Marry Me Again: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  The man I call Kim paces the small cell while the stone-faced guards look on. He spins around when he's behind me, putting his face next to mine, so fast and sudden any other man would flinch.

  I never do. He doesn't scare me, and it pisses him off. Our dealings are about more than about pulling information from an 'imperialist enemy of the state.'

  It's become a war of egos, a war between men. He can't stand the fact that I'll never let him dominate.

  “A dog until the end,” he snaps, motioning to the guards. “Get him on the plane.”

  I wonder what vicious torture 'plane' is code for. I force the bastards to lift me off the bench and drag me outside my cell before I let my own two feet do some of the work.

  They've made my life hell. I'm not making anything easy.

  Soon, we're out the big steel door, the first time I've been outside since I got here. The wind is crisp, cool, savage like a North Korean winter should be. I don't see any snow, but maybe it's just a thaw.

  I wonder if I've already missed Christmas. The thought makes me want to introduce these sick sonsofbitches to my face more than ever. I don't give a shit about repaying them for the torment – not that it wouldn't feel good to.

  What really sends me into a blind rage is thinking about all the time they've stolen off my life, all the moments I would've had with Delia.

  “Up! Up!” One guard bangs the door to a rickety military transport truck, and two more guards inside jerk me up. They sling me around and throw me on the ground, holding me down, next to the only other person I recognize who survived the chopper crash.

  Commander Jones is inside, looking like he's lost fifty pounds. Fuck.

  They've been starving me too, but nothing like my C.O. The raging, confident officer I knew on all my missions is gone. Some survival mechanism I don't understand has pulled him under, leaving me staring at this shattered robot, this man who only slurs his speech in faint whispers when they force him to.

  I've overheard his interrogations. The walls are surprisingly thin and prone to echo at the prison camp, and the vents carry too.

  The only time he makes noise is when he screams. It's usually so precise I can tell exactly what they're doing to him several walls away.

  He doesn't even acknowledge me. I pinch my eyes shut and turn my head away, wondering if they're finally done with us. Is this the beginning of the end?

  They've already violated the Geneva Convention and all the articles of war several times over. What's one more by taking us out to some rural pit and putting a bullet through our skulls?

  Delia comes and goes in my imagination, ghostly and angelic. If I'm about to die, if they're about to make me break all the promises I made about coming back, then I'm going to go into the blackness thinking about her, her, and nothing else.

  I don't think about Evie or Bruce or even my fucked up mission. I don't think about the dozens of women I picked up over the years, the ones who begged me for the honor of riding my cock.

  I remember that night with Delia in Vegas, right before we came home, the way I jerked her body against mine.

  Feral, hungry, insatiable. If there's a god, and he isn't ready to collect on my karma debt, then he'll bring me home.

  He'll give me one more taste of her beautiful, perfect fucking lips before I die. He'll let me have her pussy, hard and aggressive. I'll fuck her like I own her, because I do, anchored in everything I want like nothing else, and always will.

  I visualize it so damned hard I swear I hear her whimper in my ears.

  Chris! The way she calls my name before she comes, sharp and staccato, is all I want to remember when I'm going to my grave.

  Except I'd rather do it on my deathbed when I'm a dried up old fuck, instead of being shoved into a cold mountain pit with a hole in my head.

  About twenty minutes later, the truck jerks to a stop, and the soldiers roll us out. The commander and I both topple onto the hard pavement.

  There's a whirring noise. I look up, and I'm thrown into disbelief.

  Christ, there really is a plane. It's an old transport flight, Chinese make and model by the looks of it.

  We're going home. But the assholes aren't done with us yet.

  There's a feeling like a heavy rock hitting my spine. They're screaming at us to get the fuck up and walk, jabbing their rifle barrels into our backs. I struggle to my feet while they force off the handcuffs, and help Jones up too.

  We march toward the open stairway leading into the aircraft, and a few minutes later, we're airborne.

  It's a short flight to some base in China. I can tell by the red flags with gold stars flapping overhead when I come out again that we're on neutral ground. There's a US military delegation on the other side with a Korean prisoner.

  It's a goddamned exchange. They're giving us up for one of their own, probably some rat caught funneling nuclear secrets from the States, or working sabotage in South Korea.

  Kim barks at the soldiers again, something in their language, and I feel the barrels in our spines. The commanding officer across the tarmac from the US frowns, but we all know it's par for the course with these insecure motherfuckers.

  Let them rub our noses in it. I'm going home, and judging by the fact that this exchange is happening at all, World War Three hasn't broken out either.

  I don't even care. I'm going home alive, I'm going to see Delia, and she's gonna be my wife.

  That's all that matters.

  A medic checks us over, and then some wiry guy who sounds like a military shrink. They pay a lot more attention to the commander because he's a fuck of a lot more screwed up than I am.

  They tell us something about saving the rest for debriefing, and shuffle us onto the flight. The boys serve up some MREs, which tastes like five star barbecue after the slop the Norks fed us. I can barely eat through all the adrenaline, swirling with the urge to sleep.

  I need to rest. I need to get ready for her.

  I spend the long flight across the Pacific snoozing in short, sporadic fits. Every time, it's the same dream, the one that sustained me the entire time they tried to break me.

  It's Delia. Sweet, naked, cock rocking Delia, everything I'll ever need, as soon as I get my lips on hers, where they belong.

  I'm beat up, and I've probably melted twenty or thirty pounds away over the last few months. They've left me with a few traumas I'll only realize some dark nights, waking up in a cold sweat, ready to strangle the motherfuckers who treated me like an animal.

  I don't give a fuck.

  All I know for sure is I'm alive, and that means I'm going to fuck her harder than I've ever done it in my life. I'm going to marry her. I'm going to start working on our family the second she graduates and launches her career – hell, maybe before.

  I wake up when the plane touches down at a base in Washington with a raging hard-on. It's only going to be a few more hours to San Francisco. One more briefing before I've got her in my arms, squeezing her tight, pulling the hot breath from her lungs 'til she gives me the sexy whine that's been keeping me alive.

  I use the computer on the plane during the short flight to quickly scan the news. There's a bunch of shit about the mission going bad, a close-as-nails brush with war, and then the agreement we were just part of, ending the infamous Korean Crisis this year.

  I look at the date. It's only early December, thank fuck.

  There's still time to get my ring on her finger by Christmas. And once I finally collect the hazard pay I've been owed for months, I'm gonna get her a rock that'll make her rich daddy blush.

  Shit, speaking of rich daddy...

  Our last disastrous night with Evie hurling a grenade into our relationship hits me.

  I know how to deal with my bitch mom. She won't last with Bruce, if she hasn't gotten herself the boot already. But I can't expect Delia's family to fragment over me.

  I need to win him over, so he doesn't end up hating me and shaming his own daughter. I get on the machine when there's jus
t a couple hours left to go on the flight, and begin typing out two emails.

  One goes to Delia. When she gets it, and sees I'm coming back, she's going to lose her mind.

  The other goes to Bruce. I tell him everything, how much this woman means to me, how I've already decided to claim her sweet ass forever, and I'd like him to accept it instead of eyeing me like I'm some kinda wolf who swept up his beautiful, blushing, perfect virgin daughter.

  Truth be told, maybe I am. I'm going to take her like an animal the minute I get her alone, get my mouth on hers, push my fingers between her creamy thighs.

  Fuck. I have to convince her daddy first. I have to convince him what I've already realized – this is about more than her body.

  I love her with everything I've got. Before Evie crashed our party, I was dead set on showing the whole damned world exactly what we were, what we're destined to be.

  Rotting in that Korean shithole took me off course for several months. Now, I'm back with a vengeance, and if I can get Bruce on board before I shove my ring on her finger, then there's nothing on earth that'll ever hold us down.

  “Chris? Chris! Oh my God!” she runs toward me screaming.

  I've just gotten off the plane, and I see her standing with the officers, right next to Commander Jones' wife and ten year old daughter.

  My legs still hurt like hell from the cramped, hellish living conditions in that prison. I'm sure I'm deficient in about a dozen vitamins too. Damn if it stops me from running full steam ahead when I see her coming.

  We collide so hard I have to grab her to keep from knocking her onto the pavement. My hands wrap around her back and pull her into me with the raw, vicious hunger I've had building all these months.

  She's crying as my tongue finds hers and pumps in and out of her mouth. I've missed this so goddamned bad, and I can't stop myself from tasting her right here, in front of family, officers, and a few political dignitaries who've come to grandstand.

  “How the hell do you do it?” I growl, when I finally let her off me for air. “You taste even better than I remember. Are you trying to make me rip off your clothes and fuck you right here?”

  She wipes her face and breaks into a laugh. Then she rears back a little and swings her fist into my arm, giving me the playful punch I've been missing just as much as her laugh.

  “Jerk. I see they haven't changed you one bit. I was worried about that...”

  “You kidding? It takes more than a few months of beatings to break this dick. Especially when it's up close and personal with you.”

  I can't resist. I pull her in for another long, wet round of kissing. I pick her up and smash her tits on my chest, feeling my cock throb, hands on her ass while I spin her around.

  Feeling her is like having some crazy drug injected into my system. My heart keeps roaring like a jet engine, and pure adrenaline shoots into my blood. Tasting her over and over and over is the only thing that stops me from doing everything I've threatened.

  Guess the threat of the military psychologists hauling me off in a straitjacket helps too. They'd be on my ass checking for signs that I've totally cracked if I start fucking her out here.

  “Come on. Let's get out of this place.” I take her hand and we walk out, though the airport and straight for her car.

  I'm supposed to be back at base in the morning for a formal debriefing. Hell if I care about any of that just now.

  I've got the woman who kept me alive through hell at my side. She's wearing a smile on her face, confirming all the love I stirred up before is still there.

  No, fuck, it's grown. She can barely keep her eyes on the road. I reach over, tuck my hand on her thigh, and squeeze, all I can do to verify this isn't some fucked up fever dream I'm having in that dank, dark cell.

  “You finished your thesis, right? Don't tell me all this bullshit delayed your graduation?”

  “I'm getting my grades back next week. I know the professor loved it. I couldn't have done it without you, Chris. I put a lot of you into my SEAL psychology, and probably some of me too.”

  “Just some? You didn't write it from the perspective of the chick who's fallen head over heels for her cocky SEAL stepbrother?” I grin, and goddamn it feels good.

  She sticks her tongue out. “It was a research paper. Maybe there's a dash of passion in there somewhere.”

  “Yeah, whatever, babe. I'm gonna read it.”

  She instantly flushes and jerks the steering wheel. “No way! That's for my prof's eyes only, and the university's archives.”

  “Bullshit. I know it'll end up going online somewhere. You're too good to have your work hidden, Miss Reporter, and we're too fucking good to stay in the dark too.”

  We laugh and make small talk the rest of the way into the city, heading for our hotel, before she drops the next bombshell.

  “You're not my stepbrother anymore.”

  I stare at her like she's just given away the secrets of the universe. “What? You mean –“

  “They're divorced. It was finalized last month. Evie put up a terrible fight, but dad's lawyers were better, the best money could buy. The prenup stayed iron clad.”

  “Thank fuck,” I growl, happy that he's managed to keep his assets out of her greedy little paws.

  Then it really hits me.

  “Holy shit, that means there's nothing keeping your dad from being pissed about us.”

  “Well, nothing except your colorful history,” she says with a wink. “It'll take some convincing, to be honest.”

  Convincing? Fuck that. All I've got on my mind is what I'm gonna do after I've had a hot shower, a fuck, and a nice dinner with the finest woman in the world.

  I'm marching to the bank when she isn't looking, where I've got my vault. My grandmother's ring is there, something she passed to me through dad after he died, before my bitch mom could pawn it off.

  I thought about buying her the biggest diamond I could while I was rotting away in my cell. But diamonds are everywhere, and she deserves nothing but the best. This is the only ring like it in the world.

  Who the fuck else's hand would it belong on besides the only woman in the world who keeps bringing me back for more?

  Today, I'm the one who's experiencing shock and awe, thanking every lucky fucking star in the sky that I'm alive and loved. Tomorrow, it's Delia's turn, and I'm gonna blow her panties off.

  “Where do you think you're going?” We've just checked into her room, and she tries to walk past, the little minx. I grab her, pull her into the bathroom, and put my lips on hers.

  “I need a shower, and you're gonna join me.”

  Her hands slide down my chest. It's winter, and I'm missing her skirts, but I still can't wait to get her jeans off so I can feel how wet she is. My hands wrap around her ass and start peeling off her clothes, her going loose and lithe, opening herself to be taken and ravaged.

  And I'm gonna fucking do it too. When she's naked, I kick the door shut and flatten her against it, breathing deep, inhaling her scent.

  My fingers sink into the pussy I've been waiting to feel for an eternity. It's just as good as the first time on the beach. Hell, she's wetter than she was then, aching for me, her slick, feminine scent filling the air.

  I breathe deep. I stroke deep inside her cunt while my tongue winds around hers, telling her we're picking up right where we left off. Then I lift my hand up and suck my fingers, staring into her eyes.

  “This taste is all I thought about when those fuckers were hurting me.” The words just spill out, and her eyes go wide, concern swirling with her lust. “Your taste, your body, your heart, Delia, baby. You kept me sane. You kept me alive.”

  “Chris...”

  Hearing my name on her lips is dangerous. It's almost like the sound I've been waiting for months to kiss my ears, the one she makes when she's about to come. I spread her legs, push my hips between them, rocking my hard-on against her clit.

  Pleasure oozes out her hot red lips. She starts tearing at my clothes.
<
br />   I help her, kicking them all to the floor, ready to show her my battle scars, ready to show her how ready I am to purify, to heal, to love.

  “Oh, god.” She finds the fresh scars next to my trident, cutting across the dragon. “They must've hurt you bad.”

  I shrug. “It's not like it's permanent. The military doc told me it'll fade in a few more months. The fuckers took a whip to us one day, going full medieval.”

  I remember it. The scars on my back were worse, fissures that bled for days. Thankfully, they healed faster.

  She looks shocked, amazed, maybe a little frightened.

  Not the reaction I'm going for. I grab her hands and thrust them around my back, rolling my cock hard against her pussy, teasing her, raking my stubble over her throat extra rough when I suck at her neck.

  She melts into me, moaning and pawing. I'm going to start slamming her against the door and fuck us right through it if I don't take her now.

  Grabbing her hand, we step into the shower, and I twist the knob. Hot, steamy droplets spray across our bodies. She stands there and studies me like she's underneath a warm rain, hot and curious and wet.

  Her nipples are in full bloom, hard as rocks, calling me to suck them, pinch them, own them.

  I push her against the tile wall and take a handful of one tit. She arches her back and grinds her ass against my cock when I ratchet up the tension, whimpering louder than I'm used to.

  It's close to that sound, but not quite. It's time to do some fine tuning.

  My free hand wraps around and feels for her clit. I start making circles, squeezing her other tit, pushing my lips down to her slick, round ear.

  “Is it really you?” she whines, just as my thumb starts to speed across her bud.

  “I'm still the same man, Delia. The only man you're gonna be fucking for the rest of your life. They didn't break me. They didn't take our love. They didn't strip my desire. I want you more than ever. I want every fucking inch of you wrapped around me. Fuck, I want to be inside you...”

  And I'll have it too. I spread her legs and push into her, grinding my pubic bone against her ass. She cries out and jerks up when she feels my cock filling her, giving me a perfect opportunity to grab her wet, dark hair.