His Virgin Bride

by Kara Hart

  The ocean has always been a healing place for me. I think everyone has that soft spot for it. At least, I couldn’t imagine not loving it here. The breeze itself puts you into a trance. Luckily, this is a spot that not many people know about. Right now, it’s just Olivia and I, spare a few runners every ten minutes or so.

  “I don’t want to move away,” Olivia says.

  “What?” I ask her. “Move? Who said anything about moving?”

  “Me. I said I might want to move to Tokyo. I didn’t mean it. Not really, anyway. I think I want to stay here for a while. With you,” she says.

  “I’ll do anything you need,” I tell her. “Just give me notice. I can transfer to another hospital. I don’t mind.”

  “I don’t want you to do that. I want us to start this life together, but I want to be here. It’s close to both our families,” she says.

  Right. Her parents. Shit. “Does your dad still hate me?” I ask her.

  “Nah,” she sighs. “Just a weird time. I think they get it. Josie took the blame.”

  In the distance, off the cliff, I see Jenna walk onto the sand. “There she is,” I point. “Come on.”

  We grab our things and head down the beach stairs. When my feet hit the water, Olivia smiles brightly. “What’s up, Jenna?” I ask. “How you feeling?”

  “You know what? Surprisingly good,” she says. “It’s like a weight has come off my shoulders. I’ve just been at home with my husband and kids. I don’t know. Everything just feels good again.”

  “I love that,” Olivia says. “I feel the same way.”

  I reach into my bag and pull out a coffee box. Inside are my mother’s ashes. “You ready?” I ask Jenna.

  “Ready as I can be,” she says. There’s a pleasant smile on her face. Things are moving back to how they used to be. Finally.

  “We can hold it together. Let’s walk down to the cliff over there.” I point to the other end of the beach, where the water is hitting a large rock, splashing high into the air.

  “Oh, Mom loved that end of the beach, remember? She’d put her chair down and read all damn day sometimes,” she says.

  “I remember. I’d get so bored sitting down there.” I laugh. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  We walk in the hot sand, down to the rocks. Nothing feels heavy right now. Everything just feels right. I take Olivia’s hand in mine. There’s no ring to give… yet. I still have the one I picked out. But I’m waiting for the right moment this time. I’m not going to fuck this up.

  When we get to the rocks, we climb up on the lower level.

  I tell Jenna, “Okay, so grab the other end of this thing. We’ll toss it up together.”

  She grabs the other end as I take off the lid. I hold the other side and begin counting. “On three. Ready?” She nods. “One. Two. Three!”

  The ashes scatter over the darkness of the sea. Only, maybe I was wrong about everything. Maybe life isn’t so dark after all. Maybe the mystery is bathed in understanding. Maybe, just maybe, everything ends how it’s supposed to.

  I jump back down from the rock. I grab my girl. “I love you,” I tell her. “I’ll never forget how much you mean to me. Never.”

  Epilogue: Olivia

  Seven years later…

  Another day at the juice bar, another dollar. “I don’t know, Josie. If we want, we probably could open up another shop. It’s getting crazy over at the other two,” I tell her. “Yeah, people pay like ten bucks for a serving of juice. It’s kind of crazy.” Things have been booming at the new shops. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of elation that brings us.

  “You’re killing it,” she says. “Well, I have to run. Drew is almost home. I miss you and little Garrett so much. Oh, and I miss James. Duh.”

  “I’m about to walk in too. They all miss you. You should come back and visit sometime soon. We’ve got another room. You could crash for the week if you wanted to,” I tell her. Josie moved away years ago, practically right after school ended. She went up to Portland and is loving it.

  “You know I’ll be back soon. I love coming back and visiting everything. I miss it,” she says.

  “Love you, babe,” I say.

  “Love you.”

  I struggle to find the keys in my purse for a second, but I manage to grab onto the right one and unlock the door. I hum a tune to myself, expecting the whole house to be open. Today is my birthday, but James is working and our son doesn’t come home for another hour.

  I click up the light switch. It doesn’t go on. “Dammit,” I mutter to myself. I walk over to the blinds and just as I undo them, I hear a sharp rustling noise. “What the…”

  I turn around and—“SURPRISE!” A whole kitchen full of people jumps out at me.

  “James!” I scream. He’s laughing hysterically, while clapping his hands. Our son runs out and grabs me, hugging me. “Happy birthday, Mommy!” he says, proud.

  “You scared me!” I playfully assert. “Thank you so much, baby.”

  “I’m know you said no surprise party, but… I just had to. You know me,” James says. He’s holding a big chocolate cake in his hands and in the center is “30” lit up in flames.

  “You’re right. I do know you.” I wink and blow out the single candle. “Thank you everyone. I wasn’t expecting this at all. I’m thoroughly surprised.”

  “What did you wish for?” James asks.

  “I can’t reveal that! It won’t come true,” I say.

  Jenna comes out from the crowd, bearing a big gift. “Open this later,” she whispers. “It may or may not be a bunch of alcohol and marijuana.”

  “Jenna, I love you,” I say. She giggles away.

  Finally, James comes toward me. The old cabin is covered with silly string and balloons. Outside, the woods are bare, but starting to sprout leaves again. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I missed you all day, every hour,” he says, kissing me.

  “You always say that,” I tell him.

  “That’s because it’s true,” he says.

  “I feel all old now,” I tell him. “Surprise parties are for old people.

  “You just turned thirty. You’re in your prime, baby. And I’m just so proud of you. Your business, how you handle Garrett, and then you come home and have to handle me. You’re amazing. You’re a dream,” he says.

  I start to tear up because James is the absolute dream man. After we got married, I thought, “This is it. This is when he changes.” But he never did. Not once. After I got pregnant, I thought, “Okay. It’s been amazing so far, but something has to give eventually. We’re going to be stressed beyond belief now.” Yet, he became an even better man once Garrett was born. None of it makes sense. I managed to pick the right choice.

  My parents come out from the back and raise a glass to me. “My baby girl,” my mom says, tearing up. “You’re such a woman.” My dad puts his arm around James and they shoot the shit for a couple of minutes.

  “I never thought I’d be here,” I say aloud.

  “What do you mean?” James asks. He takes a big drink of beer and sighs from the carbonation.

  “I just mean… back when we first met. I never thought my parents would be cool with this. I never thought we’d actually get married. Garrett. All of this. It’s just so crazy to think back on,” I say.

  “That’s life,” my dad says. Thanks for the lesson, Dad.

  James’s eyebrows crease downward. “Wait a minute. Back up here. You never thought you’d actually get married to me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t start. I did marry you and have your child, so there’s that.” I roll my eyes and grab the beer from his hand. He playfully tries to grab it back and purposefully comes back empty handed. “You butthead,” I say, snickering at him.

  “Alright, I’m getting some of that cake if you’re not,” my dad says.

  “Bring it over!” I call out to him.

  He grabs the cake and slowly brings it over on its platter. Setting it do
wn on the table, he hands me the knife. “Want to do the honors?” he asks me.

  “You know it,” I say.

  The knife goes into the soft, fluffy goodness, sliding back out effortlessly. James gives me a plate. I dig into the cake and take a huge bite. “God, that’s some good cake,” I say.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” James says. “Let’s take a mental picture of this moment. I want to remember this forever. These are the times that are most meaningful, right?”

  “Yes, they are,” I whisper back.

  We both close our eyes for a second, opening them when the memory is burned in enough. James grabs his beer and lifts it into the air. “I want to make a toast!” he yells. Everyone quiets down.

  “To my beautiful angel of a wife, Olivia,” he says. Here, here! “And to family!”

  Oh no. Not that family thing again…

  Author’s Note:

  Thank you so much for reading!

  Remember, to get for my weekly newsletter with discounts and free books, all you have to do is sign up here: Click Here! Remember to add karahartauthor@gmail.com to your email list, so it doesn’t get added to your spam folder!

  Please note: if you sign up for my ARC team, you will receive my books for free, but my policy is that if you read it, you must leave your HONEST review on time or you will be deleted. Thank you!

  For all my new readers, I’ve included another one of my books: The Billionaire Experience. It’s all free and I really hope you enjoy and continue to read all my new works. Thank you so much.

  Walker

  Another day, another woman on her knees pleasing me. That’s how I live my life. People want to judge me for what I do. I have two words for them: Piss off. I didn’t come all the way from England to be shat upon. No, I live my life to the fullest. That’s always how it’s been. I plan to conquer the world if I can.

  Why is it that men are miffed by me? Is it because of my chiseled body? Or because every woman, at every party, looks my way when I’m in a room? Or is it because of my cold, hard cash, my financed Bentley, and my collection of fine Italian suits? Shit, mate. I think it’s a combination of all of those things. I’m the best there is. I’m every woman’s fantasy. And I give them the experience they’ve been waiting for.

  All you have to do is call my number and I’ll be there. It’s that easy. I can talk in an American accent if you like. Or, if you prefer, I can speak in my native tongue. I know women love a foreign accent. It makes them cum while standing up.

  This woman I’m with, for instance, she’s sucking my cock better than anyone I’ve ever been with before. It’s all because I cheers’d her at the party and told her friends some wild stories about London. That’s all it really takes.

  Now, standing above her, she’s worshipping the ground I walk on. My cock is a fucking idol for her. She’s on her knees, mouth open, and her tongue is whispering prayers I’ve never heard before. “Dear lord.” I smile and run my hands through her thick, beautiful hair. She’s about thirty-five, I take it, but she’s pretty good looking nonetheless.

  “I just want to please you,” she whispers, among her heavy breathing and sucking. Her hands wrap firmly around my balls and I feel myself about to unwind in her.

  They all want to please a guy like me. I’m not a fucking loser. I’m the real deal. I’m everything she’s dreamed of, ever since she was a little girl. “What kind of man do you want?” Well, of course, the answer is Walker Hambell.

  “I’m cumming, darling,” I whisper. My cock grows inside her mouth. I look at her pussy and it’s dripping across the red carpet of this fine hotel. I grab the bottle of champagne from the dresser next to me and take a giant swig.

  And I cum like I’ve never cum before. She swallows it whole and smiles, kissing the tip of my hard cock. “Thank you,” she whispers, handing me a thousand dollars in cash. “Can you stay the night?”

  “I really should be going,” I protest. But for another three grand, I’ll stay. Sure. It’s part of the job, anyway.

  “I have a few hundred here for you,” she hesitates, looking in her purse. No doubt, this is her allowance given to her by her wretched husband. Now she’s gone and spent it all in one night.

  I smile and act polite. “I’m sorry, doll. But I have another function.” She pouts on the bed, but I’m out of that room within seconds.

  I’m not a guy that gets hung up on these women. I like my freedom. I like going home and playing with my toys. My money goes to me and me only and I’ve made a fucking kingdom with it.

  Some call me names. I don’t like those terms. These women want an experience, plain and simple. I offer a service and I give it to them. It’s not even about the sex. Women are very different in this category.

  No, for them, it’s about feeling loved. I’m damn good at that, I must say. Most of them are married. Most of them are older. And most of them want to feel that initial spark. You know, the thing that set them off on a different life path.

  Men get to experience this kind of a thing all of the time. They go out, have a few drinks, and fool around with the nanny when they come home. They get to feel like they’re king of the world, once again. That’s how they felt when they met the mother of their children. I know how it is. That’s why I’m not fucking married. So, why can’t these women have a similar experience?

  I’m your next boyfriend. For one night and the right price, I’m the one you’ll fall in love with. I’m the one you’ll tell your friends about, during girl talk, when the husbands are out golfing. I’m the one who will change your life. I’m the one you’ll be dreaming of. And I’ll sure as shit break your heart.

  I’m Walker Hambell. Any questions?

  Erica

  “God dammit, Darrin!” I scream, placing my hands across my eyes and the top of my head. I feel erratic. I feel betrayed. I’m lost, now more than ever. “How could you?”

  “It’s not what you think, Erica,” he says, calmly. “Look, you can’t think straight right now. You’re getting your information from the wrong source. I mean, come on. Wanda? She’s the queen of gossip!”

  “You’re not going to do this to me this time. It’s not just Wanda telling me you’ve been sleeping around. Are you kidding me? It’s the whole damn neighborhood!” I know I shouldn’t yell. I know he’ll only use that against me right now. He’ll claim that I’m erratic and crazy. He’ll disregard the real emotions he’s causing me to feel. He cheated on me. This is the third time. How could I be so stupid?

  “You need to calm down,” he says. I fall back on the bed, feeling completely hopeless. This is a battle I can’t win, but I can’t stay here to fight it out. I’m not going to be like those other women. I’m not going to stay with his lying, manipulative, sagging ass.

  “It’s over, Darrin. I’m done,” I say. I even laugh a little because the whole situation feels so crazy. “Seriously, I’m done.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” he laughs. “We have a house together. Two cars. We’ve built a life together, Erica. You can’t just throw that away because of one rumor. Think of all the memories.”

  “Fuck the memories,” I groan. “Take the house and cars. I don’t give a shit. Take it all. Just give me enough to start a new life for myself. I can’t be with you anymore.”

  “Erica, don’t talk like this,” he says, voice turning a calmer tone. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go to sleep and we’ll discuss this in the morning, over coffee. We’ll go to your favorite restaurant. What was it called again?”

  “You don’t even remember the name of my favorite restaurant, Darrin. This is so fucking hopeless,” I say. “For once, please, just give me what I ask for. For once.”

  It’s not in a man’s bones to give you what you want. For me, it’s been a constant struggle for my own independence. Classic story, right? This time, however, is different. I’m going to do whatever the hell I want. It’s Erica’s time. I’m not going to let him waste my life. I’m only thirty-two years old.

  “G
o to sleep,” he tells me. “I’ll discuss this in the morning.”

  He turns off the lights and gets out of his clothes. I look at his body and I just turn livid. Yet, I’m silent. I’m not going to let him use my emotions against me. Not anymore. No longer will I be his scapegoat. I go to sleep, but not without knowing that tomorrow I won’t be going into work. I won’t be staying home and chatting with my soon-to-be ex-husband about his multiple affairs. I won’t be forgiving. Tomorrow, I’ll be planning my escape.

  The sun breaks in through the blinds and Darrin has a cup of coffee and plate of eggs waiting for me. He’s standing with a smile on his face, holding the food. “I’m not hungry,” I say. I stretch and stumble out of bed. I get in the shower, while he just stands there, looking sad and stupid.

  “You’re not going to eat? I made this for you,” he says.

  “Yeah, well. I’m proud of you, Darrin. You’re really turning yourself around,” I laugh slightly. The truth is, I sort of feel bad for the guy. We’ve been married for five years and I did love him at one point. Now, I feel like an old roommate. It’s the kind of feeling you have in college, when you realize your old friends just aren’t on the same wavelength as you anymore. It’s sad. It’s heartbreaking. At the same time, it’s life. Sometimes you just have to move on from what is hurting you.

  “You can be such a bitch,” he mutters, eating the eggs himself. He shakes his head angrily and walks out of the room.

  Great. I’m such a bitch. It feels wonderful to be called that by the guy who loves you. Yeah, this is finished. It’s solidified in my head now.

  Cut to the thirty minutes later and I’m wearing the nicest dress I can find, lipstick to die for, and a push-up bra that does wonders for my tits. I look damn good, and I want the world to know too. Darrin, of course, shoots a double take at me, but remains silent.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.