The Marriage Mistake

by Natalie Knight

  Lock’s an asshole. I’ll give him that. He’s a womanizer and a playboy, and he thinks too fucking highly of himself—all of that’s true.

  But he’s also cultured. And he’s fucking gorgeous. We want the same things out of life, and at this point, I’m finally realizing how important that is.

  Eggs would have had me scrubbing the floors in his shadow while he fought the good fight.

  Lock and I can fight that fight side-by-side.

  As I wrap my fist around Lock’s dick for the final time before he’s officially mine, I can’t help but marvel at how fucking big it is all over again. It’s like every time I see it, I fall a little more in love with it.

  Sammi Brighton. Seduced by a dick.

  I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does.

  Still, surprise doesn’t stop me from sticking out my tongue and pumping his cock in my fist until all of his precum is milked onto my taste buds.

  There’s something incredible about Lock’s cum. Salty and sweet all at once.

  That one little taste is enough to make me want more.

  And if there’s one thing I’m damn fucking good at…it’s getting what I want.

  “That’s right, darl,” Lock purrs as I wrap my lips around his heavy, engorged tip. “Take it all. Lick it all up. Get me wet then suck me dry.”

  “Mmmph” is all I have to say to that.

  It’s all that needs to be said.

  I know it was a wild fucking ride getting here. And I know that this isn’t what I planned. Farthest thing from it, in fact.

  But with my Lock’s dick in my mouth and the gorgeous world that is his stupid, handsome, lovable Australian body left for me to explore, I can’t imagine my life ending up any other way.

  “Take my cock, Sammi!” Lock’s voice turns to a low, desperate growl as he grabs my braid, meeting my pace with a little thrusting of his own.

  The pace doubles. Then triples.

  “Sammi!” A high-pitched Texan voice calls out from the bottom of the temple’s steps below. “Are you guys getting married or what?”

  “Yes,” Lock growls, not to Mysti May, but to me.

  I feel his balls tense up beneath my chin.

  I start sucking harder.

  “Come on, you fucking horndogs!” Percy shouts up at us, too. “The ceremony’s about to start!”

  “You’re mine.” It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist for Lock right now—his existence begins and ends at my mouth, and I double up my efforts to accommodate. “You belong to me, Sammi—my wife—my bride—my whore—my fucking—”

  Lock explodes in my mouth, sending wave after wave of his sweet, salty cream gushing over my tongue. I gather it all up, careful to save every spray of it—then I roll it around in my mouth and collect it on my tongue.

  I spread my lips and show him—show him the way his seed looks as I balance it on my taste buds.

  When I open my mouth again, every drop of that cum is gone.

  “You belong to me too, Lock,” I tell him, and for once, I have a grin on my lips just as cocky and smug as his.

  “Damn right I do.” Lock takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. “Have you realized yet that when we kiss…you’re going to taste yourself on my lips?”

  “And you’ll taste yourself on mine,” I remind him. My chest feels like it contains a fucking supernova right now—but my lips…my lips feel ready for that kiss, even if the rest of my body isn’t yet. “Are we really doing this, Lock?”

  “Have to,” he chuckles. “They’re all waiting for us down there…and I’d hate to disappoint our audience.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” I tell him. “I love you…husband.”

  I watch his face light up at the sound of that word: husband. It’s almost like he’s been waiting for this for a long, long time.

  Which is silly, considering we’ve only been together for just this one night.

  “I love you too…wife.”

  Chapter 34

  Lock

  1:02 AM SATURDAY

  My blushing bride is beaming as I carry her over the threshold into our suite. I lean in and give her a kiss, excited to get her inside.

  “I love you, Lock!” she says as our lips part. Never in my life has my heart been so full. I’m staring so deeply into her gorgeous green eyes that I’m blissfully ignorant of our surroundings until…

  A ping pong ball hits me square in the mouth.

  I wince, trying to process what even happened. I look out ahead of me, Sammi still in my arms new bride-style…

  We both take a good, long stare at what’s going on in our hotel suite. I don’t know about Sammi, but I can’t even blink.

  What the fuck is this shit?

  Music is blaring through the entire suite, so much so that the ground is vibrating. I can barely process anything because the bass is just so high.

  The coffee table has turned into a poker table, and Becky and Liam are sitting there with a monkey and gambling against it. And worse yet, the monkey looks like he’s winning.

  As I turn my head to the dining table, a look of horror manifests on my face that forces Sammi to put her hand on my cheek in a concerned wife manner.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” she asks.

  I don’t answer. I just nod my head in that direction.

  She turns her face to the sight in front of us. I’ve directed her to the source of the ping pong ball.

  Percy and Mysti are playing beer pong. With no paddles.

  Why is that any shocking? They’re also not using their hands.

  The ping pong ball that tapped me square in the lips was launched from a vagina.

  That’s right. A cunt-launched ping pong ball whacked me right in the kisser. How or why they decided it was a good idea to start rocket launching ping pong balls from their pussies is beyond me, but I have an inkling that ladyboy Celine Dion had something to do with it.

  They’re all laughing and having a good, time and I can’t help but stare as Mysti lines up her next shot. I watch, perplexed, as she lands a ping pong ball right into one of Percy’s cups.

  “Fuck’s sake, ladies,” I exclaim as Sammi giggles uncontrollably.

  The three of them look over at Sammi and me.

  “Ayyyyyyy!” shout Percy and Mysti, their best drunken attempt at greeting us before returning to their game.

  We walk past them and pass by the most intense monkey-led game of Texas Hold ‘Em I’ve ever seen.

  The suite is much too loud, and I can see by Sammi’s face that she feels the same. We go out to the balcony, getting some fresh air and a muted version of the chaos as we watch from outside instead.

  I return Sammi to her feet and hold her in a loving embrace.

  “Thank you, Lock,” she says. She nestles her head against my chest.

  “Of course, darl,” I respond. I lean down as she looks up at me, and we share another passionate kiss.

  My cock twitches in my pants as our lips meet and meld with one another. As my hand wraps around Sammi’s tight little waist and caresses her side, my thoughts start to go hazy, and I’m overwhelmed with the desire to consummate our marriage.

  I reach my hand down to her warm pussy, rubbing the fabric of her dress against her bare pussy lips. She sighs up into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and raising goosebumps all over my body.

  Sammi reaches a hand down to my rock-hard cock and starts running her fingernails against it through my pants, making my eyes roll back in my head. Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

  I thrust my cock hard against her hand, and she grips it tight and hard against my pants before unbuttoning them and tearing my cock out into full view.

  She drops down to her knees, thumping hard against our concrete balcony overlooking the entire city and fiercely shoving my cock between her lips.

  As the head of my dick slithers against her tongue, I thrust into her mouth further, forcing her to open her throat to take the rest of me.


  Holy shit.

  “Yes, Sammi. Mmph, baby. Just like that,” I say to her, petting her head as she works my massive, throbbing cock.

  “Mmm,” she moans as she slides her mouth back and forth over my dick. I throw my head down to watch her, moaning and thrusting in and out of her while she pierces me with those damn green eyes.

  In an act of raw passion, I tear her up from her knees and force her against the balcony, still facing me. I throw her leg up, resting her high heel on the rail and bringing myself down to her pussy.

  I drag my tongue against her pussy lips and flick it against her clit before closing my lips around it and sucking. She moans in delight and gets a good grip of my hair, pulling my face harder against her pussy as I make out with her love button.

  Her pussy is so sweet, and her aroma so intoxicating. It’s all I ever want to experience for the rest of my life.

  Sammi is the one. I’ve never been more certain of anything.

  I slide a finger inside of that sweet, slick cunt of hers and rub it against her G-spot over and over, listening to her writhe and feeling her squirm above me.

  I pull my lips off of her pussy and slip my finger back out, dragging it up her pussy lips as I come back up to her face, kissing her soft, plump lips with her sweet nectar on my own. As my tongue slips into her mouth, I position my cock against her pussy opening.

  She gasps hard as I thrust into her, taking her as mine for the first time ever as man and wife.

  From the first time we’ve ever fucked, I’d dreamed of this moment. Sammi’s been mine for as long as we’ve known each other, and it’s finally time for me to make it official.

  I pump in and out of her, my cock pushing hard against her G-spot with each thrust. She digs her nails into my shoulders as I plow into her. Our bodies are hot and sticky with sweat, demonstrating just how much passion we have flowing between us.

  She’s panting hard for me, and her pussy is tightening around my throbbing, aching cock. We’re both close, our bodies building up intense, tingling orgasms just ready to explode out of us.

  And it’s perfect. Everything about this moment.

  From the polluted sky, to the noisy room behind us, to the stench of Bangkok. All of it has had a hand in making this the most memorable moment of our lives.

  As I thrust into her again, she collapses, gushing cum all over my cock. Just as she climaxes, my cock bursts inside of her, coating the inside of her pussy with my creamy juices and mixing with her own.

  Just as we’re both coming down from our climax, Sammi’s head falls against my chest, and she begins to weep. Perplexed, I hold her head tight, comforting her and petting her hair.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” I say. I kiss her forehead.

  “I’m just so saaaaad!” she wails.

  “Sad? Sammi, why are you sad?”

  “Because I’m going to forget all of this! I just love you so much, and I’m so happy with you, and I’m gonna forget it all and fucking marry that asshole tomorrow and be miserable!”

  “Sammi…” I start, finally also pulling my dick out of her.

  “I’m just a fucking coward for not owning up to any of this without all the tequila. I’m sorry. I really wish I was sober. I don’t want to be drunk anymore!” she cries.

  At my second attempt to comfort her, I’m interrupted by another guest.

  The monkey makes chirping and cooing noises as it closes the door behind him, joining us outside. Sammi’s face lights up.

  “Monkey!” she shouts. The monkey gives her his full attention. “Come with me.”

  As they start back inside, I follow. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll be damned if I don’t stick around to find out. I shove my dick back into my pants and regain my composure.

  Once we’re back into the suite, maneuvering through the chaos, Sammi stops at her room. She reaches onto the dresser and hands the monkey her award.

  “I won this tonight, Monkey,” she says to him. “I want you to take it and hide it from me until I can remember how much I love my husband.”

  The monkey chatters unintelligibly and delivers Sammi something that looks akin to a salute.

  He takes the award and scampers off with it, suddenly full of purpose.

  “There,” Sammi says, nodding and crossing her arms over her gorgeous, perfect chest. “Now I’ll have to fucking remember—or else.”

  And just like that, my heart is full.

  Chapter 35

  Sammi

  4:20 PM SATURDAY

  I stand up like Spartacus before the fucking Romans and level a finger at the weed-thieving monkey currently headed toward the balcony with an entire kilo of Mary Jane.

  “Catch that fucking monkey,” I announce, zero goddamn context. “That little bastard stole my award!”

  Well. Stole might not be the most accurate statement. My dumb, drunk ass gave it to the monkey, and the monkey took it to do who-fucking-knows with it.

  For all I know, the symbol of the only thing I’ve done right since being in Bangkok could be on the roof, stuck in the elevator, hidden beneath that pile of Percy and Mysti May’s pussy ping-pong balls, or at the bottom of the Chao Phraya by now.

  But whatever happened to it, one thing’s for sure: I want it back.

  Maybe I’m just stalling. I consider it as I dive at the monkey across the living room floor, my fists narrowly missing the opportunity to close around its mangy little tail. It’s entirely possible that I’m focusing all of my energy, my emotions, and my rage at this poor little monkey, wherever the hell it came from, so I don’t have to think about anything else.

  Like the fact that I really did marry Lock last night.

  Or the fact that I told him I loved him. Over and over again. And he said it back.

  And we both meant it.

  I might be trying to distract myself from the fact that I brought him back here with me. That we laughed and fucked and—no, not even fucked. We made love out on the balcony, and he held me in his arms.

  I’m definitely trying to ignore the fact that I didn’t want to forget what I forgot. That every clue I tracked down today and every memory I collected and recollected—that all of that was pushing me closer and closer to this inevitability that at this point, even I can’t deny.

  I fell in love with Lock last night. Or maybe I feel in love with him three years ago on yet another wild, drunken night.

  Christ, maybe I’ve always loved him. Maybe soulmates really do exist and fate is real, everything happens for a reason and all of this—every hateful, infuriating, insane chaotic moment—maybe all of it was building to this from the start.

  From the moment our ancestors crawled out of the ocean and onto land.

  From the very point in time when the elements that make up our bodies were released from exploding stars.

  I’ve been looking at last night as a mistake.

  Or rather, I’ve been looking at is as a series of mistakes. A cart full of horseshit and bad decisions that only picked up speed as it rolled downhill. A fistful of fuck yous to my master plan.

  But now, I’m wondering if maybe this wasn’t the way it was meant to be. Or, if nothing else, maybe it was the best possible outcome.

  Lock and Sammi. Sammi and Lock.

  Samira Williams-Brighton.

  Mrs. Lachlan Williams.

  It sounds a hell of a lot better than Mrs. Eggbert Humphrey, at any rate.

  So, okay. Say that it was all meant to be. Say that love really does exist beyond my scheming and calculations. Say that I really do love Lock.

  What now?

  I feel bad for punching him in the nose, for one.

  And for stealing his motorcycle.

  And definitely for pushing him in the river.

  The monkey leaps into the air, rebounds off of poor Liam’s face, and launches himself into the twinkling embrace of the suite’s crystal chandelier.

  One thing’s for sure: I still want my fucking award back.

  “
Bad monkey! No!” Ladyboy Celine Dion says, pointing an aggressive, sparkly-tipped finger at the monkey as—of all things—he rips into the bag of weed, pulls a Thai baht out of his vest and begins to roll a joint.

  “I’ll be damned,” Liam swears, staring up at the monkey in awe. “The horny little bastard smokes weed.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about this,” Becky says, crossing her arms and staring up at the monkey’s impeccable rolling skills. “I don’t even smoke weed. Does this monkey seriously go harder than me? Like, that’s not fair, right?”

  “Y’all,” Mysti May says, putting her hand on her hip. “I know that no one else wants to say it, but I think we need to kill the monkey.”

  “No!” I say before Miss. Texas decides to pull out a concealed six-shooter and take matters into her own hands. “I need that monkey, Mysti May.”

  “Poor little guy just wants to get lit, Myst,” Becky says solemnly. “Blaze on, little dude.”

  “I need the Monkey sober, Becks. I…” I place my face in my hands and suppress a scream over what I’m about to say next. “I gave the little bastard my award last night and told him not to give it back to me until I remembered everything.”

  “That’s great, though!” Becky said, grinning. “Because now you have, right?”

  I look around the trashed suite, drawing in a deep breath. “I think so,” I say. “But I don’t know how to convey that to…him.”

  I gesture at the monkey in frustration, and he looks down at me like I’ve deeply offended him. What exactly he’s offended about, I’ve got no fucking idea. He’s the one hanging from the chandelier, rolling joints from an increasingly irritated Thai Ladyboy’s bag of weed.

  “Maybe remembering isn’t enough,” Becky says, taking my hands into hers. Her little green eyes are lit up with hope—Becky always was such a romantic. “Maybe…maybe you need to remember why you need to remember. Maybe this is it, Sammi! You fell in love last night! Maybe you need to remember why.”