by Brill Harper
I’m married. What the hell? I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, yeah, I know I’ve been thinking with my dick all night. But if you’d have told me when I woke up this morning that I’d be somebody’s husband before I went back to sleep tonight, I’d have beat you into thinking straight.
It’s not sane, what I’ve done. This girl had plans. She’s going somewhere in life and she doesn’t need a bouncer holding her back. But she’s my kind of trouble. And when she said she was saving herself for marriage, well, my brain disengaged from my dick.
At least, I’m blaming this on my dick.
I want to take her right to the bedroom and drop her in the center of my bed. But she’s been getting quieter the closer we got to home, so I know her brain has started chattering at her. She’s probably running graphs and pie charts and statistics in her head about how insane this is. What we’ve done. The Bouncer and the Actuary doesn’t exactly sound like one of the Harlequin books my mom always had in her purse when I was a kid.
Mom. Hell. She’s going to love Sarah. But first, she’s going to kill me for getting married without her. And I don’t know anything about Sarah’s family, but I’m guessing this isn’t going to be their favorite news either. Funny how none of that occurred to me while I stood in front of her and promised her my future.
I ease her onto her feet. She immediately wraps her arms around herself. She’s stiff and uncomfortable. That’s not how I want this to go.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Her eyebrows reach for her forehead. “What’s wrong? What isn’t wrong? What did we do? What are we doing?”
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” I promise.
“That’s not how I work, Anvil.” She lets go of her middle and starts pacing. “I don’t do this. I plan things out, each step. I don’t elope with strangers. I don’t go home with strangers. I don’t have sex with strangers. This is not who I am. I don’t even know how I caught your interest, but I think you’re going to be pretty disappointed when you figure out that the last few hours are not the real me.”
“Stop,” I warn. And she shuts up and looks at me.
“Nobody forced you to say I do, baby. You were right there with me. It’s crazy, I’ll give you that. But telling me that it isn’t you is a lie. Maybe you only detour from your plans once in a while, but it’s still you. And now that you’re married, you don’t have to worry about getting crazy and eloping with strangers again.”
She barks out a little laugh. “You’re crazy.”
I take her hand and lead her to the couch. “Yeah, probably. But if you’re worried about it, you’re the first time I’ve eloped with a stranger, too. I’ve never gotten close to an altar before, baby. I never thought I would get married.”
“So why me? I saw the way women look at you. I’m sure I’m not your type.”
I trace patterns on her hand and arm with my fingers. “I don’t have a lot of words for you.” She relaxes a little. “I’m not good at romance. I saw you, and then you were all I could see.”
“Oh,” she breathes out like she’s a little surprised. “That’s actually very romantic.”
“Why’d you pick me? We both know I’m not your type.”
She brings one of my hands into her small ones. I’m like a fucking giant near her. I don’t know how I ever got her to leave Billy’s with me, much less back to my house as my wife. She’s very serious now, studying my hand, stroking hers over it. Like she’s learning me. “I’m probably not much better at words than you are. I was starting to feel so restless and uneasy. I know I need organization and plans to feel good and safe. But I think I’m going too far. Or I was. I wasn’t living life, I was living a plan. I needed to shake things up. And then you came in, and I felt a different kind of restless and a different kind of safe. Like—I don’t know—like finally it was starting.”
“What was starting?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s crazy. I feel like I have stage fright, I’m nervous. But it’s a good kind of nervous. Like I’m doing something big.”
Yeah. She’ll be doing something big pretty soon. But I don’t tell her that.
“If we were smart, we’d stop this right now,” she says, and all the air is sucked from the room, from my lungs. “It will be easier to annul if I go home and we let a lawyer fix this.”
She dares to meet my eyes. I can’t tell what she wants me to say or do.
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s the smart thing to do. The way of less risk.”
“I didn’t ask that. I asked what you want.” I’m not a guy of tenderness and patience. I give what I deem to be justice at the time and take what I deem to be mine when I want it. She’s a virgin. Inexperienced. She was looking for a beer tonight, and I’ve changed everything.
I pull her across me so she’s straddling my lap. She gives a little mew and her eyes get real big and round. I pull her arms behind her, grasping both wrists in one hand so she has to lean forward to balance. She can feel my cock beneath her. No way she can’t. It’s hard as stone with her this close…and growing.
“Do you want to forget this night? Chalk it up to some crazy memory you have of college?” My other hand goes behind her neck, grasping her nape and pulling her face closer to me. “Or do you want to know how it feels to be my woman? Do you want my cock deep inside you? Do you want me to claim you? Make you come?” She squirms as she blushes, and the friction of her on my cock is delicious and painful at the same time. There’s little space between our faces now. She can see the scar up close, but it’s the intensity in my eye that’s causing her to shiver. “You need to decide, baby. I want to make you my wife. But you have to think like a woman, not a girl. You ready for that?”
“I don’t know.”
So I let go. She makes a whimper in the back of her throat as I sit all the way back against the couch cushion. She has to catch herself with her hands on my chest, the angle sliding her pussy against my cock again. Christ.
“Wait, don’t…don’t let go. Don’t give up on me,” she pleads. She rolls her hips and gasps. Yeah, I feel it too. Like a million volts of electricity arcing between us wherever we touch. “I’m just nervous. I don’t know what to do or how to act. I don’t even know where to put my hands.”
“You don’t need to be experienced as long as you’re enthusiastic,” I say. I slide my hand to the center of her back and push her onto my chest. Her head is resting above my heart. “But I’m not playing games. Either you want this or you don’t.”
She lifts her head. “I want this.”
“Tell me more,” I say. “Once we start, I can’t pull back. Not with you. I know it already. I won’t take what’s not mine, angel, but once you give yourself to me, I’m taking it all. I won’t stop. I won’t ever stop. You’ll be taking my cock any way I give it to you, wherever and whenever.”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to warn me off you or seduce me,” she says.
“You’re still on my fucking lap, so I think you like it when I tell you what I want to do to you.”
She nods her head a little, her cheeks stained pink. “I think maybe I do.”
“Then tell me so I understand. What do you want, Sarah Cartwright?”
She places a soft kiss on my chest above my heart that almost kills me. “I want you. I want this. Make me yours. Wife me, Anvil.”
CHAPTER FIVE
SARAH
THE NOISE HE MAKES IS a feral growl and it ignites something inside me that I’ve never felt before. Never knew I could feel.
I’m still trying to process what I just said, what I just gave him permission…no, invitation…to do to me when he yanks me up to his mouth. I thirst for him, opening my mouth to drink him in. I’m completely flattened against his hard muscles, and he squeezes me like he’s trying to push me into and under his skin as his mouth takes mine. His tongue begins basically fucking my mouth, and I’m trapped in his arms as if I were tied up and I love it. I
give in to the dominance of his kiss. The dominance of him. He’s so hard and hot and strong, he becomes my entire world.
He snakes his hand down the back of my pants and squeezes my ass, pushing and grinding me against his erection. There’s probably no way that monster will even fit. But there’s a hollowness inside me, low and achy. It’s pulling at my insides, growing bigger like a black hole. I need to be filled. I need him inside me to fill the hollow.
“Fuck, you’re going to make me come in my pants,” he says, taking a break from bruising my mouth as he goes to my throat. His stubble is grazing my neck and his teeth are biting my skin. “Wife me, she says. Fuck. Why is that so fucking hot?”
I don’t know.
He’s my husband. I’m married to him. My pussy floods with wetness at the thought. I belong to him. But maybe what’s getting me so hot is realizing that he belongs to me. Mine. He’s all mine.
I’ve made out with guys before and it was nothing like this. Anvil is primal and is stripping me down to my core animal. And he’s mine. The idea of him, of this, of us…I can’t fathom now how I made it this far in life without it. I feel like I was made to be his wife. How is that even possible? We just met.
“I want to see you,” I say. Which for me, might be the most brazen thing I’ve ever said. But I want to touch his skin. Taste him. I lean back to make room for him to take off his shirt. My God, he’s beautiful.
His chest is broad, of course. Lined with bulging muscles. He’s got thick hair at the center of his pecs that tapers down like a tour guide to his abs then lower still, drawing my eyes to the waistband of his jeans. I run my fingers through it. It’s course yet soft. I follow the path up and down with my hand; his skin seems to jump under my touch. I lean down and tongue the flat disc of his nipple and he moans, clutching my head there in case I move away too fast.
“That’s good, baby. Oh fuck, that’s good.” The fact that I’m giving him pleasure turns me on more than I already was—and I didn’t think that was possible.
But he’s impatient and his hands pull up on the hem of my shirt, so I lift my arms to get it off me. My bra is plain and boring. I didn’t know it would be my wedding night when I got dressed to go out. He flicks the front closure and it pops open, my breasts popping free like the biscuit dough in a can. His eye gets darker, dilating, and then the world shifts and I’m on my back and he’s sucking one of my breasts while he grinds into my pelvis.
I cry out, the sensations pulling inside me like dark secrets. He keeps grinding, sucking, biting, and I feel like I’m falling, faster and faster. Racing toward the ground. My hands fist in his hair and I cry out as I come. My first time with someone in the room with me.
He pulls back, his chin on my stomach, my skin stretching and puckering into goose bumps from the rough stubble. “I could get addicted to the sound you make when you come, angel. I think I need to hear it again.” He’s undoing the button of my jeans, yanking my pants down and off my legs. He puts his nose right into my panty-covered pussy and inhales deeply. “Oh yeah. That’s so good. Mmmm.”
I want to cover myself with my hand. Push his nose away. It’s too much. He’s making me feel too many things at once. Shock. Modesty. Fear. Anticipation.
He pulls the material over, exposing me to him, and dabs his tongue right into my slit. I arch like a current of electricity has just electrocuted me, the aftershocks still coming from my first orgasm. The shock and modesty melt away pretty quickly, to be honest. All that’s left is the fear and anticipation, and those two feelings play off each other in an interesting harmony that keeps me turned on.
I look down at the juncture of my thighs to find him watching my face.
“I’m going to wear this pretty little cunt out tonight.” He’s looking into my eyes, seeing how far he can go with his dirty talk. To find where I draw the line. Do I have a line? I don’t think I do. Not with him. Not with my husband. “You’re wet, angel. So wet for me. For my tongue and my fingers and my dick.”
I nod.
One yank and my panties are torn off. He pushes my legs wide apart. “Look at that pretty pussy. All creamy and juicy.” He spreads my lips apart. “I’m going to suck on that sweet, creamy clit of yours. Every last drop. My mouth is watering, angel.”
And then I’m moaning as he kisses my pussy the way he took my mouth earlier. He’s tongue fucking me, his thumb on my clit. I should be embarrassed at the sounds I am making. The way I’m grinding against his face. But I’m not. I’m fucking free.
“You make me so greedy, baby. I love drinking your sweet juices down. The more I eat you, the harder I get.
He latches on again. I lose track of my orgasms. When he finally pulls away from me, I’m almost relieved at the break. I hear his zipper, so I raise up on my elbows to see him.
Oh.
My.
God.
“Yeah, sweetness. Look at my cock. Baby, what have you gotten yourself in to?” He rests his cock on my mound. It’s the size of my forearm and so heavy against me. “See how hard it is for you. See what you do to me? My face is fucking covered in your girl come and my dick wants some too.” He taps it on my pussy. “You were such a good girl before you met me, weren’t you?”
I nod, mesmerized by the beast oozing pre-come from the mushroom tip. It’s porno big. And I don’t think there’s room inside me for both of us, I really don’t. But when he slides it through the lips of my pussy, my juices combining with his to let it glide smooth, I feel that hollowness inside again. There is only one thing that will ease the ache. I know it and he knows it.
He pushes my legs back and rest them on his shoulders. Then he pulls my arms until they are pinned above my head, my wrists in his hand. With his other hand, he adjusts the angle of his cock so just the tip is poised at my entrance. He leans forward, pressuring the head in.
“That feels so good already, baby.” He turns his face into my legs and kisses it tenderly. “Your pussy is grabbing my cock so tightly, honey.”
My legs start shaking as he works in a little more. I move my hips as the sensation of being filled too much increases.
“You on the pill, honey?”
How could I have forgotten about condoms? I shake my head. “No, we need…” He pushes in a little more, and I forget what I was saying.
“I don’t want anything between us,” he says.
Alarm bells jangle in my brain. “But—”
“Look at me,” he commands. His face is red, pinched with lust for me. “I kept you safe all night, yeah?” I nod. “I promise you, I’m clean. I’ve never had sex without a condom. Not once. And I get tested regularly. I would never endanger you. Do you believe me?”
God help me, I do. “But—”
“Babies aren’t in your five-year-plan. I get it. Neither was a husband.”
His fingers do magical things to my clit while he talks, rendering me unable to think. “I want to fill you with my come, Sarah. I want to come inside you over and over.” He pushes all the way in and pauses, letting me adjust to the pain, the fullness. “That’s it, baby. Relax and get used to my cock.”
My breath comes hard and fast, the pain blinding at first. I blink rapidly as it begins to fade, like I’m coming to. And there he is, watching me closely, rubbing his bearded face on my leg while he waits patiently for me to relax again.
I’m not a virgin anymore.
And I somehow made it to my wedding day as one.
And I married the scariest man I’ve ever seen. Who I believe in my heart will protect me and do anything to make me happy. I don’t have enough data to make that judgement. I don’t have facts or comps or anything but what my untried heart is telling me.
I’m completely open to him. My arms and legs immobile. “I need you to kiss me,” I whisper.
He maneuvers my limbs around his waist and he takes my mouth. I rock my hips up, now aching to get closer. It hurts a little again, but he soothes it when he starts moving. Slowly at first, as he pulls back and his
ses with pleasure when he eases back in.
“You feel so fucking good.” He starts playing with my clit again. “I need you to come around my cock this time, baby. I need it so bad. You’re so tight. So sweet.”
I don’t have any defense for this. For his words. For his fat cock. For the way every inch of me feels full. I start coming again, only this time, I don’t think I will ever stop.
“You’re milking my cock, angel. You’re going to pull all my come out of me, aren’t you? You want it inside you?”
He’s on the edge of coming. I haven’t stopped. He should pull out. I should tell him to pull out. Instead, I dig my heels into his back, locking my legs around him, pulling him deeper into my body. “Make me yours.”
He freezes, shaking with his need as he stares at me to be sure. He lets go of my wrists so he can angle my hips and he starts thrusting like he’s trying to fuck me through to the box spring of his bed. “My horny girl wants to be bred on her first ride,” he grunts out. “Gonna give her everything she wants.” One final thrust and he curses as his warm seed shoots into me. He clutches my hips in those big hands, holding me still to accept all his come. As his cock throbs, I have another orgasm, drawing him deeper into my body.
We lay like this for a long time. Until the sweat on my body chills. Until I begin to feel sore where his cock still remains.
“Never letting you go now, babe,” he says. “I think I was unconscious there for a minute.”
“Me too,” I say.
He takes me to his shower and sweetly cleans me up. Then he carries me back to his bed…our bed…and we fall asleep until noon.
I’m certainly not feeling restless anymore.
The rest of the day, we eat, make love, and eat some more. He tells me how he lost his eye. About his business plan for a bar of his own. At midnight, he takes me to Billy’s Suds for my first legal drink.
It’s weird, getting to know my husband after the wedding instead of before it. But I have a feeling he’s worth the risk.