Oh God, my heart’s threatening to leap up out of my throat. I slowly close my eyes, breaking contact with Jack’s loving gaze. Time seems to go by in slow motion.
“Payton?” he questions when I don’t answer immediately. Slowly re-opening my eyes I see his eyebrows furrowed with worry. I pull a deep breath in before giving him my answer. Do not throw up, Payton!
“I love you too, baby,” I breathe out, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “But my answer’s no,” I say, with a tremble to my voice. I’m trying my hardest to ignore the gasps surrounding me, and the look of utter devastation on his handsome face.
Epilogue
Jack
The room’s dim, the only light coming from half a dozen candles strewn around the place. I close my eyes and inhale the aroma from the candles burning. The scent of coconut filling my nostrils makes my whole body relax. Finally, the day’s over, and I get to unwind the best way I know how. We’ve only just made it through the hotel door, and we already can’t keep our hands off each other. I begin the tedious task of undoing the silk buttons one-by-one—my rugged hands clumsily fiddling with each clasp. This is not a feat for the impatient.
“Just rip it off!” I hear her impatient voice bark out from in front of me.
“Patience, beautiful,” I whisper in response.
“Screw patience. Get this fucking thing off!” she shouts.
“Someday our daughter might want to use this for her own special day,” I reply to my eager new bride.
“Aww, babe. If we ever have a daughter, I’ll tell her there was a fire. The dress couldn’t be saved. I’m seriously craving some wedding night lovin’. Get me naked. Now,” she says through bared teeth.
With that, I grip the back of the bodice on her sleeveless ivory wedding dress and pull until the fabric shreds and buttons pop off, falling to the floor. My bride is the picture of perfection, the bride to make all other brides jealous. It may have taken ten months and three proposals to finally get her to say yes and accept the love and life she deserves. Seeing her walk down the aisle today, her eyes only on me, made me tear up. Okay, I may have cried out of relief that it was actually fucking happening.
After her rejection of my proposal in Wilde Ride, I was shocked. I thought I had it in the bag. She was mine, and I was hers. We were living together. Next stages in the relationship would be marriage and babies. But my girl seemed to have other plans. I knew she loved me so I wasn’t giving up on us. I’d just had to try harder to convince her that we were meant to be.
My next proposal was a little cheesy. Yeah, I’ll admit it—total fucking cheese ball. One afternoon when I knew she was driving into work, I got one of my cop buddies to take me along in his patrol car. We parked in an alley and waited for her to drive by on her usual route. And true to Payton form, she flew past us, clearly going way over the speed limit. I let it go then, but later that night she was punished and she loved every second of it. We pulled up behind her, flashed the lights and sounded the siren. She pulled over immediately. Some pedestrians stood on the side of the road and a few cars pulled over to watch the scene unfold. I marched over toward her with ring in hand, pulled her out of her vehicle, knelt down and proposed for the second time. She looked down at me smiling and once again dealt me the devastating blow of rejecting me. I’m a persistent man and refused to give up.
Obviously, the third attempt went much more smoothly and had my desired outcome. It was a blistering hot day so I took her for a ride on my Harley to our spot. We spent the whole day there talking, laughing, eating, swimming, fishing, and of course, making love. After we both lay there satisfied on the blanket under the tree, I twisted my body away from her and found my jeans crumpled in a pile on the grass. I reached over and pulled the antique silver filigree solitaire engagement ring that my father gave to my mother out of the pocket. When I turned to face her again, she was staring at me lovingly, a soft smile on her perfect lips. I once again pledged my undying love to her and asked her to be my wife. She told me that this is what she wanted. No grand gestures, just the two of us. She finally answered with a “Hell yes!” I pushed the ring onto her delicate finger, and then made love to my beautiful fiancé. One more fantastic memory created there.
Having finally gotten Payton to accept my proposal, I wasted no time in organizing the wedding. The last thing I needed was for her to have enough time to rethink her answer. After calling Ryder to confirm that he and Ella were free to attend, I booked four tickets on the next plane headed to Las Vegas. Luckily, my family was more than happy to babysit for them. They were a bit upset that we hadn’t told them ahead of time that we were taking off for a long weekend. They’re going to be super pissed when they find out the real reason for the trip. I called the chapel and it must have been fate because the only package they had available was Twilight inspired—“Wedding with Edward.” Payton was going to enjoy this more than the Elvis option I was hoping for. You should have heard her and Ella squealing about it. Those two have some serious Twilight issues. With that, we took off for the Elvis impersonator capital of the world.
Once we checked into our honeymoon suite and settled everything away, Ella kidnapped Payton, and they embarked on a day of wedding and bridesmaid dress shopping. Oh, how sad I am that I missed out. Fuck that. Ryder thankfully rescued me, and we hit the hotel bar for a makeshift bachelor party, minus the strippers and body shots. I think Payton would smack the shit out of me if that happened. But, then again, I wouldn’t be too fucking happy if she was staring at naked dudes for her bachelorette either.
When I tried to seduce my fiancé and make love to her that night, Payton stopped me. What the fuck? That’s never happened. She gave me some kind of excuse about wanting to wait until our wedding night to make it special. I went along with her wishes and kept my hands to myself, literally.
The next evening Payton and Ella took over our suite, and I high-tailed it for Ryder’s. Seven long hours later, I was finally reunited with my beautiful girl. It was a short and simple ceremony with just the two of us, Ryder, Ella, and of course, Edward. We didn’t opt for the Bella add-on, as much as Ella tried to change our minds. Fuck, it’s bad enough a pathetic looking Edward would be in our wedding photos. How was I going to explain that to the guys at work?
Payton looked both stunning and sexy-as-fuck, especially when she tried to contain her laughter as the ceremony progressed. The whole situation was really fucking funny. After we made our promises to each other, we walked over to the small dance floor and had our first dance as husband and wife. Fittingly, the song of choice was “Flightless Bird” by American Mouth, the song that Edward and Bella danced to at the end of the movie. This chapel really goes out of their way to stay authentic to the whole sparkly vampire theme. After holding my wife close in my arms, swaying to our first song in our new life, I decided it was my turn to whisk my wife away. I gave Ryder a knowing nod, leaving him and Ella to their own devices. I’m sure they didn’t waste too much time figuring out what to do. I swooped Payton into my arms and carried her to our suite.
That brings me back to the task at hand—undressing my sweet, sexy woman and showing her just how much I look forward to spending the rest of my life with her. I tenderly brush my lips against the exposed skin of her back: so soft, so delicate. I kiss my way from the base of her neck to her lower back. I hear a soft moan escape her lips. Oh, how I love every fucking bit of this woman. Payton leans against the wall as I give her dress a sharp tug, letting the fabric fall to her ankles.
My eyes roam her body, clad only in a pair of lacy white panties and garter belts, when I suddenly see something out of place. Directly above her hip is a square piece of gauze. What the hell? “Bella, is there something you’re keeping from me?” I ask in a low voice, my nose gently rubbing her neck, my hand thumbing the bandage. She slowly nods her head as a shiver runs through her body.
“It’s a wedding gift,” she rasps out. “Open it,” she orders. I carefully pull back the gauze
and tape, revealing the skin underneath. My vision goes blurry when I see the additional ink on her skin. The word ‘broken’ that symbolizes her feelings about herself after the rape, now reads as ‘unbroken.’
Payton’s finally completed her therapy sessions. Even though she’s now healed and understands none of it was her fault, and they had no right to violate her, it pains me to know what she’s had to endure and how it affected her. And that she had to fight that rough battle for so long, alone. I wish I had met her sooner and shown her she deserved the best of everything.
One of the proudest moments I had was when I was picked Payton up from her last session with Dr. Lansin. Her face was aglow. It was the happiest I have ever seen her. She jumped into my ride wearing the biggest grin on her face. I remember it clear as day.
“I know what I’m meant for,” she exclaimed, while shutting the door.
“What’s that, baby?” I had replied.
“There’s a reason for everything, right? Good or bad. You can turn the bad into good, and that’s what I plan on doing.”
“And how’s that?” I questioned.
“I just realized how much better these counseling sessions have made me feel. I want to be able to do that—to make other girls or women understand that they too can rise above someone else’s actions, that it was not their doing. They didn’t provoke this shit. I’ve survived. I want to show those in similar situations that they can, too. I’m going to look into going to school. Maybe become a counselor at a rape crisis centre,” she jumbled out. One big ball of energy. It was great to finally see the true Payton shining through.
Since her revelation, she’s signed up for courses at the local college. Her first step is raising her grades to get into the program she’s interested in. With the enthusiasm she’s bringing to this venture, she’s going to make the perfect counselor.
As for the animals that broke her in the first place—they got what they had coming to them, don’t fucking worry about that.
About six months ago, I took advantage of some of my accrued vacation leave and spent a little over three weeks in Payton’s hometown. Devon and I worked like fucking dogs, but it finally paid off. We dug up some of the football stars’ other victims, convincing them and Payton to press sexual assault charges against the three assholes. Once charges were laid and warrants produced, the men’s houses, cars, and workplaces where searched thoroughly. Not during Payton’s time, thank fuck, but years later, the sick fucks actually started documenting their activities by taking photos and videos of their so-called ‘Bitches.’ That’s what the file was named on the laptop that was confiscated during a search at Ozzy’s house.
When Boston PD went to Jarod’s workplace to arrest him, he fled in his vehicle. A high-speed car pursuit through downtown Boston ensued, but didn’t last long when he drove through a red light, and a semi-truck collided with the driver’s side of the vehicle. Jarod was pronounced dead on the scene. Fucker got off easy.
The next day, police found Andy in his attached garage. He took the coward’s way out and hung himself from a metal rafter in the roof. Shit, if that’s the way he wanted to go, all he had to do was fucking ask me, and I would’ve choked the life out of the son of a bitch.
Then there was one remaining. The twisted fuck Ozzy’s trial was short and sweet. With the accounts recalled by the victims we convinced to press charges, including my unbelievably brave Payton, and the files collected from Ozzy’s hard drive, it took the jury only two hours to find him guilty of all fifteen counts of felony aggravated sexual assault and false imprisonment. He’s currently serving out his life behind bars. That was still letting him off easy for what he did, so with my connections, I made sure the rumor spread that he’s in for child molestation. Other inmates don’t take too kindly to pedophiles. He can’t say I didn’t warn him that I was coming for him.
Reeling in my dark thoughts, I refocus on my gorgeous wife.
“When?” I ask her, bending down and gently placing kisses on the tattoo.
“I got it yesterday,” she answers, her eyes looking down at me.
“No, not when did you get it. When did you start feeling unbroken?” I inquire.
“I can’t tell you a specific time, but since you came back into my life, everything’s started aligning. I’m not the same broken girl you first met. I’m strong, I’m smart, and I can overcome anything put in front of me. I’ve found myself again and regained my confidence. It’s not an act anymore. You did what I thought was impossible … you fixed me,” she explains.
“No, baby, I didn’t. You did all that yourself,” I return, sealing my lips with hers. I feel her hands move down her body, so I lean back and watch. She unclips the hooks on her garters then carefully and beguilingly rolls the stockings down her long, smooth, tanned legs. I crave to touch her, to feel her right now, and she seems to know it.
Her back is against the wall, and all that’s left on her body is the small scrap of fabric covering her pussy. She can be such a fucking tease sometimes, but I love being teased by this girl. Her small hands reach for the top hem of her panties, but I push them away. No fucking way—this is my job. I snag the sides of the lacy fabric on her hips and, with a sudden yank, rip the thin barrier off of her tight body.
Standing before me, in all her beautiful honesty is my now blushing bride, who at this moment widens her leg stance; I don’t need any more fucking invitation than that. I wrap my arms around her waist and pick her up, pressing her against the wall with my body. Her legs lock around my waist, exposing her so that my still clothed cock rubs against the slick, wet heat between her thighs. God, I want in there so bad. As I aggressively grind myself into her body, I feel her tense and hiss in pain.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“My tattoo still hurts,” she explains through gritted teeth. Shit, I never thought about that.
“Change of plans,” I mutter against the base of her throat. Her hands move down my chest, re-enacting the same maneuver that I performed on her wedding dress. I watch her rip apart my dress shirt, the buttons flying everywhere. She gives it a quick tug, removing it from my body, slinging the fabric to the floor. I walk us over toward the king size bed and kneel on the mattress, moving us so that I’m sitting in the center with her straddling my aching groin. Her mouth latches on to mine in a tender, but passionate kiss.
“Baby, you still have your pants on,” she whimpers, breaking from our kiss and reaching for my belt. Tugging it off, she somehow slides down my thighs and manages to wrangle my pants down, too, leaving them at the end of the mattress. With that task achieved, she hops onto my lap again and takes my cock in her hand. She gently and slowly guides my way into her pussy. I begin to thrust upright into her from my sitting position, but she quickly puts a stop to that.
She removes herself from my lap and lies down on her back next to me, her arms open and legs still spread, wanting me to love her. Carefully, I lower my body on top of hers, my arms resting on either side of her shoulders, and hips fitting perfectly between her thighs. I try to keep from putting any added weight to the side her tattoo is on. I don’t want to aggravate it.
Our bodies move together in a choreographed dance as I unhurriedly make love to my wife. No rushing this. I want to savor every moment and burn it into my brain. With each gentle slide of my cock, I feel her inner muscles start to ripple, and before long, she explodes and quivers with sheer pleasure. Just the sight of her coming sends me hurtling over the edge with her.
I roll off of her and lay on my back, trying to even out my breathing. My head lulls to the side, and I take in the stunning woman next to me. God, I’ll never get tired of seeing her in my bed. Absolutely fucking beautiful.
“I love you, Mrs. De Luca,” I murmur against her ear. Christ, she’s my wife. Mine. Fuck, I want to plant my babies in her and soon.
“I love you, too, Mr. De Luca,” she returns, leaning over and brushing a few soft kisses on my lips.
“Beautiful, seeing as it t
ook three tries to get you to say yes to my proposals, how many times am I going to have to ask to convince you to have my babies?” I ask seriously. A huge smile takes over her face.
“Funny you should mention that,” she says, twisting and turning her body away from me. She leans over to the side table and hands me a white plastic stick. I look down and see two blue lines in the center panel of the test, indicating a positive result. In happy disbelief, my eyes fall back to Payton. “You’re going to be my baby daddy,” she says, a brazen smile inching across her face. Just when I thought she couldn’t get any more fucking beautiful.
“Best. Fucking. Day. Ever,” I tell her, before possessing her mouth with my own.
“So you’re happy about this?” she questions once our kiss ends.
“Hell, yeah. Don’t ever doubt it, baby,” I reassure her, my lips brushing hers.
“It’s just that with school coming up, how’s this all going to work out?” she asks.
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. But I’m sure Ma will have no problems looking after the newest De Luca grandbaby while you’re in school. Now, stop worrying and get over here,” I softly command.
“I’m like six inches away from you, Jack,” she says, a hint of laughter in her voice.
“That’s too far. Don’t want any space between us,” I tell her, pulling her on top of me and claiming her mouth with a kiss. “Mine,” I whisper against her lips.
“Yours,” she whispers right back.
I can’t help but think of our sad existences before our lives intertwined. Who knew that when our damaged souls collided, our love would be the balm to heal the wounds inflicted by our pasts?
Life’s finally sweet and will only get sweeter.
The End!
The Ride Series will continue
with the story of Evan and Cade.
Sweet Ride Page 29