Drunk in Love

by Anthology

  My hips surge forward, driving as deep inside her as she can take me. Each push into her makes me lose a little more control. Fingernails digging into my skin, heels pushing into my ass, and cries of pleasure begging for more push me over the edge as a strong orgasm tears through her. Her inner muscles quiver and clench around me, milking me for every drop I have.

  I collapse on top of her. Not from the excessive alcohol I’ve consumed tonight, but from the overwhelming feelings of love and admiration I feel for this wonderful woman. I find the strength to raise my head and look at her. She has the most beautiful glow—it’s a mixture of love, happiness, and complete satisfaction. She looks so content and relaxed. Her body is limp and peaceful underneath me. It hits me that now would be the perfect time to spring the news on her.

  In a gentle, pillow-talk type of conversation.

  A way to soften the blow and highlight why we belong together—and to each other.

  It’s time.

  8

  STEP 7: BREAK THE NEWS

  “Lily.” I gently stroke her face with my thumb.

  “Hmmm.” Sleep is taking over in her total-body relaxed state.

  “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s important.”

  “Okay.” Her sleep-filled murmur is so sexy.

  “You’re my wife. We got married tonight.”

  “I know, and I have the ring to prove it.” She smiles her sleepy smile but never opens her eyes.

  “You think it was all a joke, but it wasn’t. The marriage license, the dress, the rings, and the ceremony tonight were all real. I tricked you into actually marrying me because I love you and I wanted you back so badly. Can you forgive me?”

  While fighting sleep, she forces her eyes open and searches my face. “You didn’t…” she finally replies, but her words come out in an angry hiss.

  “Think about how great we are together. Look at what just happened between us. We’re meant to be together. I know I sound like a crazy man, but just think about what I’m saying for a minute.”

  “Are you being serious, Justin? You honestly did this? You tricked me into marrying you?”

  I can’t answer, because my plan is falling apart before my eyes. Clearly, I didn’t think this through rationally, but I had the best intentions. She pushes me and I roll to her side, my hand still resting on her stomach. She jolts out of bed and quickly dresses, ignoring my reasoning. With me pleading for her not to go, she grabs her bag and walks out the door, leaving me alone on our wedding night.

  Panic consumes me as I throw on my tuxedo pants and rush after her, barefoot and shirtless. But she’s not in the hallway. She’s not answering her phone. Deanna won’t tell me where she is—because she’s not speaking to me either. Scott steps out into the hallway with me, giving me his “you’re such a dumbass” face.

  “Give her some space tonight, Justin. You just turned her world upside down.”

  I scrape my hand over my face and nod, defeated, and head back to my room—our room. Sleep evades me the remainder of the night. I’m ready to get the wedding festivities started—because something tells me it’s the only way I’ll see or talk to Lily for quite a while.

  9

  THE DISAPPEARING BRIDE

  Lily

  I’m going to kill Justin Ramsey.

  No jury will convict me. All the women jurors will hate him, while all the men will realize what an idiot he is.

  It’s justifiable homicide.

  Deanna let me borrow her car without my even explaining why I was a hysterical mess and had to leave my best friend the night before her wedding. Now I’m at my house, alternating between seething over what Justin has done and feeling shocked he’d go to such lengths for me.

  Should I be pissed off—or flattered? With our history in mind, I suppose I’m a little of both. Or a lot of both. Maybe a sixty-forty split. Until I think about the blatant lies, overall deception, and robbing me of my dream wedding. My family wasn’t even there. When I reach the point of deciding where to hide his body, I think about why he carefully constructed this plan and how I didn’t question anything this week. This is why I’m vacillating between premeditated, yet justifiable, homicide…and going back to the hotel room where I left him.

  Decisions have never been this hard for me to make. I haven’t been thinking clearly lately, especially where he’s concerned. After stripping off my clothes and pulling my ratty old T-shirt over my head, I climb into bed and open the top drawer of my bedside table. Staring at the cause of our relationship’s demise doesn’t bring any clarity to my current situation.

  The ring on my finger shows we’re married.

  Where do I go from here?

  There’s more Justin & Lily to come in ENTICE, late 2017.

  ABOUT A.D. JUSTICE

  A.D. Justice is a USA Today Bestselling author with a variety of published books. When she's not writing, she's spending time with her own alpha male character in their north Georgia mountain home. She is also an avid reader of romance novels, a master at procrastination, a chocolate sommelier, a twister of words, and speaks fluent sarcasm.

  Thank you for reading and supporting A.D.’s books. Please take a moment to leave a review.

  ALSO BY A.D.

  Lily and Justin are first introduced in the stand-alone novel, INTENT.

  CONNECT WITH A.D. JUSTICE

  Newsletter

  Reader Group

  Instagram

  @adjustice1

  adjusticeauthor

  www.authoradjustice.com

  adjustice@outlook.com

  THIRTEEN WEDDINGS AND ONE DRESS LATER

  A Short Story of Epic Failures and Delicious Disasters by A.M. Johnson

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mari

  “No. No. No. No.”

  My panic echoed against the gray slate tiles of my bathroom floor, along with the sound of my heart ripping in two. My lucky pink dress, the dress I’d worn to every single wedding I’d been invited to since I'd graduated from high school, had torn from underneath my armpit all the way down just past my ass. Shit. I turned right then left, looking at the disaster in the mirror from every angle possible, willing the fabric to seam itself back together. I sucked in my stomach, pulled at either side of the tear, and as my fingers stretched the frayed bits, I exhaled a long angry sigh.

  “Hayley, I can’t do this again,” I whined, and my so-called friend chuckled just beyond my bathroom door.

  “Stop being a baby. Let’s see this magical dress.”

  I opened the door and turned to my left. “It’s ruined. My ass is too fat.”

  Hayley’s blue eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together, trying, uselessly I might add, to hide her glee. “That dress is hideous anyway.”

  “It’s classic,” I countered.

  “Yeah, I know. It looks like it’s from the nineties.” She smirked, very proud of herself.

  “It’s pink.”

  “If you want to look like a bottle of Pepto, have at it. I’ll see if my mom can sew that shit back together.”

  “This is the dress. I’ve worn it to every wedding.” I was very superstitious. Once, in high school, I wore the same pair of socks to every softball game, two seasons in a row, never washed them. We were champs both seasons.

  “And yet, you’re still sadly single. How many weddings is this?” Hayley quirked her manicured brow as she tightened her ponytail. Some of the dark brown strands had escaped and had fallen around her face, highlighting her cheekbones.

  “This is wedding number thirteen.” I was sulking.

  The last friend of mine from high school was tying the knot tomorrow, and I was still hopelessly, and as Hayley put it so eloquently, sadly single.

  She whistled as she stood from where she had been perched all afternoon on my bed. “I only had two girlfriends in high school.” She narrowed her eyes. “I definitely think your ass is at fault here.”

  I grabbed my brush from my dresser and t
hrew it at her. She dodged it just in time. Lucky bitch. “Now I know why you didn’t have friends in high school.”

  She laughed. “You befriended me.”

  “Yeah, in college, and I was drunk.” My lips twitched, threatening a smile.

  “That night was epic. See? This is your problem. Where’s that fun, crazy girl I met freshman year at that wicked Sigma Nu party? You remember her... the girl who banged that tattooed football star in the bathroom?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That was you.”

  She giggled. “I know, damn he was hot though, but you made out with his best friend that same night.” Her smile turned up on one side.

  I turned around and pointed to my back. “Unzip me?” I asked, unwilling to tackle the zipper on my own again.

  She complied and I continued, “It’s always this way. Everyone else is out banging football stars, and I get the wing man. I get friend zoned while all my best friends get married.”

  She tugged the zipper past my ass with a little exhale. “No one has twelve best friends.”

  “I did. But now that they’re married, I never get to talk to them anymore, and when they talk about me I'm sure it's, ‘hey, you know that girl. She’s got that nice two-bedroom apartment on Main furnished in IKEA? You totally know her, she’s hip, funny, and smart. You remember her from high school, right? She was taller than everyone else, real athletic build. She’s the girl who dated that one guy. She’s got blonde hair and those really cool weird caramel eyes. She won the All-Star of the Season award her senior year at Knight High for softball. She was the one everyone said would most likely be married right out of college. Mari… Mari Stevens?’” I wiggled free from the bubble gum pink dress, laying it to waste on the floor as I covered my small breasts and turned back toward Hayley. “And, you know how people will answer?”

  She shook her head, her smile fading.

  “They’ll say nothing. Because no one remembers me. Everyone remembers Beth, and how she was Prom Queen and dated Rick and got married. They remember Sam and Tish. And Becca, who could forget Becca? She’s got such a “sweet rack.” But Mari Stevens… I’m forgettable, Hayley.”

  “You are not.”

  I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I’m not going. I’ve hardly kept in touch with Jen anyways, and I hear her fiancé is a total douchebag.” I moved toward the bathroom. “Besides, I couldn’t find my plus one.”

  “Are you done?” Her tone had lost all playfulness.

  “Yeah, I said I’m not—”

  “No, are you done being a whiney asshole?”

  I coughed out a gasp. “Excuse me?”

  “Get dressed, and leave that woe is me bullshit in the bathroom. We’re going shopping.”

  “I don’t want to go shopping.” I really was being a baby.

  “I’m your plus one, and I need to find a hot as hell dress and so do you.”

  My smile was peeking around the corners of my mouth. “You’ll go with me?”

  She sighed. “Yes, you idiot.” She grinned. “Just this once. I’ll be your wingman.”

  I’d have a wingman. “Now that’s a first.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Hayley’s smile, if possible, promised mayhem. Something ancient inside my stomach stirred, and I smiled back.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mari

  This was a nightmare.

  The light caught the silver lettering of her name badge.

  Desiree.

  I’ve never hated anyone before, but right now, I was imagining myself ripping the scissors from the hairstylist’s hand and driving it through one of her obvious breast implants. Her smile was too bright, and my hair was too... red. Oh my God, my hair was red. Not sexy deep red like Jessica Rabbit, or Jessica Chastain for that matter. Oh no, it was strawberry blonde, and every freckle on my face was sticking out like a sore thumb. I looked twelve all over again.

  “It’s red.” My mouth went dry.

  She ran the comb through my wet hair roughly and laughed lightly. Laughed like I was being crazy. Laughed like I wasn’t about to internally combust and possibly murder her cute face. “It’s cinnamon. It will look great once we cut and style it.”

  Cinnamon.

  I narrowed my eyes and she winked. She actually winked at me, her smile widening in the reflection of the mirror.

  “I said I wanted highlights, warmth... this is—”

  “Honey, it’s going to look gorgeous.” The comb tug-tug-tugged through my long hair as she asked, “When’s this wedding?”

  “Tonight.” My will to live deflated like a balloon.

  There was no time to fix this disaster of a dye job.

  She spun my chair around so that I was facing her. “Trust me, this color, it will bring out the amber in your eyes.” She ran the comb through the crown of my head, veiling my eyes with the wet strands.

  “Um, what—”

  I nearly screamed when those offending scissors cut through the front portion of my hair like butter. The strawberry strands, at least five inches long, fell to the floor.

  I grabbed her wrist. “I don’t want bangs!” I was shouting.

  My eyes locked on hers, and for just a flash she looked frightened. “I-I thought—”

  “I said layers... layers!” I took a deep breath, and pressed my lips together.

  “Don’t worry, I can fix it.” Before I could protest she spun the chair around again, and when I saw my reflection my chest unwound a little. The bangs... weren’t that bad. They accentuated my heart shaped face, made my eyes pop, and at least I still had the length in the back.

  I exhaled. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.

  “They look good.” I gave her a small smile and her shoulders relaxed as she started to trim the rest of my hair.

  “Thank God, today’s my first day and I—”

  Just as she was snip-snip-snipping away, someone called her name. And as she turned to address them, she hacked a huge chunk of hair. This time I did scream as the large section fell to the floor. The scissors dropped to the marble as well, and I swear to God, time stopped. It could have been three seconds, it could have been thirty, but everything froze as I raised my hand to the chin length piece of hair. My fingers trembled, and my eyes pricked with tears. I ignored the girl’s profuse apologies and stared into the mirror.

  “Breathe.” Hayley’s calm voice broke through my inner chaos. “I’ll grab Vanessa, she’s my stylist.” She glared at the girl, and even though Hayley hadn’t said a word, those eyes, they promised violence.

  Hayley’s dark hair was styled in flawless waves. Her chocolate brown hair highlighted with chestnut, she looked amazing as she walked away and disappeared behind the set of mirrors in the center of the salon. At least one of us had a chance tonight.

  “I’m so sorry. I was distracted and—”

  “That’s no excuse, Desiree, go take a break.” Hayley’s stylist frowned as she assessed the damage. Desiree left without a peep, and I should’ve felt bad that I’d yelled at her, but…

  Vanessa smiled warmly at me. “This color is sexy.” She toyed with the chin length lock of my hair, ran her fingers through my freshly cut bangs, and her lips parted in a giant grin. “I think it needs an amazing cut to bring out the spark. Are you brave enough?”

  “No.” I furrowed my brows, the bile in my stomach churning.

  Hayley laughed and shook her head. “Yes, she is. She just doesn’t remember.”

  I swallowed and brought my gaze to Vanessa in the mirror as she started to separate my hair into pieces with clips. “Think modern, chic, chin length bob, straight across bangs... very stylish. You can totally pull this off. You have the cheekbones for it.”

  “Chin length what?” My voice cracked or squeaked, I couldn’t be sure. The roaring fear in my head was pounding.

  All I’ve ever had to offer was my long thick blonde hair. My eyes were okay, I guess, but I had athletic thighs and a big ass..
. Alicia Keys meets Kim K, but without the hips or the tits.

  “I’m going to look like a guy.” My palms were sweating as she started to work through my hair, every lock that fell to the marble floor was like a drop of blood from a wound.

  “Stop being dramatic.” Hayley smirked as she sat in the chair at the empty station next to me.

  I whipped my head in her direction and Vanessa hissed, “It will be even shorter if you don’t stay still.”

  Hayley giggled.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny. I’ve never had short hair. Your hair is all glamorous and shit, and I’m going to look like a preschooler.”

  Vanessa lightly smacked the top of my head, and Hayley belly laughed. “Are you going to this wedding as well?” she asked as she turned my head to the left.

  “Yes.” I sighed.

  “You and Hayley will be the hottest women there.” Her smile was confident.

  I watched as the years of my life cascaded in cinnamon colored clumps along the black apron covering my clothes and prayed to the gods of singledom that she was right.

  3

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alfie

  The eighties dance hits were booming beyond the bathroom door as I splashed my face with cool water. I lifted my eyes to the mirror and ran my wet hands through my blond hair. I wouldn’t describe it as a sandy or a dirty blond, no, just blond, because I wasn’t a chick and guys don’t fucking talk like that. I smirked at my own joke, and for a second, I actually felt good about today. My hair was a little disheveled, but I straightened my tie, put on a brave face, and turned toward the door. A toilet flushed in one of the stalls before I could leave, and just my damn luck, one of my brother’s groomsmen revealed himself through the swinging gray door of the stall.