Runaway Groom

by Virginia Nelson

  “That is pretty fucking underhanded, Braxton.”

  He grinned. “I know. All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Which are we planning?”

  His smile only seemed to grow. “Whichever involves you screaming my name, darlin’.”

  She wondered if he remembered that talking in that slow, drawn-out drawl was like waving a green flag at her lady parts…all systems go.

  Poking his chest with one finger, she met his tempting eyes, refusing to acknowledge the way his voice going husky like that made her stomach clench in need. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “We’ll see.” Snaring her up against his body and keeping her tight in his arms even when she wiggled with a half-assed attempt to free herself, he grinned. “Always seems to work pretty damned good to me.” With that, he closed his mouth over hers and she got lost in the taste of him.

  When he released her, she panted, one hand still cupping his face, and tried to remember what they’d been talking about.

  When she finally did, she smacked his chest, which didn’t disturb in the slightest his smug grin. “Business only, no funny business.”

  “I’m going to stick with we’ll see.” And he strode away from her whistling. The bastard.

  “I’ve got coffee. C’mon in.” Leading Carnie inside, Abigail shifted the two grocery bags she was carrying. Sliding them onto the countertop, she froze when Carnie squeaked.

  “Are you okay?” Turning, she saw her best friend staring, jaw agape, at her dining room table.

  “Why is there a large bouquet of condom balloons on your table?”

  Abigail felt the blood rush to her head. Seeing the glossy white card sticking out of the disturbing arrangement, she snagged it before Carnie could. “Okay, he’s going too far.”

  “Braxton?” Carnie poked at one of the balloons which wobbled, floppy tip jiggling.

  “Who else?”

  “So…is this a suggestion that he can use a lot of condoms? What in the hell is up with this exactly?” Carnie laughed.

  Opening the card, Abigail scanned the few handwritten words. Like I’ve told you before, not quite yet. Love, B

  Dropping the card, she sighed, memories hitting her in a flood. Carnie scooped it up and then waved it. “Not quite yet? There’s a story here. One I haven’t heard.”

  “It’s stupid. That’s why you haven’t heard it.”

  Grabbing a soda, Carnie plopped down. “Don’t make coffee. Tell me the story.”

  Flopping into another chair, Abigail poked at one of the balloons. “It all started when we were kids.”

  Abigail never planned to be nervous for it. Her first time, planned for months down to the hotel room, shouldn’t be nerve-wracking.

  Sipping a soda, she stared out the window at the parking lot. Rain soaked it, making the lights have halos. Thinking of halos when she was about to engage in a night of sin with her boyfriend wasn’t helping the nerves.

  “No one knows we’re here. Don’t know what you’re looking for.” Braxton’s voice sizzled over her skin.

  “Just watching the rain.”

  “If you’re as nervous as I am, you don’t have to hide by the window. I don’t think I could get it up right now if you stripped down and started dancing around the room. I’m too freaked out.”

  Laughing, she turned to face him. “You’re nervous? I thought men didn’t get nervous. Besides, aren’t you supposed to at least act like you know what you’re doing?”

  She crawled onto the bed and reclined next to him. He lay sprawled on his back, shirt off, golden tan dark against the white sheets. With a playful grin, he caught a lock of her hair around his finger. “No lies. That’s always been our motto. I’m a nervous wreck. All you have to do is lay back and enjoy. Me? I’m supposed to give an outstanding performance, ruin you for all other men, and otherwise make my mark without blowing my load too soon. Yeah, no pressure there.”

  “None.” She laughed. “What if we take it as it goes and if we don’t get around to doing the deed, we don’t? I think we’re putting too much pressure on ourselves.”

  His lips traced a path up her neck, finding the spot behind her ear that she loved when he kissed. “Sounds good. If we’re only fooling around, should I bother with the condom?”

  “We ought to. Safer. Just in case.”

  His mouth found hers and for a while she was lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. Lately, it seemed that she couldn’t get enough of him, even the sound of his voice made her breath speed. Breaking the kiss, he grinned at her. “We could use them as fancy balloons.”

  Laughing, she bit his shoulder, happy he’d taken off his shirt before laying down so she could sample his skin. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “Of course I do. The look on my dad’s face when he found us playing with the ‘balloons’ we found? And the best he could say was, ‘don’t play with my fancy balloons.’ Looking back, it was pretty damn funny.”

  “We were what? Six or seven? We had no clue what they were laughing about.”

  “Nope. Very durable balloons though. Kind of ruined regular balloons for us, I think, for the rest of childhood.” Grabbing a condom, he ripped the packet and pulled out the small rubber ring. “So, one fancy balloon. Any clue how I am supposed to do this exactly?”

  “Uh, no. Thought you might know that bit.” Abigail touched it. “It’s soft, at least. I remember them being more powdery.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s the only thing soft. Laying here with you has me hard as a rock. Turns out I was wrong about the whole pressure thing messing up that part.” He fiddled with the rubber disc.

  “Do we have to blow it up first?”

  Unzipping his jeans, Braxton pushed them down and freed his cock. “I don’t know. It isn’t something I can actually ask the guys about.”

  “Gimme. Let me try to put it on.” He passed it to her, but she decided that messing with him might be a bit more fun than putting the rubber on. Tracing her fingertips up and down the length of him, she enjoyed watching his stomach muscles clench and hearing his breath catch. Having this kind of power with him always gave her a little thrill. Bending, she kissed the tip before licking and teasing him. Running her fingers across his balls, she felt them tighten and she gave one long suck along his length.

  “Abs, we aren’t gonna need the condom if you keep that up.” His voice broke, breathless.

  Grinning up at him, she tried to slide it on.

  She got it partway before it shot back off.

  “Whoops.”

  His laugh rumbled in her ear, since her head was so close to his chest. “Turns out, even though we practiced everything else, this part might take us a while to figure out.”

  Retrieving it, she tried again. “When I get old enough, I’m going on the pill or something so we don’t have to do this.”

  “Abs.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The idea of being inside your body, nothing between us, isn’t helping the fact that I’m hard as rock and your fingers are making me want to come.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “This isn’t working.”

  Frowning up at him, she watched as he took the condom back, ruining the precious inches she’d gained. “I almost had it on.”

  Blowing it into a balloon, he tied it off. “Yeah, but there might be a hole in it. We fiddled with it too much.” He tapped her on the head with his freshly made fancy balloon before hitting it so that it sailed across the room.

  “Oh.”

  “C’mere.” His lips crashed into hers, his fingers hot and tempting as they glided under her shirt. “You need to be a lot more naked.”

  After a few short moments, he had her down to her underwear, and her breath was coming in short pants. “Hang on,” he said.

  She heard a rip. Closing her eyes, she fought a fresh wave of nerves.

  “Got it.” Turning, she looked up at him, naked except for the rubber.

  Muscles gleaming with s
weat from passion and tanned from mowing lawns all summer, he looked almost too sexy. Loving him was something she’d been doing for as long as she could remember but this, being with him as a girlfriend, still felt so fresh and new. “So, I’m guessing you know what we do from here.”

  “I think we’ll figure that part out together. Whether we know what we’re doing or not, our bodies know what they want.” His words, spoken in a near whisper even though they were alone, made shivers dance across her skin. She wanted him.

  She was ready. She’d waited for this moment—they’d waited—wanting it to be right. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone else like this.

  Again, he kissed her, and she dug her fingers into his hair. His hands seemed to touch her everywhere at once. She was hungry for him, and had been for so long. Soon, she was against him and the feeling of the length of his body, moving over hers, sliding skin against skin—

  Suddenly, he rolled onto his back, breathing hard, and lay very still. “Don’t touch me, Abs. I’m good, I’m in control, but I want you really bad. Gimme a minute.”

  She tried to think past the needs that had every nerve in her own body hypersensitive. “Why can’t I touch you?”

  “I’m scared of hurting you. Taking your virginity. Not sure I can do it.”

  “Fine, I’ll take yours.”

  Rolling, she plunged herself onto him, feeling only a token resistance from her own body as she accepted him. Mostly she felt full. It took her a moment, adjusting, to get him all the way in, but she managed it while he lay, breathing very hard and clutching the sheets, white-knuckled.

  After a moment of adjusting to the feel of him, she managed to bite out, “There, that part’s done.” It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. It was almost nice. Stung a little, but…

  When he laughed, she almost rolled off him, flooded with embarrassment.

  Then he caught her hips with his hands, holding her in position.

  Grinding his hips upwards slowly, with a little twist that had her head lolling back as heat zinged through her body, he answered, “Not quite yet.”

  It felt so good, so new, so much, a moan curled out of her throat.

  “Shit, Abs, you feel so good. So right.” Another roll of his hips and she began to move with him. Bracing her hands on his chest, she lifted her hips as he pulled back, meeting him halfway. The pleasure rippling from there, from that motion, made her fingers curl.

  “Faster,” she whispered. He rolled her, rising above her like a conqueror, and obeyed.

  When it was done, she lay, panting, next to him. One of his hands was in her hair, cradling her head, the other at her hip, clutching her close. “Abs?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I still like playing with fancy balloons with you.”

  She told Carnie most of it—from the silly, to the sweet, to the sex that took her breath away—and then looked at the memories all packaged up in a fancy rubber balloon bouquet. “So, that’s why he sent me a bouquet of condoms.”

  Carnie looked a little misty. “That is kind of a sweet story.”

  One shoulder shrugging, Abigail poked at a balloon, watching it flop, trying to remember she wasn’t that girl anymore. “Kind of. But we aren’t kids anymore. That was a long time ago.”

  Carnie chuckled. “Apparently not so long ago that either of you forgot.”

  Chapter Eight

  June 4, 2012

  Abigail,

  Last night I dreamed of you. It was our wedding day and you were wearing this white dress that reminded me of whipped cake icing. It was all frothy and you looked sweet enough to lick. Seemed wrong, somehow, to think about licking you with all that wholesome white on, but that was what I was thinking.

  You came down the aisle, we said “I do” and it was done. We were married.

  Then the dream skipped and I was sitting on a couch, watching a game. This little kid came over to me and handed me a toy. I took it, scooped up the kid. She was so cute. She had my curls and your eyes and it felt so natural to hold her. I knew her name, in the dream. She was Autumn because she was born in the fall.

  She was ours.

  You came walking in the room, picked the kid up, kissed me and left. I went back to watching the game. It was very comfortable. After a while, you came back down. Guess you put Autumn to bed, and you curled into my lap.

  We argued over the remote and settled on one of those romantic comedies—you know, the ones I always gave you hell about and then ended up enjoying? And I held you, watched the movie and it was great. I felt at peace and more content than I’ve felt since I left home.

  I woke up, rolled over and you weren’t there.

  I wonder if that is what our life would’ve been like. It seemed so scary when I thought about it at twenty but now…

  It didn’t seem half bad.

  Do you ever wonder, Abs? About what might have been?

  Love you,

  Brax

  He considered it a military campaign. An assault on her senses.

  She might be able to ignore the letters, fine. But he wouldn’t allow her to ignore him.

  He remembered how to push her buttons. Back when they were randy teenagers, they did it to each other for shits and giggles. She tripped his trigger with her short skirts, even did the panties thing when he’d asked… Oh, that movie was hell. Her lack of panties was all he could think about.

  Now the two of them were in a complicated dance for control. She knew his flashpoints and he knew hers. It started with the interviews. From the shortest covered bridge to the longest, he thought up a long list of people. It took him hours searching online, but Bob okayed all that he came up with so Abigail was stuck with him.

  Meeting him at the town hall, he could tell she planned to keep everything extremely business-like. She’d agreed to his casual offer to drive since they were headed out to the middle of nowhere to talk to Pauline Sabatina, one of the oldest residents in the county and former student and teacher to one of the first schools in the area. He didn’t turn on the radio, instead rolling the windows down on his truck, content with silence. Abigail turned her face into the wind, ignoring the grit his wheels churned up off the gravel road, her hair flying around her face. With her in the passenger side of his truck, memories of her hand in his tripped through his mind, and he couldn’t quite wipe the smile from his face.

  Her presence was like a strobe—impossible to tune out since his every nerve ending seemed aware of her. Navigating the overgrown weeds and pits in the driveway, Braxton parked once he reached the tiny, rundown shack of a house. He made it to her side of the vehicle before she’d managed to get out, rummaging around for her tablet and cell phone before she turned to see him. He opened the door and offered her a hand, which she ignored and alighted of her own steam.

  Her foot landed in the muck and sank to midcalf. Her gasp got drowned out by his chuckle. “I was going to help you…” He covered his smile with his hand and turned away from her, but she punched his arm and he glanced back. “Hey, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d laugh.”

  “Shut up,” she grumbled, but her lips twitched, and a bit of the uncomfortable tension she wore like a cloak vanished.

  “Braxton Dean? That you?” The voice from the porch was as battered as the faded wood of the house.

  Reaching back, Braxton helped Abigail step free of the mud while he answered. “Yes, Mrs. Sabatina, it’s me. I’ve got Abigail with me and we’ll be up in a second.”

  “I made some tea. Come on in.”

  Testing the steps a little cautiously, Braxton was pleased to find they held his weight, even if they groaned in protest. Following the path the wiry old woman used, he opened the door only to pause when Abigail groaned.

  “I can’t go in.” She gestured to her foot. “Mrs. Sabatina! I stepped in the mud and if I come in, I’m going to track dirt in with me.”

  “I said come on in, children.” The woman called the words from somewhere in the house.

 
“I’m not sure she can hear so good.” Nudging Abby’s arm, Braxton motioned inside with his head. “I’ll go let her know. Maybe she’ll talk to us out here.”

  Abby nodded, so he found Mrs. Sabatina and passed on the information. Within moments of talking to her, Braxton realized she couldn’t hear half of what he said, which made sense when she explained, “Lost my hearing aide. You’ll have to speak up, boy.”

  Running his tongue across his teeth, he pondered the opportunity and decided to have a little fun with it. “Yes, ma’am,” he yelled.

  Once the tea jug, frosted glasses and old woman were transferred safely back out to the porch, Braxton reclined back on his elbows from his perch too close to Abby on the steps. “Mrs. Sabatina, tell us a bit what it was like back in the early days of the school.”

  The old woman began to rattle off stories about her first teacher and the skirt her mother sewed her for school, and he occupied himself fiddling with a stray lock of Abby’s hair. Every so often she’d swat his hand away…but he wasn’t deterred. After a few moments of her scribbling on the screen with her stylus, he leaned close to whisper, “You know there’s a duck blind, ‘bout thirty feet into the woods to the left. We could sneak off, you and me, get reacquainted. No one would ever know.”

  Flaming red colored Abigail’s cheeks and her mouth gaped open. Her gaze shot from him to the old woman twice before she managed to focus on the interview again and start scribbling notes.

  “You know how you like me to nibble that little spot behind your ear? I could start off with that. Then I’d trail kisses down your neck while my hands were full of those beautiful breasts of yours…”

  Again, her head popped up. The old woman didn’t pause for a second in her storytelling.

  “So back then, there was a patch of woods over on Satin Street, where the housing development is now. Us kids would sneak off…”

  “Braxton!” Abigail hissed. “She’s right there.”

  “She can’t hear a word I’m saying.” He glanced back, and the woman sipped her tea before continuing to tell them about how the kids would go over to the theater for a movie come the weekend.