Married. Wait! What?

by Virginia Nelson

  Paul regarded Liza carefully, and she couldn’t make herself look away. She’d already found something special, and apparently taken vows to promise ‘til death do you part. Would she stay married to him, if it turned out to be legal?

  Ridiculous. People didn’t just fall into bed with people they hadn’t seen in years and decide to spend forever together. She put the drink down and tried to fake a smile for her mother’s sake.

  Once their parents had fled, she turned to face Paul more fully. He’d scooted his chair nearer to hers and was sucking on an ice cube. “So, do you think we can do what they suggested?” she asked him.

  His smile was slow, and a frisson of awareness trickled down her spine. “I have some ideas of how we can occupy ourselves, but I have to ask again… do you trust me, my Liza?”

  Toying with her necklace, Liza licked her lips. “Yes, master,” she managed.

  “Spread your legs under the table,” he ordered.

  Glancing around at the busy poolside area, she realized no one was paying them any particular attention, but any one of the random people might be a friend of her mother’s. The table in question was covered with a white tablecloth, so it wasn’t like anyone would see her spread legs, if she did obey…what harm could it do?

  She hadn’t worn panties, hoping he’d realize her daring at some point during the day. Slowly, she obeyed him, relaxing back into her chair a bit as she separated her knees. “Done,” she said, but he probably already knew as his hand was on her knee.

  When he took the hand away, she shuddered in disappointment. But then he took the ice cube out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered.

  The ice cube trailed up her leg, starting at her knee. By the time he touched it to her overheated slit, it was wet from melting its way across her flesh. Her whole body shook in a shocked shiver, and she shifted to try to adjust to the temperature change.

  “Don’t move,” he reminded her. “Everyone is looking at you.”

  The ice numbed her flesh, causing almost pain on her skin. Every time she thought it might be too much, he’d sweep in with his hot thumb and stroke her flesh.

  When he thrummed his fingertip against her clit, she parted her legs a bit more, allowing him more access. Her face was on fire, her breaths unsteady, and she had to work hard not to move. Not to rock into that melting sensation between her legs.

  “You like that, don’t you? Even though you’re sitting there with ice melting between your legs, you like the way your heat is being rubbed right here in public. Admit it, my Liza.”

  His voice alone was enough to make her moan, and a passing member of the staff cast her a suspicious look. “Yes, master,” she said, not caring who watched.

  “You want me to do more, don’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here, in front of everyone, wouldn’t you, my greedy little Liza?”

  Another shudder shook her body. The ice was nearly melted, just a tiny shard of chill while his fingertips were so hot and insistent. The cadence and tone of his voice had her struggling to sit still, to resist rocking and jerking as he urged her passion higher.

  But then he pinched her clit between two fingers, the movement startling in her haze of lust. “Paul,” she whimpered in complaint.

  “You didn’t answer me, greedy creature. Answer me, would you let me fuck you right here in front of everyone?”

  “Yes, master,” she whimpered.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  She couldn’t, not with her legs shaking. But his hand was removed from between her legs, and she needed more. Needed him. Finding the strength, she stumbled to her feet, not surprised to see the wet spot on her skirt from the melted ice cube. “Yes, master,” she said.

  He stood as well, taking her arm and bumping her breast with his fingertips as they walked side by side. “We need to find out if those quickie vows were real or not,” he said.

  She shot him a quick glance before frowning. “You got me all hot and horny and now you expect me to focus on the business end of our relationship?”

  His smile was slow, and heart wrenchingly familiar. There was so much of the boy she knew in the man facing her that it made her pulse thready and fast. “Haven’t you heard, my little Liza? Anticipation is half the fun.”

  4

  Paul couldn’t decide how he felt when the minister explained that their ceremony was indeed legally binding. They could agree to file for an annulment, however the marriage itself was real.

  More real than the rings on their fingers.

  Glancing at the cheap and gaudy band on Liza’s finger, he was again hit with a wave of possessiveness. She was his, had always been his, and he was just as much hers. The vows changed nothing, at least, not in how he felt about her, but they did give him an excuse to finally really explore what they could share.

  He hadn’t thought too much about getting married before, but the idea of her being his—legally, meaning no one could take her away—was a thrill unto itself. Did he love Liza? He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love her.

  But they needed to get to know each other better, if they were going to make it work. She wasn’t pressing him to get the annulment, which made him hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t in a rush to get rid of him either.

  To avoid the temptation of taking her again—God, she was a receptive little woman—he needed to keep them in public. Then again, it was one of her kinks and he knew it. His little Liza loved the risk of being caught. The idea of people watching… Which gave him an idea he’d like to explore one day.

  But for that day, he needed a chance to get to talk to her. Buying a few hundred in coins for the slots, he sat down next to her and said, “Let’s gamble and get to know one another.”

  She smirked. “I know you in the Biblical sense, Paul. How much do we need to know to figure out we’re in a fucked up situation?”

  “Humor me?” he asked her.

  “Yes, master,” but she said it with a sassy flip of her head and a bit of sarcasm.

  “Imp,” he muttered.

  “You love it,” she replied.

  And that was the fucked-up part. He did. He didn’t care if she was—also legally—now his stepsister. She was Liza and she was his.

  Simple as that.

  But she did humor him and talk, and before long, it felt like the old days. They still shared a lot of interests—from the same books and movies to the same video games—and their goals still lined up really well. It was as if nothing changed between them.

  Except now he knew what he wanted from her body… and how to get it.

  Standing, he asked her gently, “Are you hungry?” He wasn’t thinking of food.

  “Starved,” she answered, cupping his cock there in the open.

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  The slots were on a large open floor, and the doors to the pool weren’t far. Off the pool, he’d spotted a gym and sauna. Near that, a hot tub with a private door. The hot tub was enclosed, thin bamboo walls separating it from the main space, so it wasn’t much for privacy.

  But his girl, she didn’t particularly care for privacy.

  Locking the door once they both were inside, he considered the small hot tub with interest.

  “There’s no one in here,” she said looking around. “Even so, I didn’t bring my bikini.”

  He smiled slowly, flipping her skirt up to reveal her ass. With a firm smack, he marked that rounded curve with his handprint. She gasped, grasping the handhold that led down to the water. “You won’t need it, my greedy little Liza.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were half lidded with awakening desire. “These walls are paper thin. I can literally hear the conversations from outside,” she said.

  “And we don’t have the key, so someone could unlock the door at any time and come in…” Bending her at the waist, he placed her hands on the heavy wooden towel rack near the door. “Do you care?”

  She didn’t fight him, not even
a little, and held her ass up a bit higher. It was an erotic image—her skirt banded around her waist and her ass cheek still pinkened from his palm. “No, I don’t care.”

  But he wasn’t in a hurry. Kneeling behind her, he parted her nether lips, sliding his tongue there as she let out a little moan. He shook his head. “You have to be quiet, Liza. Someone will hear you. If you make another noise, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

  Her ass cheeks quivered, and she adjusted her hold on the towel rack. “Yes, master.”

  “Good girl, but I owe you a punishment for doubting me and making noise.”

  She didn’t protest, but her breath sped. “Yes, master,” she whispered.

  This smack was right across her slit, and her body jerked in response. Based on the trembling flesh before him, she loved it. She was so damn perfect.

  He couldn’t resist having a taste of her for another second. Teasing her flesh, he circled her clit with his tongue before sliding in to taste the moisture of her opening. She was sweet, a salty blend of woman and something unique that was just Liza. As he replaced his tongue with his fingertip, she arched and her breathing turned to pants.

  “Do you like that, my little Liza?” he asked her conversationally before sucking her clit into his mouth.

  “Oh,” she moaned. “God, yes, master.”

  “Remember to stay quiet, my love,” he whispered. Just having her like this had him so damn hard, he thought he’d come in his shorts. But he resisted. He wanted her orgasm—wanted her riding against his face as she shattered—and knew he could draw more than one release from her receptive little body.

  In seconds, she was biting her own hand to keep from making a noise as he fucked her with his fingertips and bumped that little bundle of nerves deep inside her. Keeping pace, he suckled at her clit, thrumming the sensitive flesh with his tongue as she ground herself against his face. He could hardly breathe, but would gladly die smothered in her if it meant that she’d orgasm for him.

  Then she was, legs shaking until she sagged in his arms, all boneless and quaking. “You did well, my little Liza.”

  She shook her head, still panting for air. With a small smile, she considered her hand and the tooth marks in the flesh there. “I stayed quiet,” she whispered. “But can you?”

  Then her hand, the one marked by her own teeth in her passion, was sliding up his shorts to fondle the tip of his dick. His cock jerked, and just the memory of what her mouth could do had him biting back a moan. “I can do anything you can do, little Liza.”

  She made quick work of his shorts, but he wanted her tits. Freeing them from her blouse, he watched as her face became even more flushed. The room was humid, and tiny curls were sticking to her face as she shoved him onto his back. “I’m going to make you scream,” she threatened.

  He didn’t doubt she’d make him want to, but he knew his control was better than hers. At least, he thought so, until she sucked him deeply into her gorgeous mouth. The feel of her tongue on his cock had his hips jerking toward her, needing more.

  He couldn’t take her torture for long, grabbing her arms and pulling her astride his body. Her soft laughter amused him. “I didn’t make a sound,” he pointed out.

  “Yet,” she whispered as she sank her heat downward to enclose his dick. Her tits bounced as she began to ride him, and he struggled to find sanity. To find his control and resist making a noise while the pleasure overwhelmed his system.

  The room echoed with the slap of their skin, with the pant of their breaths, and he watched in fascination as her hands raised to capture her own nipples and tug. She was so beautiful. So his.

  His release pounded through him, and he did cry out, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy groaning in her own release as she shattered above him. Her body melted down onto his, still twitching as she gasped for air, when he heard the knock at the door. Someone rattled the knob. “Hello?” they said from the other side. “Who is in there?”

  Liza erupted in giggles and he smacked her ass firmly, making her moan. “You were noisy,” he pointed out.

  “Not even sorry about it…master.”

  5

  While Paul showered, Liza sat on the balcony of their hotel room and wished for a cup of coffee. The weeklong honeymoon was coming to an end, and reality crashed around Liza’s ears. Neither of them had brought up the annulment, nor had they told their parents, but they either had to get the union ended or confess.

  She couldn’t imagine being without him, but being with him had endless complications—explaining it, one of the moving, telling their parents… They were running out of time and no other options had occurred to her. The sun rose, slicing down the Strip like fire, and Liza crossed her legs. She didn’t want their time together to end…but she didn’t know how she could possibly face life as a woman who married her actual stepbrother.

  It didn’t seem fair. Paul was perfect—sexually, intellectually, and emotionally. But because of circumstances beyond her control, he was entirely inappropriate.

  Or so society said.

  He stepped onto the patio behind her, leaning on the doorframe as he smiled down at her. Offering her a cup of coffee, he said, “You look like you’re thinking way too hard for a woman who woke up with such a big smile on her face.”

  As she’d been wakened by him between her legs, seconds away from a shattering orgasm, it was hard not to wake up smiling. She blushed a little and sipped the coffee. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  He looked away from her, taking in the view. “You’re mine,” he said simply.

  “That would mean you’re mine,” she pointed out. Her stomach flipped a little, sure he’d say something that would make a joke of her words. He owned her body, but she doubted he would admit the same to her. She didn’t even know if she was special to him…or if he was just that damn good of a lover.

  “I’ve been yours for years, little Liza. These rings, they don’t change that.”

  She blinked up at him, shocked by his words. “But…”

  “You’re that worried about what people will think?” he asked, kneeling in front of her. “I got you something.”

  She shook her head. She’d be an idiot if she pretended what people thought didn’t matter. Of course, it mattered. This was her mother’s wedding week—and she’d done what? Stolen her thunder by marrying her new stepbrother? What would her boss think if he found out? Her friends? How could anyone possibly understand?

  “Liza,” he said, but she didn’t look at him, staring down the Strip. The sun was mostly up, now, the red fire blasted away by the yellow of daylight.

  His fingertips grazed her cheek, and she turned into his palm. “This is impossible,” she said.

  He was holding a beautiful ring—platinum with a square cut garnet surrounded by white diamonds. “I got you a better ring. Stay with me. Fuck what the world has to say. Be mine.”

  She blinked fast, temptation urging her to take the ring and let the world be damned. “First, we tell our parents. If you still want to offer me a ring at that point, I’ll take it.”

  Little did she know she would regret her own words.

  The ambulance screamed away from the hotel, and Paul stood watching it go. He wasn’t that close with his father, not anymore, but still he hadn’t been prepared for watching the man crumple.

  “It’s my fault,” he said.

  “No,” Liza whispered. “We just need to get to the hospital. Mom, do you have your purse?”

  He glanced back at her, shaking his head. “No, you stay here. This is about family.”

  With that, he hopped in the nearest available cab, hoping to God he didn’t lose his father that day. Was he so selfish that he’d put his own happiness above his father’s life? No, it just didn’t make sense. No matter how much he loved her, it was his duty as a son to make sure his dad was okay. And if loving her was wrong…

  So be it.

  6

  The flight home was lonely, mostly because her wre
tched heart refused to accept the facts her logical brain understood. Maybe Paul claimed that she was his, and maybe he was even right. But if he was hers, he’d denied her the opportunity to be by his side. To hold him when he needed her and to comfort him in a time of stress.

  She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that their news was enough to give the man a heart attack—clearly, there was a heart issue to begin with, and although the raise in blood pressure surely exacerbated the situation, there was a prior condition involved.

  A quick web search told her that most people in Paul’s dad’s situation recovered, but it didn’t help heal her heart any. From her mother’s texts, what happened was called stress cardiomyopathy—not a heart attack, although it was often mistaken for one. He’d recover fully, and wouldn’t suffer any long-term damage to his heart muscle, based on what her mom said.

  Her newly minted stepfather would be okay. Her mom had headed to the hospital to be with him, so she’d be okay. Hell, even Paul would be okay, once he realized his father had an excellent prognosis—based on her mother’s texts since she’d left the hotel.

  The only one, so far as Liza could see, who didn’t stand a good chance at recovery was her.

  Dammit, she loved him. She knew better than to let herself fall for him again—had she ever fallen out of love with him, really? But she’d gone and jumped with both feet.

  Too bad all she had to show for it was a gorgeous ring and paperwork to file with the court.

  Once she’d made it back to her apartment, she looked around the empty space in dread. Before, this place was her solace. She’d worked hard, furnishing it with things that made her happy, yet none of the things did a thing to make her feel better now.

  Probably because they were things, and she didn’t want things. She wanted Paul.

  No sense sitting around and soaking in her own misery. With a sigh, she dropped her bags and sat at her desk. When all else failed, she could always get back to work.