who’re interested in our future, you know. Eartha did all the research.”
They pulled up in front, left the car with the valet, the bags with the bellman, and walked inside. The lobby had a lovely two-story vaulted ceiling, but a cozy farmhouse feel below, with stone floors covered in handmade rugs and big easy couches.
The desk clerk welcomed Remy with a huge smile and had them immediately escorted to their suite on the third floor—the top floor. Their bellman followed with the two little bags that Harper could have easily carried.
Inside the suite, Harper gazed at the beautiful sitting area, giant TV, and small game table near the big windows. Wide double doors stood closed on the far end of the room.
The bellboy walked over to Remy and handed him the key. “Everything’s been arranged, sir. Is there anything else?”
“No. Everything looks great. Thank you.” He tipped the guy handsomely, and the bellman left with a twinkling smile.
Once the door was closed, they fell together like two magnets turned toward attraction and kissed until breathing became an issue.
Harper whispered, “When do we have to be at the justice of the peace? Do we have time to fuck first?”
Remy held Harper at arm’s length. “First, the justice of the peace is coming to us.”
Harper snorted. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Remy cocked his head. “Am I acting like an entitled rich guy?”
“Not at all. You wear your privilege lightly.” And it was true. Remy accepted many things as his due without thinking about them, as more than befitted a billionaire, but he was kind and generous and never did things to flaunt his wealth. Harper bounced. “So about fucking.”
Remy spread a hand over his chest in pretend shock. “Sir. I’m not that kind of boy. I need to be married first.” He glanced at his watch. “We have an hour to get ready.”
Harper looked down at himself in his jeans and T-shirt. “Aren’t I ready?”
Remy grinned. “Not even close.” He took Harper’s hand and led him to the double doors, which he threw open.
Harper gaped. Inside what proved to be the bedroom stood the most enormous bed, apparently made from two extralong double beds pushed together. “Oh my God.” The bed was decorated with flower petals—roses and apple blossoms—and a bucket with a champagne bottle and two glasses stood on a table between two easy chairs nearby. There was also a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
“I don’t know where to start.” Harper blinked hard.
“Let me help.” Remy pulled Harper’s T-shirt over his head, gently pushed him to sitting and removed his sneakers, then pulled off his jeans.
Harper giggled. “This is looking promising.” His cock bounced like a happy puppy.
“You have a one-track mind.” Remy reached down, scooped up Harper, and carried him through the partly closed doors to the bathroom where a huge jetted tub stood filled with fragrant water. Remy lowered Harper into the water, then rushed out of the room and returned with a glass of champagne.
“Ohh, champagne and hot water could go straight to my head.” He lolled his head against the back of the tub. “Hurry up, big boy. I never drink alone.”
Remy was out of his clothes and into the tub with his own champagne in seconds. They clinked glasses, then settled on opposite sides of the tub, gazing at each other and playing footsie.
Harper said, “I love you.”
“I love you back.”
He smiled softly. “Obviously. No one has ever gone to so much trouble for me before.”
“You’re only the best kind of trouble.” Remy tweaked Harper’s balls gently with his toes.
Harper giggled. “If you want to maintain your virginity until after marriage, you better quit that.”
Remy reached out a hand and pulled Harper over to sit in front of him, Harper’s back to Remy’s chest. He kissed Harper’s neck and stroked his chest. “I love you, Mr. Treadwell-Merced. Or is it Merced-Treadwell? Dear God, how did I end up with the most Southern name on the planet?” He laughed.
“And owning a home in Arkansas. And getting married in Arkansas.”
“About that, we better get on with it. Let’s turn on the shower, rinse off, and shave.”
“Ookay. If I have to.”
Ten minutes later, after a minimum of hanky-panky, Remy stood Harper on the fluffy bathmat and dried him off. The champagne coursed through Harper’s veins, the soft cotton of the towel stimulated his skin just enough, and a much-deprived member began to make an appearance.
Remy tapped Harper’s rapidly stiffening condition. “Hello.”
“Sorry. He didn’t sign the virginity pact.”
“Umm. I can see that. Well—” Remy knelt, grabbed Harper’s cock by the root, and slid it down his throat.
“Holy crap!”
Remy started sucking, pressing Harper deeper and deeper into his mouth, making moaning, mewling sounds.
“Remy, oh God, how, how can you…?”
He p
opped Harper’s cock from between his lips, a sight so incredibly sexy, Harper could have come from looking. Remy murmured, “Can’t wait. Fuck virginity.”
He pulled away and ran back with a bottle of lube so big it could have greased an Arkansas car lot. He wiped a handful on his own stiff cock and then began to slide a finger gently into Harper.
Harper grabbed the bottle. “More commitment.” He shoved two, then three, of his fingers into his own butt. “Do it. Do it.” Harper lay back on the fluffy rug and before he was even settled, Remy was in him. “Fuck yes!”
Remy loved anal, but right them he was a madhouse. A fucking machine, shoving into Harper with grunts and moans and a stream of profanity.
Harper’s underserved cock lit up like a roman candle, and his balls began to boil in seconds. “More. More. Oh God, oh God, harder!”
“I can’t—I’m gonna—oh God!” Remy slammed into Harper and then stiffened as a tsunami of heat washed over Harper, filling every cell with fire and shooting semen from his cock in jets of joy that splashed Remy’s chest and chin. The last burst hit Remy’s mouth.
Laughing and gasping at the same time, Remy collapsed onto Harper, and the two of them lay on the fat, fuzzy rug, shuddering with aftershocks.
Harper chuckled. “Am I married yet?”
Chapter Twenty
AFTER ANOTHER fast shower and a little more champagne, Remy had led Harper to the closet and revealed the white-dinner-jacketed tuxedo he’d brought for him.
Harper gave Remy a quizzical look and quoted one of his favorite all-time movies. “Isn’t this a little excessive for the Carolina league?”
Remy grinned as he helped Harper step into his trousers. “As Susan Sarandon said, ‘The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.’”
Together they said, “William Blake!”
Remy shrugged. “I didn’t want your wedding to be too forgettable.”
Harper caressed Remy’s cheek, and they both pulled on their formal shirts and tied each other’s ties. “Nothing about loving you is forgettable.”
“Likewise.”
When they both were wearing their boutonnieres, Harper asked, “So where are we meeting the justice of the peace?”
“The hotel manager suggested there’s a nice little corner of their garden where they sometimes do weddings. Sound okay?”
“Sounds great.”
Remy opened the door to the suite, and they walked down the big staircase to the lobby. Remy went to the desk. “Is the official here?”
“Uh, yes, sir.” The bellman directed him to the garden.
Remy nodded.
Since it was evening, the curtains in the lobby had already been pulled over big windows that probably looked out on a pool, but it made the inside really cozy. Harper said, “Not many people here.”
“No. I guess it’s kind of between seasons. The kids go back to school and all that.”
“Umm.”
Remy looked toward some doors ahead. “That must be how we get to the garden.”
“Funny there are so many curtains.”
They got to the end of the hall, and Remy pushed the handle down on the big french door and gently pressed Harper through it—to the moment that, if he’d thought about it, of course was about to happen. But he’d never once guessed.
Maybe a hundred people—not just people, friends—all screamed, “Surprise!” as Harper’s heart stopped and started again at twice the speed.
He began fanning and blinking. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
His mom stepped forward, and Anastasia and John Jack and Trudy and Mama Two and all the people from the community center and another huge batch from Merced in California, including Eartha.
His closest loved ones sneaked in for a hug before a string quartet started playing “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” and he and Remy walked down the aisle to where the justice of the peace was waiting.
He remembered words about loving and honoring, the justice of the peace stumbling a little over husband and husband, and not being able to hold back tears when he saw the rings Remy had commissioned for them—golden bands carved with abstract apple blossoms. It seemed like only minutes before they were both wearing those rings and showing them off to all their friends as they drank more champagne, got a few mouthfuls of a delicious buffet, and then cut an enormous cake.
After they’d fed each other the prescribed bites, Remy whispered, “Happy?”
“Unbelievably. Beyond what I thought possible. But truly, my love, I married you that day in the dirt beside the road. Everything since then has been icing.” He licked a piece of frosting from the remains of the cake on his plate. “But it will take you days to explain how you managed all this without my knowing.”
“Umm, I might have one more little surprise.”
“What? A performance of Cirque de Soleil?”
Remy grinned. “What comes after the wedding?”
“The honeymoon?” Harper frowned a little. “I don’t really need to go anywhere.”
Remy titled up his chin. “Because you’d like to stay at River Oaks?”
The smile broke like sunshine across Harper’s face.
THE NEXT morning, Remy got in the passenger seat so Harper could drive his new Prius away from the hotel and all their friends and family, who’d shared a wedding breakfast with them. They’d put their huge bridal suite bed to good use, but now they both had one goal.
It only took about forty-five minutes before the little black car navigated through the trees on the newly resurfaced road and saw the house on the crest.
Remy kept wanting to laugh like a kid waiting for Christmas.
As they approached the house, Harper stopped in the middle of the drive.
“Oh my God, oh my God.” He leaped out of the driver’s seat, leaving the door open, and ran toward the beautiful house in front of them.
Remy laughed and walked to the driver’s seat. The house wasn’t 100 percent done—there were still some big trees to plant——but it was close, he hoped. He’d moved every artisan in a hundred miles onto the property the previous day, seconds after Harper left. They’d been working ever since.
As he drove onto the circular drive, he could see the fresh paint glistening on the porch and the towering walls of the grand house. Rocking chairs and even a glider stood invitingly on either side of the front door and ferns and flowers hung in baskets.
He laughed when he saw the front door standing open.
He hopped out, and as he climbed the steps, Harper came running out the door and threw himself into Remy’s arms again, something Remy never got tired of.
“How did you do it? It’s so beautiful. It’s the most beautiful house in the world. Come see.”
Remy smiled and gently pushed Harper’s slipping glasses up his nose. “I will, but I already know it’s the most beautiful place—because you’re in it.”
Harper kissed Remy’s nose.
Remy said, “I found out where I belonged, so I finally finished something.”
“No, darling, you’re just beginning.”
Remy waved a hand in front of his face and blinked hard. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What?” Harper’s bright eyes said he was ready for it all—the work, the adventure, the love, the life.
Remy gently kissed those lips that had changed everything. “Let’s go in and get some sweet tea.”
More from Tara Lain
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