“It’s the truth. I don’t make up lies to save my ass.” Fuck. I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I wish like hell I could take them back. “I didn’t mean—”
Mindy’s hand lashes out, unthinking and fueled by the hurt and shame that’s boiling inside her. She hits me with every ounce of fury in her tiny body, probably even before she knows she’s doing it, whipping my face to the side.
“I hate you!” she hisses, spit flying from her curled lips to splatter on my cheeks. Her manicured nails, shaped and done just for the wedding today, slide down my face as she pulls away, and I feel red hot fire as they almost break my skin. “Fuck you!”
It doesn’t really hurt . . . stings a little, but not truly painful. What hurts more are the words, and anger boils up within my stomach. She hates me? She thinks I don’t fucking care about her? When I’m willing to go through this whole charade for her and even do this sham wedding?
“Fuck me, Princess?” I hiss, grabbing her by the arms. “Whatever you might think, that wasn’t part of the deal. I could have slept on the fucking floor this past week. So if anyone wants to talk about fucking, it should be you, because you’ve loved every damn minute of it!”
“You fucking . . .” Mindy rasps furiously, but I cut her off by pulling her into me and smashing my lips into hers in an angry kiss. For a moment, she resists, but then she seems to melt into me.
“Fucking?” I growl when we pull back, my hand wrapped in her hair. Her green eyes are blazing in want and fury as I push her onto the bed, grabbing her t-shirt and pulling. It tears like tissue paper, and her lithe, sexy body tenses as she pants. “I’m going to show you fucking.”
“Asshole.” Mindy hisses like a cat as I pounce on her. I pin her arms above her head in one powerful hand, giving her another bruising, battling kiss before I use my free hand to maul her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples until she’s moaning and whining at the same time as her tongue duels with mine. I kiss down her neck to her left breast, sucking hard as I let go of her wrists. My tongue runs over and around her stiff nipple as I reach down, yanking her panties to the side and slamming two fingers deep inside her in one vicious thrust, wiggling them up and down inside her wet pussy.
Mindy claws and yanks at my hair while I relentlessly finger fuck her, pumping my fingers in and out of her pussy while I rub her clit with my thumb, but I barely feel it. The sting of her fingernails on my skin just makes me thrust harder and harder, adding a third finger. Soon, most of my hand is pounding her soaking wet pussy as I bite and chew on her nipples, and she’s not fighting anymore. Instead, I feel her hips thrust into my hand even as I push harder, and she’s clawing at me, wanting more.
I bite down hard on Mindy’s right nipple, pulling back as she howls, her back arching as she coats my fingers in her wetness, coming hard on my hand and her feet beating into the bed over and over.
I’m merciless, rubbing my thumb roughly over her clit even as she comes, pulling away from her breast to stare in her eyes. “I’ve given a lot to you,” I growl into her face, yanking my fingers out and shoving them in her mouth. “But it’s my time to take.”
Mindy sucks on my fingers, tears in her eyes as my words sink in, but I’m too angry, too driven as I pull them out and lift her leg, getting between her legs and staring in her eyes as she sneers at me in anticipation of what’s going to happen. “Take? Is that all you’ve got?”
I growl, tearing my shirt off before pushing my pants down, freeing my cock and grinding myself against her. “You’ve been cock drunk on me since before you ever saw this fucking thing,” I taunt back. “I’m the best you've ever had, and I’m the best you ever will have.”
“Then prove it,” Mindy says, clawing at my back again. I grab her hair and pin her to the pillow as I wet the head of my cock with her juices before thrusting in hard. She howls in pain and pleasure as I go all the way in with one deep stroke, slamming into her pussy and driving the breath out of her.
“Like that?” I hiss as I pull back and thrust deep into her again, grinding my cock into her. I thrust in again, her pussy squeezing me even as she sneers at me. “Tell me you love it.”
“No . . .” Mindy whispers, her eyes brimming with tears. They pierce my fog of rage enough that I let go of her hair enough to plant my hands on each side of her head, staring into her eyes. I kiss her hard, our tongues fighting as she claws at my neck and back, my cock hammering her pussy hard. The only sounds in the room are our moans and the harsh smack of our hips as I fuck her hard and deep.
Mindy gasps in pain but at the same time pushes up into me, challenging me. “You’ve gotta earn it, you son of a bitch.”
Mindy mewls, pulling her knees up as I push her up harder, staring her in the eyes still. “Say it! Tell me you love it!”
I pull back, thrusting in hard again, and as I speed up a little, I growl, my anger pouring out through my cock and my voice as I fuck her. My cock drives deep into her body again and again, pounding her with everything I have as I grab her around the throat lightly. She moans, staring right into my eyes.
“I never hated you,” I pause and whisper before I start thrusting into her again. My hips slap against hers hard as she scratches down my back, the pain making me speed up. “I wanted the impossible, to have you after this too. Even if you are ungrateful.”
“I’m sorry,” Mindy manages, her fingers not letting up on my back, and I wonder if she’s drawing blood.
I growl, squeezing tighter as I speed up, hammering her into the bed until my cock is throbbing deep inside her. Mindy’s squirming, and I speed up until she screams, her pussy clamping tightly around my cock as she comes again. I keep going, ignoring her moans until my cock is ready, and I pull out, groaning as I come and spray her chest with my seed, crying out as the last of my anger is gone and all that’s left is . . . I don’t know.
I sag, sitting on the bed and shaking my head, saying nothing. I lie down and stare at the ceiling, both guilty and totally shaken to my core. I’ve never been that rough before, and I certainly have never come that hard before. My heart aches in my chest, my thighs tremble, and I don’t know what to say.
Tell her you love her, you damn idiot! Tell her that somewhere along the line, maybe Tuesday or so, you fell in love with her for real! Tell her that she’s worth more than all that money, she’s worth the entire fucking world!
I roll to the side, but before I can say anything, Mindy gets up. Reaching down, she finds the shredded remains of her shirt and wipes herself off before balling it up and tossing it uncaringly in the chair. “Mindy . . .”
She looks at me, and in her eyes, I see something that chills me all the way to the depths of my soul. She looks dead. Her doll’s eyes have no emotion left in them. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you,” she says almost robotically. “I know this was all supposed to be fake. But somewhere along the line, I started to feel like it was real. It was a mistake, and though we just had sex, I know it was just sex. But . . . I just don’t want to fight anymore. So please, no more words tonight, Oliver. No more pain.”
I open my mouth to tell her that I do truly love her and that if she loves me too, maybe we can make something out of this fucking mess. But before I can, she turns away. “After the wedding, you’re free to never speak to me again. Actually . . . after we get back home, I don’t want to see you again. It’ll hurt too goddamn much.”
She walks into the bathroom and closes the door, leaving me feeling like I just got punched in the chest, and I roll onto my back, covering my eyes. I lie there for a moment before getting up, pulling on my boxers, and going out to the balcony to stare up at the moon, which doesn’t have any answers either.
Chapter 23
Mindy
“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Mom says, tears shining in her eyes as she looks at me in the mirror. We’re in the dressing room at the reception hall, putting the final touches on what I’m wearing. The wedding begins in fewer than thirty mi
nutes, and Mom’s been fluttering around me all morning. I know she means well, but all she’s doing is making it worse. I’ve been so nervous all morning and so guilt-ridden that I refused breakfast and haven’t been able to talk in anything more than grunts and one-word answers.
My chest is tight as I gaze at myself in the full-length mirror. I look beautiful—even I have to admit it. My hair is pulled to the side and hangs over my right shoulder, letting my back remain bare in my body-hugging lacy white gown. My shoulders are bare, and it’s just a little risqué, with a deep curving V-cut that drops deep between my breasts.
When I was a lonely teenager who didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d stay up and look at bridal magazines. I’d dream about my wedding, how I’d look, and what sort of gown I’d wear. I had it all planned out, the perfect fairytale wedding. And suddenly, so fast I’m still reeling, it’s here. Well, sort of. My eyes filled with tears when I first saw the gown in the bridal shop. I wanted it right away, and I couldn’t stop myself despite my guilt. The perfect gown for the perfect fraud.
“Ha,” Grandma says to Mom, “you never thought you’d see the day? Well how about my old crusty ass?”
“Momma, please,” Mom says, smiling into the mirror. “Don’t make Mindy laugh in the dress. She’s barely got room to breathe as it is. I can see why you skipped breakfast.”
Anxiety is twisting my stomach tighter. I want to say something, but instead, I just turn away from the mirror and put on my high heels. Mom need not worry about me laughing. I haven’t been able to so much as crack a smile since I woke up this morning from a fitful hour of sleep. Since last night, my emotions have been running rampant. The hot, angry sex with Oliver last night was amazing. I came deeper and harder than I could have ever imagined. If just a few things would have been different, I’d be smiling and joking just as much as my family is.
But now I know that for Oliver, it meant nothing. He was repaying a debt, and the sex was just his little way to put his own twist on the whole thing. The kind words, the cuddles, the laughter. All of it was just him getting into his role. He never loved me. Hell, last night, he probably fucked me so hard because he wanted it to hurt, to show me just how angry he was.
This whole thing is one big fucking fraud. And Oliver’s right—I’m just a liar.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks me, seeing the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes.
I flash her a weak smile, forcing at least my lips to turn upward some. “Yeah. Just nervous, Mom.”
“Oh, baby,” she says, giving me a hug. “I understand. I was so nervous yesterday. And the day that your father and I got married, I was so worked up I got sick. But there’s nothing to be nervous about. This is your special day. Be happy. Rejoice in it. All of your family is here to see you except for Grandpa Johnny.”
“But he’s watching from heaven,” Grandma says. “You can be sure of it.”
Their words are supposed to make me feel better. I know that, but they only succeed in making me feel worse. Grandpa was old school, one of those men who always talked straight. He never told a lie that I knew of, even when it might have saved him a lot of pain. He never would have done what I’ve done, and if he’s looking down on me, he’s not proud of me.
“Thank you both,” I reply, forcing the words out. “I’m so glad you’re both here to see my special day.”
I try to make conviction ring true in my words, but they sound false even to me. Still, they chalk it up to my pre-wedding jitters and come over, giving me a kiss.
“We’re both so proud of you!” Mom says, patting me on the cheek.
I do my best not to break down into tears as they leave the room to find their seats in the chapel hall, and I take a minute to try and compose myself before I leave. Outside in the hallway, I see Roxy waiting for me. She’s my maid of honor, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a maid of honor so giddy that she’s hopping from side to side like a boxer getting ready for a fight.
“Girl, you look so beautiful,” Roxy says with a smile. She’s wearing the same gown from yesterday because it compliments my gown just right. She’s added a few flowers in her hair, weaving them into the curls the hairdresser did. She’s a vision.
“Thank you. You look gorgeous too,” I reply, trying to just keep myself from breaking down. My sister is more beautiful than she’s ever looked in her entire life . . . and it’s for a lie. How is she supposed to ever believe in love after this?
“What’s wrong, bae? You don’t look happy like you should be,” Roxy says, stopping her bouncing and stepping close, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”
I flash another weak smile. By the time the day is over, my cheeks are gonna be sore from flashing fake smiles all the time. Each one feels like I’m lifting a half ton with hooks driven through my cheeks. I’m exhausted already, and I’ve got hours of this to still look forward to.
“Just nervous,” I tell her. “You know how it is.”
“Yeah, right. Honey, if I had a man like Oliver, I’d be like let's get this shit over with and bring on the consummation!” She giggles.
I fidget with my gown. Even Roxy’s normal humor isn’t enough to get a laugh out of me, and Roxy notices. She takes my other shoulder, squaring up and looking me in the eyes. “I know. Every wedding is a performance. And if I know anything, I know how it is to be nervous before performing. And I know you’re doing this as much for Mom, Grandma, and me as for you. So thank you. It will be okay though. I don’t say it enough, but you kick ass.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I feel dead inside. Kick ass? I can’t even man up about a fake wedding. I don’t kick ass. I suck it. “It really means a lot to me that you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” Roxy says before stopping. “Oh, wait!”
“What?” I ask, and Roxy smiles, rooting around in the cups of her gown for something before pulling out a small packet. “What’s that?”
“An old button, a blue Tic-tac, and a penny I borrowed from Aunt Rita. All wrapped in a new handkerchief,” Roxy says, tucking it inside the left cup of my gown. “There, all the bases covered. Time to do your damn thing.”
We walk to the back of the chapel, waiting for my moment. We’re doing it a little different than Mom’s yesterday, and Oliver’s going to meet me by the altar. I’m the only one getting the big entrance, the total star of the show. It makes me want to puke, and as I hear the warmup music and then the minister’s opening remarks, I’m nearly shitting bricks.
“It’s time,” Roxy says softly as The Wedding March starts. “Ready?”
Ready? No chance in hell. My anxiety is through the roof, my heart is hammering in my chest like a Dubstep concert, and I feel like I’m sweating this damn gown through. I’m far from ready. But I have no choice. “Let’s go.”
The doors open, and for a moment, I feel stalled. Dread is a force field, keeping me from taking the first step through the doorway. I feel myself start to lean back, ready to run, but Roxy gives me a gentle push and we walk into the room.
As the sound system plays, we begin our slow walk down the aisle. The room is filled with almost as much family as yesterday. Familiar faces are all around, cousins and family friends. All those damn eyes staring at me above wide smiles. Fraud! they seem to scream. I tear my eyes away from them, staring straight ahead. My legs feel weak, and I’m glad Roxy’s walking me down. I think I’d stumble otherwise.
Even in my frazzled state, I see how beautiful the place is. They even put more decorations up than Mom had and changed the theme. Instead of being a sort of airy elegance, it’s almost totally over the top. There’s finery everywhere, gilt-edged curtains and bunting all around the hall. There are flowers all over. I don’t even want to know just how many flower shops John emptied out on this. They even redid the altar, making it sparkle and shine even more than before.
It’s a wedding chapel worthy of a Disney movie. It’s a room that a real Princess would walk down the a
isle in. Except it’s not fucking real.
I blink to clear my vision, and my breath catches in my throat when I see Oliver. He’s waiting up ahead at the altar. Standing by himself except for the priest, he’s the perfect groom. He’s wearing a tailed waistcoat, his hair slicked and styled just right, his hands in front of him respectfully. Every inch of him screams poise and strength, and he’s fucking gorgeous. But my heart does a weird twist, and with each step, the blackness that’s threatened to overwhelm me all day grows.
I should’ve known someone like him was too good to be true. I should’ve known that getting involved too deeply would end in heartbreak.
I should have . . . and now it’s too late.
By the time we reach the altar, I’m a mess. My breathing is ragged and I’m trying to do my best to control my arms from shaking. Roxy even has to help me up the first step before she lets go and peels off to take her seat.
Oliver’s eyes are on mine, but they are carefully neutral, his emotions hidden behind a mask. I can't read what he’s thinking.
The priest clears his throat and begins. “Dearly beloved . . .”
Just like yesterday, I lose track of what he’s saying. I hear noise, music once, but mostly just noise. Instead, I think about my misery.
It’s not going to end today. What, is Oliver going to go on a fake honeymoon with me, pose so we can Photoshop ourselves on the beach in Cabo? When is enough, enough?
“If you’d face each other,” the minister says quietly, and I’m jerked back to reality as Oliver takes my hand and turns toward me. Through my veil, I look at him again, his face a mask, the joy on his face not reaching his eyes. “Oliver Steele, do you take this woman to be your . . .”
I don’t hear anything, I stare at Oliver as he listens, and I see a glimmer of something in his eyes when the minister finishes. It’s pain. Still, he nods before clearing his throat. “I do.”
“And Mindy Isabella Price, do you take this man to be your . . .”
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