by Jenna Rose
“That’s not what happened—”
“Oh, no?” I laughed. “You’re going to deny it now? You want to deny that you bought the Macadam Pines?
“No.”
“Oh, you’re not going to deny it? Well that might be the first honest thing you’ve said to me—”
“I bought them to save them, Gwen!”
My voice caught in my throat and I froze. Harrison’s face was flushed and his chest rose with every deep breath he took. I searched his eyes for signs of deception but saw none. But then again, if he’d been lying to me this whole time, why would I be able to tell the difference now?
“Bullshit,” I muttered.
“I was going to tell you once the deal went through,” he replied, taking his phone from his back pocket. “I know how much they mean to you—to the town—so I had Audrey talk to Tony about buying them so we could make sure nothing happened to them.”
He started scrolling through his e-mail as I tried to process what I was hearing. It was possible, and I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easy. I’d spoken to enough crooked businessmen and local politicians to know that a person could sound sincere and smile to your face and be lying their ass off the whole time.
“Look! Look!” he said, showing me his phone. There was an e-mail chain from him and Audrey. He read it out loud. “Audrey, I want to buy the Macadam Pines from that Tony Russell character. Can you get on it?”
He scrolled to her response.
“Sure, but why?”
And then his.
“Gwen doesn’t want them cut down and developed. I’ll buy them and preserve them as a park. Maybe we can even change the name to Gwen’s Pines.”
My heart shook and I felt a blush tingle in my cheeks.
Was this really possible?
I glanced up at Harrison, who had his eyes fixed on me. I was starting to believe him; I wanted to believe him, but he must have seen that I needed more, so he kept reading.
“Wow, you must really like her, huh?”
Again he looked at me, and again I felt those feelings starting to rise up inside me, taking over the anger and betrayal that had taken over.
“I know it sounds crazy,” he continued, reading his response. “But I think she might be the one. Let me know what he says. We’ll me in Amalfi for a week or so.”
The one…I thought, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. Could this be real? It could have been another trick, but why? He’d already made the deal. He didn’t need anything else from me. If he’d just been using me to get what he wanted, he could let me leave now and it would be no skin off his back.
Unless...
“I didn’t want to tell you this way,” Harrison said, putting his phone away. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I was going to have a new sign put up at the lot where we first…well, where we first…connected that night.”
I cry-laughed, remembering the night I’d been lying on the hood of my car when Harrison pulled up.
“I was going to bring you there and show you it in person,” he continued with a sigh. “But I guess the world just wanted to make things difficult for us for some reason.”
He reached out for my hand and I let him take it. Like the beaches beneath us, I felt the waters of despair inside me beginning to subside and drift away. The sun suddenly felt more warm on my face and everything around me felt brighter.
I looked at him, Harrison Night, the man I’d been so convinced—twice now—was a huge asshole, and realized that I’d been wrong about him from the start.
There was no scoop here or exposé about the big bad billionaire coming to town to destroy it. In fact, there was an opposite story to be done, about the guy who’d not only brought jobs and business to Derby, but had also gone out of his way to save a local landmark and preserve it for the townspeople.
“Harrison,” I whispered. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I should have told you what I was up to. Then you wouldn’t have freaked out when you saw the e-mail from Audrey. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I replied. “It was my fault.”
“No,” he said, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I just wanted to surprise you and it backfired.”
I slumped forward against him and buried my face in his strong chest.
“I never should have doubted you.”
“That’s your job,” he replied as he stroked my hair. “You’re a reporter. You’re paid to dig—to be skeptical.”
He was right, but it wasn’t making me feel any better. But one thing that had been said in those e-mails was still ringing around in my mind.
I wanted to ask him about it, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to come up with the words, nothing came to mind. I just stood there, pressed against him as he held his arms around me, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
But, as always, Harrison had the answer.
“I know what you’re thinking about,” he said gently. I couldn’t respond. All I did was moan back a little question-sounding thing into his chest.
“You’re thinking about when I said you might be ‘the one’ in that e-mail to Audrey.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat was choked and more tears were threatening to spill from my eyes. Harrison waited a moment, then lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him.
He was smiling down at me, looking more handsome than ever, with the strong Italian sun backlighting him like a romantic photograph.
“I meant it when I said that, Gwen. And that’s why I chased after you. I never want to be without you, Gwen. Never.”
Here come the waterworks, I thought as he smiled down at me.
“Because I love you.”
Tears spilled from my eyes and my chest shook as I choked back a sob. Harrison’s words blazed through me like golden fire, lighting my soul and burning away all the terrible feelings that had seized me.
He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead.
“Do you love me too, Gwen? You do, don’t you?”
“Yes!” I blurted out, giving in fully to the most beautiful realization of my life. “I love you, Harrison. And I’m so sorry for ever doubting you.”
“Don’t apologize, princess,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. And you’re all I’ll ever want for the rest of my life.”
14
Harrison
Eight months later…
“So, as you can see, Night Industries has brought three hundred jobs to Derby,” I explained to the band of reporters trailing behind me as we toured the newly erected factory.
“The factory’s basically up and running and we’re starting to get to work on the generators. We still have a lot of work to finish before everything’s working smoothly, but we’re almost there.”
“And what about the rumors that once the factory is up and running, you’ll be turning to automation and laying off most of your work force?”
That was Pierce, a reporter from Boston who was always on my case about one thing or another. I didn’t get the vibe that he actually disliked me—it was more that he was a young, brash dude looking to dig up an angle that he thought no one else had thought of yet.
“That’s not happening, Pierce,” I replied with a grin. “The people I’ve hired can rest assured that their jobs are safe. Just as long as they don’t give me a reason to fire them.”
The rest of the reporters laughed, while Pierce just gave me a mild smile. But that was good for him. He couldn’t be seen “getting along” with me in public. That was just his shtick. I didn’t mind, of course. I’d win him over eventually.
“As you can see, we’ve got great working conditions. We’re finishing up a game and relaxation room there,” I said, waving to a large room with unfinished drywall and a couple of pool tables sitting under black plastic. “Everyone gets three breaks a day to blow off steam and we want to make s
ure they’ve got entertainment beyond sitting on their phones in a cramped break room.”
“Not worrying about illegal gambling going on inside your business?” Karen, a gal in her 40s from Portsmouth, said with a grin.
“Only if they don’t cut me in for a percentage,” I replied.
The rest of the press run went well. I showed them the main work floor, the green aspects of the building and how we were mostly off the grid through the massive solar array we’d put up on the roof, and showed them the numbers of how much we’d be putting back into the community through our wages and the taxes we’d be paying.
It had actually been a massive pain in the ass getting everything done. Gwen was right; the planning board was corrupt as hell and I’d had to use every tool at my disposal to get the factory built.
In fact, I’d had to get two of the members thrown out before I could.
Well—I say “I,” but it was really all Gwen. After we got back from Amalfi, she went into full investigative reporting mode and started a crusade against small town corruption. I hooked her up with a couple of buddies of mine who worked security for high-profile businessmen and also had plenty of experience in “investigation” themselves.
They dug up the dirt and then got it to Gwen, who was able to report on it saying an “anonymous source” had given it to her. As it turned out, the two corrupt bastards had been taking bribes for years, giving contracts to members of their family or extended family, and had been doing everything in their power to crush anyone who got in their way.
When Gwen’s story came out in the Tribune, I guess they thought they could still somehow cover it up and keep their posts, but they underestimated the outrage of the Derby people.
They were tossed within weeks and two new people were voted in who were a delight to work with. They were pro-local-business and pro-Derby, and appreciated what I’d done with the Pines and expedited everything I needed to get the factory built.
Now things were going full steam ahead and it was only a matter of time before Derby was thriving again. I was thrilled, but not as thrilled as I was to finish up and get home.
Because tonight was date night.
“Do you want me to tell the men to go with the blue or the off-white?” Audrey asked, charging into my office as I was packing up to leave. She was talking about what color to paint the walls of the game room.
“You know what, Audrey? I’m going to leave this one up to you.”
“Well, you know what I think,” she replied.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Do you seriously not remember?”
I looked at her and shrugged in that way that I knew always made her twist up her lips in frustration like I wasn’t the best boss in the world.
“I said we should hire an artist to paint a mural,” she replied. “I found that great one on Instagram—”
“Great,” I interrupted. “Do it. But don’t pay over twenty grand.”
“How about twenty-one?” she replied.
“Don’t break my balls,” I told her. “I gotta get home to my girl.”
15
Gwen
I moaned as Harrison snatched a fistful of my hair and spanked my ass. My back was arched until it couldn’t arch any more and Harrison was pounding me like he hadn’t fucked me in days.
That wasn’t true, of course; we’d had sex this morning before he went in to work, but when he’d come back home he’d been all over me, which had made me feel so incredible considering I was eight months pregnant and had been wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top.
“Look at you,” he’d said as he unbuttoned his top button and slid his hand down his pants. “You are so fucking sexy.”
“Yeah?” I’d mewed back as I stood there in the kitchen.
“I love your pregnant body.”
He’d walked over to me and lifted my tank top to expose my breasts. They’d grown two cup sizes in the last month, and Harrison was having fun with them. I’d wrapped them around his cock this morning while I was giving him head and watched his eyes roll back in his head just before he came in my mouth.
Yeah, sex with my husband was pretty fucking awesome.
He’d proposed to me the week after we got back from Amalfi. Some people might think that’s strange to not propose in one of the most beautiful places in the world, but Harrison didn’t want to be a cliché, so he took me back to the pines and proposed to me in front of the new sign.
He’d been true to his word and they’d put my name on it too. The Macadam Pines were now the Macadam-Thompson Pines.
I’d burst into tears when I saw it, then started sobbing when I saw the ring.
“Yes!” I’d exclaimed immediately.
I glanced over at it now, a tasteful stone gleaming in the candlelight of our bedroom as Harrison did his best to fuck me stupid. I was already close, and when Harrison leaned down and put his lips around my ear, I went over the edge.
“I’m coming!” I cried out as my body took over.
My legs shook and I plunged my face into the pillow to muffle my screams. Harrison buried his inches inside me, pressing his balls against my clit and holding onto me with his powerful grip as my pussy clamped down on him and the waves of pleasure rolled through me.
“Mmm, I love watching my wife come,” he growled.
We’d gotten married on the coast. My parents had flown in from San Diego and stayed with us for two weeks. My dad and Harrison got along extremely well and had taken up skeet shooting, which it turned out they’d both done as kids. That was something I’d never known about my dad.
My mom, who was shy around new people, was even starting to open up to him, and Harrison had made the enormous sacrifice of baking an apple pie with her in an attempt to get to know her. They’d made two. My mom’s had been perfect, while Harrison’s had been…well, let’s just say it was an honest effort.
They’d flown back to San Diego for the winter, but Harrison and I were going to visit them in a week and spend some time at Pacific Beach and head up to Los Angeles for a few days. Harrison had a house in Beverly Hills that I hadn’t seen yet that he wanted to show me.
My piece on the Derby town corruption had gone national for a few days and brought me a lot of fantastic job offers, and once the baby came and I was back to feeling ready to work, I was going to be a correspondent for the New York Times! I honestly couldn’t believe where my life was now or just how happy I was about the fact that I was going to be a mother.
A lot of girls in school had talked about prioritizing their careers over having a family, and for a while I’d believed that too. But then I’d met Harrison and all that changed.
Don’t get me wrong, I was still going to be a reporter and go after big stories, but I wasn’t about to let my job get in the way of raising my child and spending time with my husband. Harrison shared my sentiment and had already started delegating a lot more so he and I could be together more.
Yeah, my life was pretty much perfect—and so was the sex.
“I can feel how wet you are, baby. And how tight your pussy is. God, you drive me wild.”
“You make me come so hard,” I moaned back. “How do you do it?”
“How could I not?” he replied as he started thrusting again, slow and passionate, working me back up from the orgasm he’d just given me.
“I love how fucking wet you get for me. I love how curvy and sexy you are. I just want to be inside you all goddamn day.”
“So do it,” I replied, reaching behind me and pulling his mouth to mine.
He pulled me onto my side so we were spooning and grabbed my breast and squeezed.
“I love how you fuck me,” I whispered into his lips.
“And I love making you come,” he replied. “You make me want to shoot my load into you.”
“So do it,” I repeated as I worked my hips and started fucking him back. “Fuck me, baby.”
His hand caressed the curves of my belly as he sta
rted to pick up the pace. His cock was thick and hard inside me, still stretching me open like it always did. I could feel it swell to the point of no return and knew he was getting close.
Somehow I was already almost there again, and I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his and sucked his tongue with a lustful hunger. His hand gripped my body like he owned me and when his dick flexed and I felt the first shot of his cum spray inside me—hot and powerful—I cried out and went over the edge with him.
Our bodies shook together as we came, crashing together over the waves of ecstasy that enveloped us both. I cried out into his mouth and grabbed ahold of him with one arm while I clutched the bed with the other.
Warm ropes of his seed pumped into me, coating my insides as we rocked together, and he drained his balls into my pussy until finally we both started to come down together, panting like we’d just run a race together.
Neither of us pulled away. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be inside me all day, and I wasn’t lying when I told him to do it.
“Your pussy is like a drug,” he finally whispered. “And I’m fucking addicted.”
“Mmm, well, your cock makes me forget who I am sometimes,” I giggled.
“Your name is Gwen Night,” he purred, licking my bottom lip. “And you are my wife.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I smiled. “How could I ever forget?”
“I fucking love you, princess,” he said.
I used to hate it when he called me that. But now I loved it. I was his princess—his queen, and he was my king.
“I love you too, baby. I love you too.”
The End
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