Single Dad's Bride

by Melinda Minx

  He pulls my panties off, and his hot lips press against me. His tongue slides up inside me, and I gush wet almost instantly.

  “Fuck,” I yell.

  “You told me not to call it that,” he says.

  “Shut up and go down on me,” I say, laughing.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He grabs my thighs as I wrap them around him, and he devotes his full attention and energy to me—and fuck does it feel good.

  My hips buck against him, and the orgasm hits me fast. I scream out, thankful that we’re in my apartment and that my parents won’t hear me, moaning his name.

  He doesn’t let up until I’ve come hard and my legs have fallen limp against his broad shoulders.

  “I guess I was still hungry after all that food,” he says, squeezing my nipple.

  I bat his hand away and laugh. “That’s so cheesy.”

  “You didn’t eat a thing though, Andrea—”

  I slide down from the counter and then fall down on my knees, tugging his boxers down until his big veiny cock springs right up in front of me. I swallow it up as fast as I can, taking him in as deep as I dare.

  He moans and presses his hand against the back of my head as I suck his throbbing cock.

  I can feel the veins pulsing against my lips and cheeks. Salty pre-come hits my tongue, and I suck harder, swallowing it all down.

  Before he can come, he pulls out and picks me up and shoves me back onto the counter. My ass is up in the air, and I feel his hard cock slap against my ass cheeks. His strong hands grip me, hard, by the waist, and his big girth slides right into me.

  When he enters me, it comes as such a relief. It’s impossible to be around Coal all the time—to be his wife—and not have him inside me. The longer I go without him, the more the pressure builds, and soon enough—within a matter of days—it has become impossible to not want to fuck him raw.

  He fucks me against the counter, and my tits press against the cool, hard surface. Each time he thrusts, my whole body shakes against him, and his warm cock fills me up and splits me open.

  “God, Coal,” I shout. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  He laughs as he pounds me. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  He slaps me hard on the ass, then grips me tight again. My feet are on the ground, and I’m bent over the counter. Coal is much taller than me, and he’s hitting me at an angle. His cock slides back and forth across my g-spot, and my pussy clenches against him as my orgasm begins again.

  I slam my hands against the counter, desperate for something to grasp onto. I settle for squeezing the edges of the counter, and I stand up on my tippy toes as the orgasm explodes deep within me.

  Then my feet nearly give out from the pure rush of endorphins. Coal grips me and holds me steady as he slides in and out of me with his beautiful dick, and when he starts to grunt from behind me, I feel his rod pulsing within me.

  “Come inside me,” I shout.

  He answers with a thick load. It fills me up as I scream and drool and cum all over him, and he pumps me full, load after load.

  I squeal and scream as Coal’s body presses against me, I feel his abs slick with sweat against my back, and his hot breath tickles my ear.

  His come starts to drip down my thigh as he finishes coming inside me. My pussy is still convulsing, but the orgasm is dying down and fading to a warm afterglow.

  “I better remember to clean the counter before I cook,” I say between heavy breaths.

  “I’m still hungry,” Coal says. “Let’s take a breather, and then I’ll take care of that.”

  His cock is still inside me, and his seed is dripping out of me. It’s such a good feeling, but he squeezes my ass and pulls out. My eyes roll back in my head as I feel his cock slide out, gliding across my g-spot one last time.

  “You’re seriously going to eat? How can you have a six-pack when you eat like a monster?”

  “Oh,” Coal says. “I’m not hungry for food.”

  He slaps my ass and pulls me up off the counter. “You better get to the bed and catch your breath. We’re not done.”

  22

  Coal

  I wake up earlier than everyone—as usual—on Christmas morning. I’ve got some pretty big surprises ready for Andrea, so it’s the first Christmas I’ve been excited about in years.

  My court date is set for January 3. The whole “Hero SEAL” bullshit died down pretty fast, like all stories the media desperately clings to when filling up their 24-hour news cycle. Still, Curly thinks that the “Hero SEAL” getting locked up for protecting two sisters would re-ignite the story straight away, and Curly thinks Justice Montero won’t be willing to risk that.

  Heh, we’ll see.

  I’m not going to let it loom over me. I did what I felt was right, and I’ll defend that. I know what my future looks like now, and nothing is going to get in the way of that.

  Cynthia pleaded with me to let her cook breakfast today, so I decide to make some Glühwein for later in the day. I was stationed in Germany for a while, and ever since, that shit has tasted like liquid Christmas to me.

  I pop open three bottles of wine—I’m going to make a big batch so everyone can get nice and toasty—and pour them into a saucepan.

  In a smaller pan, I throw in a cinnamon stick and a lot of sugar into some water and crank up the heat. I never follow recipes, but whatever I make usually ends up pretty tasty.

  Once the sugary cinnamon water is simmering, I cut a whole orange in half and squeeze all the juice into the simmering brew.

  Then my favorite part: I stick whole cloves into the orange, and then I dump the orange halves themselves into the pan. I let it all simmer down until it’s nice and thick like a good syrup, then I dump the spice mix into the wine. Boom! Glühwein.

  Cynthia comes downstairs right as I turn off the heat.

  She sniffs. “Hmmm, Coal, please tell me you’re—”

  “I’m not cooking breakfast,” I say, grinning. “The kitchen is all yours. This is some mulled wine for later.”

  She smiles and opens the fridge. “Thanks.”

  I relax on the couch—or try to relax—while Cynthia cooks and everyone starts waking up. I got a fire going in the fireplace earlier. The stockings are stuffed, and the Christmas tree is fully decked out and looks great. This is the most real Christmas I’ve ever had. It finally feels like I have a real family. But I can’t relax.

  When Andrea comes downstairs, she smiles wide at me, and she sits down next to me. I hold tight onto her, feeling more nervous than I did when I was deep behind enemy lines.

  I don’t know why I’m so nervous, hell, I know she’s probably going to be happy when I spring everything on her. But women are unpredictable, and there’s always a risk they won’t react how you expect them to.

  Once everyone is awake, we eat the breakfast that Cynthia made, and then we do the stockings. Andrea gets me some extra socks.

  “I’m guessing you lost some already,” she says.

  I smile. “I’m probably pretty hard to shop for, huh?”

  Everyone looks relatively happy, but Damien and Rita both seem a little bit down. Rita has taken the whole Aiden thing pretty hard. Every time I see her on her laptop, I notice she’s tracking the news of Flex.ee slowly collapsing. She told me it’s like watching a disaster movie, but immensely more satisfying.

  I know how good it can feel to watch someone you don’t like fall, but deep down she probably knows it would be better for her to just let him go completely. Though Schadenfreude can be a powerful thing.

  Damien has seemed a bit mopier as Christmas approached. I finally got it out of him why his wife left him. It was the hamburger. Well, the hamburger was the catalyst. He’d become a vegan for her, mostly, and when he decided he wanted to eat meat again and try new things, Rose hadn’t taken it very well. Damien figured that eating a hamburger—for Rose—was almost like rejecting her as a person.

  I told him that was fucking ridiculous, and he agreed, but Dam
ien said he handled it kind of shitty. When a woman is being irrational, you’ve gotta’ lay low and keep your head down. Just like when artillery shells are exploding around you. Only when the coast is clear can you get up again and take a shot. If you try to get up too soon, you’re going to take shrapnel to the face.

  Damien got up too soon.

  Andrea kept dropping hints over the last few weeks that we should “figure things out.” She was vague about what that meant, but even I’m not dense enough to not know what she means. I felt defensive at first—I knew she wanted me to give up the cabin—and my first instinct was to stand up among the artillery explosions and return fire.

  But my conversation with Damien was fresh in my mind, and I kept my head way down. I told Andrea I was figuring things out, and that I’d let her know soon.

  This time, after thinking about it, I realized there was no artillery fire at all. I was just being a stubborn asshole. I considered for a few moments that—just maybe—men are always being stubborn in these situations, but I laughed that off straight away.

  Andrea was right this time.

  When all the stockings are done, Cynthia asks, “Want to drink some of Coal’s...uh…what was it called again, Coal?”

  “Glühwein,” I say. “Actually, everyone, I’m nervous as hell, and I gotta’ do something right now. Before anything else happens.”

  They all look up at me with confused faces, and I reach into my pocket and squeeze.

  Andrea tilts her head at me, and I just go in for the kill. I pull the box out of my pocket and fall down on one knee in front of her.

  I hear Rita squeal, and Cynthia and Roger whispering.

  I pull the box out and pop it open, holding it up in front of Andrea.

  “Andrea, I want you to marry me. For real. Will you?”

  She jumps off the couch and slams into me, wrapping her arms around me. “Yes! Yes!”

  “Put the ring on!” Rita shouts.

  I pry Andrea off me and get the ring out of the box. I slide it onto Andrea’s finger. It fits perfectly.

  “That’s a big diamond,” Cynthia says.

  “Well,” I say, grinning, “I messed up a lot of stuff, and Andrea deserves it.”

  And I don’t want her to forget me if I get locked up.

  Andrea hugs me again once the ring is on her finger, and then she kisses me. I squeeze her back and kiss her long and deep. I can feel the warmth from the fireplace hot on our skin, reminding me of the first time we met.

  “Well,” Roger finally says, voice awkward, “I don’t think we’re going to top that.”

  I catch a glance from Damien—he looks incredibly sad—but as soon as he notices me looking at him, he forces a smile.

  I’ll have to go out with him later and wingman for him. He shouldn’t be dwelling on a chick that is going to divorce him over a hamburger.

  “We can’t really plan the wedding until after this court thing,” I say, “but as soon as I’m cleared, we can pin down a date.”

  “This is so exciting!” Rita says. “I know you’re technically already married, but this is going to make it real.”

  It already feels real as hell to me, but I realize everyone else needs to feel that, too. You don’t marry a woman like Andrea in a damn police holding room. You’ve gotta’ do it right.

  I go and heat the Glühwein and pour a mug out for everyone. Rita starts a toast to Andrea and me, and we clink the mugs together and drink.

  The warm, spiced aroma hits my nose first—and then the hot liquid and alcohol fills my stomach, sending a nice buzz all through my body.

  “Damn,” Damien says. “This is good.”

  I smile. I hope he drinks enough to feel some Christmas cheer. The guy needs it.

  Andrea keeps beaming at me, and then down at her ring. The hard part is over, now I just get to spring my other surprise on her.

  The doorbell rings.

  “Aunt Carol is coming over this early?” Roger asks.

  Rita puts her mug down. “I don’t think so.”

  Rita has the restraining order against Aiden already, and it’s incredibly unlikely he’d ring the doorbell to break it, but I can see the worry etched on her face.

  Damien probably sees it, too, so he stands up and says, “I’ll get it.”

  Rita watches nervously as Damien heads into the foyer. He opens the door, and just from the look on his face, I can tell it’s not Aiden.

  “Rose,” he says, his mouth hanging open.

  We all give each other looks, and pretend to not be eavesdropping.

  The fact that Rose is here at all is a good sign for him, but I still worry he won’t keep his head down enough.

  “Do you want to come in?” Damien asks.

  “Yeah.”

  She steps inside. She’s tall and beautiful with dark hair. She’s not my type, but I can see why Damien was hung up on her.

  “Hi, everyone,” Rose says, waving shyly. “I...I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

  “That’s fine,” Cynthia says. “Do you...do you want a cup of this lovely wine Coal made?”

  “Coal?” Rose says, looking up at me, the only stranger in the room for her.

  I smile and shake her hand. “I’m Coal. Andrea’s husband and fiancé.”

  “Husband and fiancé?” Rose says, raising an eyebrow. “How does that work?”

  I laugh. “It’s a long-ass story, you probably would rather talk to Damien instead of hearing about me.”

  She smiles. “I do need to talk to Damien, but I look forward to getting to know you later, Coal.”

  I go into the kitchen and pour Rose a mug of Glühwein.

  “You want to sit outside?” Damien asks.

  “Yeah,” Rose says, nodding.

  I whisper into Damien’s ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

  The two of them bundle up and head outside with the wine to keep them warm.

  “It’s a Christmas miracle,” Rita says, watching them talk through the window.

  Everyone smiles, but Rita looks a bit sad still.

  Andrea senses it and puts an arm around her.

  “Ah, come on,” Rita says. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Seeing Aiden’s whole stupid fitness points empire crash and burn was all I needed for Christmas.”

  “That’s a terrible gift,” Andrea says. “I think all the bad stuff happened to you this year, which clears the way for you to have a great new year.”

  “That is so optimistic,” Rita says, laughing. “But I guess you’re right, it seems like everything is going to work out more or less. You and Coal are getting married, Aiden is going to be poor and lonely, Rose and Damien are going to get back together.”

  “Don’t jinx it!” Andrea snaps.

  I laugh. “Ah, come on, don’t be superstitious.”

  “You might go to jail,” Andrea says. “Rose might not be back for real, and Aiden might…”

  She trails off when she sees how Rita’s face scrunches up.

  “I guess you’re not too optimistic,” Rita says.

  Andrea throws up her hands. “I’m not saying those things will happen, just that they could! Especially if you jinx it!”

  “Okay,” Rita says, “I won’t jinx it. Everything is going to be awful.”

  Andrea smiles.

  “What else are you superstitious about?” I ask. “You know how many mirrors I broke doing raids in Afghanistan?”

  Andrea scoffs. “That’s all bullshit, but jinxing is real. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”

  I cross my arms. “Jinxing only seems like it really happens because it’s connected to taking things for granted. Whenever you take something for granted and get burned for it, it feels like shit. That’s getting jinxed. Being superstitious about that is nothing more than trying not to take stuff for granted.”

  Rita laughs. “You can be kind of deep sometimes, Coal.”

  Andrea squeezes my hand and says, “Sometimes, yeah, but he’s usually as deep as a kiddy pool, th
ough.”

  I laugh. “Just liking simple things doesn’t mean I’m shallow. There’s a depth you’d never expect to living a more primitive lifestyle.”

  Andrea squeezes my hand but doesn’t look at me. She’s still worried about what’s going to happen with our living situation.

  Time to surprise her again.

  “I got another gift for you,” I say, grinning.

  “Oh?” she says. “I hope it’s nothing too expensive, the ring is already—”

  “It didn’t cost a dime,” I say. “In fact, I made some money off it.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me.

  Andrea’s parents are on the couch and talking in low voices to each other, not part of our conversation. When I move toward the tree and grab a rectangular gift, they stop talking to each other and look over at me.

  “Looks like a framed photo,” Cynthia says.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Andrea says.

  “I’m a shallow guy, though,” I say, smiling, “So it’s probably exactly what it looks like, huh?”

  She rolls her eyes and grabs the gift out of my hand. “It feels like a frame.”

  “Open it and see what it is,” Rita says, hitting Andrea’s arm.

  Andrea tears open the paper to reveal a framed legal document.

  “Is that some kind of pardon?” Rita says, eyes widening. “Is Coal off the hook? He should have told us!”

  “No…” Andrea says, her eyes tearing up. “It’s...it’s...he sold the cabin!”

  I grin wide, but she looks up at me with what feels like anger.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “You idiot! You love that cabin, I don’t want you to sell it for—”

  “Look,” I say, interrupting her. “I love you way more than I love the cabin. I just want you to be happy, Andrea, and you wouldn’t be happy living in the cabin. And it’s too far away for weekend trips…”

  She starts to look less angry as I speak.

  “See,” I say, “I was thinking we could buy a cabin closer to here. We can choose it together, we can just stay there some weekends and holidays, and we’ll get one with electricity and stuff...one you’ll be more comfortable in.”