Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  The drive to the chapel was quiet except one conversation. “There’s some champagne in the fridge,” he offered.

  I shook my head. “Hill will smell it on me. She has a thing against alcohol,” I hinted, knowing he’d get it.

  Five years wasn’t a long time to shed your nightmares, but Hillary had gone almost a year without having one. I had this feeling it was because of our son, Dylan Junior. I fought her for another name, any other name. But she wanted to name him, “After the strongest person I know.” And Hillary Meyer always got what she wanted from me. She got a degree in nursing. She took care of people for a living. She got the small wedding in Nena’s backyard she craved. She even got a cobalt blue paint job on her new car. Bought and paid for by her. I smiled at her, recalling how proud she was to get her nursing degree. She stood by me during my nightmares, during my career change, didn’t question me when I wanted to be a stay-at-home father. I wanted to be there for Dylan the way I hadn’t for Aubrey. Thankfully she was too young to fully remember, but she sometimes hugged me so hard I got the impression she did, so I’d hug her harder and whisper my promise, “I’ll never let you go.”

  “We’re supposed to go in through the side door,” I informed Bach, who was waiting for me to get out of the limo. My leg acted up, and I gritted my teeth against the pain, struggling to stand. When Bach gave me his hand I was grateful.

  He slowed his pace to keep up with mine along the stone walkway. The chapel was pristine and white, glowing along with the sun. It was small and quaint, a find in Houston. Harley had done some work here for the homeless youth and had fallen in love with the place, much to Nena’s displeasure. She wanted a big wedding on her property, not a small wedding so far away.

  We both entered to find the church in disarray. Chaotic pre-wedding activities. Flowers and music, people scrambling. When Bach came in a few squeaked, speeding up their flurried movements.

  “Back door, Mr. Bachmen,” A wide-eyed girl instructed, staring at Bach like he was going to change his mind and marry her as she opened the door for us.

  “I do love the back door,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Not with my sister, of course.”

  “Actually yeah. Her tight little ass begs for it.” Before I could duck his blow, it landed on my chest, taking my breath away. While I struggled to maintain my breath, he went over to the bar and grabbed himself a bottle of water. “Begs,” I repeated.

  Sex with Hillary was something I lived for. A private moment with my wife for us lose ourselves in. When we were together, her body beneath mine and her moans in my ears, it was just us, two people who would forever find comfort within the other. I missed it so much my chest hurt past the pain Bach caused me. The confusing part was things hadn’t been bad. Things had been … perfect. The day I promised Hillary forever a peace slid over me. Everything had been effortless. Loving her, co-parenting Aubrey with Whitney, working at the dealership while she got her nursing degree, having Dylan—these things weren’t hard. They were everything I lived for. But I would be lying if I didn’t want one night with my wife to give free the lust building inside of me.

  Suddenly the door opened, and the wide-eyed woman poked her head in. “When you hear the music start, step out of that door.” She pointed to the door behind us. “The stage will be ready. Stand beside Priest Justice and Mr. Meyer will take your side as your best man. The flower girls will come in first. Your wife to be will enter from the center and her maid of honor, Mrs. Meyer, will precede her. She wanted me to make sure you remembered your vows?”

  Bach laughed quietly. “Yes, I remembered my vows. Damn Square.”

  “She also said she knew you’d call her that, and that she is a square, but you love squares.” She looked uncomfortable.

  Bach, on the other hand, looked like the happiest douchebag I’d ever met.

  “You ready?” I patted his shoulder.

  “I haven’t been ready for something so much in my life.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  When the music started, he didn’t hesitate. He wrenched the door open and marched proudly beside the priest. I found my spot and stood beside him, staring at the small grouping of people. There was Patty, Hillary’s mom, who still thought I was a scumbag but had resolved to calling me that in private. The entire Evans family was here. Even Justine and Jona were here, sitting side by side, grinning like they were sharing stories of the man Bach used to be. The possibilities made me grin myself until Patty caught me, and I dropped my grin. Dylan was sitting on her lap, sucking on his thumb as Whitney tried to catch his attention. Whit’s husband, Hanson, had his arm around her. At least Patty loved my son. We got along because of Hillary. When Nena beamed at Bach, I felt a tad bit envious, but then I remembered that she loved him because he made Harley happy. Deep down Patty had to as well.

  All I wanted to do was make Hillary happy.

  As the music increased the long carved wooden doors opened, creating a halo of light that bled into the room. Aubrey entered first, beautiful as an angel in her ivory lace dress. She had a basket of pink petals, and she cast them around the room like she’d practiced for weeks. When she got to the end, she waved at me and then at Bach. We waved back, smiles identical.

  But our smiles changed when Hillary came in. Mine was for my wife, draped in creamy pink fabric, highlighting a body that was aching for my touch. She looked flawless, this perfect, blond creature with a ring on her finger for me. Her hair was straightened, framing her face, and her eyes found me immediately like they always did, demanding my heart. I imagined peeling that dress off her, burying my tongue between her legs, and tasting that golden pussy until she begged me to stop.

  Hillary came to stand across from me. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  “I love you too,” I returned, trying to hide my hard dick with my folded hands.

  Bach’s smile was for his wife.

  Harley came in last, dressed in an angelic white dress Nena sewed for her. She was unbearably gorgeous. Her golden brown hair was curled delicately, her light brown eyes glowed, and she was already crying.

  I met Hillary’s eyes with a smug grin. “I win,” I mouthed, teasing her about the bet we made. Hillary was positive she would make it without crying. She was wrong.

  She stuck her tongue out.

  I wanted that tongue.

  Our eyes remained locked until it was time for vows.

  Bach took a deep breath. “You’ve been on my case about this for months. Write your own vows. Remember them. And you’d better make me cry.” Everyone laughed but Bach. “I met you during a dark time in my life. I was so far gone I thought that would be my life. I thought I was that guy, that worthless man I’d struggled to be to escape my nightmares. A man no one wanted. But then I met you. And we didn’t like each other. We didn’t get along. You were an aggravating brat, and I was an impeccably good-looking SOB you couldn’t wait to have.”

  Harley laughed through her tears.

  “We fought. We hurt each other. We did things that we shouldn’t have because we weren’t aware what was happening. We had nothing to do with our meeting. Something bigger, maybe even someone bigger, someone who knew I needed you. You saved my life, Harley, and I will never forget that. You showed me love, trust, commitment. You gave me a life I am proud of. I love you, and I can’t wait to make you my wife.” And then he smiled through his tears.

  When it was Harley’s turn, I thought everyone was in tears except Dylan. He stared at Patty’s crying face and touched her tears.

  “When I met you I thought I met a man who threatened everything I knew. I regret that every day. I judged you, the love of my life, the reason I breathe, before I knew you. But I learned really fast that beneath that was an unbearably, beautiful broken man. You were so strong for so long. Have I ever thanked you for trusting me? Have I ever told you how much it meant for you to let me into your life? I plan on making you so happy, Bach, that you forget you ever felt anything else. I promise to be
faithful to you, to put you first, and hold on even when it’s hard. Because I love you, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  That night, after the kids were in bed and our work as parents were over, I unloosened my tie and carefully closed DJ’s bedroom door. With a sigh of relief, I walked down the hall, stepped over a fire truck and a basketball, and urged my bedroom door open. Hillary was in the middle of wrapping her body in a towel, golden hair damp as it cascaded down her back. Steam from the bathroom drifted into the room, leaving behind the scent of her peach body wash. The smell alone had my balls aching. But the sight of her full round ass poking out of her towel had my cock desperate to be inside of her. So fucking deep our stomachs touched.

  She looked over and smiled, still so good after all the bad I planned on doing, having done, and will undoubtedly do to her.

  She finished securing the towel and picked up the one on the bed, dragging it through her hair. “DJ fall asleep?”

  I pulled my tie free and tossed it on the bed, unfastening the buttons on my shirt next. “Finally. I had to read to him five times between questions. Why’s the sky blue? How come our eggs aren’t green? Is ham from a cow? Why is Aubrey a booger face?”

  She laughed, eyes glowing. “He’s an inquisitive boy.”

  I took my shirt off and then my undershirt, happy to be out of that suit. Two hours of taking pictures, another four at the reception, and then the after party, and I was spent. I ignored the ache in my leg. There was nothing I could do but ignore it. It was a constant reminder of my lies, and that was the motivation I needed to tell the truth every single day. I looked at my wife as she rummaged around in her top drawer, coming away with a lacey pair of teal-colored boy shorts. She smiled at them before putting them on for some reason.

  Come on, I willed her mentally. Drop the towel.

  It fell around her feet, leaving her naked body on display. Her tiny waist paved the way for her hips and ass. Her tits were heavy and her nipples hard from the cold. I wanted my tongue all over her body. I wanted my tongue between her legs and her nails in my scalp.

  “Turn around,” I ordered.

  She paused in the middle of bending down to put her panties on. Her eyes widened and her tits rose beneath her heavy breaths. But like I knew she would, she followed my order. She held her panties and turned around, showing me her golden pussy.

  “Drop them.”

  The panties fell from her hand.

  “Come lay down. On your back. Legs open wide. And you’d better be wet, baby. If you’re not I’m not going to be happy.”

  Her heavy breaths followed her feet. Lust swirled around us both. I’d wanted this for too long. I loved being a father with all my heart, but right now I wanted to be a bad boy and do bad things to my angel, and listen to her moan as I did them.

  She crawled to our bed and opened her legs, eyes on me. I rose and undid my belt, dropped my pants, but left my boxers on. If I kept my dick in his cage, then I could prolong this. If I let it loose, I’d be buried inside of her in seconds. Right now, I wanted a taste.

  I dropped to my knees on the ground and grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. Her pussy hair glistened from her excitement. I could smell her want, this tangy intoxicating, musky odor. It made my mouth water.

  “Dylan,” she gasped, hands twisted in the dark blue sheets. “Please.”

  I clucked under my breath. “Don’t you dare come already. You wait for me. Once I’ve had my fill then you can. Understood?”

  She laughed breathlessly and stirred, legs already shaking. “You’re not fair.”

  “No coming,” I warned, before burying my tongue in her hairy wetness. I groaned so loudly my dark soul warmed. She tasted like perfection. I buried my tongue between her slick pussy and found her entrance, lapping at the juices coating my tongue. Beneath me she whimpered. I swallowed her, drank her, wanted her to be my good girl forever. “Forever?” I checked.

  “We’re married,” she reminded me, throat husky. “Mmm, Dylan. Please.”

  “Forever,” I growled, moving up to her hard throbbing clit. I took it into my mouth and sucked.

  “Forever!” she gasped. “It’s only been you and it will only ever be you.”

  As she lay on the bed, eyes closed, mouth agape, body tight from her orgasm, I took my cock and urged between her wetness. I sank inside of her with a gasp of my own, burying myself so deep inside of my wife, I could feel nothing else. I moved out of her slowly, and then thrusted inside once more, earning a senseless holler from her. As I pumped into her, her eyes opened, and the bad I put in them called to me.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her ankles. “Harder. Take me, Dylan. Make love to me.”

  When my body eventually stilled, I lay on top of her, breath ragged, heart soaring—I was so fucking in love I couldn’t take it sometimes. This warmth settled over my body. I was beyond content. I was at home.

  “I love you,” I whispered, kissing her lips hard and deep.

  “I love you too. Forever,” she promised.

  Because I was hers.

  She was mine.

  And together we were finally whole.

  ***

  Hillary

  1 year later …

  “Dinner’s ready!”

  Groans and squeals followed my announcement. I smiled into the pasta as I dipped it, trying to remember if I’d ever been this difficult as a child.

  “What are you smiling at?” Lips caressed my shoulder and then arms slid around me, holding me close.

  Every time Dylan held me, the feeling of protection that slid over me comforted my soul. “Last night,” I whispered, leaning into my husband’s embrace.

  His lips brushed my ear, and his groin caressed my backside, the way it had last night. The reminder of him thrusting into me, so rough and claiming, made my body weak. I urged back, feeling the hard outline of his erection through my scrubs. I wanted to make love to him tonight, to drag out my weekend by feeling him stretch and fill me in the most delicious way.

  “Thank you for that. I missed you.” He kissed over my pulse, sucking softly on my neck.

  My heart squeezed. My shifts at the hospital were insane. Often I was asleep when he and the kids were awake. I missed him too. Missed his arms, his lips, and the feeling of our bodies meeting as we moaned our pleasure together. “I missed you too.”

  “DJ!” Aubrey complained, and then a moment later the distinct sound of the piano being pummeled filled the air. “Dad!”

  “I’ve got dinner if you take the mini me.” One more kiss on my temple and he unwrapped himself from around me, taking the spoon from my hand. “Did you leave out the mushrooms?”

  I rolled my eyes at Aubrey’s refusal to eat them. “Yes.”

  I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, spotting DJ pounding on the piano as Aubrey attempted to push him off.

  “You’d better come here.” I grabbed my baby boy and held him, peppering his face with kisses as he wriggled. A few more months and I wouldn’t be able to hold him much longer. He’d be two soon.

  “Yuck.” He wiped my kisses off, giggling when I added more.

  “How was school?” I asked Aubrey as we made our way to the kitchen.

  “I got two A’s today in social studies and science and Mrs. Harnet asked me if I’d tutor some of the kids.”

  Aubrey’s intelligence made my heart warm. She was destined for bigger and better things, and her private school was one more step to get her there. “That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

  She beamed. “Thanks, Mom. But it was easy. Acting is much harder.”

  Aubrey chose to call me Mom and Whitney was and always would be Mommy. It’s how she chose to differentiate between us. I loved it every time she involved me in her world. “That’s because you have to let go when you’re acting. You have to be someone else. You’ll get it.”

  She worriedly bit her bottom lip, appearing less sure of herself. Her being a
perfectionist at such a young age sometimes worried me. Over the years I’d learned that it wasn’t about getting it perfect. It was about getting it right, eventually. But I’d been her once. A child just wanting to get it perfect, get the grades, please your parents without worrying about pleasing yourself.

  “Maybe I should just focus on my piano classes?”

  This was a tricky part of parenting. I didn’t want to make up her mind like my mother had done me, but I also didn’t want her to back out of something because she wasn’t automatically perfect at it. “Things take time. I know you’re talented, but it’s getting it wrong a few times, that makes getting it right so special. You’re spectacular at the piano, Aubrey. And when you’re on stage you’re amazing to watch. You pick the one you enjoy more.”

  Her eyes filled with relief.

  I set DJ down when we got to the kitchen and let him pick his own chair. The table was set thanks to Dylan. Aubrey and I joined him. As my kids slurped their macaroni and cheese and Dylan interacted with his children, a rush of warmth filled my heart. My table was full with four places and three people I loved sometimes more than words could portray. I met Dylan’s eyes from across the table and winked, wanting him so badly it hurt. That he had devoted his life to take care of his children was one more reason I loved him. He made it so I could follow my dream, took care of our kids while I worked crazy hours, and never complained once when I had to work on our anniversary.

  “You’re both going to stay with Grandma Patty while we go visit Harley in the hospital,” Dylan said.

  Aubrey grinned from ear to ear. “When do I get to meet Uncle Bach’s baby?”

  “When they bring her home.”

  My smile mirrored hers. Aubrey and I were so excited to meet this part of Bach we could hardly stand it. I was practically bouncing in my seat.

  Dylan rolled his eyes at DJ. “Women.”

  DJ shook his head like he agreed. “Tate stinks.”

  My husband laughed and shook his head. “You and Tate are so getting married.”